what we learned: utopia then and now

utopia then and now: the ideal as method

As part of Utopia Then and Now, we explored the shifting boundaries of the ideal world through the lens of architecture, art, technology, and design. By looking back at radical 1960s visions and forward toward lunar colonies and regenerative fabrics, we gathered a collection of insights on what it means to build a better way of being. Across disciplines, the first chapter of our renewed editorial focus reveals a decisive shift away from singular visions of ideal worlds toward something more complex, unstable, and human. Utopia no longer appears as a fixed destination. Instead, it emerges as a tool, a question, and often a contradiction.

As framed in Utopia, applied, or, why we have to change to stay the same, the chapter opens with a provocation that echoes throughout: ‘what if utopia was never a destination, but a method?’ What becomes clear across the chapter is that the most meaningful visions of the future are not those that attempt to resolve everything, but those that remain open, adaptive, and responsive to change. From historical reflections to speculative futures, the narratives included form a collective argument: that the future is not something we arrive at, but something we continuously construct. Read on below for what we learned from the visionaries shaping our past, present, and future utopias.

Weronika Gęsicka, Jungftak #1, from the ENCYCLOPAEDIA series, 2023–2026

The Past: Radical Optimism and the ‘Anti-Utopia’

When looking at history, we found that the most influential utopian thinkers often rejected the term itself, preferring action and adaptability over rigid perfection. This era was defined by the discipline of architecture and visionary drawing, where the creative process centered on the power of the pencil. Sir Peter Cook, the co-founder of Archigram, shared a surprising take on the concept by stating, ‘I don’t agree with the idea of utopia… Utopia implies a kind of static state of perfection, which I find very boring and actually quite dangerous.’ Instead, Cook prefers the word ‘optimism’ and views the act of drawing as a fundamental searching mechanism, noting that ‘the drawing is a way of searching… it’s a way of looking for something that isn’t there yet.’ We also looked back at the broader Archigram movement, which suggested that ‘cities should be like people; they should breathe, react, and evolve.’

Similarly, we revisited Ettore Sottsass’s pre-Memphis vision, Il Pianeta come Festival from 1972. This work imagined a planet organized by moments of collective life rather than labor. It reminds us that early utopian thinking was not about solving the world, but about freeing the human spirit through temporary, joyful gatherings. This aligns with the ‘New Babylon’ of Constant Nieuwenhuys, which envisioned a world of ‘homo ludens’—the playing man—where automation frees humanity to wander and create at will.

We also learned from the radical provocations of Superstudio, whose ‘Continuous Monument’ used architectural satire to question totalizing systems. Their work suggested that ‘architecture should be a tool for liberation, not a cage of permanence.’ This metabolic thinking was echoed in our study of Metabolism and circular cities, where architecture is treated as a living, organic process of evolution rather than a finished product.

Superstudio, The Continuous Monument, New York, 1969 | image via MAXXI

The Present: Collective Action and Lived Practice

In the present day, utopia is being redefined as a survival strategy and a social necessity. This movement utilizes social architecture and community design, relying on a creative process that blends empirical knowledge with local participation. In the Peruvian Amazon, Espacio Común Association worked with local fishers to create a Floating Stage for MuyunaFest. We learned that the utopia here is not a high-tech city, but a flexible, circular platform that rises with the river. The team noted that ‘the construction… relied on the expertise of local builders, many of whom are fishers and boat makers accustomed to building in fluctuating water conditions.’

This focus on the ‘social’ is mirrored in the work of Yuri Suzuki, who uses sound sculptures to foster playful interaction. Suzuki taught us that ‘sound is a way to connect people to their environment and to each other,’ turning public space into a shared acoustic experience. Similarly, the collective Assemble demonstrates that the future of the city lies in community-led fabrication, while Theaster Gates illustrates that ‘utopian buildings already exist’; we just need to ‘reimagine the ruins’ of our current urban landscapes through initiatives like his Rebuild Foundation.

We also learned from Judy Chicago, whose career of building feminist utopias through art taught us that change requires a radical shift in how we educate. She explained that ‘from The Dinner Party to feminist classrooms, it’s about building change through practice… ‘creating spaces where women’s experiences are the center, not the margin.’ This sentiment is shared by artists like Karolina Wiktor, who uses language to navigate post-stroke motherhood, and Marjetica Potrč, who ‘learns from communities worldwide’ to rethink how we live together.

In the realm of urbanism, we revisited Jane Jacobs’s vision of the ‘city sidewalk,’ learning that a functioning utopia is built on the ‘ballet of the good city sidewalk’—the everyday interactions of neighbors that create safety and vitality. This is further explored by Izaskun Chinchilla, whose collective embroidery pavilions use ‘lightness and denunciation’ to advocate for a more inclusive, feminine urban utopia.

artist Theaster Gates. photo by Lyndon French | image courtesy the artist

The Future: Speculative Design and Primitive Roots

Looking forward, utopia moves into the realm of speculative design and material experimentation, where the creative process questions current systems and looks toward ‘primitive’ futures. Superflux showed us how speculative design can ‘transform the present’ by making future challenges tangible. They argue that by ‘imagining the unthinkable,’ we can better navigate the complexities of climate change and technological shifts. Olalekan Jeyifous similarly ‘reshapes worldly contingencies,’ using Afrofuturist aesthetics to build ‘parallel presents’ that challenge Western-centric visions of the future.

We learned from Tsuyoshi Tane that ‘architecture begins from the memory of a place,’ suggesting an ‘archaeology of the future’ where we dig into the past to find the tools for tomorrow. This is echoed by Ensamble Studio, whose ‘primitive futures’ use raw material experimentation to create structures that feel as though they were born from the earth itself.

Enter Projects Asia showcased a future where high-tech designs are executed with sustainable materials like rattan, stating, ‘we are exploring a sculptural future handcrafted with local materials… it’s about the marriage of digital geometry and traditional craft.’ This handcrafted future is also seen in Abeer Seikaly’s Bedouin-inspired weaving, which provides ‘shelter for displaced communities’ by merging ancient heritage with modern structural engineering.

Finally, we explored the intersection of the body and technology. Valerian Blos and various bio-designers are ‘questioning current systems’ through objects that reshape matter. We learned that the future of assistive design is about ‘body agency,’ where wearable devices allow people to ‘regain control over their physical forms.’ Whether through Kimsooja’s use of light to ‘shift perception of the spaces we already inhabit’ or Lachlan Turczan’s bending of light and water, we learned that the future utopia is one that is ‘applied’—requiring us, as our editorial suggests, ‘to change to stay the same.’

Kimsooja, To Breathe — Constellation, 2024, image courtesy Pinault Collection

utopia then and now: A Summary

If this chapter taught us anything, it is that utopia is not a place we will eventually reach, but rather a tool for participation and a ‘creative impulse that improves the world.’ We learned that ‘the drawing is a way of searching’ (Cook), that we must ‘design for the memories of a place’ (Tane), and that ‘lived practice’ (Chicago) is the only way to ensure progress. From the ‘Garden of Cosmic Speculation’ by Charles Jencks, which translates complex science into shared experience, to the functional recycled speakers of Benoit Maubrey, we have learned that utopia is the act of refusing to accept the world as it is and insisting on imagining it as it could be.

Charles Jenck’s Garden of Cosmic speculation | all images courtesy of The Garden Of Cosmic Speculation

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