The 1950s concrete dome houses were once widespread in Senegal’s capital. Photojournalist Andrea Ferro documented some of the few surviving structures, and the people who live in them.
Since 2021, I’ve spent part of each year in Dakar, Senegal, for my work as a photojournalist and videographer. I mainly cover stories related to social issues and the effects of climate change on communities. About a year ago, an Italian friend living in Dakar told me about some dome houses in his neighborhood. I’d never heard of them before. Intrigued, I went with him to take a look.
Though I’ve focused my photography practice on reporting, I have an architecture degree and worked briefly as an architect. That’s probably why Dakar’s "bubble houses" remained in the back of my mind until I returned to Senegal to complete another project last October. Without much planning, I went back to the area I visited the year before, called Ouakam, where the largest number of remaining bubble houses are located. Its residents call it "Cité Ballon." There, I met one of the oldest residents of the neighborhood, known as Mr. "Papis." He introduced me to other owners of nearby bubble homes who welcomed me in to document their living setups. The stories I gathered from them, as well as from residents of surviving bubble houses in another district called Hann, helped me piece together some of the history of these at-risk pieces of Dakar’s architectural heritage.
The African Renaissance Monument towers on a hill overlooking Dakar’s Ouakam district, also nicknamed Cité Ballon for its historic population of "bubble houses" (or "balloon houses"). Between the 1950s and 1970s, some 1,200 of the concrete dome homes were built in several neighborhoods of Senegal’s capital. They were commissioned by the French colonial authorities as part of a plan to address a post-World War II housing shortage.
Dakar’s bubble houses were developed from California architect Wallace Neff’s concept for the Airform house, which could be constructed using a giant inflatable balloon that was covered with steel mesh and then sprayed with gunite. The experimental dome homes were devised to be built on-site quickly and affordably, with minimal use of materials.
When the putrid stench of cigarettes suddenly invaded my home, I set about to banish it once and for all.
Late last November, as a winter chill started creeping into the New York City air, something other than a cold front began to waft into my apartment: the noxious stench of cigarette smoke. It crept up slowly and then all at once; what I initially assumed was a neighbor puffing a cig on an adjacent balcony evolved, in the span of about an hour, into a full-on assault, giving my living room the scent and air quality of the Off-Track Betting where my mom works, circa 1992. It smelled like the Brooklyn warehouse parties I frequented in the early 2000s. It smelled like the Joker moved into my building, and was exacting toxic revenge.
The city of New York banned smoking inside public buildings in 2018, but I live in a co-op, where cigarettes are banned in common areas, but it’s up to the discretion of anyone who wants to rip through a pack of bogies a day inside their cribs. And while there is a floor in my building so rife with chainsmokers that it actually stinks up the elevator every time it stops there, I have never had a problem with smelling any of my neighbors’ toxic fumes. When the stench continued into the next day, I began my investigation, rapping on the door of all neighbors adjacent, above, and below to figure out whether someone was just having some saucy family members over for Thanksgiving; I could ask them politely to smoke outside or even out the window, we’re all cooperators here, and it would be done. But nobody was having my problem, nor was anyone smoking. Building management had no idea what was going on, either, nor did they have real solutions. By the time I realized the stench was coming up through the radiator vents into my living room, bedroom, and—ugh—into the vanity beneath my bathroom sink, I was keeping an hourly log of when the smoke was entering my apartment and how it was affecting me, which made me feel like Homeland’s Clare Danes depicting Carrie off her meds, all wild-eyed and conspiratorial. An example:
Weds Nov 26
11:59 a.m. cigarettes in living room
2:44 p.m. cigarettes
3:55 p.m. cigarettes
4:58 p.m. cigarettes
Terrible headache, stinging eyes, four Advil by 5 p.m. Went outside for air.
7:01 p.m. cigarettes
7:15 p.m. cigarettes in bedroom
Headache continues. Hair smells like smoke, as does all furniture.
10:19 p.m. cigarettes
11:19 p.m. cigarettes
11:54 p.m. cigarettes
Went to bed with window open, 40-degree weather.
I had placed large bowls of vinegar around the apartment to absorb the scent (useless) and was running my now-discontinued BlueAir 411+ (discontinued) nonstop. While I love that air purifier’s quiet nature and clean, round aesthetic, it wasn’t cutting through the cigarettes the way it cleaned the air in my apartment during the worst of the 2023 wildfires, when the New York skyline took on the orange glow of Blade Runner 2049. Having no real recourse—but with my increase in insanity commensurate with how difficult it was for me to breathe—in December, I decided to call in the big guns, trying out two big, HEPA-grade air purifiers with specifications I gleaned I needed from variousRedditthreads that were sent to me from their respective brands to test. I hoped I could attain at least a bit of relief from the actually toxic air I was breathing, and how well they might filter out the putrid stench of smoke.
The first bit of reprieve to arrive was the Airthings Renew, a smart air purifier retaining for $299.99 with design inspired by "the beauty of Nordic landscapes and interiors." Boasting four separate filters, including charcoal and HEPA-13—a high-efficiency air filter capable of capturing 99.97 percent of 0.3 micrometer-sized air particles— and two washable prefilters, it promised a "high-precision laser-based particular matter sensor," which I would later learn meant: this thing kicks into gear anytime you so much as think about cooking something in a pan on your stove.
For cleaner air, improved sleep, and peace of mind. Removes up to 99.97% of fine particles, quietly and beautifully. Designed in Norway.
I placed the Airthings Renew in my 500-square-foot, open plan living room/kitchen, where I spend most of my time. It comes in a discrete steely gray, and while its filter side does in fact look like a high-end speaker in a fancy recording studio, perched on my living room floor it also resembled a much nicer version of the computer tower where I logged into Yahoo circa 1999. (It would look best mounted on a wall, but my smoke frenzy tossed aesthetics out the window.) It was also a relief to see that the Renew had a cute cable compartment to keep the potentially unwieldy electrical cord in neat order. I initially had some trouble installing the app that serves as a mobile remote and allows you to track your air quality. If you have an older iPhone, or do not want to upgrade to a more recent iOS, you might have to operate the Renew without the stats. And the stats, generated from the AirThings app, are granular and a bit hard to parse without a little research, though in theory I appreciated the ability to check in on, say, the pollen forecast. While installing the app was a little frustrating—I had to update my OS on my laptop because it didn’t work on my older phone—once the monitor finally started working I became obsessed with checking it, following the little graph line whenever it spiked and sniffing my radiators to see if the dreaded cigarette smoke was emitting from the vents.
After I plugged it in, the Renew sensed that I was living in the air equivalent of a 19th-century factory and kicked in hard. Within an hour, I was able to start breathing again without pressing my face to the window for oxygen, though it didn’t do much to eliminate the actual stench of cigarettes, which by that time had seeped into my furniture. (Spoiler: the cigarette problem has been resolved for about a month now and the vanity under my sink still reeks, even with an industrial-size tub of Ozium gel stuck in an enclosed, three-by-three space.) And that laser sensor was extremely sensitive; one night, while cooking a particularly odious stir-fry of onions and fried chicken, the Airthings kicked on into full gear, noting my air quality had peaked up to poor and doing everything it could to eliminate the smokiness and stank. It was so effective it got into a fight with my aromatherapy diffuser, kicking on high anytime the offending mist poisoned my air with eucalyptus essential oil scent. My guy! So picky!
The Renew’s minimalist Norwegian design would presumably look great amid a Japandi decor scheme—and, when filtering on high mode, emitted a noise low enough to not be invasive but not so low I didn’t know it was there—but as a Xennial I couldn’t quite get past the computer-tower vibes. (It also resembles a bigger version of a current-day modem.) But as it did its automatic thing, I came to appreciate it as I do my robot vacuum—this is the future we were promised, automated to make our lives just a bit easier. I loved its effectiveness, though—unlike its bumbling robot vacuum sibling, it is a dutiful soldier in the regulation of cleanliness.
The second air purifier I tried was the RabbitAir A3, an ultra high-end apparatus selling for $749.95 that offers attachable art panels along with its customized filter options so, should you hang it on the wall, it doesn’t only look like a giant box. I chose the Italian Renaissance-invoking "Vase of Flowers" art and selected the specialized odor remover filter. The RabbitAir, too, is set up for hanging—it’s generally better to mount any hangable air filter three to five feet up, though the A3 is a top-filtering purifier so it worked fine for me on the floor—but also came with a tiny level, which was both cute and useful were I going to hang it. (Adding an art option makes it more tempting, and it was nice of them to acknowledge that most air purifiers aren’t the most aesthetically pleasing devices.) The RabbitAir also runs on a user-friendly app, has a little velcro strap attached to the electrical cord for organization, and includes a selection of LED mood lighting that includes purple, cyan, yellow, or a softly shifting rainbow. (I’m a sucker for any light that invokes a rave, so I was immediately taken by this detail.)
The A3 does it all so you can rest easy. Equipped with 6-stage filtration and deodorization, it includes the BioGS HEPA filter, which targets the smallest and dirtiest particles through the use of an advanced and proprietary fiber material. An Activated Carbon filter reduces VOCs and odors, and a custom filter option allows you to tailor the system to your specific environmental needs.
After unplugging the Renew, the smoke had returned apace, so I was curious if the RabbitAir would do as thorough a job at removing the stench—and I was not disappointed. It, too, recognized that I was having a serious problem, letting me know my air quality was POOR and blasting on with a vengeance. It was a little quieter than the Renew—on high, I would compare it to very delicate white noise machine, barely there—and it did seem like the smoke was being removed slightly faster; the odor diminished a bit, too, though by that time I realized nothing but a professional cleaner could eliminate the smell from my couch. It worked in overtime, too, as I bleached the sink and cleaned the kitchen with a vinegar/essential oil blend. By 12:30 p.m. on the first day I tried it, the easily readable app said the air quality was FAIR; by 1:10, it had gone to EXCELLENT. I could breathe!
Like the Renew, the RabbitAir was sensitive to odors I actually wanted; both filters sped up at the hint of an aromatherapy diffuser, never mind a lit candle. This is, objectively, proof of their excellence, though I have found myself turning both off to ensure they don’t suck up my fragrance. But when it came to the smoke, both air filters were effective at cleaning up the toxic hell of the cigarette smoke. The Renew, at $299, is a better price, but if you have $769.95 to kick around and are as desperate as I was, the RabbitAir was slightly more effective and had a few more bells and whistles, like a negative ionizer.
That said, I’m in love with both of these air purifiers, which gave me relief during the long months of cigarette smoke inundation. My problem, by the way, just resolved itself—one day, the smoke just stopped, leading me to believe the problem had been a busted air vent on the roof of our building. This was great, because I was being driven to insanity and genuinely thought I might have to move. I’m still using both air filters, it’s just that now my oxygen is crisper. Friends have asked me if I think the filters are actually cleaning the air or if I am just psychosomatically convinced that they are simply because they are there. But the fact that I’m still alive and living in this apartment is proof that it’s not.
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Jasper Morrison and the Danish design brand just launched a collection that, at the least, will make your backyard a little more stylish.
It’s been almost a decade since "gorpcore" was coined by New YorkMagazine writer Jason Chen. In the nine years since, what was once a notable presence of parkas and hiking shoes on stylish people has since become standard fare in the fashion-forward person’s wardrobe. The past year’s major spike in Arc'teryx beanies on city streets across the globe, a trend that can be traced to Frank Ocean’s toque at Paris Fashion Week in 2019, should be ample proof. Just as the sartorial side of life out in the wild has hung around in the years since, the hunger for outdoor spaces that rose with the onset of the pandemic has stayed put too. Long past lockdown, people are still just as antsy to spend time in nature, even if the lack of grass-touching time in urban life hadn’t bothered them much pre-quarantine.
The convergence of these two truths has led, naturally, to a hunger for stylish camping gear beyond the wardrobe. Last year, The North Face collaborated with Bialetti on a Moka Pot set that’s built for the outdoors. Japanese brand Snow Peak has benefited in particular from this strong appetite in how it centers perfectly in gorpcore’s Venn diagram of function and style. Obsessives are so into it that they’re even swapping out regular home furnishings for their campsite gear, per one Reddit thread where a group of users chime in about what pieces they have permanently in their living spaces. Slightly more incognito than the gear documented on this thread, the brand’s $65 camping cushion gained popularity for living room lounging in 2020, easily passing as a regular floor cushion among its disciples’s other high-design furnishings.
The collection’s hammock is available in blue, black, or red stripes.
Image courtesy of HAY and the MoMA Design Store
It is into this Nalgene-happy culture that HAY has launched its latest collection, a group of 30 campsite-friendly pieces by British designer Jasper Morrison. The items are sort of the inverse of what Snow Peak offers: if putting a Snow Peak cushion in your home is bringing the outdoors in, HAY’s gear brings an indoors aesthetic outside.The grouping includes packable furniture in addition to small pieces, like a barbecue fish grill and handy steel plates and bowls. Developed with HAY founders Mette and Rolf Hay, Morrison worked to present his take on the most essential gear you’d need as you set out for an outdoor adventure.
Available via the MoMA Design Store, the collection began with just one piece—the steel barbecue, which Morrison was trying to develop for sale in his own shop in London. He was basing the conical design on an old terra-cotta sardine grill he admired, but iterations kept breaking. His emphasis on durability is what led him to the stainless steel it’s now produced with. The heightened emphasis on practicality in the gear space is what made this collection particularly exciting for Morrison. "It’s a fantastic area of products that have to be so lean and efficient," Morrison tells me. Rolf agrees. "There is an energy in approaching something you haven’t been doing before," he says. "There's a lot to learn, and there are some safety issues you need to deal with. There are a lot of practical issues on selecting the right materials. I always find that inspiring."
Shoppers can find the entire collection at the MoMA Design Store through May 26.
Photo by Nick Sethi
Sturdy as they may be, the collection’s chairs are also much more pleasant to look at than the typical flimsy-looking, though efficient, ones you’d find at your local Bass Pro Shops. Morrison based the form of the chair design on classic camp chairs, similar to those used by the British Army. When unfolded, the beech and steel frame holds striped polyester fabric taut. The particular fabric was inspired by a vintage Basque patterned fabric that Morrison found at a flea market.
Though the pieces are designed to hold up on a proper camping trip, to Morrison and the Hays, it’s just as important that people can easily deploy them to catch moments of sunlight at a local park, up on their rooftop, or just in a backyard. "I love having outdoor space at home, being able to set something up on a terrace right when that moment comes," Morrison says. For Rolf, the pieces are intended to help his customers take better advantage of fresh air, wherever that may be. "I consider it an open invitation to get outside," he says. As is the case with gorpcore, you needn’t descend deep into the woods to find something to appreciate in these pieces.
Architecture firm TiggColl deployed a chassis into the water before installing a prefabricated skeletal frame.
Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.
From the Architect:"TiggColl architects has completed The Float House, an innovative modular floating home on the Grand Union Canal in Ruislip, northwest London. The spacious and accessible family home combines contemporary design with advanced technology. TiggColl was approached by the client to design a new bespoke home on the water to replace their existing canal barge, which lacked the living space and accessibility requirements for a growing family with changing health needs. Allowance for future level access was central to the brief, as was having a property which sits above the water—unlike traditional canal barges, where the internal floor level is below the water line, leading to cold and damp conditions. Crucially, the family wished to remain within a cooperative of 35 houseboats at a private residential mooring at Hampton Hall Farm, in a beautiful but confined location.
"Inside, The Float House offers contemporary living spaces, designed to maximize the use of space and natural light. Expansive windows provide stunning views of the water and surrounding landscape, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere, giving the family an immediate connection to the water while maintaining privacy and security.
"The Float House’s external elevations are clad with horizontal accoya timber slats, a sustainable and durable material selected for its waterproofing qualities, and its ability to weather naturally with the adjacent bank, providing a dynamic appearance that works inharmony with its surroundings. An exposed timber internal structural frame provides continuity and combines a contemporary and pared back aesthetic with a warm, calm, and natural feel. The home is fitted out with high quality, understated materials and finishes, including engineered oak flooring, a sleek black painted kitchen with Dekton worktops and appliances by Hacker.
"Access to the Grand Union Canal in this location is restricted by low bridges, both upstream and downstream. Due to the absence of a dry dock or quayside, traditional methods of maintenance, such as removing the houseboat by crane, were not feasible. In response, TiggColl collaborated with a marine and structural engineer to develop a unique system of 10 interlocking steel hulls secured together by a gantry. Each hull section can be individually floated away from the gantry and lifted to the canal bank, making maintenance straightforward and manageable, without the need for extensive infrastructure. Working with Bucklands Timber, TiggColl created an expressed structure throughout the boat, following a similar systematic approach to construction. Once the floating chassis was assembled and launched onto the water, the skeleton structural frame was installed on-site, minimizing the need for construction on the water, and disruption to this canal boat community."
A true gem in McCormick Ranch, this fully reimagined Santa Barbara-inspired estate blends timeless architecture with refined modern luxury. Rich wood-like floors, exposed beams, arched passageways, and custom built-ins frame light-filled living spaces and an elegant chef’s kitchen overlooking the great room.
Designed for effortless main-level living, the residence features the primary suite on the ground floor while elevating guest accommodations to a private upper wing. The home’s heart is defined by its grounded, communal interior spaces, which transition seamlessly to a resort-caliber courtyard featuring a pool, fire feature, and hydrotherapy circuit—all framed by lush desert flora.
Set within the prestigious McCormick Ranch, the property offers a rare balance of seclusion and connectivity, just steps from the Greenbelt, golf, and premier dining.
Listing Details
Bedrooms: 4
Baths: 4 full
Year Built: 1982
Square Feet: 3,639
Plot Size: 0.24 acres
Courtesy of Russ Lyon Sotheby's International Realty
Courtesy of Russ Lyon Sotheby's International Realty
Courtesy of Russ Lyon Sotheby's International Realty
It also provides outdoor access to the home’s second level.
Houses We Love: Every day we feature a remarkable space submitted by our community of architects, designers, builders, and homeowners. Have one to share? Post it here.
From the Architect:"This project is an architect’s home and office located in a densely populated residential area of Tokyo. As there were other houses adjacent to the site boundary on all sides except for the north side where the road is located, we decided to install a large window facing the road. The challenge was in creating a bright garden view through the north-facing window. Therefore, a curved terrace called the ‘kazari garden’ was extended from the large second-floor window, circling the air along the road in search of sunlight. The kazari garden’s smooth curves escape the shadow of the building, adding a sparkle to the view from the north-facing dining room window, creating a buffer zone between the city and the residence.
"The interior features a split-floor design that takes advantage of the site’s elevation difference. Views to the kazari garden and back garden are generated throughout the building, and a spiral circulation system alternates between these gardens. We considered cherished vessels, books, photographs, and plants to be representations of our lives up to now, and by surrounding the flow of movement with shelves on which to display these items, we thought that we could create just the right amount of tension in the home, like a small art museum, and foster the motivation to live mindfully in the future. Stepping out through the second-floor door into the kazari garden and watering the plants sparks conversations with passersby."
Nearly a century ago, this extraordinary French château was sited in one of Salt Lake City’s most serene and beautiful settings. Located in the Gilmer Park Historic District (on the National Register of Historic Places), the estate enjoys a rare park-like setting along Red Butte Creek, just three miles from downtown. Tucked into a wooded ravine between Harvard and Yale Avenues, it offers exceptional privacy and natural beauty.
Commissioned in 1926 as a statement of luxury, the residence stands as an architectural triumph—engaging in a seamless dialogue with its natural setting. Built in 1926 as a true trophy home, the residence was designed as an architectural masterpiece seamlessly integrated into its surroundings. The private grounds feature mature trees, manicured lawns, ponds, stone bridges, and abundant wildlife—evoking the timeless charm of Monet’s gardens.
A meticulous restoration in 2006 returned the home to its original grandeur while thoughtfully updating it for modern living. European details include hand-painted ceilings, leaded and stained glass, custom wrought iron, and exquisite woodwork throughout. Highlights include a two-story library with quarter-sawn oak built-ins, an updated primary suite with private balcony, spa-style baths, and custom closets.
The walk-out lower level opens to the grounds and swimming pool, perfectly positioned near an entertainer’s kitchen. Stone stairways lead through lush gardens down to the creek below. The château at 1220 Yale Avenue is one of Salt Lake City’s most iconic legacy estates—offering historic significance, architectural excellence, and unparalleled natural beauty.
