Wang Shu & Lu Wenyu Reveal the 2027 Venice Architecture Biennale Theme

It feels a bit like waiting for a curtain to rise. In a modest press conference on a rainy afternoon in Venice, the two founders of the acclaimed firm Amateur Architecture Studio—Wang Shu and Lu Wenyu—finally lifted the veil on the next big thing in the world of architecture.

They announced that the 2027 Venice Architecture Biennale will be titled Rooted Horizons. The name, they said, is meant to capture a tension that’s been humming through their work for years: the pull between deep‑grounded local histories and the ever‑expanding, sometimes precarious, global outlook of contemporary design.

“We want the Biennale to become a place where memory and future meet,” Wang Shu explained, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. “It’s not just about looking back, but about planting ideas that can grow, that can adapt, that can be rooted in the soil of everyday life.” Lu Wenyu added a quick laugh, noting that the title also reflects their personal habit of constantly strolling along riverbanks, watching how water reshapes the landscape.

The theme they set for the exhibition—“Memory, Ecology, Community”—will serve as a loose framework rather than a strict rulebook. They hope participating architects will interpret it in wildly different ways: some might resurrect forgotten construction techniques, others could propose new ways of sharing resources in densely packed cities, while a few may simply play with the idea of a building that remembers its own wear and tear.

There’s a certain irony, too, in the fact that the Biennale, traditionally a showcase of avant‑garde ideas, is being shepherded by architects whose own practice often looks backward, re‑using salvaged materials and historic fragments. Yet that’s exactly the point, according to Lu Wenyu, who said, “If we keep looking only forward, we risk losing the anchor that keeps us grounded.”

Industry insiders have already started speculating about the kinds of installations we might see. Rumors of a giant, slowly rotating wooden lattice that casts shifting shadows over a lagoon, or a series of floating pavilions built from reclaimed fishing nets, are already circulating on social media. Whether any of those ideas make it to the final roster remains to be seen, but the buzz is undeniably alive.

Beyond the artistic program, the curators also promised a series of public workshops, dialogues with local artisans, and a modest research grant for young designers tackling climate‑related challenges. It’s a move that signals a shift toward a more inclusive, community‑oriented Biennale, one that extends beyond the glossy halls of the Giardini.

All in all, the announcement feels like a breath of fresh air—if you’ll forgive the occasional gust of nostalgia. The 2027 edition promises to be a meeting point for stories, for soil, for the stubborn optimism that architecture can still plant seeds for a more resilient future.