"The times they are a-changin'," sang a young Bob Dylan in 1964, capturing a nation at a crossroads, gripped by the civil rights movement and overshadowed by Cold War tensions. Nearly a decade later, David Bowie turned that gaze inward with "Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes," a fragmented meditation on identity, reinvention, and personal transformation, echoing the collapse of countercultural ideals and the acceleration of globalization. By the 1990s, Tupac Shakur brought the focus back to the streets and urban centers. In "Changes," he laid bare the raw realities of racial injustice and systemic violence, offering not resignation but a forceful indictment: "That's just the way it is."
Three voices, three decades, three ways of confronting change. If art (here, through music) has historically served as both mirror and outcry in times of upheaval, then it is fair to ask: how has the construction industry responded to a world in constant flux, a world urgently demanding transformation? In a world shaped by powerful economic forces, architecture is increasingly challenged to reconcile social responsibility with market realities. Today, we face a convergence of planetary crisis and social fragmentation: the planet is warming, inequalities persist and deepen, data multiplies, and identities fracture. In this context, architecture can no longer afford to limit itself to formal experimentation or market-driven imperatives. It is called to rethink with clarity, responsibility, and imagination what we build, with what we build, how we build, and above all, for whom.
Breaking away from self-referential narratives is no longer optional. The path forward lies in listening, truly listening to the territory, engaging with local intelligences and material cultures, and cultivating practices that lead toward more just, resilient, and livable futures. One key to this repositioning may lie in the ability to think globally while building with our feet firmly on the ground: recognizing, in materials, knowledge, and local realities, an ethical, environmental, and cultural response to the challenges of an ever-changing world. The term glocalization (a fusion of globalization and localization) emerged in sociology and marketing, but was soon adopted in other fields such as geography, anthropology, urbanism, and, naturally, architecture. It describes the process by which global practices, products, or ideas are adapted to specific local contexts, respecting cultural, environmental, and social particularities rather than being imposed uniformly.
In architecture, this means far more than simply "using local materials." It entails adapting global technologies and construction systems to the specific conditions of a place: its climate, culture, labor, and available resources. It means revaluing vernacular knowledge not as nostalgia, but as rooted and regenerative solutions, fostering a contextual aesthetic that aligns with the territory instead of replicating international standards. It also means reducing environmental impacts by shortening supply chains and favoring low-impact construction systems. In essence, glocalization balances innovation and tradition, efficiency and identity.
This article by Tracy Lynn Chemaly and Faye Robinson highlights that, while globalization has vastly facilitated the sharing of knowledge and integrated solutions, it also carries the risk of standardization and homogenization. This is especially evident in growing cities, where skyscrapers and high-tech construction systems dominate the skyline and academic discourse, often shaped by a Western perspective that prioritizes scale, technological advancement, and material innovation. Such an approach may threaten local knowledge and traditions, particularly in regions with a history of colonization, where mass production and systematic methods can neutralize vernacular architectural practices. Yet the article also emphasizes that architects have a unique opportunity, not only to meet basic shelter needs but to profoundly influence how we live in the 21st century. By leveraging global economic tools like communication and production, designers and builders can make decisions that shape the future: our and the planet's.
When applied coherently, glocalization reveals itself not merely as a concept, but as a practice capable of producing projects deeply rooted in place while open to innovation. The Desi Training Center, designed by Anna Heringer in Rudrapur, Bangladesh, exemplifies this approach. Built with earth and bamboo, abundant regional materials, the project values traditional knowledge not just as technique but as architectural language. The front façade is molded from clay and stamped with local textile patterns, evoking the identity of the women who work and learn there. The rear façade, made of permeable bamboo, allows cross-ventilation and passive thermal comfort in the hot, humid climate. The building also integrates solar panels as a strategy for energy autonomy. By combining vernacular construction practices, clean technologies, and strong social engagement, the project demonstrates how architecture can become a tool for belonging and resistance.
One of the most compelling Latin American examples of glocal architecture is the Babaçu Breaker Women's Reference Center, designed by Estúdio Flume in Maranhão, Brazil. This project emerges from its territory not only geographically, but also socially, culturally, and politically. It results from a collaborative process with local women who extract babaçu, a native plant and symbol of resistance. Architecture here does not impose solutions, it listens. It uses local wood, simple construction techniques, and community labor, while organizing spaces in a smart and functional way to create dignified, rooted infrastructure. It exemplifies glocalization as a practice of care for the land, the culture, and the people.
Situated in the coastal desert of the Paracas National Reserve in Peru, the Site Museum of Paracas Culture, designed by Barclay & Crousse, is a remarkable exercise in place-based architecture. Rebuilt after its predecessor was destroyed by an earthquake, the building is constructed entirely with pozzolan cement, a material chosen for its resistance to the desert's salinity. The exposed and polished concrete surfaces acquire a natural reddish tone, blending chromatically with the surrounding hills. The patina left by the builders on the polished concrete enclosing the exhibition rooms gives the structure a ceramic look, reminiscent of the huacos (pre-Columbian ceramics) displayed inside. The project balances technical robustness with poetic sensitivity, proposing an architecture that emerges from the land, responds to the climate, and evokes memory without resorting to spectacle.
Similarly, the work of Francis Kéré, such as the Gando Primary School in Burkina Faso, demonstrates the potential of glocalization as a synthesis of tradition and technique. Using stabilized earth bricks and natural ventilation strategies, Kéré achieves buildings of high thermal efficiency without losing sight of local symbolic, aesthetic, and constructive values.
In a world where change is no longer a choice, and feels increasingly overwhelming with the rise of the internet and artificial intelligence, architecture can no longer afford to shy away from essential questions: Whose side is it on? Is it aligned with a generic architecture, indifferent to social and environmental context, or with one that acknowledges the territory? In the face of the climatic, cultural, and social challenges that define our time, thinking globally and building locally is not an act of isolation but a strategy of relevance. Glocalization points toward paths where technological innovation serves place, where materials speak with an accent, and where design listens before it proposes. Architecture can become the voice of its time. It can expose, shelter, and transform. For if "the times they are a-changin'," it is up to us to decide whether we will merely watch the change—or help shape it, one project at a time.
This article is part of the ArchDaily Topics: Rethinking Materials: Techniques, Applications and Lifecycle, proudly presented by Sto.
Sto sponsors this topic to emphasize the importance of digitized materials in architectural design. Its high-quality PBR-files, as demonstrated in a case study with the London-based architecture firm You+Pea, provide architects with precise tools for confident decision-making from concept to execution. This approach bridges virtual and physical realms, supporting more accurate and efficient design.
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