Ador Yousuf reflects on his evolving journey of what it means to build architecture that remembers, climate-conscious, and human-scaled design.
Ador Yousuf’s architectural designs are a dialogue between people and place. Whether it’s the contemplative serenity of the Mausoleum of Shah Abdul Karim, or the adaptive ingenuity of the Sonadia School, which won him the Architectural Projects and Build Works-2020′ by the acclaimed International Academy of Architecture (IAA), each project reflects his commitment to designing with nature, not against it.
Q: How have the regional dynamics shaped your inspiration and philosophy?
Architecture must evolve with time, climate, and culture, drawing on the past to address present and future needs. Bangladesh’s distinct seasons and diverse landscapes demand climate-responsive design. Historic models like Mughal architecture, with layered envelopes and poetic light use, offer inspiration. Architects like Louis Kahn and Mazharul Islam emphasised context, coherence, and openness. These traditions shape the narrator’s vision, not as nostalgia but as frameworks to be reimagined. The challenge lies in adapting these ideas to contemporary life without alienation or resorting to imported, unsustainable methods—honouring local rhythms while innovating with integrity.
Q: How do you incorporate your inspirations into your projects?
The Sonadia School marked the early phase of my practice—an experiment in weaving space, local materials, and human rhythms into an architecture of indigenous character. Crafted with abundant bamboo, hay, and straw by local artisans, the round, pavilion-style school sits elevated on stilts, harmonising with the tides. Children arrive on foot in dry seasons, by boat in monsoon—an architecture choreographed with nature.
This philosophy carried into later works. In Ramu, I designed an open, shell-layered structure invisible from outside, merging seamlessly with its environment. At Satkania, I used a two-layered envelope for breathability, shade, and softened visibility. In the Chan Mosque, I pushed this further, splitting the building into dual envelopes with a climate-buffering void in between.
Across each project, I continue to explore how space, form, and climate can respond to context—not by imposing imported styles, but by listening deeply to land, people, and place.
Q: How do you beat the heat with your designs?
Embracing an “architecture of shades,” I explore layered design to combat Bangladesh’s heat and humidity. Techniques like canopies, pavilions, and mesh screens help create breathable, light-filtering facades that reduce heat gain while maintaining adaptability through operable inner glass layers. The layering isn’t limited to facades; I use building services strategically, turning staircases and toilet towers into climate buffers that shield interior spaces. In projects like the Annar Ali Chowdhury and Char Mosques, I tested combinations of screens and service towers. Patiya Residential features vertical fins and a central courtyard that channel airflow so effectively it eliminates the need for air conditioning, even in peak summer. I’m expanding this concept through fragmented forms and internal plazas, always mindful of user behaviour. Architecture, to me, must offer versatile platforms—quiet zones, interactive spaces, moments for movement or pause—so the built environment responds fluidly to both climate and human rhythm.
Q: You’ve mentioned earlier that your work philosophy has changed over time and is still evolving. We’d love to hear about those experiences.
In my recent hilltop project, I designed a pavilion-like restaurant and guesthouse that flows with the landscape rather than imposing on it—architecture as response, not dominance. As visitors move through the structure, they engage with the hill’s topography from shifting perspectives. This design ethos led me to explore reclaimed ship wood in Sitakunda, retaining its weathered, deep-black texture to ground the building in its context.
While modern trends lean toward exposed materials, I embrace more grounded approaches, adapting screens, courtyards, and layered forms based on site and need. My goal is not stylistic uniformity but responsiveness—to climate, people, and place. I prioritise local resources, reducing reliance on imported materials, and emphasise economic and environmental sustainability.
In projects like Patiya or Shah Abdul Karim’s mausoleum, I collaborate with local craftsmen, reinterpreting tradition with new techniques. I even produce materials on-site when possible, adapting and evolving through each project. My practice is a continuous search for climatically resilient, human-scaled, and culturally rooted spaces—designing with listening as the first step.
Q: How do you deal with existing challenges while designing?
Architecture must be a reciprocal experience. It’s about coexisting with the land, with the climate, with the people. It is one of the major challenge to make a structure climate resilient and less harmful to the environment while comfortable for the dwellers. At the same time, it is crucial that a structure should never just exist in isolation but change as the area changes, evolve with its context and speak to its surroundings as the land dynamics is very diverse. It applies at every scale. I don’t want to design a space where I myself wouldn’t live. I don’t want to build something the land itself doesn’t want. If the landscape resists it, if the place says no, if the design feels imposed rather than invited.
Working in overcrowded unplanned megacities such as Dhaka and Chattogram have its own set of dynamics – lack of open spaces, walkways, playgrounds. In such complex setups, it is extremely challenging to decide the entire process including who we are designing for and the process itself, or facilitate a structure.
Even at the city level, high-rise buildings should respond to climate and ecology. Urban projects must prioritise natural ventilation, openness, and reduced dependency on artificial energy systems. Only then can they begin to contribute meaningfully to sustainable development.