At its essence, architecture begins with the act of providing shelter—a fundamental human response to the need for safety and belonging. Over time, that impulse has expanded beyond physical protection to encompass emotional and spiritual refuge. The spaces we build and inhabit shape how we live, grieve, worship, and gather; they give form to the many ways people seek peace and continuity in a shifting world.

In the realm of worship and ritual, the search for sanctuary takes on symbolic dimensions. The orientation of light, materiality, and resonance of volume can translate faith into form, creating spaces that inspire reverence while accommodating evolving practices and communities.

But the notion of sanctuary extends far beyond the sacred. It appears in the careful calibration of urban and domestic space—in how dwellings offer both privacy and connection, solitude and community. As cities grow denser and populations more diverse, architects are reexamining what it means to create homes and neighborhoods that sustain collective well-being. Sanctuary becomes not only a place of retreat, but a structure for inclusion.

Landscape, too, participates in this dialogue. The movement toward greener, more ecologically attuned burial practices reflects a broader understanding of sanctuary as an interconnected system—one that honors life, death, and the environment in equal measure. Here, refuge is found not in separation from nature and community, but in reconciliation with them.

Even in the quietest forms—a home defined by restraint, a landscape pared to essentials—sanctuary reveals itself through balance. It is the architecture of stillness amid movement, of light carefully measured against shadow. Across typologies and contexts, the enduring question remains the same: how can built space offer solace without seclusion, and protection without withdrawal?

Ultimately, sanctuary endures as both principle and aspiration, a reminder that to build is always, in some way, to care.

—Anastasia Calhoun, Assoc. AIA, NOMA