Architecture and sustainable design: Buildings that breathe, cities that think

Let’s pretend buildings are people for the sake of my argument. Some are the aloof kind—closed off, cold, energy-draining. Others are that friend who always knows which way the wind’s blowing, literally. They listen, adapt and don’t need to shout (or blast AC) to make you feel comfortable. Those are the buildings we need more of. The ones that show us what architecture and sustainable design can really do.

This isn’t just poetic fancy. It’s a shift in how we think about design in the face of climate urgency. And in the words of the Dean of IE School of Architecture & Design David Goodman, who’s been helping students rethink everything from concrete to comfort: “We need to do more than sustain. We need to regenerate.”

So—what is green architecture, really? And how can design help cities come alive?

Green architecture is a way of designing buildings that actively reduce harm to the environment—through energy efficiency, low-impact materials and smart, climate-responsive thinking. But more than that, it’s about creating spaces that work with nature instead of trying to overpower it. It considers how buildings breathe, how they age and how they shape life around them.

At its best, green architecture design concepts move beyond checklists and certifications. They ask bigger questions: How does this structure interact with its climate? How does it support the people who use it—and the planet that holds it?

With that in mind, let’s rewind. Because some of the most effective sustainable designs weren’t drafted on glowing screens, but built from memory, instinct and necessity.

Let’s look at some examples here in Spain.

The Basque house, huddled like a person conserving heat, warmed from the inside out. The Andalusian courtyard home breathed from its core, cooling the air with grace, not gadgets. These weren’t architectural statements. They were survival strategies, refined through generations. As Goodman notes, these spaces “responded to place, not just style.”

Green architecture design concepts borrow from this logic. Not nostalgia—intelligence. Passive cooling, cross-ventilation, local materials—these aren’t alternative methods; they’re foundational ones we simply forgot.

Ever heard of biomimicry? It’s the science of learning from nature’s blueprints. A termite mound, for example, regulates its internal climate with architectural precision. Some of today’s most ambitious buildings do the same.

The Gherkin in London isn’t shaped like that just to stand out in postcards. Its geometry enables natural ventilation. Wind moves through the structure like breath through lungs. This is architecture and sustainable design doing its homework—learning from biology, not just engineering.

Yes, Copenhill in Copenhagen burns waste. But it also lets people ski over the roof and climb up its façade. BIG, the studio behind the project, didn’t see an incinerator; they saw an opportunity. They even planned a smoke ring for each ton of CO₂ emitted—a visual lesson floating into the sky.

This is green architecture asking questions. How do we make sustainability visible? How do we invite people in, rather than scold them from above?

Designing for engagement, not just efficiency

Green architecture design concepts often get boiled down to checklists: energy use, materials, emissions. But Goodman urges his students to ask something deeper: What value does this building add to the world around it?

That’s where education matters.

At IE University, faculty aren’t only preparing students to meet regulations—they’re pushing them to challenge assumptions. Comfort isn’t a fixed temperature. Efficiency doesn’t equal meaning. A building should feel as alive as the people inside it.

And that means engagement—creative, uncomfortable, rigorous engagement. “Like gears grinding to create motion,” Goodman says. The kind of friction that drives innovation.

Making space for joy

The future of architecture and sustainable design won’t succeed by guilt-tripping people into low energy bills. It’ll win when we create spaces people love. Places that are clever, beautiful, and unexpectedly generous.

William McDonough’s reimagining of the Ford River Rouge plant didn’t just reduce pollution. It introduced green roofs and wetlands that helped heal the land. That’s not maintenance—that’s redemption.

A question lingers: Can a building make you feel hope?

Good design says yes.

Want to design the future? We’re building the blueprint

This is where IE University comes in.

If you want to shape environments that are not only intelligent, but humane—explore our Bachelor in Architectural Studies and Bachelor in Design. You’ll work with renowned faculty like dean David Goodman, who are pushing the boundaries of what design can be in an era of climate transformation.

You’ll explore what is green architecture, not just as a concept, but as a challenge—one that calls for resilience, imagination, and bold new ways of thinking.

And you’ll graduate with more than a portfolio. You’ll leave with the tools to make cities breathe and buildings think.

Because in the end, the spaces we create reflect the futures we believe in.