Taking Postmodern ideas to high-contrast extremes, this set of nightclub-and-entertainment structures designed by MVRDV borrows from its surroundings, boiling area architecture down to white-and-gold shadows on peel-to-play facades.

Since neither core space of The Imprint needed natural light, the decision was made to create faux windows instead. These would reference the neighborhood in an abstract way, while the minimalist color palette and pulled-up zones would result in something distinctively contemporary. It would be easy to mock the effect, but (to be fair) as an entertainment complex, the idea is to grab attention.

Like raised curtains, areas that are pulled up from the street also clearly convey where entrances are, while multimedia screens just inside suggest what is going on is more exciting and worth looking into. “Reflection and theatricality are therefore combined,” explain the architects. “With our design, after the nightly escapades, a zen-like silence follows during the day, providing an almost literally reflective situation for the after parties.”

Windows, doors, and other elements mirror what’s all around. “By placing, as it were, surrounding buildings into the facades of our buildings and in the central plaza, we connect The Imprint with the neighbours,” explained Winy Maas, principal and co-founder of MVRDV. “This ensures coherence. Paradise City is not a collection of individual objects such as Las Vegas, but a real city.”

“Two months ago most of the cladding was done and client said, ‘this is an art piece’. What is interesting about that is that they are looking for that momentum – that entertainment can become art or that the building can become artistic in that way. What, then, is the difference between architecture an art? The project plays with that and I think that abstraction is part of it, but it has to surprise, seduce and it has to calm.”

Amidst the modern architecture and undulating spaces of this station in Delft, one design detail stands out above the rest: a huge abstracted version of a map from the late 1800s that connects across a series of aluminum ceiling fins.

As travelers move through the space, their perspective shifts — overlaid on vertical slats, the map becomes abstract or concrete depending on the viewing angle, and periodically reveals details (like the name of the city) to new arrivals.

Developed by Macanoo over the last decade, this hub is more than just a station, containing a new city hall and municipal offices as well, but sited above the main transit tunnel is the grand open space connecting it all — an apt place for a massive map.

Within the station hall walls and columns are adorned with a contemporary reinterpretation of delft’s famed blue tiles. References to the region can be found in the facade and window designs, too.

The halls are separated with a glass wall and two further volumes that house the public counters, consultation rooms and technical services of the municipal offices, and the commercial functions of the station hall.

Designed to be a fittingly strange work of architecture on the grounds of famous painter Edward Munch’s former home, A House to Die In has sparked controversy since its proposal some years back.

Modeled in collaboration with the artist who now owns the estate, the building features cartoonish characters act as support columns for this algorithmically generated architectural endeavor.

Accepted at national and state levels, the local city has its reservations, not so much about the form than the placement. “We want the site where the death house was intended to be placed to remain a green area for the benefit of the local population, and we encourages Bjarne to find a new site for the project” wrote the Oslo City Council in a statement.

The scheme has generated much editorial discussion of late, with the The New York Times describing the building as a U.F.O. Earlier this year, the project was put on public display by the Selvaag Art Collection, showcasing the artistic process of designing the unique home. One has to wonder whether Munch, a bit of an eccentric personally and professionally, would have approved.

Looking at one of his sculptures from a single perspective, it would be easy to mistake them for 2D drawings on a flat surface. After all, architects have a tendency to layer lines as they solve design problems in realtime, resulting in a sketchy quality in their “working” drawings. They often also sketch buildings with overlapping lines, leaving structural intersections seeming fluid and unfinished.

Spanish artist David Moreno sculpts along similar lines, using thin strands to model out architectural creations that appear almost like two-dimensional art on a page.

Strung together with slim piano wire, he builds up his pieces from steel rods that form outlines of buildings as well as architectural details.

There is rarely a clear starting point, and one could imagine any of these constructions being half-finished or, conversely, well past their natural end point.

In the end, there is a kind of gestural quality and uncertainty to each piece, something that architect’s often intentionally cultivate — by creating overlaps and ambiguities, they can allow observers (and clients) to read their own vision into it.

Moreno has created and iterated on these kinds of three-dimensional sketch sculptures for a long time, but has also worked on large-scale installations and furniture-based works. You can see more, too, on his Behance page.

Some centuries-old works of art are so imprinted upon the collective consciousness, our brains recognize them even when they’re blurred, disguised, abstracted or otherwise remixed. You could break them down into their simplest elements and somehow, you’d still be able to identify them as the Mona Lisa, Michelangelo’s statue of David, American Gothic or Nighthawks at the Diner. After previously breaking down images of iconic celebrities and pop culture figures, artist Adam Lister has turned his attention to ‘Art History 101.’

He works in watercolor on cold press paper, and each piece is smaller than it looks, typically measuring no more than 8 by 10 inches. These representations of highly recognizable subjects aren’t simply pixelated in the way a computer would render the image; their shapes and most important visual elements are interpreted in a more thoughtful and intentional way to create a result that’s not simply a copy, but a work of art in its own right.

“My process deals with taking the memory of an image, and highlighting its complexity and simplicity at the same time,” says Lister in his artist statement. “These paintings are influenced by geometric thinking and a desire to capture the briefness of a mental picture.”

The paint takes to the paper in a way that almost suggests a texture of velvet or felt, the lines and edges crisp, the colors no less effective for having been simplified and separated into rectilinear shapes. Can you name all of the works pictured here without double-checking your guesses at Lister’s website?