On Albanian Vernacular and Contemporary Architecture

Arbëra Avdiu in conversation with Gëzim Paçarizi, 2019

What is lacking in the connection between vernacular and contemporary architecture in the Albanian context?

The formal copying of vernacular elements is quite common in Kosovo today, but I would not call that a real connection. In fact, I would say that there is almost no meaningful relationship between contemporary architecture and vernacular tradition in Kosovo and Albania.Our vernacular architecture was extremely rich, while much of what we build today is very poor. One of the main reasons is the lack of understanding of vernacular architecture itself. Very few attempts have been made to understand why certain solutions existed and what problems they were addressing.Vernacular architecture is the result of long processes of adaptation, often related to climate, landscape, materials, and social life. With the introduction of new materials during the twentieth century, this long chain of cause–effect–solution was suddenly interrupted.Perhaps the most striking characteristic of vernacular architecture was its absence of waste and its overall sustainability. Materials such as wood, stone, lime, raw bricks, or straw either could be reused or simply returned to nature. Unfortunately, when people refer to vernacular architecture today, they often focus only on formal aspects, ignoring the deeper logic behind it.

When and why did Albanian architecture stop building according to its natural and cultural context?

The transformation began with the introduction of new materials, modern construction techniques, and new economic systems in the early twentieth century. These changes were also strongly influenced by political and social transformations.In Kosovo, the break with vernacular tradition was intensified by historical circumstances. After 1913, during the Serbian occupation, vernacular architecture was often dismissed as something primitive and without value. Later, the socialist Yugoslav system promoted the idea of a “new society” with new architectural forms, further distancing architecture from traditional knowledge.After the last war, the dominant tendency became rapid urban densification. Many old vernacular houses—often located in historic urban centres—were demolished and replaced with new constructions. Over the past twenty years, the decline in architectural education has only reinforced this tendency.Today many buildings are constructed only for immediate economic profit, with little thought about how they will function in fifty—or even twenty—years. Many contemporary materials are petroleum-based and will eventually return to the environment in harmful ways, polluting land and water.

Does Albanian architecture have specific characteristics that distinguish it as “Albanian”?

The Albanian architectural context varies greatly from region to region and even from city to city. Mountain regions historically enjoyed a high degree of autonomy, while larger urban centres were influenced by Ottoman, Mediterranean, and Byzantine traditions.For example, the architecture of Prizren is very different from that of Gjirokastër. Even within Prizren itself, the neighbourhoods near the fortress differ from those in the lower parts of the city.Nevertheless, some underlying principles appear throughout the region. These include an unwritten respect for a “no harm” principle, the use of natural materials, and a careful relationship with environmental elements such as water, sunlight, and wind.Defining a single “Albanian architecture” is therefore difficult, perhaps even impossible. However, its identity can be understood through local building solutions and the urban character of historic towns such as Prizren, Berat, and Gjirokastër.

Does your architectural work change depending on the geographical context?

Yes. One of the fundamental principles of my work is context.Every building must both define a place and be defined by that place. This is a circular relationship. A building should emerge from its context while maintaining its own identity, and through this identity it can redefine the context around it.Every place has its own history, potential, and challenges. Architecture must respond to these conditions. You cannot design the same building in the mountains, by the sea, in the countryside, or in a dense city.Climate factors such as sun, wind, and seasonal variations must be considered, but ultimately the most important aspect is how people live. Good architecture begins with an understanding of life itself.

What inspires your work when designing in the Albanian context?

I work closely with the environment, both the immediate surroundings and the broader landscape.Buildings are organized to create different types of spaces: some that open outward toward the landscape and light, and others that turn inward, becoming darker and more introspective. Light can only be perceived fully when there is also shadow.My inspirations come primarily from architecture itself—from architectural language, spatial ideas, and historical examples. Some influences are intuitive rather than analytical.

What were the priorities in renovating the Garden House?

The decisions were mainly practical. I simply tried to do things well. Municipal regulations required the preservation of the original building volume.From this constraint emerged the idea of a house closely connected to the garden—almost a house that becomes a garden. Over time, the garden evolved into a courtyard, and the courtyard in turn became the central element of the house. 

The roof is an important element in Albanian vernacular architecture. How did you approach it in the Mother Teresa Museum?

The Mother Teresa Museum in Prizren is essentially a single spatial volume organized over three levels. Historically, many public buildings in Prizren were crowned by domes. I wanted to define the space vertically with a dome so that light could enter from above and from different directions.The roof therefore becomes a key architectural element. It defines the interior experience while also creating a dialogue with the city.Externally, the building respects the scale and order of the surrounding urban fabric. Internally, however, the space becomes much richer. This contrast between modesty on the outside and richness on the inside is deeply rooted in traditional architecture and has been an important inspiration for me.

Both the Garden House and the Mother Teresa Museum are small projects but architecturally powerful. What were the main concepts behind them?

The Garden House was part of a broader reflection on the regeneration of existing urban neighbourhoods in Kosovo. Instead of demolishing old areas and replacing them with high-rise buildings, it proposes light densification and transformation.The project converts a small, deteriorated house into two independent apartments sharing a common garden. Because the apartments themselves are modest in size, the garden becomes an essential living space and creates indirect connections with the surrounding city.The Mother Teresa Museum, on the other hand, is an architectural statement about how a building can belong to the city while maintaining its own identity.Externally, the building appears as a simple three-storey house, aligned with the rhythm of neighbouring structures. Inside, however, the space reveals itself as a single unified volume with balconies and a vaulted ceiling, illuminated mainly from above. The contrast between exterior modesty and interior spatial unity defines the strength of the project.

Which elements of vernacular architecture appear in your work?

Vernacular architecture embodies a profound harmony between use, material logic, and spatial order. It is also inherently sustainable and healthy.I do not believe we should reproduce vernacular architecture literally. Instead, we should understand its philosophy and logic. This deeper understanding can open new possibilities for contemporary architecture.In my work, vernacular influence appears primarily in spatial concepts rather than formal elements. Examples include the relationship between interior and exterior spaces, the idea of seasonal rooms, the integration of furniture with architecture, and the importance of light and shadow.Another important principle is the idea that a house is part of the city and must respond carefully to its immediate surroundings.

The Western Balkans are experiencing a construction boom, yet many new environments feel placeless. How can architecture create a sense of place today?

Buildings define urban space. In many of our cities, however, this relationship has been neglected. Informal parking, kiosks, and uncontrolled construction often weaken the quality of public space.Historically, urban space in our cities was understood very differently. Streets were considered almost a shared responsibility of neighbouring houses. Each house maintained part of the street, creating a strong sense of collective ownership.Today we tend to delegate everything to municipalities and no longer feel responsible for public space. This change has serious consequences.Architects must therefore design buildings that respond carefully to their surroundings—to adjacent buildings, empty spaces, and the broader landscape. 

Do concepts such as “genius loci” still matter today?

Architecture is always related to place. The problems of globalization in architecture often come from ignoring ecological and environmental relationships.Traditional towns like Prizren were sustainable environments. Understanding how they functioned can teach us valuable lessons today.For me, architectural form is secondary. What truly matters is the relationship between the building, the environment, and the surrounding urban fabric. The concept of place is essential because it anchors architecture in reality.

Can vernacular architecture guide contemporary architects today?

Architecture is an expression of the mind. Philosophically, you cannot be someone else—you must understand who you are and express that honestly.At the same time, architecture must always respond to people, place, available materials, and local knowledge. If we approach architecture in this way, there is no identity crisis.Vernacular architecture represents centuries of accumulated knowledge. And knowledge, ultimately, is always a guide.