Using algae façades, moss walls, and mycelium structures to create regenerative spaces.
As the urgency of climate change and environmental degradation grows, architecture is beginning to look not just at sustainability, but at regeneration—the idea that buildings can give back more than they take. Living architecture embodies this shift. Instead of treating nature as a passive backdrop, it integrates living systems—like algae façades, moss walls, and mycelium-based structures—as active, functional elements of the built environment.
At the core of living architecture is a simple but radical question: What if buildings were alive? Imagine façades that breathe, purify air, and produce energy; walls that host micro-ecosystems filtering water and absorbing carbon; structures that grow themselves, forming from biological materials rather than being assembled piece by piece. These ideas aren’t sci-fi—they’re already being prototyped in research labs, experimental pavilions, and forward-thinking architecture firms worldwide.
Take algae façades, for example. These dynamic systems cultivate microalgae within glass panels, harvesting both biomass and solar energy. The BIQ House in Hamburg remains a pioneering case, demonstrating how architecture can blend biotechnology and performance design—a façade that not only shades interiors but also acts as a miniature bioreactor. Similarly, moss walls bring a subtle form of biophilic intelligence into cities, improving air quality, stabilizing humidity, and reconnecting occupants with sensory cues from the natural world.
Perhaps the most promising field is mycelium architecture—structures grown from fungal networks. Mycelium, the root-like structure of fungi, can be cultivated in molds, forming lightweight, insulating, and biodegradable components. The result is a material that’s both structurally robust and compostable, bridging the gap between biology and construction. For young architects, this opens new design logics—buildings that aren’t manufactured, but cultivated; forms that express growth rather than precision.
But designing with living systems challenges more than construction methods—it redefines our understanding of maintenance, aesthetics, and time. A living façade changes color, grows unevenly, or requires seasonal care. Instead of static perfection, it invites architects to design for evolution, decay, and renewal—qualities once avoided in modernist ideals. This shift calls for new interdisciplinary collaboration with biologists, ecologists, and material scientists, as well as fresh legal and ethical frameworks. Who “owns” a living building component? How do we permit or insure a wall that grows?
For architecture students and emerging designers, living architecture offers more than futuristic aesthetics—it’s a call to design with life as a material. It encourages a mindset where buildings are ecosystems, not objects; where form follows function, and function follows ecological intelligence.
In the coming decades, the most inspiring projects won’t simply reduce harm—they’ll participate in restoring the planet. Whether through small interventions like green roofs and moss panels, or bold experiments with algae bioreactors and mycelium walls, each project moves the profession closer to a truly regenerative architecture—one where design and nature are partners, not opponents.
