From waste to wonder: rethinking materials through aluminium
I’ve always been drawn to materials that carry a story, especially when they come with a past life. So when I got the chance to design a circular installation for the Venice Architecture Biennale, I saw this as a perfect opportunity to use aluminium both as a material and a mindset.
The Venice Architecture Biennale is one of the most important platforms for architectural experimentation in the world. It’s a place where new ideas get a moment in the spotlight. Last summer, our studio was caught in the middle of trying to make that spotlight. We had intended to submit a collaborative proposal with an engineering firm. That submission didn’t make the cut. But in an unexpected twist, we were invited to work on the overall exhibition design instead, giving us an opportunity to shape the spatial framework for the entire show. At sub, my design and architecture studio, we’re invested in creating spaces where culture can unfold, and this project offered a generous field for that approach.
A framework for exploration
The core challenge was to design a space that could help translate an enormous range of ideas. The Venice Architecture Biennale, which runs from May to November, brings together hundreds of participants and projects from around the world. I’ve always been interested in how knowledge is stored and accessed in physical form, like in libraries or archives. For the Biennale, we tried to create something similar: a place where visitors could follow threads of understanding, but also get pleasantly lost. The layout was meant to allow for both orientation and disorientation, a spatial timeline that made space for both structure and discovery.
The material problem
The temporary nature of the Biennale shaped much of our thinking. Designing for an exhibition that would only exist for a few months meant we had to approach materials differently. Architecture, historically, has been built on a mindset of permanence. But in reality, the materials we build will often end up in landfills. If the installation was to be temporary, then its components needed to have a future after deinstallation. That’s where aluminium became central to our thinking.
Aluminium, for us, wasn’t just an aesthetic choice. It was a solution to the problem of impermanence. Its ability to be endlessly recycled, without degradation, aligned with our ambitions. When we learned the aluminium we were using came from dismantled greenhouses, it gave the installation another layer of meaning. This wasn’t virgin material, but something that had already lived a past life. This repurposing captured exactly what we were trying to communicate with our design.
A way forward
We’re not claiming this project represents the future of architecture in a definitive sense. But it was a way to experiment with a material that allowed us to build something temporary without creating waste. To me, that is a powerful example of design serving both imagination and responsibility.
If there’s one thing I hope visitors take away, it’s that materials have afterlives. And by designing with that in mind, we begin to shift architecture towards an approach that values continuity and responsibility.
