Hello world, we are approaching March of 2022, and looking over the Dutch horizon, wildflowers are blooming, the wind is gusting through these frail tree branches. Pondering on these thoughts, what were you doing last December? Where were you in February 2021? Do you remember the last time you made a goal?  As we roll into the year of 2022, with most having aged two whole COVID years, a lot of people dread the question - So… what is your new year resolution?

We are currently living, working, eating, sleeping, yawning, crying in an enclosed space. Every single built space we have is operated or inhabited by humans. Heck, you are probably reading this comfortably inside a well-lit building. Thinking further into this, before the brick and mortar phase of this very space you’re sitting in, through the expertise of architects and engineers, we can rely on computer renderings and the scale figures plotted in the scene to be convinced that “yes, this space looks comfortable and meaningful to future users.” This article is here to contribute some awareness to the underlying bias we have for the polished world of architecture rendering. It is impossible to represent architecture without representing the human, yet, in present day, adding people into an architecture render is the last thing on an architect’s task list. 

Starting with the modernist movement, the idea of architectural identity as seen in the local values of vernacularity went into processes of deconstruction, and turning into international style. This transition created a range of buildings that would be adaptable within numerous urban contexts in terms of their independent position within that same urban surrounding. Not always can these buildings adapt to the way the contextual interaction develops though – the context itself might either accept the new-built intruder or reject it over time.