Imagined Spaces

Architecture is a façade of stability built on shifting foundations, an image of unity composed of borrowed parts. As the act of building, it precedes civilisation.
As a profession, it is quite modern.

 Architecture was formalised as a distinct profession in 18th-19th century Europe, alongside other fields such as medicine and science. The design of buildings was delaminated from the act of construction and became the remit of upper-class, educated white men.
The field’s output also changed as industrialisation led to rapid urbanisation and pressing housing needs, while new materials and construction techniques opened up formal possibilities for cheaper buildings. Architects also began to write about their work and its meaning. While earlier eras of European building practices tended towards recycling – making basilicas from Roman baths and encrusting façades with looted fragments – the modern architect, a Promethean combination of artist and technocrat, exclusively privileged new construction. His buildings acted at once as a form of social control and self-portrait. Such tendencies linger today. New, ground-up construction remains the ambition of most. 

 Many countries adopted this model from Europe, while for others it was imposed on them. In Algiers and Tunis, for example, French colonial planners imposed a grid of wide, European-style boulevards and erected modernist buildings, often displacing the traditional Casbah and historic character of the cities. This not only served as an assertion of colonial power but also symbolically and physically segregated the European colonisers from the indigenous population. The logic was twofold: new construction allowed for the expression of colonial authority and a modernised image, while controlling the urban layout helped manage and surveil the population, preempting potential revolts like those that had erupted in working-class neighbourhoods in Europe. The neglect or outright demolition of traditional structures reinforced the notion that local architecture was outdated or unworthy of preservation.

 But today, we know that the construction industry is the world’s largest emitter of greenhouse gases, responsible for 37% of emissions. Many architects have correctly identified that new, ground-up construction has to slow down significantly, if not outright stop. While housing shortages remain as endemic to contemporary cities as they were when Friedrich Engels wrote The Housing Question in 1872, the dynamics behind them also remain largely the same: market conditions render a human need into a source of profit. In many of the world’s cities, there’s more than enough housing stock; it’s about how it’s used and priced. With refurbishment and renovation, old buildings can take on new programs and function more efficiently. In the first decades of the new millennium, architects and theorists, such as Jorge Otero-Pailos and Rem Koolhaas, turned focus to preservation, critically reconceptualising what it means to preserve and what buildings are worthy of it.

 As often is the case in contemporary architecture, authorship (or celebrity) and novelty are privileged, and the ‘return to conservation’ is frequently myopically viewed, both in terms of historical and regional distance. Many cultures outside of Europe never fully abandoned their pre-industrial building maintenance practices. Waqfs, for example, enabled the conservation and maintenance of buildings across the Arab world for thousands of years and continue to do so today. Modern buildings, however, rarely are afforded that preserving gaze. The American historic preservation movement is often said to have begun with the grassroots opposition to the 1963 demolition of the original Penn Station in New York, which was built in 1910. That same period – 53 years – separates our present from 1971, making most of the modernist architecture across the SWANA region as old to us as the Beaux-Arts movement was to midcentury New Yorkers.

 Renovation implies an investment – not just financial but also cultural and political – in a city and its unique heritage. It necessitates a critical gaze, inculcating a re-evaluation of the existing building stock, how it is used and by whom. Rather than a template that can be imported from elsewhere, re-use should always be site-specific and self-aware. It is in this spirit that we invited students from the American University of Sharjah to reimagine a series of modernist buildings throughout the region. Historically significant but all too often ignored, these structures carry histories ripe for re-evaluation within the contemporary context.

The work of these students – compressed into the dizzying time-frame of a publication – can be read as provocations and instigations. The students are young, 20 or 21 years old. They hail from across the region, specifically from Palestine, Sudan, Egypt, Iraq, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Syria. Their work reflects their cultural specificities as well as the unique educational environment in Sharjah, one of the leading universities in the region. The students were given wide license to interpret an intentionally short brief – rethink how these buildings could be used. Read collectively, the work reflects an ascending generation with its eyes on the future, but a future that does not require a tabula rasa in order to be built. 

The Bank Street Buildings in Sharjah, developed in the 1970s, are characterised by their functional, modernist architectural style, reflecting the pragmatic design approach of the period. These mid-rise structures feature clean lines, concrete façades and minimal ornamentation, aligning with global architectural trends of the time and meeting growing commercial needs.

Sharjah’s Bank Street – often dubbed the heart of the city – features a series of iconic modernist edifices. This project imagines transforming these buildings into a hotel complex that embraces sustainability and injects lush greenery into the otherwise arid cityscape. Through a palette of sustainable materials and the incorporation of energy-efficient technologies, the project would serve as an update of the vibrant commercial centre, enhancing its existing spirit while honouring the history of the neighbourhood.

Opened in 1961, Dhahran International Airport was one of Saudi Arabia’s first major air transport hubs. Designed in a modernist style by architect Minoru Yamasaki, it featured sleek lines, open spaces and expansive glass, exemplifying post-war international architecture. The airport served as a key entry point until King Fahd Airport replaced it in 1999.

In this project, Dhahran International Airport, a landmark of modern architecture in Saudi Arabia, has been reimagined as a sustainable agricultural centre that nurtures native plants and fosters social interaction. This transformation juxtaposes the airport’s original role as a global gateway with a new purpose focused on environmental preservation. By integrating expansive green spaces within the existing structure, the design bridges its past as a bustling transit hub with its future as a peaceful, sustainable ecological retreat. This project embraces adaptive reuse for the 21st century, redefining the airport as a place where culture, community and nature converge.

Électricité du Liban’s headquarters, completed in the early 1970s in Beirut, exemplifies Brutalist architecture with its bold concrete form and functional design. Created by Lebanese architect Pierre Neema, the building’s massive, angular structure reflects the era’s modernist movement and remains a significant example of Lebanon’s architectural legacy.

This project is meant as a sort of playhouse. Embracing the idea of ‘energy’
as a catalyst for community and interaction, the structure transforms from
a symbol of industrial energy to one of human energy, nurturing creativity, play and social interaction. Bold abstract forms on the expressive exterior visually convey this transition, signalling a space where imagination and interactivity flow freely.
By blending the ideas of electric energy with the vitality of human engagement,
the redesigned building becomes a place that honours its origins while empowering a new, dynamic role in the city.

The Hôtel du Lac in Tunis, built in 1973 by Italian architect Raffaele Contigiani, is known for its striking, inverted pyramid structure. A hallmark of Brutalist architecture, the building’s stepped form narrows as it rises, making it an iconic, futuristic example of modernist design in North Africa.

Located near the city centre, the Hotel du Lac long stood as a beacon of resilience for Tunis, embodying both the city’s rich history and its forward momentum. In recent years, however, the building has fallen into disuse. The project imagines the transformation of the building into a sustainable cultural and community centre that honours its legacy as a place ‘for the people’. Key Brutalist features, including the iconic inverted pyramid shape, have been preserved to symbolise strength and endurance, while the structure is updated with radiant interior light wells and a central rooftop beacon, literally casting light into the heart of Tunis. The staggered, modular design of the inverted shape now forms flexible workspaces and community observation decks, allowing the building to function dynamically for contemporary needs. Vertical gardens, renewable energy elements and open public spaces reflect both the original design’s bold form and its new role as an eco-conscious hub, reconnecting Tunisian citizens with their heritage in a setting that encourages reflection, gathering and growth. The reimagined Hotel du Lac remains a powerful symbol of hope and progress, embracing both the past and future in its reimagined form.

Sha’biyat Housing in Abu Dhabi was developed in the 1970s to provide affordable, accessible homes for Emirati families during a time of rapid urbanisation. These modest,
low-rise structures were built to meet essential housing needs, blending traditional values with practical design, and have since become a hallmark of Emirati community living.

This project explores the limits of reimagining space and questions how far one can deviate from the original building concept while still maintaining it. The central design gesture – converting traditional Sha’biyat housing into modern art galleries – emphasises atmosphere over conventional spatial design. The project is also meant as a statement against the restrictive approaches often imposed by architectural academia, highlighting how these limitations can make the design process overly conventional and uninspired. To this end, the work experiments with AI tools to creatively alter and enhance the space, creating an immersive experience that challenges viewers’ perceptions.

The Sidi Ifni Cable Car was originally constructed during the Spanish colonial era to transport cargo and personnel between the port and nearby cliffs, as the shallow waters limited ship access to the shore. Operating for a brief period, the system ceased function in 1970, shortly after Spain withdrew from the region. The harsh coastal climate and lack of resources for upkeep in post-colonial Morocco led to its abandonment. 

This project transforms the ‘forgotten’ and ‘unseen’ elements of the Sidi Ifni Cable Car structure into a stunning, immersive hub that showcases the natural beauty of Morocco’s coastline. By reimagining the existing structure, the design integrates floating viewpoints and open spaces that frame the surrounding landscapes, inviting visitors to pause, observe, and connect with the surrounding ecosystem. Inspired by the unique context of the beach, the redesigned cable car station becomes a serene vantage point – a place where time slows down, allowing people to dwell in the beauty of the natural world. Through these elevated perspectives, users are encouraged to explore and appreciate the often-overlooked details of the environment, creating a deeper, more intentional interaction with the landscape.

Butti Al-Otaiba Tower, built in the 1970s, stands as one of Abu Dhabi’s first high-rise buildings, symbolising the city’s early modernisation efforts. Named after a prominent Emirati family, the tower introduced modern architecture to the skyline, blending residential and commercial spaces, marking a shift toward urban development in the capital.

An iconic work of modernist architecture, the Butti Al-Otaiba Tower has been overshadowed by the adjacent World Trade Center. Originally a mixed-used residential and commercial building, the project imagines its conversion into
a different form of hybrid program – as a school and gallery space dedicated to
Abu Dhabi’s emerging street art scene. The primary design strategy involved extending the limits of the building façade through introducing various street art genres, while simultaneously preserving the mashrabiya to form a stylistic palimpsest.