Highlights from the Venice Biennale of Architecture 

Bahrain’s pavillion ‘Heatwave’ reimagines traditional Bahraini cooling systems. (Supplied)
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Updated 05 June 2025
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Highlights from the Venice Biennale of Architecture 

  • Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale

Following our in-depth coverage of this year’s Saudi and Qatar entries, here are three more must-see pavilions at this year’s biennale.

Bahrain




“Heatwave” presents a meaningful and practical response to the climate crisis.

At first glance, Bahrain’s pavilion isn’t much to look at. A modest modular structure consisting of a raised platform, a suspended ceiling, and a central column, it lacks the artistic clout of other pavilions. And yet, this passive cooling installation designed for public spaces was awarded the Golden Lion for best national participation. 

“Heatwave” presents a meaningful and practical response to the climate crisis. By reimagining traditional Bahraini cooling systems, such as wind towers and shaded courtyards, it provides an innovative response to rising temperatures. The pavilion’s design integrates a geothermal well that draws in cool air from below the surface, paired with a solar chimney that releases warm air upwards. Together, these elements form what the designers describe as a “thermo-hygrometric axis,” a system that maintains a mild, regulated indoor climate.  

In the exhibition space, where excavation for a geothermal well was not feasible, the system relies on mechanical ventilation, drawing air through a canal-facing window and guiding it through a network of ducts and nozzles to create a controlled microclimate. Importantly, it is designed to be scalable and adaptable to a wide range of environments. 

Commissioned by Shaikh Khalifa bin Ahmed Al-Khalifa, president of the Bahrain Authority for Culture and Antiquities, and curated by architect Andrea Faraguna, the pavilion functions as a full-scale, inhabitable prototype. Aimed primarily at meeting the challenges faced by construction workers in the Gulf, the pavilion’s design was developed in collaboration with structural engineer Mario Monotti and thermomechanical expert Alexander Puzrin. 

Britain 




British Pavilion - Detail from PART's 'Objects of Repair.' (Courtesy of the British Council)

“I call this pavilion a reverse case because it also makes a statement against British colonial rule,” says Yara Sharif, one of the co-founders of the Palestine Regeneration Team (PART). “After all, they were the ones who initiated the exploitation of Palestinian resources. So having a platform within the British Pavilion is, in itself, a statement — a reverse case that says, ‘We are also here to occupy you.’ It’s also a way to challenge the mental occupation; the idea of portraying Palestinians as passive subjects.” 

PART’s “Objects of Repair” is a small but vitally important component within the British pavilion’s “Geology of Britannic Repair,” a UK-Kenya collaboration that seeks to expose and rework the entangled legacies of architecture and colonization. In a series of installations, the exhibition proposes earth-bound solutions that resist extractive practices and respond to climate, social, and political upheaval. The British Pavilion received a special mention for national participation. 

At the core of PART’s installation, created by Sharif, Nasser Golzari, and Murray Fraser, lies the Travelling Lab, a project inspired by Gazans’ reappropriation of rubble to create new architectural ‘skins.’ 

“The whole idea behind the Travelling Lab is that it continues to develop and evolve as it moves,” explains Sharif, who is also a co-founder of Architects for Gaza. “We call it a way to cultivate hope, but also to create a matrix of possibilities that may suggest new scenarios and aesthetics to challenge the ones we’re familiar with. The aim of the pavilion is not to create a beautiful object; it’s to provoke a collision, spark discussion, and to draw attention to a context that is continually being rendered invisible.” 

Uzbekistan  




“A Matter of Radiance,” the Uzbekistan pavilion’s exhibition. (Supplied)

One of the first things you see when entering the Uzbekistan National Pavilion is a heliostat – a mirror system designed to track the sun and reflect its light onto a fixed point. Beyond it lie a control room table, a monumental glass chandelier created by Irena Lipene, and a giant solar screen. All belong to — or are reconstructions of those found at — the Sun Institute of Material Science in Tashkent, one of the city’s Soviet-era modernist structures.    

The landmark building, originally known as the Sun Heliocomplex, is the inspiration behind “A Matter of Radiance,” the pavilion’s exhibition. Curated by GRACE studio’s Ekaterina Golovatyuk and Giacomo Cantoni, the exhibition explores the scientific and cultural relevance of the Heliocomplex. In particular, its potential as an international scientific hub. 

“This was a catalyst building for its time,” says Gayane Umerova, chairperson of the Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation, who commissioned the exhibition. “The architecture was profound. The designers were given remarkable freedom, and I think it’s important for us to not only celebrate it, but also preserve it.” 

Opened near Tashkent in 1987, the Heliocomplex is one of only two major solar furnaces in the world designed to study how materials behave under extreme temperatures. It is also one of 24 key modernist sites spread across the capital, 21 of which have been granted national heritage status.  

“It’s important for us to show that this is not just a monolith,” says Umerova of the Heliocomplex, which is currently being used for civilian scientific research. “It’s an art object, in a way, but it’s a living structure.”  


Review: Netflix’s ‘The New Yorker at 100’

Updated 14 December 2025
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Review: Netflix’s ‘The New Yorker at 100’

  • Directed by Marshall Curry, the documentary opened the doors to the publication’s meticulous world, offering viewers a rare look inside the issues within the magazine’s issues

Out this month, Netflix’s “The New Yorker at 100” documentary marks the centennial of the weekly that has brought forth arguably some of the most compelling long-form journalism in my lifetime.

As a ferocious reader with an insatiable appetite for print, I vividly recall picking-up a copy of The New Yorker in Saudi Arabia after school as a teen, determined to read it cover-to-cover — only to find myself mentally, intellectually and physically exhausted after deciphering a single lyrical and Herculean-sized long-form piece.

Reading The New Yorker still makes one both feel smarter — and perhaps not smart enough — at the very same time. Just like the documentary.

Much like Vogue’s 2009 documentary, “The September Issue,” which followed (now retired) editor-in-chief Anna Wintour as she prepared for the September 2007 issue; this documentary largely centered on the making of the Feb. 17 & 24, 2025 multi-cover edition.

A quintessentially New York staple that readers either love or loathe — or both — the magazine has long been seen as a highbrow publication for the “elite.”

But The New Yorker is in on the joke. It never did take itself too seriously.

Directed by Marshall Curry, the documentary opened the doors to the publication’s meticulous world, offering viewers a rare look inside the issues within the magazine’s issues.

Narrated by actress Julianne Moore, it included sit-down interviews with famous figures, largely offering gushing testimonials.

It, of course, included many cameos from pop culture references such as from “Seinfeld,” “The Good Place” and others.

It also mentioned New Yorker’s famed late writers Anthony Bourdain and Truman Capote, and Ronan Farrow.

As a journalist myself, I enjoyed the behind-the-scenes peeks into staff meetings and editing discussions, including the line-by-line fact-checking process.

While lovingly headquartered in New York — and now based at One World Trade Center after decades in the heart of Times Square — the magazine has long published dispatches from elsewhere in the country and around the world.

I wish there had been more airtime dedicated to Jeanette “Jane” Cole Grant, who co-founded the magazine with her husband-at-the-time, Harold Ross, during the Roaring Twenties.

Ironically, neither founder hailed from New York — Grant arrived from Missouri at 16 to pursue singing before becoming a journalist on staff at The New York Times — and Ross came from a Colorado mining town.

Perhaps more bizarrely, Ross, who served as the first editor-in-chief of The New Yorker — known today for its intricate reporting and 11 Pulitzer Prizes — had dropped out of school at 13. He served as lead editor for 26 years until his death, guided by instinct and surrounded by talented writers he hired.

As the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and the magazine’s fifth editor-in-chief, David Remnick has held the role since 1998. “It is a place that publishes a 15,000-word profile of a musician one week, a 9,000-word account from Southern Lebanon, with gag cartoons interspersed in them,” he said in one scene.

It also offered a glimpse of the leadership of his predecessor, the vivacious and provocative Tina Brown, who served as editor-in-chief for six years starting in 1992.

No woman has held the top editor position before or since her tenure.

Some of the most compelling moments in the documentary, for me, showed journalists scribbling in reporter notebooks in darkened movie theaters, rocking-out in dingy punk shows, and reporting from political rallies while life unfolded around them.

These journalists were not sitting in diners, merely chasing the money or seated in corner offices; they were on the ground, focused on accuracy and texture, intent on portraying what it meant to be a New Yorker who cared about the world, both beyond the city’s borders and within them.

While Arab bylines remain limited, the insights from current marginalized writers and editors showed how the magazine has been trying to diversify and include more contributors of color. They are still working on it.

A century in, this documentary feels like an issue of The New Yorker — except perhaps easier to complete.