Climate-responsive aesthetics
Contemporary research on vernacular architecture shows that local architecture is defined by the materials sourced locally it uses, the related building culture, and the lifestyle of its designers and users. Above all, it is shaped by the local climate. Producing regional architecture could be “simply” reduced to the combination of specific weather conditions, local—and often popular—knowledge of materials, as well as the culture and customs of the area.
This could lead to what we might imagine as a form of climatic aesthetics. In cities, but also in the countryside, the evolution of some buildings clearly illustrates this principle. For one of the guests, developing a Gironde-style architecture—with a nod to “gironde,” which refers to “a woman or young boy with harmonious curves”—means resisting construction's standardization and industrialization and its corollary of uniformity. From this perspective, proposing Gironde architecture is an act of generosity with a climatic and constructive specificity, composed of materials that must be treated with care. This definition could also be extended to include architecture that seeks to develop qualities emerging from its interior space, such as the maximization of surface area that guided the renovation of buildings G, H, and I of the Grand Parc by Lacaton & Vassal, Christophe Hutin, and Frédéric Druot in Bordeaux.
Tasteless architecture
But when the climate is changing and architecture isn't moving as fast as it should, what can we do? One possible bad answer has been summed up by the vegan burger metaphor. You take the legendary sandwich, make a meatless steak, milk-free cheese, and maybe even gluten-free bread, and then give it all an ”authentic” taste.
Applied to architecture, it means using earth-based concrete, non-overheating glazing, combined with straw or hemp insulation, and steel-imitation wood, all without asking, as Louis Kahn said, “what each material wants.” Ultimately, a so-called contemporary architecture without intrinsic flavor, formulated on the basis of bio-based materials and their associated standards, as the result of answers to a series of technical constraints. Hence the warning expressed by one guest: some things look like other things without having the opportunity to develop their own style.
Reference materials
However, ongoing research into inventing new materials or finding contemporary uses for age-old ones shows the potential for forging a meaningful path by viewing architecture as a resource map. Let's imagine oyster concrete or canelé insulation for the Gironde region. In the past, Bordeaux inhabitants only had stone. “Good luck or bad luck?” asks one guest mischievously.
Around the table, each participant's references highlight the reinterpretation of traditional materials, such as Ibavi with its massive stone in the Balearic Islands, Can Lis, the house by the sea by Scandinavian architect Jørn Utzon (same material, same location, or almost), or David Chipperfield's white vacation home in Corrubedo (Spain). The light, almost removable structures adapted by Glenn Murcutt to the Australian bush also stand as models.
The foreign names overlap with more local proposals: wooden constructions by Pierre Lajus and the École Bordelaise, massive stone houses, reinterpretations of the archetypal échoppe, and raw earth projects based on reactivated local know-how, such as the ZAC de Biganos.
Cultural overview
Climate-responsive architecture is, of course, not only a question of materials; it is also a unique relationship between interior and exterior, a specific treatment of the back façade, a way of providing shade for the city. And sometimes, a manner of directly entering one's home from the public space. Some wonder: isn't local architecture above all enduring architecture? In the sense that it is not “affected” by its climate or the associated weather conditions.
The Duplomb Law, at the centre of the political controversies that punctuated the summer of 2025 when we wrote this text, reminds us that “adaptation” to climate change is a matter of perspective. For some, it involves installing air conditioners and private swimming pools. The tension surrounding ecological thinking is increasingly tangible.
Are there any cross-party elements between identity and ecology, between residents' practices and the common good, between UNESCO classification and the installation of solar panels? Or even between the use of Velux® skylights on roofs that are not steep enough and the Architects of Buildings of France's opposition to any changes to the fifth façade? One guest suggests that a manufacturer has the power to change the morphology of a city. Another responds that an ABF has the power to immobilize it.
By trying too hard to replicate the conventions of the past, are we not at risk of creating architecture that looks like my grandfather's knife (the one whose handle was changed and then whose blade was replaced)?
Scale of the issue
In this quest for unity and consistency within a territory, it is probably more a question of environment than architecture. The inner and outer suburbs of the Bordeaux metropolitan area are particularly affected because they are changeable. How should we deal, in the coming decades, with the transition from the “suburban effect” to a return to urbanity?
Nearly two-thirds of Bordeaux is peri-urban; it is a city with very low-rise buildings, “without topography” as some would say. If the urban landscape of a given “here” is made up of detached houses and mansions, if not everything happens in the city center, what would be the intangibles of the territory in a broader sense? The very high quality of the landscape is unanimously praised. It can be enhanced by the concept of a “garden metropolis” that combines a network of public parks with numerous private green spaces in the heart of residential blocks. In the end, wouldn’t finding the right scale for the issue already be providing an answer?