A tale of neither man or woman that are the face of the crowd and not the crowd.

Unknown makes unloved, an interesting proverb isn’t it? Just by definition one can associate unknown with unfamiliarity, something that is yet to be revealed, or maybe something we share a complex dialect with. Through my limited experience, I have also felt how we often don’t fear the unknown, but rather what we project onto the unknown. Being Indian, my “limited experience” obviously would like to peel one such complexity that is part of the Indian fabric, but that over time has mutated into different roles and identities within the society.

If the Netherlands could choose a flag to represent its culture, the wood windmill would be the single most iconic thing to be on it. With such a tight knitted relationship that this country has for wind, the 2000s era has cultivated the wind into energy, and technology no longer evoke the same feelings as the friendly windmill, but rather, aliens in the empty fields, blank obstructions by the lonely highways. While they hold virtually no meaningful cultural values, can we still humanise the industrial wind turbines? Can we care for them as part of the modern relationship that the Netherlands associates with wind as it rises and falls?

In many ways, projects for urban transit deal with the act of commuting, one that is essential to urban life as we know it. Recognising, embracing and loving the commute might be the key to joy in the increasingly alienating metropolis; to do so, we may have to look back at times when such concerns were at the core of urban design.

Before the Internet, architecture enthusiasts relied on magazines to stay up-to-date on the daily happenings in architecture. As humans, our hunger for news and media hastily yearns for opinionated pieces to stimulate our daily life. The users are constantly evolving, how can the publishing houses disseminate their gathered knowledge and content? It is a question the Bnieuws team is involved in to reflect, along with the panellists of professionals form the publishing world during the BK Talk - Disseminate: The Present and future of editorial practice.

A few months ago, three students, Saif Ragaei, Ammar Yasser and Mariam Ihab, interviewed by KooZA/rch,  realised “how unstable the notion of normal life is by examining the situations where this sense of normalcy is destroyed in a horrific suddenness.” They questioned the fragility of our day to day in the face of political conflict and natural disasters and for the theme of the future of home they sent their contribution of technical drawings of destruction.

At the heart of a city called Kiruna stands an ordinary red brick building, the function of which is conveyed in red capital letters above it's main entrance; Folkets Hus, Swedish for 'community house'. As such, the building houses a variety of public functions; café, cinema, theatre, tourist information centre, souvenir shop, micro-museum. It's a place where the residents of Kiruna can gather, and where visiting tourists can use the bathroom. 

Dear Bnieuws reader, It can sometimes be tough to take challenging steps. The theme of this Bnieuws follows from the unknown. What is it like abroad? I have asked myself this question lately, so I decided to take action… 

“The Architect, History and Her Drawing” is an exhibition organised by the students of the Architectural History Thesis course taught by Jurjen Zeinstra in the first and second semester. 

The following is a confession: I have developed a ‘thing’ for mint syrup. There are quite a bunch of those aluminium bottles with the greeny, gooey, sticky, funky fresh liquid staring at me from the fridge. Not to even mention the bulk bottle staring down from the countertop, judgingly. My friends had gotten air of this and given me beakers with mint leaves and what not at parties. I’m not complaining.

Historically, in fiction and mythology, a doppelgänger is portrayed as a ghostly double, a paranormal oddity, and harbinger of bad luck. Meeting ourselves, and being left disappointed, it’s a terrifying thought nonetheless. So we avoid listening to our own recordings: we’d rather deal with calculated selfies, or premeditated TikTok performances, then listen to our voice at its natural state.