We live in cities that are increasingly populated, crowded, and connected. And yet, never before have we felt so lonely. It is only an apparent paradox, but one that is becoming increasingly central to contemporary urban life.
This is the starting point of the sixth episode of Cantiere Scandurra, the podcast by Scandurra Studio for Collater.al, in which architect and studio founder Alessandro Scandurra explores the transformations of the city through space, life, and relationships.

Loneliness as a structural condition

In recent decades, loneliness has become a widespread condition, though rarely acknowledged in our cities. More and more people live alone: by choice, age, or due to the fragmentation of family networks. But the issue goes beyond demographic statistics. As sociologist Eva Illouz reminds us, modern loneliness is also the result of a culture that has shifted relationships from obligation to option, from need to desire.
Urban loneliness, therefore, is not just a private matter. For Scandurra, it is a cultural, social, and—inevitably—spatial issue. Architecture alone cannot solve it. But it can accompany it, dignify it, transform it.

Giving shape to loneliness

Designing for those who live alone means abandoning the stereotype of “minimal” living as deprivation. A home for one person should not be a leftover, nor a fallback option.
It can be a regenerative place, an intentional refuge, a space that reflects a new way of living. Scandurra emphasizes that design must foster a healthy loneliness, one that allows room for listening, autonomy, and self-connection. A solitude that can be chosen, alternated, even desired.

But alongside these intimate spaces, relational devices are needed: shared courtyards, communal kitchens, condominium halls, neighborhood libraries. Places where encounters are possible, but never imposed. An architecture capable of generating proximity without pressure, as suggested by Ivan Illich’s concept of discreet conviviality and by Nordic models of “flexible co-housing.”

The economy of loneliness

Today, loneliness has also become a market. On the one hand, new emerging sectors such as meditation, self-care, solo tourism are gaining growing interest among those who wish to cultivate the need for social disconnection. On the other, dating apps, interest-sharing platforms, and hobby networks continue to thrive, capitalizing on the human need for connection. In this context, every authentic gesture of encounter becomes an act of resistance. Architecture can be part of this too. For Scandurra, designing spaces that not only allow connection but make it plausible, spontaneous, fragile, and real means breaking away from the logic of social performance. It means letting encounters happen at the right time, in the right place, in the right measure—allowing for choice.

Loneliness and longevity: a city for all ages

It is not only about those who live alone. It is also about those who live long. The aging of the population, already widely studied by scholars such as Andreas Huyssen in the complex relationship between memory, body, and city, is rewriting the rhythms and needs of the urban environment.
Scandurra adds that design must not be limited to technical accessibility but should aim for intergenerational relationships. Cohousing between students and the elderly, residences with shared gardens, communal laundries, neighborhood micro-services: these hybrid spaces become social devices before they are buildings.

This is where the principle of Universal Design comes into play: designing not for “fragile categories,” but for the plurality of the human condition. For Scandurra, the goal is not only to make spaces accessible but to create environments where differences are brought into relation.

Towards a new idea of living

Loneliness and longevity are not emergencies to be contained, but new conditions of living. Scandurra Studio knows this well: with Backstage, its research department, it investigates this phenomenon and explores new solutions to respond to changes as significant as they are profound in our way of relating to space and time.
For an architecture that is both intimate and public, inclusive and individual, flexible and attentive. It is not about adding functions, but about changing perspective. Designing spaces that accompany us through all seasons of life, allowing us to be alone without feeling excluded, and connected without feeling invaded.

Here, architecture is not merely a technical discipline, but a care for the passing of time, care for the right distance, and a form of listening that takes shape in space.