From conceptual work to photographs and videos to drawings and more, the jury is reviewing entries to Architizer's 2025 Vision Awards. Keep tabs on the world's best architectural representation by clicking here.
One of the most fascinating things about Olympia was that we weren’t simply designing around historic buildings; we were designing around historic buildings that continued functioning for the people who use them.
The site is a collection of remarkable Victorian and early twentieth-century structures: the Grade II* listed Grand Hall and Pillar Hall (1886), alongside the Grade II listed National Hall (1923), Olympia Central (1929) and Olympia Garage (1935). Together they form one of London’s most distinctive exhibition centers, meaning that the project of preserving went beyond restoration. It sought to find ways for them to continue doing what they were built to do while an entirely new neighborhood grew around and above them.
That challenge shaped almost every design decision. Construction often took place above live exhibitions, with work penetrating roofs and introducing new structures while events continued below. Rather than seeing this as a limitation, we began to see it as an opportunity. It led us to one of the defining ideas of the project: creating a new public street within what had previously been an inaccessible roofscape.
From the outset we wanted Olympia to resonate at three different scales simultaneously: the city, the street and the door. Each required a different kind of response, but all needed to feel connected.
At the scale of the city, the most transformative move is Emberton Walk, an elevated street threaded across the roofs of the listed halls. What was once a largely unseen landscape of disparate rooftops has become the center of a new cultural neighborhood, connecting a theatre, music venue, hotels and restaurants. At ground level, Olympia Way introduces an entirely new pedestrian route through the site, opening it up in a way that wasn’t possible before.
What you might not notice when you visit is how closely Emberton is tied to the structures beneath it. This connection is something that we are particularly proud of: the geometry of the canopy isn’t decorative or arbitrary. Its five arches align precisely with the structural grid of the Grand and National Halls below, allowing the rhythm of the new intervention to emerge directly from the logic of the old.
At the same time, large cantilevering beams carry the weight of the new street independently, deliberately avoiding additional loading on the listed buildings. For me, that’s where the most satisfying technical solutions often sit: when structural necessity also helps tell the story of the architecture.
Rigor and Repetition
At the street scale, much of the work became an exercise in balance. The new buildings needed enough presence to establish a new destination, but they also had to sit comfortably alongside structures that have defined the character of Olympia for generations.
Many of the ideas for the architectural language came directly from studying the Victorian exhibition halls. Their enormous spans, vaulted roofs and pleated glazing create an extraordinary play of light and shadow. Rather than replicating those details literally, we were interested in translating their underlying logic into a contemporary system.
The pleated façades of the Central Building and the canopy are examples of this approach. They may appear expressive, but they’re rooted in a high degree of rationalization. The canopy’s conical glass awnings were particularly challenging. Conical forms typically require many irregular glass panels, which can become costly and difficult to manufacture. Through extensive testing and refinement, we were able to solve the geometry by using an oversize capping system, standardizing both the glass sizes and fabrication, while maintaining the desired visual effect.
What I enjoy about that solution is the contradiction within it. The canopy appears intricate and bespoke, yet this intricacy and complexity are created by a disciplined and repetitive system. Often the most elegant technical solutions are the ones that disappear from view.
The same thinking informed the Central Building. The structural grid was developed to maximize clear, column-free exhibition floors, while the façade module was derived directly from the dimensions of a standard jumbo glass sheet. A 1.6-meter pleat corresponds exactly to half the width of a 3.2-meter sheet, eliminating waste. The nine-meter structural bay, the rationalization of mullion profiles and extrusions, then informed the depth and angle of the pleating itself, creating a simple rhythm of projection and recession that gives the building texture, shadow and variation throughout the day.
Even the rounded corners were an opportunity to depart from the standard module. By subtly adjusting the pleat geometry, we were able to frame views both into and out of the building, creating moments of visual connection at the end of each floor plate that feel distinct from the rest of the façade.
Loveable Detail
The reality of every design is that not every part of a building can, or even should, receive the same level of attention. It was the same for Olympia. As designers, we have to be selective about where we invest our energy. For me, the most rewarding moments are often not the grand architectural gestures but the things people encounter at the door distance: the details they touch, hold and use every day.
At Olympia, we spent a disproportionate amount of time thinking about doors and lifts. On paper, that might sound trivial when you’re working on a project of this scale, but I think these are often the moments where people begin feeling a connection with a place. A carefully considered lift button or a door handle can communicate the same values as a building’s overall form: craft, care and attention to detail.
The lift buttons became something of an obsession for the team. We wanted them to feel as though they belonged to Olympia rather than being imported from a catalog. Working with a specialist London foundry, we developed them as cast bronze objects, drawing on traditional techniques while navigating the precise technical requirements of a contemporary lift system. We spent time refining the geometry to suit the casting process, testing patinas and finishes, and developing a machined insert accurate to within a millimeter. What interested me was the meeting point between craftsmanship and engineering; a small object that had to satisfy both worlds equally.
The door handles followed a similar path. We collaborated with a local artist and maker who specializes in furniture and timber work, exploring how something as familiar as a handle could carry a stronger sense of place. The final design is made from reclaimed London Plane, a timber synonymous with the city’s streets, shaped into a profile inspired by the silhouette of the Central Building itself. Hidden within is a brass T-section that provides the strength needed to withstand years of use. I like that combination of warmth and robustness; a tactile object that feels natural in the hand while being quietly engineered to perform.
What I enjoy most about these elements is that people rarely notice them consciously. They simply contribute to a feeling that a building has been thought about carefully. For me, they represent the final scale of Olympia’s design, completing a thread that runs from the wider city, through the public streets and buildings, down to the details people touch every day. The project is full of technical problem-solving, but ultimately that expertise is in service of creating places that feel considered, human and enjoyable to use.
From conceptual work to photographs and videos to drawings and more, the jury is reviewing entries to Architizer's 2025 Vision Awards. Keep tabs on the world's best architectural representation by clicking here.
