In our quest to understand how contemporary architecture embraces the circular economy, we spoke with Gracia Amandi and Jorge de Uña, founders of Uña + Amandi Arquitectos. With an honest perspective deeply rooted in common sense, the architects explained how they see the future of sustainability applied to construction and how the industry must evolve to ensure the reuse of materials.
Discover their experience with Rice Tab and their reflections on the future of architecture that, balancing technology and vernacular wisdom, seeks above all to be human and responsible.
In your practice as architects, how do you integrate sustainability criteria in day-to-day work?
In daily practice, sustainability almost always starts with trying to reduce waste and make the most of what already exists. In renovation projects, we usually maintain wooden structures, restore joinery, or reuse elements whenever possible because we are very clear that the most sustainable material is the one already in place. We know it’s not always easy—warehouses, supply chains, and certifications for reuse are lacking—but we believe that this preliminary analysis is a fundamental responsibility of the architect.
At the same time, we place great importance on passive strategies. Orientation, cross ventilation, shading control, deciduous trees that provide summer shade but allow winter sunlight, or the very way the building fits into the land are all decisions that significantly reduce the need for heating and cooling. In projects like the Monteporreiro table tennis club, where the building is partially underground, these architectural decisions greatly reduce energy demands. For us, sustainability does not start with machines; it starts with the form, position, and logic of the building.
What obstacles do you think still hinder the adoption of circular solutions in architectural projects?
One of the main obstacles is the lack of real reuse infrastructures. Many materials in construction are discarded even though they are in good condition, but there are no clear systems to recover, store, and put them back into use with guarantees. The entire system is designed for disposal, not reuse.
Additionally, there is an important paradox: to ensure a minimum quality—which is absolutely necessary—we require certifications, labels, and traceability of origin that, in many cases, prevent the reuse of perfectly valid materials. It reminds us of what happened years ago with electronics. Today, everyone understands what a refurbished phone or computer is, with quality controls and guarantees. Why not think of something similar in construction? Warehouses of reused materials, inspected and certified, could truly close the loop.
Looking to the future, what trends in sustainable architecture do you consider most influential in the medium term?
We clearly see two very different paths. On one hand, a return to vernacular architecture—building with simple, almost ancestral techniques, using local materials like earth, straw, and wood; systems that work through climatic logic and common sense rather than technology. It’s humble architecture, very connected to place, but also honest and, above all, accessible.
At the other extreme is an increasingly sophisticated, technological sustainability: hyper-controlled buildings filled with systems, certifications, and devices that promise near-zero energy consumption. The issue is not that these solutions don’t work, but for whom they work.
If sustainability is only viable for a few economies, it ceases to be a global solution. In a world where much of the population lives with limited resources, the future may rely less on increasingly complex buildings and more on recovering simple, replicable architectures that can reach many more places.
What impressions did you take away from seeing the Rice Tab manufacturing process up close?
We are architects who value the sensory qualities of materials, beyond their appearance or mechanical properties. Touch and smell are fundamental qualities. In the case of Rice Tab, being made from rice husk—a small-grain material—it feels smooth and pleasant, without sharp edges or roughness. Its smell is neutral, and it doesn’t release dust. We believe this makes it very suitable for furniture or surfaces that people interact with closely.
Did you discover anything at BIRDMIND that surprised you or that you didn’t expect?
We were surprised to see that the approach is not limited to rice husk but is being applied to other types of waste, such as those from the textile industry, which today represent one of the biggest environmental challenges. This connects strongly with our own concerns as architects: it’s not enough to manage a project well; it’s also essential that the industry provides real solutions for the waste that is inevitably generated.
From your experience, how can materials like Rice Tab help transform architectural design?
Materials like Rice Tab can play a very important role because they provide a real alternative in contexts where it is not always possible to reuse existing elements. In such cases, working with waste-derived materials through clear and controlled processes allows for coherent, responsible decisions. They do not replace renovation or reuse, but they do help close the loop when new material must be incorporated responsibly.
