What does the architecture of the future look like? In a world that has so much infrastructure, yet not enough shelter, so much new building technology yet a dwindling amount of empty space, and a changing climate but fixed construction methods, how does an architect ply her trade? For Arine Aprahamian, it’s less about creating a widely photographed dramatic new edifice, and more about intelligently adapting what’s already been constructed.
In the Lebanese Armenian architect’s view, our infrastructure is not ready for the changes that are under way, both in our societies and our environment. She thinks there are two options to future-prep our communities. “Either start removing certain things, and building new, which will not be sustainable,” she says, “or make whatever already exists suitable for different conditions that are more present in the future.”
She’s a fan of the second approach, especially when it comes to housing. While she’s in no way opposed to building an iconic structure at some point in her career, her designs so far have emphasized small but meaningful improvements to existing structures. “Obviously iconic buildings have their role in our history and in the world,” she says. “But maybe these days, we’re being called to practice more meticulously, in more detail, to do a bit of a patchwork, a different kind of approach in building, rather than just starting from scratch.” In some areas, that approach could be as simple as better insulation or more flood-proofing. In others, it might be figuring out how to adapt residential buildings into co-housing that’s more suitable for a population that is waiting longer and longer to have families.
Aprahamian, 34, was raised by a family of teachers, painters, and musicians in Bourj Hammoud, a lower-income area in eastern Beirut that was initially settled by displaced Armenians. She grew up with a love of culture and a lack of space. There were no public parks or playgrounds in her neighborhood, but there was “a lot of interaction between the neighbors, the communities, and it was great for a very vibrant street life,” she says. Most of the houses were small and built by the people who lived in them. “As a kid, I didn’t have the words for it,” she recalls, “but I did feel the need to just move things around a bit and create some openness, or create some light, or create some better interaction between the buildings.”
Like many young architects, Aprahamian is dabbling in a number of design-adjacent art forms, including animation, typography, illustration, and exhibition planning. “All the experiments I do somehow find their way as a building block into making who Arine is as an architect,” she says. “For me, it’s very necessary to let myself experience whatever interest drives me, because I think inspiration lies in those interests.” Her mother was a huge fan of science-fiction movies, and the imaginative scenarios she grew up watching piqued her interest in design innovations inspired by future challenges. They also informed such proposals as an eco-resort in an oasis at the edge of the Sahara built from kersheef, a local earthen building material made up of salt, clay, minerals, and aggregate from a nearby lake bed.
While her work spans the globe (she speaks four languages: Arabic, Armenian, French, and English), Aprahamian has turned to her hometown for one of the projects closest to her heart. She’s wrapping up a study of Bourj Hammond that would ascertain what changes or small adjustments could create spaces that “would massively benefit the people living there, to an extent that they could act as a catalyst to transform a whole neighborhood into a more vibrant, more inclusive, more happy population,” she says. She hopes to release her findings early in 2025.
While Aprahamian is an advocate of small changes, she doesn’t dismiss the importance of those of a massive scale. “What is very important is to constantly jump between both schemes,” she says. “One is almost invalid without the other. You need big changes in policies, changes in approaches, and governmental decisions that are more oriented toward the benefits of the masses.” And while she’s worried about the future (including Beirut’s), she’s optimistic about the power of architecture to help address bigger global problems. “Architecture has always been dealing with issues that are beyond what we would consider its limits.”
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