< Previous30 commercialinteriordesign.comSir David AdjayeAugust 2025 Each generation reimagines the future. What de nes the 2025 vision of futurism? I think the 2025 vision of futurism is less about spectacle and more about survival. Most of us don’t dream of ying cars or space colonies. Those ideas feel naive now. The urgency has shifted. We’re confronting climate collapse, mass displacement, and deep social inequity. So the new futurism is rooted in repair. It’s about remembering how we live more intelligently with the planet, how we reimagine systems of care, and how we build with humility rather than dominance. We need to rediscover our relationship with the past, not in a regressive or pastiche way, but to reinvent the knowledge that we handed to each generation before colonialism. I’m talking about rammed earth, thatch, timber; materials that respond to context both socially and climatically. In a building we are just completing in Benin City, The Museum of West African Art, the rammed earth is both a cultural and environmental statement. We’ve merged ancient techniques with state-of-the-art building performance in terms of energy consumption and embodied carbon reduction. The building becomes a vessel for embedded memory, connecting the architecture to the region’s historical building traditions while engaging in a conversation about permanence, sustainability, and identity. Rammed earth walls form the core spatial and visual language of the building. Their thermal mass stabilises internal temperatures in Benin’s hot, humid climate, signi cantly reducing reliance on mechanical cooling. This passive environmental performance aligns with the museum’s broader commitment to sustainable design and localised construction methodologies. The tactile, monolithic quality of the rammed earth surfaces gives the architecture a grounded presence, evoking the materiality of the original palaces of the Benin Kingdom. It invites visitors into a space that feels both ancient and contemporary, rmly rooted in the local soil, both literally and symbolically. The innovation lies in how the material is retooled: enhanced with modern stabilisers, re ned in formwork, and integrated with contemporary detailing that allows for durability, accessibility, and scalability, turning a vernacular material into a future- proof building strategy. For me, the moment calls on us to design with empathy, with locality and with a deep awareness of the past. The most powerful visions of the future are coming from outside of the sphere of Western dominance, from communities that have always had to innovate, adapt, and imagine alternative ways of living. That’s where I’m looking. The future isn’t more of the same, it’s a cultural reckoning. As the rst black architect to receive the RIBA Royal Gold Medal, how does that distinction sit with you? It’s a complex feeling. On one hand, I recognise the power and importance of being the rst black architect to receive the RIBA Royal Gold Medal. It speaks to the deep inequities that have existed in the profession for far too long. But it also re ects the resilience and brilliance of those who came before me, many of whom were never given the visibility or opportunity their talent deserved. I never set out to be the black architect. I wanted to be the best architect I could be. But over time, I realised that I had a responsibility to carry that identity, to stand in it, because representation matters. Being black in a very white world can feel, at times, like bearing a cross. You feel the weight of expectation, of scrutiny, maybe of being judged by different standards. So I’ve learned to keep my head down, work hard and let the architecture speak. Did I have to work harder? It wasn’t conscious. Barriers operate quietly, through assumptions, through access, through networks that were never built with people like me in mind. But what that experience gave me is clarity. It shaped my approach. It reinforced why architecture has to be more than form. It has to engage power, identity, and justice. So while I carry that “ rst” with pride, I’m focused on making sure I’m not the last. That the path is clearer, wider and more inclusive for those coming next. I look around Accra, London and New York and see incredibly talented architects with real opportunity ahead of them. It’s not by accident, I have intentionally built my studio as the most diverse large architectural practice in the world. 31 commercialinteriordesign.comSir David AdjaAugust 202532 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 2025 Meet the Emirati photographer systematically documenting the UAE’s overlooked architecture HUSSAIN AL MOOSAWI IS NOT DEAD33 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 202534 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 2025 3435 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 2025 For Hussain AlMoosawi, architecture isn’t a skyline, it’s a street corner, a sun-faded façade, a typographic oddity half-lost to time. The Emirati photographer and visual researcher has spent over a decade chronicling the UAE’s architectural psyche, asking what happens when we see a city for what it is, not just what it wants to be. He has built a quiet but resonant body of work that resists Dubai’s glassy spectacle in favour of stillness, symmetry, and what he calls the “typicality” of place. In this conversation, he re ects on his shift from portraiture to public space, making art, not content and why the default image of Dubai saddens him. Was there a moment when you realised that documenting the everyday built environment was not just a side interest, but the story you were meant to tell? This happened gradually, but there are key moments to mention. For many years what I mostly enjoyed was photographing people. Those portraits were technically sound and something that delighted many friends. It was also a great commercial side gig. However, moving to Melbourne (from Brisbane) in 2009 made a great impact on me, for all the vibrance the city has. This was also the time when my understanding of both design and photography matured, where Melbourne became the medium through which I expressed that. Photographing the built environment then brought me an enormous joy – something I haven’t experienced with the camera before. The act of navigating a city looking for little details was a sacred ritual I did on weekends, and I always felt euphoric after few hours of walking around. This was nothing but a true calling and I felt there’s plenty to tell. I couldn’t but share how I perceive the built environment around me. When I returned to the UAE in 2013, I had a pause of nearly two years due to that I had to make myself familiar with the built environment. This isn’t something I paid much attention to in my early youth. With that a new chapter began in rediscovering my home. Other than moving to Melbourne, the other crucial moment took place in 2017 when I commenced Facade to Facade. Before that, I photographed ephemeral and overlooked subjects, which was well received, but only within my own community. Facades, which I initially perceived through the lens of symmetry, opened me up to a wider audience, drawing the attention of architects, art collectors, policy makers, researchers, travellers and the public. This made me think I must have done something right? I’ve always photographed for myself and would never waste slightest time on something that doesn’t speak to me. With Facade to Facade, I’ve reached a wonderful alignment between what I’m passionate about and what speaks to a wider audience. This is a long-term project that contains many levels of depths, equally it’s very accessible and easy to understand, thanks to my highly obsessive visual approach. Your photography often captures the UAE we don’t see on postcards, mundane details, overlooked patterns, urban quirks. Do you ever worry that in a place obsessed with glamour, your lens is too honest for comfort? Does the world really need more lters? I don’t even think my lens is the most honest, but given the subject matters that interest me, I would simply describe the work as being objective to some level, thanks to the consistent vantage point. Commercial real estate photography renders architecture in the most beautiful light, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, but we must admit these visuals render a distorted perception of a given place, with an aim to sell it. Having said that, shall we stick to Facade to Facade, I might be guilty of covering up some urban quirks by removing all contextual elements such as the street. I might not be dressing buildings with a dramatic element of light, but I’m being selective in what I want to show, yielding a clean look. I wouldn’t lie saying aesthetics do not matter to me, but representing facades this way was for the sake objectivity. I did not want any contextual elements, be it the street, the sky, light poles or surrounding buildings to subject us in the way we see these facades. Equally, subtracting buildings to their facades draws attention to details often overlooked, with my lens playing the role of a magni er. People often thank me for making them more attentive to the details of their surroundings. If you could photograph one thing in the UAE that no longer exists, what would it be? And do you think nostalgia is dangerous in a place that’s always racing ahead? I’m not nostalgic by nature, but many people look at my work through that lens, and I think it’s amazing as it gives the project many dimensions. My work at its core is a pictorial study that happens to dig into many “Photography isn’t dead. There’s a lot of mediocre content out there, but we can still see amazing work in magazines, books & galleries”36 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 2025 emotions. However, I equally understand why people are nostalgic. Our cities moved too fast since the 2000s, making it dif cult for many to construct a clear sense of a place, where nostalgia brought as sense of comfort and warmth in expressing the notion of home. Though I don’t believe it’s all about nostalgia, particularly when it comes to modern heritage, which holds multi layers of values that need to be safeguarded from being erased. I believe balance is the key, and we in the UAE are great at achieving progress while preserving our heritage. With preserving modern heritage, it was a step towards getting the speci cs right, with an aim to appreciate and value the near and tangible past, not only the distant one. If I could photograph one thing in the UAE that no longer exists, it would be Abu Dhabi’s old central market, which caught re in 2005, for it to be demolished thereafter. It’s less about the architecture, more about the social value. I’ve never seen this souq in person and all I heard is stories from many people. In its location, WTCA was developed and completed in 2014. Although I do not go there often, its two towers appear frequently as backdrops in my photographs when I document modern heritage buildings in Abu Dhabi. They add a beautiful element of glitter when juxtaposed against older buildings that surround them. I always factor them in carefully in my compositions. I guess I’m making it up for the old souq? If the UAE’s skyline were a person, what kind of personality would it have? And more importantly: would you want to hang out with it? If the UAE’s skyline was a person, I would say this human is approachable yet eclectic, straightforward but complex to fully understand. I would want to hang out with this person who is possibly judged by their sleek appearance, for me to navigate through the raw colorfulness of who they truly are. I think this touches again on the “postcard appearance” we talked about. We are all drawn by skylines and through them we might judge the destinations we want to visit. However, when I travel nowadays, I speci cally look for photographs of a place that represent a sense of typicality at a ground level, where people are going about their daily life on the streets. If you conduct an image search for New York or London you would naturally nd photos of skylines and the main landmarks, but you would also see random photographs of the street that show New York’s yellow taxis and London’s double-decker buses part of the mix. Maybe not all cities have iconic everyday life symbols, but their streets are represented in a quick image search. If you search for Dubai, photographs of the skyline naturally dominate, but it saddens me to see a lack of everyday life, where the default image of the city is reduced to its skyline. Just like people, this a reminder not to judge a city through how it’s represented in the mainstream – nothing replaces a rst-hand experience. Some say photography in the social media era is dead, everyone’s a photographer now. Has Instagram killed the magic, or does it just raise the stakes? I think we are looking at two things here. First is the smartphone, which made creating photos accessible. Secondly comes Instagram, which revolutionised how we share them. If smartphones didn’t have cameras, we would see totally different content on Instagram, yet equally such platforms would have not existed if not for phone photography. Did this make the world a better place? It for sure created an information overload, where many photographs look alike, somehow reducing the value of the medium. However, I think this what makes it exciting, at least at Instagram level, for creators to work harder to create more unique content. For me, I was lucky to have started my practice in the digital age, yet before platforms such as Instagram became popular. It was a sweet spot, where photography as a medium became a little more accessible, but you still had to wrap your head around creating value with what you photograph, without the ability to simply dump your photos on Instagram. Initially and for almost two years, I used Instagram as a personal social media tool, sharing snippets of life (you can scroll all the way down to see that!). Yet at some stage I decided to share my projects, and only that – for my gallery to speak of my brand of photography. Unlike many Instagrammers, I didn’t and still don’t think Instagram rst when I take photographs, except when I’m planning to create a story, which is a different “product” on my page dedicated to a range of interests. Having said that, when it comes to the gallery, I carefully craft what I post there. I only post photos of high-rise buildings, optimising all the vertical pixels. I also compose my grid to create contrast among the photos. For example, I won’t have two full-on glass facades side by side. I won’t deny there’s a lot of attention and crafting taking place. Marketing is as important as the project itself, but keeping in mind that “a photo is not a photo until it’s printed” always keeps the matter within perspective. Photography is not dead, but there’s a lot of mediocre content out there. We can still see amazing work in magazines, books and galleries. Accumulating Instagram likes is great, but nothing is more beautiful than when someone gets one of my printed editions and hangs it in their home – whether it be in the UAE or abroad. “I believe balance is the key and we in the UAE are great at achieving progress while preserving our heritage”37 commercialinteriordesign.comHussain Al MoosawiAugust 2025commercialinteriordesign.comAugust 2025 38 Riyad Jouckacommercialinteriordesign.comAugust 2025 39 Riyad Joucka Fountainhead Thinking out loud with Riyad Joucka of MEAN* By Zen BaharNext >