on regionalism and the rural lens.

[HIAA Conference | THE RISING TIDES.]

ULLAPOOL | 31 OCTOBER 2025.

[human scale and the rising tides.]

Regionalism in architecture is not a style but a way of seeing - an act of listening to the land and to the people who shape it. Too often, the term rural is treated as a single condition, a shorthand for remoteness or decline - for somewhere that is not the centre. Yet the so-called “edge” has much to teach the centre. Communities that have long lived within limits have developed forms of ingenuity that are both sustainable and socially rooted. These ways of building and belonging offer valuable lessons for a future defined by resource scarcity, climate uncertainty, and shifting patterns of inhabitation.

To work well in these contexts, architects must recognise that there is no one-size-fits-all approach. Each landscape speaks in its own dialect, and to design responsibly is first to learn how to listen. Regionalism should be interpreted and read through the rural lens.

In the Outer Hebrides, where my research is rooted, this truth becomes particularly tangible. The islands carry layers of memory - of displacement, resilience, and belonging - inscribed in stone, land, and ruin. The landscape is not static but storied: every croft boundary, every ruin, every path worn into peat tells of lives lived close to the land. To design here is to navigate not only a physical environment shaped by wind and tide, but a cultural one shaped by language, loss, and endurance. Buildings in such places must act as mediators between these worlds, translating rather than imposing, and acknowledging the depth of what already exists.

[waves crashing at "the edge".]

Regionalism, then, is not about reproducing vernacular aesthetics but understanding vernacular thought. It asks for architecture that continues the logics of local practice - repair, adaptation, reuse - rather than overwriting them with imported or universal solutions. The “edge” has much to teach the centre in this regard. Communities who have long lived within limits have evolved forms of ingenuity that are both sustainable and socially rooted. These ways of building and belonging hold valuable lessons for a future shaped by resource scarcity, climate uncertainty, and shifting patterns of inhabitation.

Across rural Scotland, people have continually adapted to change; from the social upheavals of the Clearances to today’s demographic decline and economic precarity. The challenges may look different, but underlying pressures remain depopulation, housing inequality, and the erosion of local authorship. A truly regional approach must recognise these continuities and respond to them not with homogenised solutions, but with designs that are attentive to the nuances of place and community.

To strengthen rural architecture in Scotland, we must strengthen the dialogue between regions. Rural voices, too often spoken for, need to be heard from. Collaboration across the Highlands and Islands, Borders, and rural heartlands can create an architectural network that recognises difference not as division, but as richness. Regionalism is strongest when it is plural.

The work ahead is not preservation for its own sake, but renewal through understanding. A regional architecture should hold space for new materials, new technologies, and new narratives - provided they emerge through respect for what the land and community already know. In regions “on the edge”, this might mean building from the land once again: using locally sourced materials and craftsmanship, embracing modest forms of authorship, or designing for intergenerational inhabitation rather than transience.

Ultimately, regionalism is about belonging. To strengthen rural architecture in Scotland, we must first strengthen the dialogue between regions. Collaboration across the Highlands and Islands and other rural heartlands can foster an architectural network that recognises difference not as division, but as richness.

It is about creating places where architecture deepens connection rather than dilutes it, where the landscape is not a backdrop but a collaborator. My hope is for a rural architecture that speaks many dialects; one that listens deeply enough to let the land, and its people, shape the design language of their own future.

Regionalism is strongest when it is plural.

Lottie Anne Murray.

University of Strathclyde | BSc [Hons] MArch | 2019 > 2025

Dissertation: On the Edge | Architecture, land, and loss in the Outer Hebrides.