These 13 Buildings Redefined Architecture in the Past 5 Years

The design of office buildings, museums, airports, train stations, and homes, can't always be revolutionary. In fact, much of architecture consists of those banal platitudes that are necessary for cities to grow and humanity to advance. Every so often, however, a building is completed that almost universally turns heads, and in the process, veers the collective practice of architecture in a new direction.

Take Foster + Partners' Apple Park, which—from its fully solar panel–clad rooftop to its ability to maintain an interior temperature of 68 to 77 degrees Fahrenheit by using an intake and release of natural air from the outdoors—has revolutionized the way in which modern company headquarters are designed. Or CopenHill, a project started in 2013 by Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG) that has gone on to redefine our notion that eco-friendly architecture can be done with high design. Located in Copenhagen, Ingels's structure burns waste into enough clean energy to annually power 60,000 homes in the area. Yet, unlike every other waste management plant before it, BIG's takes its one step further. Atop the structure's roof is a nearly 1,500-foot-long ski slope, paved with paths designated for beginners, intermediates, and experts.

As BIG's design proves, great architecture is always a point of departure. On one end, it's a structure that's using the past for inspiration in function. But it's simultaneously looking forward in attempts to better its role in the world. Indeed, culture progresses in fits and starts, never strides. And to witness a revolutionary work of architecture is to journey to the near future, by way of the near past. We believe these 13 buildings do just that.

Due to its strict building codes, and architectural pedigree, Paris is among the world's most difficult places to successfully design modern architecture. Yet, leave it to the most lyrical of all starchitects, Frank Gehry, and his phenomenal Fondation Louis Vuitton, to accomplish such a feat. Completed in 2014, the vessel-shaped glass structure sits among the trees and lawns of Paris's Bois de Boulogne. The building is filled with LVMH’s impressive art collection, with works ranging from Kusama and Abramovi´c to Matisse and Giacometti spread throughout the 126,000-square-foot, two-and-a-half-story space. For his inspiration, Gehry looked back to several great designs of the 19th century. "I’ve always loved the glass greenhouse buildings in French and British gardens. When we were confronted with a site in the Bois de Boulogne, glass seemed like the best way to add a structure to the beautiful garden," says Gehry. "Of course, in a museum structure, you can’t hang paintings on glass, so we had to design a more enclosed building inside the glass exterior." This play between solid and glass works to perfection within the verdant atmosphere of the Bois de Boulogne. It's a structure that's both whimsical and sturdy, much like the meandering paths and endless row of trees that surround it.

Designed by Gensler and completed in 2015, the 2,073 foot-tall Shanghai Tower (pictured in the center) has a seemingly endless list of records: tallest building in China, second tallest in the world, world's tallest observation deck, and the world's second-fastest elevator system. Yet, shockingly, that list almost pales in comparison with the fact that the firm's design of the building—an asymmetrical form with rounded corners—saved some $58 million in material cost versus a traditional angular build of the same size. "The tower’s asymmetrical form, its tapering profile, and its rounded corners allows the building to withstand the typhoon-force winds that are common in Shanghai," says Xiaomei Lee, Gensler's regional managing principal in China, and project director of the Shanghai Tower. "Using a wind tunnel test conducted in a Canadian lab, Gensler refined the tower’s form, which reduced building wind loads by 24 percent. The result came in the form of a lighter structure, saving $58 million in costs for required materials."

Rafael Viñoly's 432 Park Avenue is the tallest completed residential building in the Western Hemisphere, and as such, demands one's attention in a way that no residential building ever has. Located in the heart of midtown Manhattan, the 1,396 foot-tall skyscraper can be seen from all five boroughs. Its silhouette dominates New York's skyline from every angle—in cars, trains, and airplanes alike—a fact that was not lost on the world-renowned Uruguayan architect. "To make such a prominent and lasting mark on the most iconic skyline in the world is a great responsibility. From the start, I was aware that it needed to have a timeless quality—as free as possible of passing aesthetic fads," says Viñoly. Proponents of the design will say that there's a certain elegance to the all-white, uniform shape, while skeptics argue it lacks character. Whatever the case may be, the feat of engineering needed to build this structure has taken architecture to a higher level. Or, as Viñoly says, "The design simply expresses the structural solution to an enormous engineering challenge, while also reflecting the other defining urban feature of New York, the city’s grid." The building is essentially six separate structures built atop each other, with a central, uninterrupted core that consists of the elevator shafts and all the building's mechanical services. Outside of this backbone, all the livable space fills in the structure. While there has been some criticism of Viñoly's design, there's no doubting the fact that his vision has ushered in a new era of slender super towers.

In many ways, the architects at Diller Scofidio + Renfro are modern-day magicians. Take, for example, their design of The Broad in Los Angeles. The structure itself holds a nearly 2,000-piece collection of contemporary art, making it, in theory, like any other museum in the world. Yet, that's where the similarities abruptly end. The 50,000-square-foot building acts as a seamless buffer between the inside and outside world. "Most museums are opaque to the street and inwardly focused. The Broad uses a semi-porous system—which we dubbed 'the veil'—to foster more of an urban interface," says Elizabeth Diller, partner and cofounder of the New York–based firm, DS+R. "The veil's porosity suggests two-way vision. It tempts you from the street through its lifted corner, while views from within the gallery are oblique so visitors are not distracted, without being entirely cut off from the world." This honeycomb-like design also enhances the artwork housed within the structure, making the striking exterior multifunctional in its aesthetics. "The veil's walls are also engineered so that, despite the movement of the sun, no direct sunlight will ever penetrate the space. The cellular structure all around acts like a sponge absorbing and transmitting light as needed."

Santiago Calatrava has built a reputation for creating structures so dynamic, they appear poised to take flight at any moment. And the Spanish-born's design of the Oculus is no exception. While the structure is built of steel, concrete, stone, and glass, it takes the shape of a bird, specifically a phoenix, in mid-flight. The symbolism of a phoenix rising from the ashes is immediate, as the building is located mere feet from the September 11th Memorial and Museum in downtown Manhattan. But it's not just the symbolism, it's also the design—the ability of visitors to move with ease through a space that connects 11 subway lines and countless retail and office spaces—that makes this transportation hub such an architectural marvel. "I wanted to build a station that anyone can easily find their way around. Why? Because finding one’s way in a station is essential," explains Calatrava. "The idea of going underground through long escalators, entering dim places, this is our everyday life in New York. But does it have to be so dark? No. I wanted to create a place that delivers the people a sense of comfort through its orientation, while also delivering a sense of security by opening everything to the naked eye." For anyone who has visited Calatrava's Oculus, it's evident he's done this in spades.

In its most basic form, Herzog & de Meuron's design for the Elbphilharmonie Hamburg is physical evidence that adaptive reuse can be done to stunning, head-turning effect. Glass completely covers the upper portion of the structure, making it appear more like an avant-garde ship than a space for musical performances. Completed in 2017, the bottom half of building (on which Elbphilharmonie Hamburg sits atop) has a history that actually dates back further than that. The foundation of Herzog & de Meuron's design is a brick building that was a former warehouse built in 1963. The location of this warehouse was significant, as it sat along the mouth of the Elbe river in the geographical heart of the city. When the warehouse, along with many other older 19th-century brick buildings, became derelict, a plan was put in place to transform these industrial spaces into popular waterfront developments. No one could have predicted the popularity of the Elbphilharmonie Hamburg. Tickets are constantly sold out for its musical performances (due in part to the affordable value of tickets in comparison with other philharmonics around the world). The interior of the venue is also democratic in layout, meaning that all 2,100 seats are situated around the main stage, making each of them equal in status and in their quality of experience. Adding to the buildings all-people-being-equal ethos, in March 2017, during the height of what many referred to as the refugee crisis in Europe, the Elbphilharmonie used its popularity in a positive way: by presenting a festival dedicated to Syrian music and culture that brought together residents and new arrivals to the city.

For some, Apple Park will always be remembered as the final vision of the firm's inimitable founder, Steve Jobs. For countless more, however, Apple's latest headquarters will be considered the crowning architectural achievement for how the campus of a forward-thinking company should be designed. Created by the firm Foster + Partners, the 175-acre campus was the culmination of a dream that Jobs had in 2004 while walking through London's Hyde Park. It was while there that the iconic founder decided to house his company in a new environment where the barrier between building and nature seamlessly disappeared. To fulfill that lofty ambition, Jobs turned to Pritzker Prize–winning architect Norman Foster. "In my first meeting with Steve Jobs in 2009, he recalled the region [of central California] being the fruit bowl of America and the idea was born of re-creating such a landscape as an integral part of the concept," says Foster. "In this approach the buildings and their setting are inseparable and specific to the needs of Apple. Steve and I shared a vision for the project; Apple Park is the result of the coming together of two teams to ultimately become one." This vision includes a main, ring-shaped building that runs on fully sustainable energy, much of which comes from the solar panels that line the top of the spaceship-like structure. For a company as cutting-edge as Apple, solar-energy almost seems archaic. That's why it pushed Foster and his team further to create a building that actually breathes. Between each floor is a canopy that slightly sticks out, its main purpose being to protect employees from the intense California sun. Tucked within each canopy is a ventilation system that funnels air in and out of the building. Jobs (who was not a fan of air conditioning) wanted his employees to feel any passing breeze as if they were sitting outside. Through a variety of sensors, the building maintains a temperature of 68 to 77 degrees Fahrenheit, all by using an intake and release of natural air. The campus also houses 9,000 trees, many of them apple, plum, apricot, and other fruit trees. The verdant setting is not merely for aesthetics, however: They're all drought-tolerant varieties, planted to withstand climate change.

If the past decade can be viewed as a modern Arab Renaissance for the oil-rich nation of United Arab Emirates, then the Louvre Abu Dhabi is most certainly the centerpiece of this movement. Completed in 2017, the estimated $650 million building located in Abu Dhabi is, if nothing else, a milestone for a city that, as of the 1950s, didn't have paved roads, electricity, or running water. The 258,333-square-foot structure, which was designed by Jean Nouvel, features a stainless-steel and aluminum dome that's been cut and layered to dazzling affect. When the intense Middle Eastern sun beats down on the dome, light beams come through in the form of star-shaped patterns. It took eight years of construction for the stars to align in this building, which is the largest art museum in the Arabian Peninsula. Unlike the National Museum of Qatar (which was highly nationalistic and built two years later, some 355 miles away by car), the Louvre Abu Dhabi promotes the impressive array of Western art spread throughout 23 galleries that are either owned by or on loan to the UAE (including an 1877 Van Gogh self-portrait, Monet’s 1877 painting of the Saint-Lazare railroad station, Jacques-Louis David's famous portrait of Napoleon crossing the Alps on a white horse, and Mondrian’s 1922 Composition With Blue, Red, Yellow and Black).

Bjarke Ingels, the founding partner and creative director of Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG), is no stranger to radical architecture. The 44-year-old architect has a résumé that would satisfy architects twice his age. Yet, it's the design of CopenHill, a structure in his hometown of Copenhagen, that displays the sheer genius of the young architect. At its core, CopenHill is proof that eco-friendly architecture can be accomplished with high design. To that end, the eco-friendly waste-to-energy power plant emits no toxins into the atmosphere. Far from it. The structure can burn 400,000 tons of waste annually into enough clean energy to power 60,000 homes in the area. But it's not just about waste management—it's about having fun too. While Denmark receives a healthy amount of snow, the country is rather flat and not an ideal terrain for ski lovers. BIG took that fact and used it as an asset in its scheme. Atop the CopenHill roof is a nearly 1,500-foot-long ski slope, which is accessible through an elevator inside the building. There are three paths for skiers: one for beginners, another for intermediates, and, finally, one for experts. "What I love about this project is that it also shows you the world-changing power of 'Formgiving,' which is giving form to that which does not yet exist—to give form to the future," says Ingels. "I have a nine-month-old son, and he will grow up in a world not knowing that there was ever a time when you couldn't ski on the roof of a power plant."

The National Memorial for Peace and Justice is a name that, on the surface, would appear to console its visitors. Yet, rightfully so, the structure does anything but that. Designed by the Boston-based firm, MASS Design Group, the open-air memorial was created to commemorate the victims of lynching in the United States. As visitors enter the memorial, patrons walk alongside dark red columns. These columns include both the names of victims and the counties where these unthinkable events took place (like when, in 1877, Arthur St. Clair, a Florida minister, was lynched for performing the wedding of a black man and white woman, or in 1930, when Lacy Mitchell was lynched in Georgia for testifying against a white man accused of raping a black woman). As visitors slowly take in these names, the ground slowly slopes downward, while the columns remain at the same level, eventually hanging above the visitors in a manner that evokes the lynchings that occurred around the country. From there, the museum opens up to a central space where visitors stand and look back upon all the hanging columns. The National Memorial for Peace and Justice is an educational, if not harrowing, experience for every visitor. What more can we ask from a structure meant to shed light on such a dark past?

Much of architecture is about taking a big vision and localizing it at the community level. And perhaps nowhere is that more evident than in the Fass School and Teachers' Residence, an elementary school on the coast of Senegal. Designed by Toshiko Mori—the founder and principal of New York–based Toshiko Mori Architect—the circular structure was shaped by the history of the land. "The design is based on a vernacular paradigm of the Senegalese’s ancient collective housing structures," says Mori. "The standard schools in that area are made up of rectangular concrete-block walls and corrugated metal roofs—very unfriendly and alienating structures which become very hot under the sun and incredibly noisy during rainfall." For the Fass School and Teachers' Residence, however, Mori sourced the land for mud-brick walls that are supported by steel and bamboo. The walls were then painted white, an important step that deflects the sun's rays. The school's rooftop is a combination of bamboo and grass, another element that keeps temperatures down in the classroom (temperatures can regularly exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit in Fass). The school, which houses some 300 students between the ages of 5 and 10, is the first in the area that teaches children to read and write in their native language, Pulaar, as well as in French. "Architecturally speaking, I wanted to expand the potential of a familiar, vernacular building typology and to transform it into a new, contemporary icon of their own public institution with shared functions and spaces," explains Mori. In other words, the Japanese-born architect successfully took a big vision and localized it in a meaningful way.

If the public was hoping to see the billions of dollars of Western art the Qatari's had purchased in the past few decades, then it would seem the construction of a national museum in their country was a necessity. And while that occurred in 2019, with the opening of National Museum of Qatar, the many Picassos, Rothkos, Pollocks, and Cézannes were nowhere to be found. What the public may have gotten though, in the form of a stunning new Jean Nouvel–designed building, might have been even better. The 361,861-square-foot structure contains the many artifacts, stories, and images—from the discovery of oil to life by the Persian Gulf—that encompass the creation of modern-day Qatar (a list of the wings include: The Formation of Qatar, Qatar's National Environments, and Qatar Today). Yet, many if not all national museums around the world, in some form, tout the history of their people from their beginnings to modern times. What separates the National Museum of Qatar from any other museum, of course, is its revolutionary architecture. There are the facts about the building which are easy to rattle off: The exterior consists of 539 disks, with 76,000 patterned cladding elements throughout; the interiors twist and turn, with the ceiling rising and dipping, constantly keeping visitors surprised through the eleven linked galleries. That, however, is where any simple explanation ends. What made Nouvel's task of designing this museum so difficult is what was being asked of him—to create a building that, by shape and formation, would become the very embodiment of Qatari identity. His answer came in the form of the desert rose, a naturally occurring phenomenon in the region that consists of a layered crystallization of minerals occurring in salty sand. With a deft stroke of hand, Nouvel was able to capture the essence of the miracle that has been the formation of Qatar, a tiny nation that spans some 4,416 square miles (an area smaller than the Falkland Islands).

In many ways, the goal of New York's new $475 million cultural center seems impossible: How does anything, let alone a cultural center, entertain jaded New Yorkers who believe they have seen it all? Answer: Place a building on wheels so that it can multiply into two while also providing arguably the most diverse lineup of performances the city has ever witnessed. The Shed, which opened in the spring of 2019, starts as a static 200,000-square-foot cultural space. Yet, the structure consists of an outer shell (made of lightweight, luminescent ETFE panels) that sits on a set of wheels connected to a short track. Once activated by way of a 121-horsepower engine (the same horsepower of a 2019 Toyota Prius), the shell moves away from the main frame of the building, in effect creating an entirely new building that is part of the original one. "Often, flexible buildings are generic in form. We wanted to make a flexible building that can have a strong architectural character," says Elizabeth Diller, a partner at Diller Scofidio + Renfro, which as the lead architecture firm worked with Rockwell Group, the collaborating architects, in designing The Shed. "Our goal was to create a building that would be so flexible, it would adapt to a future it does not now know. It would be so flexible, it could even change its footprint."