Few avid readers can display their collections quite so publicly and loudly as Dutch street artists Jan Is De Man and Deef Feed, who painted this bookcase across one entire of a three-story brick apartment in Utrecht.

Included on their faux shelves are some favorite actual volumes but also some fantasy editions naming themselves or other fictional figures as authors along illustrated book spines.

Windows and doors are cleverly integrated into the design, many of which are framed in upright books while other novels are left to tilt and stack in various ways, much like they would in a real-life case.

Inevitably, this was not the first attempt of its kind — other notable examples include a Kansas City Library, the parking lot of which is effectively fenced off by a giant-sized collection of classic editions.

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.

A series of elaborately curved houses designed for Eindhoven will rest like large boulders in the Dutch landscape, illustrating the complex forms made possible by new and evolving 3D-printing technologies.

The first single-story house will be around 1,000 square feet and allow for process refinements for the multi-story units to follow – research and innovation are part of the mandate of the Eindhoven University of Technology and other project partners.

The goal, in part, is to optimize for quality, comfort and cost, with each phase building on the previous iteration, a marriage of experimentation and architectural creation.

Construction will begin this year and the first unit should be occupiable sometime next year. While the ideas are bigger than creating a single small neighborhood of homes, having them be functional in the end is also a key aim of the project.

Weighing close to 10,000 pounds, the complex shape and curvy form of this stainless steel bridge reflects the multi-axis printers that made it, line by molten line, and help highlight the potential of metal-printing technologies.

The MX3D Bridge was designed by Joris Laarman Lab (with engineering help from Arup and other partners) and spans just over 40 feet. It is constructed from a new type of steel, laid down by a team of robots. There is a certain roughness that is a byproduct of the printing process, which could be buffed away, but also may be left to highlight the novel method of construction.

Tucked in a linear warehouse with ordinary-shaped tools and materials, the design really stands out — it is full of winding curves, demonstrating possibilities for complex forms for architectural, industrial, maritime and space applications. Shot out beyond Earth’s orbit, machines like these may build the first non-terrestrial colonies on the moon or Mars using local materials.

This first bridge, however, which has been going through design and construction phases for a long time now, we be installed over a canal in Amsterdam next year, after being subjected to rigorous load tests and analyzed so engineers can learn from and iterate on its design. Given its unusual shape, it doesn’t fit typical building codes — new ones may need to be written for its future counterparts.

It sounds like a great design solution: a pop-up bike rack that disappears below the pavement when not in use, but the problem it aims to solve really an issue, and (if so) would it ultimately work as intended?

On the surface, this idea by Design Academy Eindhoven graduate Milou Bergs looks fairly compelling — bike-stabilizing and locking bars fold down and out of the way when no cycle is present, minimizing visual impact.

“Bicycle racks are a particular eyesore,” says the designer, who debuted a prototype at Dutch Design Week. “Even when not in use, they get in the way, creating physical and visual noise. I started to think about how I could make a space visually and physically serene while keeping the functionality of storage.”

But it also raises some questions, like: how will bikers find the racks? Typically, a cyclist will attach to what they see and what is handy. Also: what would it be like to miss these in their downward position and cycle over them? There is also a durability issue: would bikes hitched up to these low posts be safe from lateral bumps and collisions?

It is certainly nice to see someone focusing on bicycle infrastructure and considering alternatives, and, if nothing else, design experiments like this one raise good questions. Still, this particular one may address a solution without a problem — bike racks are often in use around the clock, and may need to be above the surface anyway (for visibility) whether people like to look at them or not. Of course, this may also be a region-specific solution, suitable for a cycle-centric culture and hard for an American critic to understand.