Nicolaas van Wyk

The site sat next to the Athlone Power Station — a huge industrial relic that still carries enormous memory. What struck me was how the communities of Langa and Athlone live so close to each other, yet remain divided. I wanted the building to literally act as a connector.

The design is anchored around an elevated bridge that pulls people from both sides into a shared space. To keep the link with the site's industrial heritage, I played with perforated brickwork — solid but breathable, heavy but full of light. The wall became a metaphor for the site itself: strong, grounded, and something that filters and connects.

Four programmed volumes, a cutout for light and ventilation, an elevated pedestrian walkway, and passive solar elements that minimise energy use.

Architecture can physically bridge gaps while also symbolising social healing.

Neo came right after Current Crossing on the neighbouring site, so I saw it almost as a sibling project. Where Current Crossing was about movement and bridging, Neo is about rhythm and creativity.

The main concept came from soundwaves — I loved how they could be translated into form, how rhythm could become something spatial. I mirrored the soundwave forms to play with reflection, introducing a manmade lake. The building footprint itself sits on the exact footprint of the old cooling towers from the Athlone Power Station: a detail that mattered because the design isn't a random shape — it's literally grounded in the memory of what was once there.

Neo became a hub for music and performance, with its architecture expressing rhythm and flow in the same way music connects people across boundaries.

Rhythm could become something spatial. The building isn't a random shape — it's grounded in the memory of what was there.

41 on Cal sits close to Charlie's Factory in District Six. The brief pushed me to think about balance: how do you design something that feels strong and grounded, but at the same time welcoming?

The building's vertical slats give it a heavy, solid presence — like a protective shell. But I carved into it, opening up the entrance, and used warm tones and materiality on the inside to invite people in. When you walk through, the experience completely shifts: the solid exterior peels away, and suddenly the space opens up dynamically, full of light and movement.

It was a journey from outside to inside, from heavy to light, from closed to open — basement parking, a digital resource centre, library, classrooms, café, exhibition space, and a reading room with a digital archive.

Architecture is about the sequence of experience, not just the form.

Blooming Brick was a group project where we were challenged to reimagine an existing structure through adaptive reuse — repurposing the old building, adding extra floors, and designing a new block to expand its programme.

My main contribution was the initial concept and form. I discovered the inspiration in natural systems — specifically the way fungi spread and the geometric logic of honeycomb. These ideas became the foundation for the arches and rhythm of the building, giving the design its unique identity. I produced the apartment layouts and the renders that brought our vision to life.

The programme stacks a café, indoor skatepark, a gym, Via-Via lounges, private apartments, an outdoor basketball court and a rooftop bar — all behind a façade of soaring brick arches. The project connects directly into my technical portfolio, where the roof addition section explores construction detail beyond concept.

Natural growth patterns can shape contemporary architecture — and a brick wall can keep blooming.