Tallinn Architecture Biennale questions what value really means.
A building can come in on budget and still prove expensive. The bill may simply arrive later, through high energy use, premature repairs or a layout too rigid for everyday life.
This is the question behind Tallinn Architecture Biennale 2026 (TAB 2026), which takes “How Much?” as its theme. Rather than treating cost as a number fixed at tender stage, the exhibition looks at what is lost when architecture is driven primarily by short-term efficiency: what gets retained, what is discarded, and who ultimately carries the consequences.
Its setting, Tallinn’s Linnahall, makes the dilemma visible. The vast modernist waterfront building has stood largely unused for years. Restoring it would be costly; demolishing it would also come at a price. Leaving it untouched, however, is no neutral option. Each delayed decision allows materials to deteriorate and pushes a larger cultural, financial and environmental burden into the future.
Swiss practice baubüro in situ approaches this question at a more domestic scale. Its Winkelbau Zwhatt Areal project in Regensdorf converts part of a 1981 commercial building into homes, using a two- to three-year test-living period to examine how the wider structure might eventually be adapted.
The design does not treat the existing interior as an obstacle to be erased. Floors, walls and circulation are retained wherever possible; interventions are limited to what is necessary. Kitchens and bathrooms are gathered into freestanding service units that can later be dismantled, moved or reused.
According to TAB, the approach produces 65 tonnes less CO₂ equivalent than a conventional refurbishment, a reduction of 43 per cent.
Avarrus Arkkitehdit’s Simply Massive reaches a similar conclusion through brick. Thick masonry walls may require more material at the outset, but their thermal mass helps stabilise indoor temperatures, while natural ventilation reduces dependence on mechanical systems. Durability and eventual reuse, the project suggests, may matter more than the cheapest initial specification.
The question has particular resonance in Hong Kong, where value is often measured in saleable square feet. Corridors, entrance spaces, balconies and communal areas are easily treated as surplus. Yet these modest margins—a window that creates cross-ventilation, a corridor wide enough for a chair, a threshold where neighbours can pause—are often what make a home workable over time.
The most valuable building is not necessarily the least expensive one, nor the most lavish. It is the one that can be lived in, repaired and adapted long after the original budget has been forgotten.
