Lina Ghotmeh was already a quiet superstar on the international architectural scene, long before winning the 2025 commission for the partial renovation of the British Museum in London. Despite her success, the Paris-based architect, who grew up in Beirut, maintains a clear, critical view of the world and of architecture today.

If you close your eyes – which space comes to mind first? Which place has shaped your architectural philosophy?

Closing my eyes means looking deep within myself – almost becoming a child again. I see myself in the mountains of Lebanon, where as a child I watched people building walls, working in the villages, cutting and chiselling stone, and saw how something far greater than human beings emerged from raw materials and bare hands. There is something magical about this process, in which natural raw materials are cut, shaped, and joined, and suddenly a structure rises up. These observations kindled my love of architecture, but also my love of craftsmanship. For me, the two are inseparable.

You grew up in Beirut – a city where building and destruction are closely intertwined. What is architecture under such conditions?

In Beirut, you are constantly confronted with destroyed buildings, with the question of reconstruction, resilience, and survival amid rupture. These moments have fundamentally shaped my perception of the built environment – and sharpened my goals in architecture. You learn early there that building is not merely an aesthetic question, but a profoundly ethical one.

© Iwan Baan

You chaired the jury for the Middle East and Africa at the Holcim Foundation Awards – two very different regions.

Africa is a vast continent with highly diverse climatic zones, cultural contexts, and available resources. Regions such as the Palestinian territories in the Middle East and the Congo or Nigeria can hardly be compared with one another – and neither, therefore, can the architectural approaches that emerge and must emerge there. How resources are used looks completely different in each of these regions. It is precisely this that brought such diverse figures as the architect Tosin Oshinowo from Nigeria and Christian Benimana from MASS Design Group in Rwanda onto the jury, which greatly enriched the discussions.

Were there any projects or approaches that particularly surprised or moved the jury?

In both regions, great efforts are being made to build in a more sustainable, context-sensitive, and resource-conscious manner. This will continue to drive the work – pushing architecture ahead on every level: in the way it responds to the climate, but also in its social and cultural contributions. Building in unstable environments is always a question of social values. I was particularly impressed by the Zanda Central Market in Kinshasa by Think Tank Architecture: a powerful example of how to build new structures without destroying what already exists. Architecture was brought to an informal marketplace without formalising or institutionalising it. The fluid, organic character of the place was preserved; the architecture is a tribute to the hands of the people who bring this place to life every day.

You yourself work intensively with materials and details. What does a typical design process look like in your studio?

My studio’s design process is highly iterative. In the past, architecture may have been dominated by the single sketch – the idea that a building could be designed linearly from concept to completion. In reality, it is about navigating a network of questions and complexities, weaving them together to create spaces that tell the story of society, the economy, and the challenges of our time. A building is an attempt to respond to the everyday by bringing people together in a different way, fostering relationships and making new connections visible. Architecture must lead us to the extraordinary. My design process is therefore deeply research-oriented.

Hermès Workshops (2023): Striking brick arches embody movement and evoke the gallop of a horse. © Iwan Baan

How does a project begin?

We ask questions. Fundamental, sometimes provocative questions. What is a school? What is the history of school building? What if we learnt outdoors in nature? What if the pupils didn’t sit in rows, but in a circle? Such questions play a central role in every project. We first think about what we are actually building – and only then ask how.

And when does this materialise into a building? When does the material come into play?

Very early on. At the Hermès workshop in Normandy, the question of what we would build with was central from the very start. It was to be France’s first CO2-optimised energy-positive building. Bricks and earth were available on site – the most obvious, most honest materials we could use. The bricks then helped to shape the building: its arches, its dynamism, its tectonics. We varied the arches to create movement. For me, that is the true moment of design: when material and space are mutually dependent. We architects must be able to embrace complexity – and translate it, through the tools of architecture, into something comprehensible, liveable, and experiential. Not to hide complexity, but to make it legible.

Hermès Workshops (2023): Partition walls with large arched openings also define the interior. A flat wooden ceiling rests on the walls. © Iwan Baan

How does this principle manifest itself in the Bahrain Pavilion for Expo Osaka?

My first question here, too, was: how can the material do justice to the situation? It is a temporary structure. I wanted to reuse all the material, and generate no waste. We worked with untreated timber: four-metre-long pieces, unlaminated, so that they could subsequently re-enter the material cycle. But this timber was not just our building material – it also stood for all the craftspeople in Japan who are passionately dedicated to timber construction. While many contractors at the Expo hesitated because they felt overwhelmed, we found a company that was absolutely fired up about it. The pride of the craft firms came through in the making. We celebrated the opening together with everyone who had created the building with their own hands. And after the Expo, the timber returned to the material cycle. In this way, a connection is forged between two cultures – Bahrain and Japan – through the material itself.

What is your vision for climate-friendly building in the future?

Architects are critical thinkers rather than mere doers. We can bring people together through our work. Architecture is increasingly based on collaboration across disciplines. It is not just about form – but also about how that form interacts with its surroundings. Beyond collaboration, there is an even more fundamental shift I consider crucial: viewing the built environment as a material bank. Every building consists of materials that I can dismantle piece by piece and reuse – if I plan it that way from the outset. Perhaps in the future, every material will have its own identity, its own biography. We know: this building contains X cubic metres of this timber, Y tons of this steel – and when it is no longer needed, everything flows on. This is how architects can initiate new manufacturing processes and transform the way we perceive, defend, and reinvent our built environment.

Sustainability – a global value of a new generation or Western self-reassurance: are we destroying the world and pretending to repair it?

We are repairing it, we are continuing to destroy it – and all the while we talk about repairing it. That is the honest description of the current state of affairs. But sustainability is not a trend. It is the core. I have been designing as sustainably as possible for 20 years because I am convinced that architecture must be created in harmony with its surroundings. Perhaps it is because I grew up in Beirut, learning early how vulnerable a city is, and how vulnerable nature is. We need nature to survive. The Earth does not need us.

Bahrain Pavilion, Expo Osaka (2025): Nach der Expo kehrte das Material in den Materialkreislauf zurück. © Ishaq Madan

How will technological progress and artificial intelligence change architecture? Will there still be architects in ten years’ time?

Artificial intelligence can be a great tool – if you use it as a tool. Imagine if AI could help us analyse a site in such a way that we make optimal use of the sun, wind, and vegetation. We are already simulating how much energy a building consumes – AI will soon help us respond even more precisely to the context, and reduce energy consumption from the outset. We already attempted something like this at the Hermès workshops in the Normandy region, which consequently require less artificial ventilation and air conditioning. AI can help us manage complexity in design and establish coherence across systems. Today, however, we are not yet there: AI programs primarily generate repetitive forms without any substantive justification. This shows that artificial intelligence is far from being able to replace humans. Architecture is not a mechanical process. When we design, we research and sketch; we laugh, discuss, and argue. That is what makes our work profoundly human. My team means a great deal to me. Technology as a tool: yes, absolutely. As a substitute for human thought and feeling: no.

What was your first thought when you found out in 2025 that your studio had won the competition for the Western Range at the British Museum, beating rivals such as OMA and David Chipperfield?

I see it as a great honour and a great responsibility. It was a long competition, and my practice was in direct competition with the world’s largest architectural firms. The fact that we won shows me that our way of working – the way we ask questions, research, and think through materials – is increasingly being recognised. For me personally, it is an extraordinary project because it deals with the history of the world: the Middle East, ancient Egypt, and the Mediterranean. The collection tells a magnificent story of these regions – and my own history is inextricably linked to it. The project offers a new opportunity to ask: what might a 21st-century museum look like? What does an encyclopaedic museum mean today – in a world that is becoming increasingly aware of its colonial legacy of knowledge?

Bahrain Pavilion, Expo Osaka (2025): Im Herstellungsprozess drückte sich der Stolz der japanischen Handwerksbetriebe aus. © Isahaq Madan

What do you consider to be the defining characteristics of good details and construction?

My work is very detail-oriented. When we build, we pay close attention to execution – because it is about craftsmanship, about the design of details that you can sense, even if you cannot put them into words. A good detail means truly understanding the materials used: how they age, how they are joined, how they react to pressure, heat, and the changing seasons. Sometimes you have to put the drawing aside and go to the workshop – to the craftspeople who know what materials can and cannot do. Learning from this knowledge to find the best solution: for me, that is an essential part of the design process.

How do you deal with building regulations that restrict you when designing?

Building regulations are part of the reality of construction. But they need not mean restriction alone. In the Stone Garden project in Beirut, the building regulations helped determine the form of the building. They were made visible through the architecture and, in a sense, were able to make their voice heard. I find it interesting when laws and standards themselves become a creative force rather than the enemy of a design.

What is the most important insight you’ve gained since you began your career almost 20 years ago?

We should continue to dream. It is crucial to maintain openness and optimism. Without these, you only see the obstacles – and architecture is full of them. Architecture is not primarily a question of building. It remains, first and foremost, a question of people.

Read more in Detail 6.2026 and in our Detail Inspiration database.

Lina Ghotmeh, © David Levene

Lina Ghotmeh

Born in Beirut in 1980, Lina Ghotmeh lives and works in Paris. She set up her studio there in 2016 following her time at Ateliers Jean Nouvel. Lina Ghotmeh has been honoured with the Schelling Architecture Prize (2021) and named “Architect of the Year” at the Iconic Awards 2025, among other accolades. She also serves on international judging panels – most recently as jury chair for the Middle East and Africa region at the Holcim Foundation Awards 2025.

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