Normally, a new structure is safe from the wrecking ball so long as it is structurally sound, but not so with 15 Clerkenwell Close, a housing block that is at issue for reasons of appearance rather than engineering (and despite recently winning an RIBA award). Designed by architect Amin Taha, the six-story facade features raw quarried limestone stone (with exposed fossils) that the Islington Council argues was not adequately represented in planning documents, and therefore never properly approved. Taha also lives in the threatened building.

But there may be more to the story: Taha believes the decision to demolish was led by the planning committee chair not for failure to disclose but rather a personal dislike for the building’s unusual visual expression. He says it is “entirely on the initial opinion of the councillor and a handful of neighbours” and that it “has now escalated from an error in not uploading the stone approval – so that it was evident for anyone who cared to look – to the mistaken first demolition notice, to the now face-saving second notice entirely driven by someone’s opinion that it’s ugly.”

“After an investigation, the council has come to the view that the building at 15 Clerkenwell Close does not reflect the building that was granted planning permission and conservation area consent in 2013,” an Islington Council spokesperson said. “In the council’s view, the existing building does not benefit from planning permission, and the council issued an enforcement notice” earlier this year.

The building has drawn both praise and criticism, having been nominated for the Carbuncle Cup (a “worst building” award in the UK) while also being nominated for other more positive awards. But there’s a deeper question at work here: how much say should communities have in the appearance of new structures around them? Aesthetic-based choices made by citizens can result in truly powerful architecture never seeing the light of day, or in this case: being threatened with destruction despite being perfectly functional. In the end, too, if the building facade is deemed by the council to be too offensive to stand, why not simply demand that it be reworked into some kind of compromise? (images by Timothy Soar)

New Zealand architect Jonathan Smith worked with a cabinetmaker to carefully deconstruct part of this 1890s home in Auckland, then assembled a set of automatic doors as well as a moving fence to conceal a brand new garage space, all expertly retrofit into the historic structure.

The result is a high-level work of camouflage, preserving the exterior look and feel of the house while creating a James Bond-worthy disguise for the reappropriated space. Inside, a lift hoists one car up to make room for a second as well.

“We wanted to retain the character from the street so we cut through the joinery units to create two doors and then lined up the boards so you wouldn’t know,” explains the designer, who is also founder of Matter Architects.

Inside, a similar attention to historical details coupled with Modern refinements can also be found, with preserved brick surfaces complimenting new steel and glass elements. The garage, while central to the redesign, is just one of the tricks this house is now home to.

Out back, fresh treatments and extensions create a modern garden landscape, complete with outdoor fireplace as well as linear, structured wood and concrete space-shaping elements.

To celebrate 70 years of family memories, artist Gary Sweeney plastered his family home in Manhattan Beach with old photographs, an installation that lasted until the building was demolished.

The photos, shot by his late father, were printed out in large formats and turned into a kind of exterior wallpaper documenting the artist’s childhood. At night, spotlights illuminated the work that wrapped facades and covered doors.

“I went through kind of a mini-panic when I sold the house and I really felt the need to do something to commemorate it and to give it a proper goodbye,” Sweeney said, peering at the roof’s peak through his red-framed glasses. “So this is what I came up with.” Putting up the photos, Sweeney struck up conversations with visitors who had traveled to see the work as well as friendly neighbors sad to see him go.

A Manhattan Beach Memoir: 1945-2015 also involved tours of the place, a way to come to terms with the sale, the destruction and the home’s replacement with an apartment complex. Sweeney said “I hope it triggers fond memories of the family because my father was a very beloved man, and for people who didn’t know the family, I hope it triggers memories of their own of growing up in Manhattan Beach.”

This mesmerizing mobile facade is an aesthetic and engineering marvel, but one has to wonder: could the mechanisms behind it be appropriated for other architectural purposes, like: providing light and shade on demand or on a schedule?

The dynamic design wraps a new cultural center in Shanghai, part of a 190,000-square-meter development by Foster + Partners in collaboration with Heatherwick Studio (images by Laurian Ghinitoiu).

It was inspired by Chinese theaters with bamboo-like bronze tubes set in three layers around the perimeter, constituting what the designers describe as “a moving veil, which adapts to the changing use of the building, and reveals the stage on the balcony and views towards Pudong.” The effect is certainly stunning, but despite the description, it seems to be mostly for show — an novelty experience for visitors and viewers.

The same kinds of systems, however, could be deployed more strategically, using other kinds of semi-opaque screens, for instance, that could automatically position themselves throughout the day to provide layers of shade. Such an application would have practical benefits, reducing cooling costs inside structures and increasing human comfort.

Alternatively, a similar screen system could be controllable by occupants, allowing building users to block off sections for things like meetings or film screenings requiring different amounts of natural light. For now, it remains a fascinating one-off work, but hopefully architects will consider adding this as a tool in their kit, applying similar technical sophistication to solve other site-specific design problems.

Combining the physical benefits of circular plans with the practicality of straight lines and corners, octagonal houses are uniquely positioned to resist hurricanes, tsunamis and earthquakes that threaten coastlines.

Rounded habitats have a long history, from tipis and yurts through the geodesic domes of Buckminster Fuller. Indeed, round homes make sense for a lot of reasons. They have less surface area, which means they require less construction material and have greater energy efficiency, for instance. Critically, rounded homes are also ideal for resisting extreme weather (above: a regular home destroyed in a storm and a surviving semi-round house).

Flat sides pose a significant structural risk during hurricanes and tsunamis. It is much easier for wind and water to flow around a round house than a square or rectangular one.

In modern rounded house designs, radial floor and roof trusses meet in a center ring like spokes on a wheel and thus lock the building in a constant state of compression, which further reinforces its structural integrity. This approach also helps them resist earthquakes.

Of course, fitting furniture along the edges of a truly round house can be frustrating. The space and materials saved are nice, but the usability of the resulting spaces is diminished.

Today, many round-house makers opt for a middle ground and go with octagonal floor plans (or other variants with more than four sides). Doubling the number of walls, this represents the best of both worlds in many ways. These are easier to construct with contemporary materials and techniques, but still take advantage of wind- and water-resistance found in edge-less dwellings.

Deltac, one manufacturer of such semi-round structures, boasts that none of their 5,000 homes built to date has been knocked down by nature. These kinds of homes also have an added benefit for those living along coasts, where storms are a great thread: their shapes provide seaside dwellers with amazing panoramic views (images via Deltac and Cayman).