Ismaili Center with a perforated facade and large glass entrance stands behind a reflective pool, with people walking near the entrance on a sunny day.
The Ismaili Center melds Middle Eastern architectural influences—reflecting pools, perforated screens of Turkish marble, a columned veranda inspired by the Persian iwan—into a design that responds to Houston’s climate and community needs. © Iwan Baan

Beyond Symbolism: Farshid Moussavi on the Ismaili Center in Houston

The cultural building and community center reinterprets Islamic design philosophy through geometry, climate-responsive design, and generous civic spaces.

Since opening in late 2025, the Ismaili Center has become a spiritual home and an urban destination in Houston. The design of the center was led by Farshid Moussavi Architecture, with DLR Group as the architect and engineer of record. Farshid Moussavi, who is also a professor of practice at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design, transforms familiar materials through precision and craft, creating architecture that feels accessible and rooted in its place. Here, in a conversation with METROPOLIS’s senior editor Francisco Brown, she reflects on designing beyond symbolism, discussing how geometry, materiality, and openness shaped a building intended to endure for generations.

A woman with curly hair, Farshid Moussavi, sits in an office, holding a perforated panel, surrounded by architectural models and materials on shelves and a desk.
Architect Farshid Moussavi in her London office with samples and models for the Ismaili Center. © Manu Valcarce for METROPOLIS

Francisco Brown: The Houston Ismaili Center is the seventh of its kind worldwide, but the first in the U.S. How did its location in Houston shape the project?

Farshid Moussavi: Every Ismaili Center is intended to be unique to its context, while celebrating Islamic design philosophy. Houston’s conditions immediately stood out. It is a sprawling, polycentric city, one of the most diverse in America, with a hot and humid climate. The site was also unusual. It stretches along three exposed edges, making the building highly visible from the city. Rather than designing an inward-looking institution—like other Ismaili Centers, which are organized around courtyards—we wanted the building to express openness, making it clear that it welcomes both the Ismaili community and the wider public.

The challenge was interpreting Islamic design philosophy without reducing it to recognizable motifs. Rather than copying historical forms or patterns, we approached it as a way of thinking about space, light, and order. Geometry became the instrument for organizing the building, creating relationships between architecture and landscape while producing a sense of calm. 

Aerial view of a modern, rectangular building (Ismaili Center) with tiered gardens, surrounded by roads, trees, and residential buildings.
The 150,000-square-foot center sits within a nine-acre garden designed by Nelson Byrd Woltz. © Iwan Baan
The Ismaili Center with a rooftop terrace featuring scattered tables and chairs, geometric paving, and trees planted in a grid pattern below.
© Iwan Baan

FB: You mentioned that instead of relying on symbolism, the project reinterprets Islamic traditions. How did those ideas become architecture?

FM: Islamic architecture is often misunderstood as a collection of symbols or decorative patterns, when its real strength lies in abstraction and geometry. The great historical examples are all unique to their places—they were never copies of one another—so continuing that tradition means creating something equally specific.

In Houston, the geometry emerged from the project itself. The site is organized north–south, while the prayer hall must rotate forty-five degrees toward the Qibla.

Reconciling those two orientations generated a triangular geometry that became the project’s ordering system. It appears at every scale, from the structure and ceilings to the floors, facades, and gardens.

Material choices followed the same thinking. Stone was selected because the client wanted a building with a hundred-year lifespan, but instead of large slabs, we used small tiles, which minimized waste—a very contemporary concern. The tiles increased the yield from the larger slabs, but also let us play with tessellation and surface ornamentation. This allowed the facades to behave almost like woven tapestries, transitioning from solid walls to delicate screens. They recall traditional mashrabiyas without reproducing them.

People walk outside of the Ismaili Center with geometric facade patterns, large windows, and a covered upper level. Trees and grass are visible in the foreground.
The center has an airy ambiance and a lower carbon footprint thanks to a range of dematerializing design and operational strategies: the perforated climate-responsive facade, slender columns with a star-shaped profile, and low-impact refrigerants. © Iwan Baan

Even the blue soffits reinterpret tradition. Blue is significant in Persian architecture, but here we developed a hue that belongs to Houston’s sky rather than historic precedent. 

FB: Your recent book Architecture & Micropolitics (Park Books, 2023) explores the idea that buildings create opportunities beyond their prescribed program. How does this project embody that thinking?

FM: Micropolitics is about expanding possibilities through architectural decisions. Every project contains opportunities to do more than the brief requires.

Here, the program included prayer, education, and community events. What we proposed was an armature of generous public spaces connecting all those functions. Three atriums paired with large verandas occupy almost two-thirds of the building’s volume. They are essentially oversized circulation spaces, but they belong to everyone at all times.

Those spaces became the heart of the building. When I recently visited, a wedding was taking place in the central atrium rather than the formal social hall because the atrium has probably become the most memorable space. It has a stepped, tall volume that opens to the sky through an oculus, connects directly to the verandas, and naturally encourages people to gather.

Large modern room with geometric ceiling lighting, patterned walls, and decorative lattice sliding doors; floor and walls in neutral tones.
The prayer hall accommodates up to 500 worshippers in a light-filled space. Brown CNC-perforated paneled walls incorporate a Kufi calligraphy pattern, while a translucent ceiling—formed by stretched fabric, layered aluminum screens, and LED lights—creates an ethereal spatial sensation. © Iwan Baan

FB: Sustainability here seems inseparable from longevity. How did you engage with this crucial aspect of design?

FM: The client asked for a building that would last one hundred years, and that shaped every material and construction decision. The use of stone for the exterior cladding is one of them.

The architecture also works with Houston’s climate instead of relying exclusively on mechanical systems. The verandas provide shaded outdoor rooms that buffer heat while extending activities outside. Thick masonry walls, deep recesses, screened facades, generous volumes, and floor-based air distribution all contribute to reducing cooling demands while creating comfortable environments.

Equally important is adaptability. The atriums, verandas, halls, and gardens all support prayer, lectures, performances, weddings, exhibitions, and informal gatherings. Buildings endure when they continue to serve changing community needs, and flexibility is as important to sustainability as energy performance.

The landscape, designed by Nelson Byrd Woltz Landscape Architects, reinterprets Islamic garden traditions through the ecological character of the region, drawing on six Texas eco-regions. The design contributes to shade, biodiversity, stormwater management, and cooling while creating a sequence of gardens that extends the building’s civic life onto the site—functioning as both environmental infrastructure and community space. 

A large, modern interior at the Ismaili Center features perforated white metal walls, geometric shapes, a skylight, stairs, and a seating area below.
A 68-foot-high central oculus is supported by Vierendeel trusses. Such nods to monuments from Islamic cultures are subtle—the majority of the center is designed for secular gatherings and events. © Iwan Baan

FB: Looking back, what challenged you most, and what has this project taught your practice?

FM: The greatest challenge was probably the process itself. The project involved a large client body, which meant every decision was discussed many times. It required patience, but ultimately that scrutiny improved the building. Every detail—from the prayer carpet to the stone cladding—benefited from multiple iterations.

Construction also presented challenges. We wanted exposed concrete with a high slag content to reduce embodied carbon, but achieving the desired finish in Houston’s climate required extensive involvement from us and DLR Group. Likewise, the stone cladding and prefabricated components demanded numerous mock-ups and extraordinary craftsmanship. We were fortunate to work with an excellent team of engineers on this, including AKTII and Gartner.

Ultimately, our buildings are designed for the people who use them rather than simply for the institutions that commission them. Whether in Houston or Yokohama, the ambition is always to create architecture that expands possibilities and becomes part of everyday life.

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