What makes architectural heritage meaningful? Looking at cities like Baku, Rotterdam, or Tirana, it often feels as though some architects have entirely lost their sense of local heritage, imposing designs that steamroll over cultural identity. Eugene Viollet-le-Duc (1854) famously argued that society requires architects who truly understand the materials, construction processes, and the ideas behind buildings in their specific location and time. Most of us don’t notice when an architect gets it right, but when they get it wrong, it becomes a permanent, unavoidable scar on the city. This is exactly what I experienced visiting Georgia in July 2025.
Walking through Tbilisi felt like jumping in and out of a broken time machine. Meaningful heritage sites are abruptly juxtaposed against “facsimile architecture” mimicking modern global hubs. I became overwhelmed with confusion as questions were piling in my head. Luckily, my initial sense of rejection turned into curiosity. However, I knew that as an outsider, I could not uncover the truth through observation alone. Thus, this research is supported by the lived experiences of local experts: Lela Gelashvili, a professional guide, and Natalia Vatsadze, an art historian. With their help, I aim to uncover the historical events and geopolitical influences that shaped the last two decades of Georgia’s dissonant architecture landscape: a period I view as an architectural dictatorship spanning from Mikheil Saakashvili’s frantic glass-and-steel Westernization to the current oligarchic urbanism of Bidzina Ivanishvili and the Georgian Dream party.
My hypothesis suggests that this architectural “mish-mash” is a byproduct of violent socio-political shifts, seasoned with nostalgia, regional geopolitical pressures, and a desperate pursuit of a globalized image. Hence, we have to look past the surface style. We must apply a more holistic, deeper investigation represented in my research through the analysis of the architectural strata of Georgia, passing through successive waves of Persian, Roman, Arab influence, and two centuries of Russian hegemony including the current territorial occupations. These layers provide the baseline to question the current situation.
I argue that the architecture of the last twenty years is a tangible, reactionary response to a volatile geopolitical climate, specifically, the tension between a heavy Russian grey shadow and aspirations for the European Union. By using Laurajane Smith’s Uses of Heritage (2006) and Tunbridge and Ashworth’s Dissonant heritage: the management of the past as a resource in conflict (1996), I intend to show how power has been used to toy with these historical layers. In turn, this will help to map the “epicenters of dissonance”, through various case studies, in the cartographic project “Looking for Identity”. In the pursuit of a vibrant future, the nation’s collective vigilance faltered, trading the structural honesty of its heritage for a fleeting, power-driven facade. This research seeks to interrogate the architectural “glitch” of modern Georgia: is this skyline a byproduct of rapid urbanism, or a deliberate site where the Soviet past and European future collide?

This article traces the development and social impact of prefabricated concrete housing technology in Europe since the 20th century, dividing it into three main periods.
Early Period (1905–c. 1923): Prefabricated concrete housing technology first appeared in Britain, exemplified by John Brodie's workers' housing project, aiming to improve living conditions at low cost. Later, inspired by Ford's assembly line production, American architect Grosvenor Atterbury first proposed standardized prefabricated concrete components, implementing a factory prefabrication and on-site hoisting process in the Forest Hills project in New York. His "Bron system" was subsequently introduced to Europe and validated in the Betondorp project in Amsterdam, laying the technological foundation for subsequent development.
Development Period (1924–1930s): Under the pressure of post-World War I reconstruction and urbanization, Germany became a center of technological innovation. Martin Wagner, Ernst May, and Walter Gropius, among others, improved the Bron system, solving problems related to transportation, connection, and insulation, and promoting component standardization and construction process optimization. These achievements not only influenced large-scale housing construction in Germany but were also introduced to the Soviet Union to adapt to its industrialization needs. The concept of prefabrication has also profoundly influenced CIAM's modularization discussions and the idea of "functional cities."
Maturity Period (1948-Present): Post-World War II housing shortages spurred the
widespread application of prefabrication technology. French engineer Raymond Camus invented a prefabricated large-panel system, enabling industrialized production and its adoption both in Eastern Europe and many Western European countries. Consequently, prefabricated concrete housing became a major tool for post-war urban expansion, shaping the urban landscape and residential patterns throughout Europe.
Simultaneously, these architectural practices influenced architects such as Moshe Safdie and Kisho Kurokawa, who used prefabricated concrete buildings as a tool to respond to social issues, exploring new directions such as modularity and variability.
In terms of social impact, prefabricated concrete housing gradually evolved from initial technological experiments into a major means of urban shaping, becoming a symbol of "a better life" after the war. However, since the 1970s, it has faced widespread criticism due to issues such as quality, monotony, and social isolation, becoming an object of reflection on modernity in artistic works.
Looking to the future, prefabricated concrete technology is developing towards sustainability, intelligence, and digitalization. The application of new technologies such as material improvement, component replaceability, 3D printing and digital construction makes it still of great potential in addressing urbanization and housingpressures in the 21st century.

In the 1900s the BAUHAUS movement played a significant role in inspiring decades worth of modernist architecture. Fast forward to the mid-1990s, the last phase of the construction of large-scale suburban neighbourhoods started and were known as VINEX housing estates. These developments aimed to expand urban regions to prevent urban sprawl, among which is Brandevoort, Helmond.
Brandevoort shows a renewed interest in traditional architecture and is branded as a traditional Dutch town by stakeholder like the real estate developer (Nieuwbouw Helmond, 2025). However, this history thesis researches whether the architectural experience is coherent with how it is branded. The following research question will be answered: how does Brandevoort employ architectural historicism and place-branding strategies to construct a form of “fake” heritage and what does this mean for future urban development?
The research will be informed by literature, analysis and a series of interviews and surveys.
I will look at how Brandevoort has been marketed and how this relates to the experience of visitors.
The research concludes that the historical aesthetics have been successfully implemented and create a historically convincing appearance. Yet, the urban design lacks the historical intricacy of older Dutch cities, due to contemporary needs for larger plots and wider streets. This creates a mismatch with the perception and experience of
Brandevoort.
Nevertheless, Brandevoort’s use of historical elements evokes a feeling of nostalgia because people recognize it and identify with it. This is a solid foundation for creating a sense of community. This is also where the place-branding of Brandevoort has been successful.
For the historic perception to align with the experience, the urban structure must be designed according to how historic cities were designed in the past. Therefore, designing a new “historic” town must not only reintroduce historical elements, but it must design the space, like it was used in history. This means designing intricate small streets solely meant for pedestrians and small narrow housing on small plots.
In combination with the creation of community, developments like Brandevoort will be successful in creating a new “historic” town, because the experience feels as historical as the space is perceived.

Sacred architecture has been a taboo subject for architects for decades. Due to its architecturally immeasurable, unquantifiable, and uncontainable nature, sacred architecture is often avoided or resisted in architectural discussions. (Lepine, 2016) However, in an era marked by a significant rise in personal spirituality, accompanied by concepts such as "mindfulness" and "meditation," sacred architecture may acquire a distinctive role beyond its traditional religious functions. Thus, this paper investigates the relationship between sacred architecture and spirituality within the broad context of profane secularisation.
Specifically, the paper focuses on analysing sacred architecture in contemporary Japanese society, examining The Church of Light, designed by Tadao Ando, as a case study. It begins by addressing the historical impact of iconoclasm on sacred architecture and its affinity for spatial emptiness, tracing its localised reinterpretation in Japanese society. The case study exemplifies how the Christian legacy of reductive emptiness in the Western iconoclastic tradition converges with the Japanese ingrained notion of "nothingness," first articulated by Kitaro Nishida as a philosophical foundation in the Japanese art movement known as the School of Things, was later introduced into the architectural field for shaping sacred design. (Baek & Ando, 2009) Japan's unique cultural synthesis of Western knowledge and complex indigenous Japanese traditions profoundly informed Ando's design approach to the church. Hence, the paper investigates the architect's position on designing sacred spaces by analysing Ando's nuanced methods of negotiating the architectural tensions between religious belief systems and eventually creating a new social imaginary.
To comprehend Ando's design approach to the Protestant church, the paper delves into his architectural and subjective attitude towards sacred architecture, which involves a complex interplay of logic and emotion. (Furuyama, 1993). This is evident through the Church of Light analysis, where design decisions embody these conceptual frameworks. The paper further articulates the Japanese architect's unique perspective on sacred architecture that amplifies the sense of sacred emptiness and facilitates spiritual transcendence.
In its final section, the paper reflects on the contemporary significance of sacred architecture within the modern condition of secularisation, examining its potential to address the growing demand for individualised spirituality. To sum up, the thesis evaluates the evolving role of contemporary sacred architecture in fostering spirituality, with The Church of Light as a case rooted in the philosophical principle of "nothingness."

The thesis analyses the extensive demolitions that happened in Bucharest in the 1980s, during Nicolae Ceaușescu’s communist regime, when a substantial part of the historic city center was destroyed to make way for the Civic Center and the House of the Republic, which later became the Palace of Parliament. The demolitions led to the loss of valuable heritage architecture, deeply altering the urban and social fabric of the city. By analysing available literature, archival images, and case studies, the research examines how this period of urban restructuring has influenced contemporary urban planning and heritage architecture in post-communist Bucharest. The investigation aims to discover whether the precedent set by Ceaușescu’s demolitions facilitated further heritage destruction in the capitalist, modern context, driven by economic and political interests. Additionally, it addresses the present challenges of preserving heritage architecture and integrating new urban developments within the historic context. This research focuses on providing a deeper understanding of the long-term consequences of the communist demolitions in Bucharest and their relevance to current discussions on heritage conservation and urban identity restoration.

This Thesis explores the contrasts between the work of Minnette de Silva and her perception due to male biases. It starts with explaining the architectural scene of Sri Lanka during the entry of Minnette to the scene, then moves on to exploring the key architectural features of her work through selected case studies. Finally, through multiple written sources, the male biases in her perception are explored, and compared to her true self as a professional.

This thesis investigates the architectural and social evolution of two interconnected canal houses—Oude Delft 229 and 231—in Delft’s historic city centre. Drawing from archival research, building analysis, and existing literature, the study reconstructs five centuries of transformation, revealing how changes in ownership, use, and urban policy left visible and spatial traces. What began as a personal curiosity developed into a broader inquiry into how canal houses reflect the layered socio-economic history of the city. The research situates the case study within Delft’s urban development, from the 1536 city fire and the Dutch Golden Age to 19th-century industrialization and the rise of TU Delft. Using a reverse chronological method, the thesis uncovers how successive residents—merchants, Catholic elites, industrial entrepreneurs, and students—shaped and reshaped the building. Ultimately, the project demonstrates how a single house can function as a living archive, offering insight into the interplay between space, memory, and social change over time.

The Italian Social Housing Miracle Post World War II discusses and investigates the making of the modernist neighbourhood in Italy in the aftermath of WWII and the subsequent economic boom and socio-political reforms. I’ll be investigating both the physical and abstract involved in the making of QT8, the model neighbourhood of the time. The thesis begins by exploring the historical context of the country, the destruction war brought on its industry and residential sector, the transition from a Monarchy to a Republic, and how it evolved thanks to major reforms and economic policies; both national and foreign. From an extensive research on time-specific articles and journals, law documents and public discourses, I try to create a coherent narrative that focuses on the public sector and its social housing programme. The thesis also highlights the different level of interventions done by foreign governments to try and steer Italy’s path. Once a robust knowledge web is created on the economical and socio-political situation, the thesis dives into analysing the unicorn project that is QT8, located in Milano. An emphasis is placed on the non-linear approach the design and development process took to reach implementation as a parallel to modern-day difficulties in implementing new large-scale investments in the public sector.

In architectural history, the knowledge about women architects and their work contains a lot of gaps. Young women studying to be architects do not have role models to whom they can relate. The Danish architect Dorte Mandrup can be such a role model as she is a celebrated architect and speaks out on feminist topics. In this history thesis, the relation between Danish feminism and Dorte Mandrup as a woman in architecture will be examined by conducting a literature study. To provide a historical context, the feminist movement in Denmark will be discussed. The two main feminist waves of the 20th century created opportunities for women to study and practice architecture. Women could also open their own offices, although this happened rarely. Dorte Mandrup opened her own office after a bumpy road towards becoming an architect. Her experiences shaped her vision on good architecture, but also inspired her to speak out about gender issues in the male-dominated field of architecture.

Colonial architecture stands as a visible testament to the dominance of imperial powers, symbolizing not only political control but also an imposition of spatial ideologies in distant lands (Boxer, 1969). However, the architectural forms introduced by colonial powers were not static replicas of European designs. Over time, they evolved in response to the unique cultural, social, economic, and environmental conditions of the colonies (Freire & Meneses, 2009). The urban settlements established by the Portuguese in Goa, India, offer a compelling case study of such architectural transformations. In these settlements, particularly those with layered histories and heritage value, architecture became a site of negotiation between imported forms and local traditions. As cities grow, there is an inherent tension between urbanization and the conservation of heritage, which embodies the identity and roots of a place (Hamzah, 2020).

Rua Abade Faria in Margao, Goa, a historically significant road exemplifies this tension. The settlement's architectural fabric, once predominantly residential and rich with heritage value, has undergone significant transformations, influenced by urban pressures and changing social needs. As cities like Margao grow and modernize, the challenge becomes how to retain the heritage values embedded in historical settlements while accommodating the pressures of urbanisation, commercialisation, and infrastructural change which have redefined its identity, eroding many of the spatial and material qualities that once defined its character. However, these changes are not merely losses; they are also adaptations, negotiations between heritage, function, and modernity and the nuances of everyday life.

This research builds upon my undergraduate dissertation titled In Between Heritage and Progress: Urban Morphology of a Historical Urban Settlement - A Case of Abade Faria Road, Margao, completed in 2021 at Goa College of Architecture, Goa, India. That study aimed to trace the physical transformation of Rua Abade Faria, a historically significant street in Goa’s commercial capital across time. As a street once lined with Indo-Portuguese residential buildings, Abade Faria Road has increasingly been subjected to commercialisation, infrastructural pressure, and unsystematic redevelopment. The earlier work focused on documenting these shifts through a morphological lens, tracing changes in street patterns, building typologies, and urban character. The current research extends that inquiry by shifting its focus, from observing what has changed, to asking why those changes happened, how they were shaped by local and colonial conditions, and what they mean in the broader context of Goan architectural identity and heritage today.

This is a story about an archive that could sit in the heart of Appingedam, Groningen, commemorating two diasporic cultures which, against all the odds, found refuge in this quiet, mediaeval city.

The first Ashkenazi Jewish population saw its birth in Appingedam, Groningen in the early 17th century. Despite centuries of difficulties the community flourished in this small rural city for centuries until it was all but eliminated in the 1940s, starting with their forceful eviction to the Dutch concentration/transit camp Westerbork. My grandmother is the last survivor of this community.

After the war, Kamp Westerbork - renamed Schattenberg - saw the arrival of a new community, the Moluccans. Intended to be a temporary stay whilst the Dutch negotiated their independence as a state from Indonesia, the years saw little progress as it became evident that this temporary stay was quickly becoming permanent. In 1960 it was proclaimed that the Moluccan community would be rehoused permanently across the province of Groningen, with the first city of permanent dwelling being Appingedam. A city which can be walked across in 25 minutes now bore witness to the birth of two significant communities within the Netherlands, centuries apart. Although there could never have been any crossover (one community terminated prior to the other starting) this is the story of how to analyse the intrinsically spiritual connections between two vastly different communities, and how a new syncretic direction for commemoration - one the focuses on the power of a multiplicity of memory rather than the privacy and exclusivity of a single collective remembrance - can be brought forward.

Embedding an architectural project in its context exceeds the mere use of materials and spatial devices. Rather, those are simply the tools used to convey a message, and to reflect certain values. Any piece of architecture with an urban, residential location, has the potential to impact the daily lives of citizens. This is especially the case when it comes to a typology concerned with highly personal and sensitive matters, such as the architecture of commemoration. Since the early twentieth century, an increased level of importance has been placed on the experiential qualities offered by commemorative architecture. There has been a willingness to move away from standalone objects, which symbolise or represent past events or memories, and do not, in principle, possess spatial characteristics.

The term memorial has gradually come to replace the term monument. As with monuments, memorials can still be single objects of various sizes, placed in specific configurations. In essence, the terminology shift refers to the need for individuals to be liberated from the role of the mere observer, to the active participant. Consequently, the concept of integrating a memorial into public space, and the urban fabric of a city, has been on the rise.

This paper aims to explore the role of the National Memorial of Names in the remembrance of Amsterdam’s traumatic past, questioning whether it aids the mourning of the city. It aims to unravel the meaning and importance of community participation in memorial architecture, arguing that, the value of such structures often emerges through the making process itself, and through the way in which it infuses into the city fabric, into neighbourhoods and communities. The paper will address the significance of scale, revealing the way in which it can become a major factor in the rise of controversy surrounding a proposal. The interrelated concepts of public involvement, proportion, and boundaries, will be dealt with. More than with any other typology, commemorative spaces deal with the tension between every-day life and occasion, between the mundane and the spiritual. The text will explore what it means to create site-specific architecture, in terms not only of material and spatial realms, but those related to the people of its context.

Architecture transcends the realm of mere sculptural aesthetics; it stands as a utilitarian discipline, one that extends its purpose beyond form to convey profound meaning, serve vital functions, and articulate powerful statements. In our contemporary era, we find ourselves surrounded by a crucible of challenges, a time marked by impending global issues such as gentrification, climate change, resource depletion, and social injustices (Moore, 2006). The responsibility for addressing these pressing matters now rests upon our shoulders as the next generation of architects, tasked with actively contributing to these pivotal discussions.

While considerable efforts are being made to reshape how we approach architectural education, emphasising sustainable materials, circular designs, and environmental consciousness, there remains a noticeable gap. Social sustainability, inequality, inclusivity, and the uneven distribution of resources within architectural proposals are areas that require more attention (Hassan, 2018). These are not abstract concerns; they are urgent issues that reverberate in the daily lives of billions—individuals residing in slums, struggling with inhabitable conditions, and spilling into the streets in pursuit of even the slightest ounce of space (Lefebvre, 1968). The gravity of these challenges necessitates a strong, coherent and comprehensive approach within architectural discourse in order to truly spark transformative change.

Naples ranks third in Italy by population density, with 9102 inhabitants per km². Despite trends of central areas emptying out as residents move to outlying towns, Naples maintains one of the densest populations in Europe. Living conditions are inadequate, evident in data showing Naples having the highest inhabitants per dwelling, the least living space per inhabitant, and the largest number of family members (Istat, 2011). The Quartieri Spagnoli, embedded in Naples’ historical fabric since the 16th century, are the perfect reference of such living conditions. Renowned for their narrow streets and constant pressed flows of people, the Quartieri are the perfect symbol for unregulated public spaces within the city, embracing and showcasing first-hand the consequences of the city’s inhabitable settlements (Coletta 2022; Pascariello, 2018). They transcend mere pathways, evolving into areas for commerce, dining, folklore, and the preservation of Naples’ mysteries.

My research delves into these intricate Neapolitan urban dynamics, evaluating the viability of urban acupuncture and regeneration as a solution for the cities’ inhabitable living conditions. Naples is a city built on tradition, a constant expression of folklore where actions are carried out almost ritualistically based on what they once were. The work will base its theoretical framework on the thought of Lefebvre and Foucault (1991; 1977), exploring the dynamics of spaces shaping their inhabitants or vice versa within an urban context steeped in tradition and culture. These will be used as tools to answer the following research question:

THE NEAPOLITAN ‘SLUMS’ RENAISSANCE: A NEW ERA OF REGENERATION
To what extent can urban acupuncture serve as a practical solution in city environments influenced by tradition and cultural factors?

The narrative of the thesis will not solely focus on the context of Naples; it will also extend to the slum regeneration projects in the South American contexts and their remarkable success. The failure of Progetto Scampia, Naples’ singular attempt to address squatting, prompts an examination of why Naples is often considered a lost cause. The essay will aim to study whether successful models from South American slums could be applied to enhance the quality of life in Neapolitan slums. Is the problem a lack of viable solutions, or a failure to implement effective ones? The written work will act as a journey through historical uprisings, cultural identity and spatial appropriation, all in the attempt of fully understanding and grasping the intricate dynamics of the Quartieri Spagnoli. I will do so through the use of primary resources, such as photographic studies and interviews, as well as literature sources.

This paper investigates the Enver Hoxha Pyramid in Tirana, exploring its evolution through three distinct phases of significance. Originally serving as a museum dedicated to Enver Hoxha during the communist era, the Pyramid later lost its identity following the fall of communism. However, a recent renovation has breathed new life into the structure, leading to its revitalization. The changing social and political landscape in Albania has altered the interpretation of the Pyramid, with some arguing that its long period of abandonment has detached it from its original association with Hoxha, transforming it into an integral part of Tirana’s cultural heritage. While the renovation has successfully restored function and purpose to the building, some may question if the extent of the changes has made the original structure unrecognizable.

This thesis paper will be an examination of the use of light in the Memorial des martyrs de la deportation, Paris and the its effect on the experience of that site.
The inspiration for this topic came from a visit to the Jewish museum in Berlin by Daniel Liebenskind. There natural light and contrast between dark en light areas is used masterfully to give the visitor a feeling approximating something that the victims of the holocaust might have felt. Loneliness, confusion, helplessness, etc. This visit left a fascination for the elegance of the architecture’s use of light to convey emotion.
This paper will research the case study of the Memorial des martyrs de la deportation on the Île de la Cité, Paris. This site was chosen because it shares the heavy emotions of the Jewish museum in Berlin, also being a holocaust memorial. And its architecture is quite simplistic in form, with the contrasts of natural and artificial lightings being a prominent aspect of the design of the site.
Two main methods will be used to come to a conclusion as to the way light is used to influence experience at the site of the case study. The first is relevant scientific literature describing the use of light in architecture, memorial architecture specifically, psycho-logical effects of light and sources specific to the case study site. Secondly, an expedition to the case study site to experience it first hand.

Despite nearly three decades having passed since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Soviet-era housing remains a significant component of major cities’ housing stocks. Often perceived as outdated and socially stigmatized, these housing estates surpass their intended lifespan, leading to difficulties in maintenance and renovation. In this study, the interplay of history, architecture, and well-being in the context of Soviet-Era housing in Riga is explored.

By examining the historical context and development of socialist housing in Baltic cities and assessing architectural principles from the socialist era, the impact of architectural design on inhabitants is evaluated. By analyzing existing research on construction methods, lifespan, and sustainability of Soviet-era housing, this study intends to assess the feasibility of various renovation strategies and their implications for future urban development. Additionally, the research will investigate the emotional resonance of Soviet-era architecture among residents

The study employs a combination of methodologies, including historical literature review, case studies of specific housing complexes, and analysis of emotional responses to architectural features, to inform decision-making regarding potential interventions for Soviet-era housing estates in Riga. The study hypothesizes that architectural characteristics significantly impact residents’ well-being, and strategic interventions such as revitalization or repurposing can enhance both physical and psychological aspects of these living spaces. Through comprehensive understanding and informed recommendations, this research aims to contribute to sustainable urban development and housing policy in Riga and beyond.

Current approaches of abstraction and conceptuality in the discourse of memorialisation can be useful to commemorate contemporary events, but the inherent flaws and shortcomings in the misuse of abstraction are insufficient in the quest of establishing a connection with the distant past. This thesis acts as a call for a different direction for the crystallisation of memory. By looking beyond contemporary history, we can understand more about our spiritual connection with our ancestors from bygone eras. To aid the strengthening of our spiritual ties to history I have diagnosed a new spatial typology of memory; the encounter-monument. The encounter-monument is the accidental monument; the fossilised memory; the physical and spiritual encounter with history. The encounter-monument is the scar tissue etched into stone that has survived, morphed and re-moulded over the centuries. The encounter-monument is the relic that we may come across in our day-to-day lives that jolts us back through history. They are the encounter with a stranger’s signature and date in the cover of a book that has been lying in the attic for decades. They are the slowly dissolving names on forgotten gravestones. Encounter-monuments are the sense of histories both recent and distant, passing before our very eyes. They plug us into the timeline of existence. This thesis explores the Domplein in Utrecht as a case study for the ineffective use of abstraction to commemorate its profound history, and through the use of various artistic media, propose a new direction for its focus. Through photographs, plaster casts and frottage drawings, I present a spiritual argument for tactility as a method of commemoration.

The flaneur is a figure of perception and an embodiment of liberation in the metropolis - an uninhibited spectator of the city, seeking the pleasures of its indulgent atmospheres and basking in the vibrancy of its unfolding urban life. However, this simple, cognitive engagement with the urban realm is reserved for male authorship, where the basic human requirements of time, space and leisure are gendered. The male flaneur defies the scrutiny of the public gaze, unperturbed by the fears of assault and societal convention while enjoying the luxuries of idleness in the midst of a bustling street. On the contrary, the female flaneur is obscured, her space and time in the city compromised at the behest of patriarchal constructs. Where is her space in the city? How does she reclaim her ownership of the urban scape?
Moved by the question of female flanerie in the metropolis, this essay delves into the idiosyncratic realm of the kotha - a spatial typology that emerged in the Indian subcontinent during the Mughal rule around the 16th Century. The kotha was similar to a salon, where women (known as tawaifs or salon ladies) adept in the arts of dance and music, would perform for elite and royal male patrons. Being a dedicated space of performance embedded in the city’s fabric, the kotha oscillated between the public and private realms, never fully belonging to either. Through the changing socio-political condition of India across its colonial, post colonial and contemporary eras, the kotha, just like the metropolis, has undergone a shift in identity and spatial expression - thereby mirroring the condition of the female flaneur, now embodied by the tawaif. Interestingly, the kotha has time and again been a subject of interest in South Asian visual media culture, particularly represented through its cinematic space.
Therefore, tapping into my own fascination for South Asian cinema and drawing on the spatio-corporeal realm of the kotha as a specific case, this paper seeks to unearth the greater question of women’s space in the city - their modalities of expression, their reclamation of citizenship and above all, their personification of the flaneur - a figure of perception and an embodiment of liberation in the metropolis.

The increase in neo-traditional style construction in the Dutch housing market has resulted in a preference for this style, with research showing a 15% price premium on average for this type of housing. However, this preference is not shared by most designers and critics, who see neo-traditionalism as a form of regression. Neo-traditional architecture is an attempt to bring back diversity in architecture, which has been lost with the standardization and industrialization of the building process. This paper explores the history of Dutch residential architecture through imitation, repetition, and diversity, and discusses two case studies: Molenvliet, a social housing project with diversity as the core principle, and Brandevoort, a project developed for the market that utilizes the illusion of past greatness to differentiate its products. The paper concludes by arguing that the commodification of the house and focus on housing value over quality is a direct result of the current housing market situation and that political changes are necessary to address this issue.

We are living in an age of deconstructing history, realizing our past is not as black and white as we once thought it was. By slowly peeling off the different layers of the past, our historical awareness grows and we gain a broader perspective on what has actually happened. Movements such as Black Lives Matter have sharpened our lenses massively, which inevitably had impact on our perception on monuments and memorial architecture. In this history thesis we dive into the current scenery of monuments and memorials in Dutch public spaces, that refer to our colonial and slavery past. The present palette of statues, monumental buildings and memorial sites represent a distorted balance of these historical colonial narratives, since they are massively underrepresenting the dark side of the story from the slavery perspective. Monument Indië-Nederland is a great example of such a one-sided colonial reference, causing society to interfere and give voice to the shifting societal perspective on historical representation. However, the hidden design intentions of sculpturer Frits Van Hall reveal something surprising: the monument was actually intended to be adjusted overtime by removing and adding elements to the memorial site. He intended to give society the opportunity of slowly shifting the original meaning of ‘honoring former commander Van Heutsz’ into ‘celebrating the freedom of the East Indie colony’. There are also other memorial examples that emphasize additional perspectives and spatial flexibility. This inspires us to think of monuments as being more than just a ‘static’ object, but rather dynamic and flexible elements in our built environment that give space to add other perspectives to the narrative, and to be subject of societal change overtime. And so, we should be expanding the currently represented one-sided narratives with adding new perspectives to the monuments together with society. In this way, a variety of perspectives is being represented, without ignoring or denying our history. For that matter, these additions overtime will actually even enrichen the current memorial scenery, by also representing our changing societal perception on history over the years.