The Architecture Biennale, held at the historic Arsenal, is dedicated to the relationship between humans, technology and the environment. This year's edition, curated by Carlo Ratti, explores, among other things, the valley of the uncanny in architecture, asking whether architecture and artificial intelligence can work together instead of creating distance. The exhibition raises questions about what the design of the future looks like and what the architecture of the future with AI will look like.
As envisioned by the curator of this year's Venice Architecture Biennale, Carlo Ratti, the exhibition is meant to be a pathfinder and proof that answers to contemporary crises can take many forms. Thus, numerous projects and experiments were presented, which, as the curator emphasized, were meant to explore the meaning of the title "intelligence" ("Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Common"), understood as the ability to adapt under conditions of limited resources, knowledge or power.
Among the most interesting realizations presented at the Arsenal were the installation "Terms and Conditions," depicting the environmental cost of using air conditioning, and the project "Inosculae" - a structure created from biodegradable wood composites printed using 3D technology. We have written more about these and other solutions on the pages of our portal - we encourage you to read the text "A house in the price of a car, how about wood from a 3D printer? The ideas laboratory at the Arsenal" by Ola Kloc.
For many visitors to the Architecture Biennale 2025 Arsenale is one of the main sites of the entire event. This massive, historic shipbuilding complex in Venice takes on even greater significance this year, as the closure of the Central Pavilion in Giardini has meant that most of the major installations have moved here. The most recognizable site in the Arsenale is the 317-meter-high Corderie Hall.
Strangeness of the future: the valley of the uncanny at the Biennale
Before visitors reach the first and largest part of the exhibition, the Natural section, they are greeted by an introductory space. In a nutshell, the theme of Intelligens is a call for architecture to learn from different disciplines in the face of the climate crisis. According to Ratti, it is necessary toengage all forms of intelligence - natural, artificial and collective.
The very first exhibition space strongly emphasizes the importance of this challenge: it's a stuffy, hot room filled with air conditioners and shallow water tanks. At first glance it seems illogical - if there are so many air conditioners, why is it so steamy? The answer is right on the doorstep: a wall of air conditioners cools another space, and the waste heat from the equipment goes right into this first room, creating a palpable metaphor for the paradoxes of modern technology and its impact on the environment.
"Terms and Conditions" installation - proj.: Transsolar, Bilge Kobas, Daniel A. Barber, Sonia Seneviratne
© Magdalena Milert
The Architecture Biennale 2025, curated by Carlo Ratti, is full of technological innovations, but also accompanying emotions. The exhibition, entitled Intelligens. Natural. Artificial. Collective. not only presents solutions of the future - it often balances the familiar and the unfamiliar, the natural and the synthetic. As a result, many of the installations evoke a subtle uneasiness , fitting into a phenomenon that can be described as the valley of the uncanny - that is, the moment when an object looks almost natural or human-like, but precisely by this imperfect imitation causes discomfort or anxiety in the viewer.
Natural Intelligence: between nature and anxiety
The Natural Intelligence section presents projects in which architecture not only imitates nature, but becomes its active ally. At the same time, many of these projects balance on the border between the natural and the technologically created, thus entering the territory of the valley of the uncanny - a space of aesthetic and cognitive unease in which the "almost natural" form evokes a strange, disturbing impression.
Such is the case with Domino 3.0: Generated Living Structure, an experiment by Kengo Kuma and team that uses trees knocked down by a windstorm in northern Italy. Instead of discarding the material, they recycle it using 3D scanning, an AI model and custom printed joints. The result is not conventionally elegant - the trunks still resemble raw forest fragments, but are joined by artificial elements to create a hybrid-like structure.
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A similar tension is generated by Necto - an outstretched soft form in space with a bio-animated intelligence that forces viewers to physically interact and leaves them asking: is it a sculpture, a material experiment, or an already "living" organism?
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Artificial: architecture and artificial intelligence on the brink of anxiety
While the Natural section may not be at all anxiety-provoking, the Artificial section is quite a game-changer on whether we're really comfortable with the vision of co-creating the future with AI. This section looks at machine intelligence - robots, algorithms and their potential impact on design. The standout here is Co-Poiesis, an installation in which two robots, one playing a drum and the other dancing, are meant to interact with the audience. However, during the opening, the robots were almost motionless, "barely alive," devoid of intention. This mismatch between form and expectation and behavior aroused discomfort, typical even of the Valley of the Uncanny.
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Even more ambiguous is the installation A Robot's Dream. A robot hangs in a grid propped up to the ceiling - idle, but gently moving as if asleep. The creators suggest that we are to imagine it dreaming. It sounds poetic, but the viewer is confronted with something on the border between a technological object and anthropomorphic fantasy, which can inspire uncertainty, even fear.
The project Am I a Strange Loop? by Takashi Ikegami and Luc Steels operates in a similar way. At the center of the installation is a humanoid robot equipped with the Alter3 memory system and ChatGPT, responding with gestures and voice to visitors' expressions. The creators invite the public to consider whether the machine shows signs of self-awareness.
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More subtle, but equally ambiguous, is the Ancient Future project by Bjarke Ingels Group. It features a prototype of a glulam beam, carved live by both Butan craftsmen and a robotic arm. Both carving techniques - human and machine - remain visible on one structure, and in addition, during the exhibition, a mechanical arm with a brush moves slowly along the beams, as if sweeping them. Who is really creating here, and who is just repeating? Where does craftsmanship end and automation begin?
Out: the Venice 2025 Biennale and cosmic echoes of the valley of the uncanny
The Out section, whose slogan is "looking at Earth from the outside," features projects that reach far beyond the present. Take, for example, the Lunar Ark installation, a robotically erected data center on the moon. It depicts a future in which human heritage is stored beyond Earth, by machines. It is accompanied by the robot dog Spot, moving with an almost too fluid grace.
At the opposite pole of expression, but still within the boundaries of the same discussion, is the BioSuit project by Dava Newman and Guillermo Trotti - a futuristic spacesuit designed using computer modeling, AI and 3D printing. The suit is individually tailored to the wearer's body, equipped with sensors, active compression materials and layers of thermal and radiation protection. It's a precision tool designed not to mimic humans, but to support them in the most extreme environments - on the moon or Mars. The mere fact that the body is tightly wrapped in a technological shell can raise ambiguous feelings: where does the human end and the machine begin? Is it still a garment, or already a biological-robotic interface?
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This is all extremely interesting - both technologically and aesthetically. But if we feel uncomfortable, experience slight anxiety or insecurity while viewing these installations, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with us. On the contrary - this is a natural reaction to the effect of the valley of the uncanny. We can take this state as an opportunity to reflect: what actually causes us this discomfort? Why is it that humanoid machines, moving too smoothly or reacting too mechanically, knock us out of our sense of everyday life?
It's also a question for designers: knowing how Uncanny Valley works, can we design the future differently? Is it worth trying to break the boundaries of the aesthetics to which we are accustomed, or is it better to use them consciously? Or is it just a matter of time - and over the years we'll get used to humanoid robots, intelligent forms and semi-living structures, just as we're used to other inventions that once also seemed strange, alien and even disturbing?
