Lina Ghotmeh Is Reimagining Cultural Architecture for a Connected World
Lina Ghotmeh, recognized on this year’s Art Power Index, is changing the global conversation between art, architecture and place. Based in Paris and raised in Beirut, Ghotmeh has emerged as one of the defining voices of a new architectural sensibility rooted in sustainability, memory and cultural dialogue, rather than spectacle. Her recent and forthcoming projects span continents and histories: the British Museum’s sweeping Western Range redesign, the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia, the Jadids’ Legacy Museum in Uzbekistan and Qatar’s Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Each project, in her words, sits “at the crossroads of this transformation—where local narratives meet global dialogues.”
Ghotmeh’s approach, which she refers to as an “archaeology of the future,” treats architecture as both excavation and invention, a process of uncovering the social, material and emotional layers of a place before imagining what comes next. This philosophy took shape in her acclaimed Serpentine Pavilion in 2023, a table-like structure that beckoned visitors to sit, share and converse, turning architecture into an act of gathering.
The shifting power dynamics in the art world, from the rise of voices across the Global South to the integration of technology and A.I., are redefining cultural institutions. Ghotmeh envisions museums as “living environments” that immerse audiences in the creative process and connect them to the broader human story art continues to tell. For the architect, buildings are never neutral containers but vessels for dialogue, resilience and renewal. In reimagining how and where art is experienced, Ghotmeh is rethinking culture itself as a space for belonging, continuity and care.
What do you see as the most transformative shift in the art world power dynamics over the past year, and how has it impacted your own work or strategy?
Over the past year, I’ve felt a profound shift in both voices and geography within the art world. We are finally witnessing the rise of influential perspectives from the Global South and other historically underrepresented regions. This expansion of voices is not only reshaping who gets to speak but also how and where art is being shown. It signals a move toward a more plural and inclusive understanding of art as a critical platform—one capable of engaging with the most pressing social, cultural and environmental questions of our time.
This shift deeply informs the type of work I pursue and aligns with a trajectory I’ve been committed to for years. Projects such as designing Qatar’s National Pavilion at the Venice Biennale, the Jadid Museum in Uzbekistan, and the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia all sit at the crossroads of this transformation—where local narratives meet global dialogues.
Similarly, reimagining the British Museum as a vessel for a truly global art history offers an opportunity to rethink cultural institutions as spaces of exchange rather than dominance. It’s an invitation to reframe how we tell the story of humanity through art—decentering traditional hierarchies and embracing a more interconnected, equitable cultural landscape.
As the art market and industry continue to evolve, what role do you believe technology, globalization, and changing collector demographics will play in reshaping traditional power structures?
Art not only reflects culture but actively shapes it, serving as both a social force and an economic driver. As collector demographics shift, we’re witnessing new modes of collecting and new ways of constructing cultural narratives—ones that move beyond Western-centric frameworks and embrace more diverse and interconnected perspectives.
Technology, particularly A.I., is playing a transformative role in this process. It enables new kinds of artistic experiences and provides tools for reinterpreting and visualizing data in ways that were previously unimaginable. In our recent work with A.I. artists, for example, we’ve been exploring ways to visualize art histories from the Arab world. This process begins with the crucial task of collecting and structuring data that has long been overlooked or rendered invisible. Through this, knowledge and cultural memory that were once marginalized are reemerging, allowing for a more inclusive understanding of global art histories.
In this sense, technology and globalization are not merely reshaping the market—they’re redistributing cultural power, enabling new voices, narratives and regions to participate in defining the future of art.
Looking ahead, what unrealized opportunity or unmet need in the art ecosystem are you most excited to tackle in the coming year, and what will it take to make that vision a reality?
I’m deeply interested in rethinking how we show art and in reaffirming its central role within society. I believe museums and cultural spaces should evolve into living environments—places that not only exhibit art but also immerse audiences in the creative process itself. Spaces where people can experience how art is made, why it matters, and how it continues to shape our collective consciousness.
Art has accompanied humanity since its very beginnings—it is how we have sought to understand ourselves, substantiate our existence and give meaning to the world around us. Yet many institutions still treat it as something static or distant. The opportunity now lies in transforming museums into dynamic ecosystems of learning, participation and dialogue—bridging artists, communities and new technologies.
Realizing this vision requires rethinking institutional models, fostering collaboration across disciplines and embracing innovation in both curation and architecture. Ultimately, it’s about restoring art’s fundamental purpose: to connect us more deeply to one another and to the shared human story we continue to write.
You grew up in Beirut, a city with a complex history of destruction and rebuilding. How has that background shaped your approach to sustainability, resilience and place-making?
Living in a city where buildings are constantly collapsing and rising again, you understand that architecture is never only physical—it’s social, emotional and deeply tied to survival. Sustainability, for me, comes from that consciousness: to build with care, to use what is available, to adapt rather than erase. In Beirut, you see nature reclaiming ruins, and people reinhabiting them with extraordinary creativity. That taught me that true resilience lies in continuity, in working with the traces and resources already present. Every project I design begins with that same listening to place, so that what emerges feels born from its ground rather than imposed upon it.
You coined the term “archaeology of the future.” How do you balance uncovering historical traces and designing something genuinely new?
“Archaeology of the future” is both a method and an ethic. It means that before drawing, we excavate—not with shovels, but with research and attention. We study a site’s geology, its crafts, its human stories, its past uses. But this act of uncovering is not nostalgic. The goal is to let those traces inspire something that speaks to today and tomorrow. In Stone Garden, the innovative technique of hand-plastered façade carries Beirut’s collective memory, echoing natural forms found in the city and belonging to the ground, yet its vertical form points to regeneration. The building rises as a novel form anchored in its place. In the Bahrain Pavilion for Expo 2025, we drew on traditional boatbuilding to create a light, demountable timber structure, entirely new but rooted in cultural memory. The past is not a model; it’s a fertile ground from which the new can grow.
How does that translate when designing spaces meant to hold art—objects that carry their own histories and spiritual weight?
Designing for art demands humility. These are spaces of encounter, between artworks, viewers and time itself. Architecture must offer silence and presence at once. The space should talk about the place where we are. Building in AlUla, for example, is an invitation to think of the galleries as earthly structures warmly welcoming art, all while framing nature. At the British Museum, we are working within a building dense with history, yet our aim is not to add another layer of authority but to open it up—to allow light, porosity and new readings of the collection.
The architecture becomes a mediator, a frame that encourages reflection rather than spectacle. Some new spaces we are designing restore a lost feeling of openness, of sky, the use of local stone for the finish reminds us about the place we are in. I like to think of architecture as a vessel for dialogue, where both the art and the visitor can breathe, all while allowing us to dream.
Many contemporary buildings feel imposed rather than born of their surroundings. How do you resist that tendency in your own work?
A building is not an exercise of style; it is an extraordinary place that needs to be inhabited. With my team, I begin each project with listening, to the land, the resources, the crafts, the wind, the people. Context is about an environment; it is not a constraint; it’s the material of the work. I try to design buildings that feel as though they could not exist anywhere else if they are meant to stay still in their place. In Normandy, the Hermès Workshops were built with bricks made from the site’s own earth. We worked with local brick makers and revived an artisanal work present for decades in the region. These gestures root the project in its environment. I think architecture should belong to its place as naturally as a tree grows from soil—it should feel inevitable, not imported.
In redesigning major cultural and arts institutions, you are dealing not just with architecture, but with narratives, audience behaviors and institutional purpose. What can you tell us about the experience of collaborating with curators, conservators and communities?
Architecture is the art of collaboration. It begins with an idea—a concept rooted in a place and informed by its history and context. From there, it becomes an act of orchestration: a dialogue among disciplines, a collaborative process in which all voices are heard, allowing the building to embody and integrate diverse perspectives and skills.
In Qatar, we are currently working on several museum and exhibition projects. These are developed in close collaboration with curators, whose experience across different institutions brings depth and richness to the work. The community is also ever-present, through the ways people will use these spaces, the possibilities they create and the processes of making itself.
I believe architecture is a means to guide knowledge and empower people through creation.
What do you see as the most under-addressed challenge or challenges in cultural architecture at this moment?
We still design too many cultural buildings as static monuments rather than evolving ecosystems. This risks alienating art and cultural spaces from the public, rendering them inaccessible, even though art is essential to our humanity and part of everyday life.
The future demands openness and flexibility: spaces that can adapt to changing programs, technologies and communities. Another challenge lies in the diplomatic role of cultural spaces: in a world that may grow increasingly divided, museums and cultural institutions can serve as bridges between people, reminding us of our shared humanity while celebrating our differences as a source of richness. They are platforms for critical questions and spaces for meaningful dialogue.
As Bruno Latour reminds us, “We have never been modern,” and this insight urges us to reconsider the artificial separation between culture, nature and technology. Cultural buildings must embody this continuity: becoming living, relational environments that connect human, material and ecological realities.
Moreover, the ecological dimension of cultural spaces is an ever-growing concern. Museums remain among the most resource-intensive building types. We need to rethink how we conserve artworks, how we build, reuse and manage energy, all without compromising the sensorial and human experience of art.
You often operate at the intersection of architecture, national identity and culture with projects like the Osaka Expo 2025 Bahrain Pavilion or the AlUla Contemporary Arts Museum in Saudi Arabia, slated to open in 2027. How do you think about the role of architecture in articulating both place and global aspiration?
Architecture has the power to express identity while remaining open to the world. In Bahrain, the pavilion embodies the island’s maritime heritage—its wooden craftsmanship and its relationship to the sea—yet it also speaks of shared ecological values with Japan. In AlUla, surrounded by desert and archaeology, the Contemporary Art Museum will be a dialogue between landscape and art, history and the future. It suggests that the museum become a series of open pavilions, intertwined and interacting with nature. For me, global aspiration should not mean universality through sameness, but connection through specificity. The more rooted a building is, the more it resonates beyond its borders.
When you imagine the art spaces of the future, what do they look and feel like?
I imagine future cultural spaces like a kitchen—alive with cooks and guests in constant interaction. They thrive outside the box, in lively places where texture, light and life unfold intensely.
These spaces will also extend into immaterial worlds. With the rise of digital platforms, we are invited to experience art in a new, hybrid dimension—one that merges the virtual and the physical. This deepens the need to intertwine both realms, to strengthen the sensoriality of the physical while embracing the possibilities of the digital.
Museums and cultural spaces of the future will be lighter, more open and deeply connected to their environment. I imagine buildings that breathe—filled with natural light, porous thresholds and a tactile sense of material. Spaces that invite people to gather, not only to look. They will reuse what exists, evolve over time and dissolve the boundaries between art, nature and daily life. Above all, they will cultivate presence: places where people feel grounded, inspired and connected to one another through beauty and thought.