June 26, 2025
WAI Architecture Think Tank Approaches Practice as Pedagogy
Born out of the disillusionment surrounding the 2008 economic crisis, WAI Architecture Think Tank, currently based at Iowa State University, aims to challenge architecture’s supporting role in serving financial and political interests. That’s why for almost two decades, founders Nathalie Frankowski and Cruz García have been using architecture as a tool for critique rather than compliance. Through teaching, publishing, and visual storytelling, WAI—and its many subchapters and collectives—creates platforms for radical discourse that confronts colonial histories, systemic racism, and global inequities. Its work, rooted in decolonized thought and collective education, seeks to reimagine architecture as an emancipatory practice—one that engages communities, challenges dominant narratives and builds planetary solidarity.
Francisco Brown (FB): It seems like WAI started as an alternative form of practice in the mid-2000s, almost on the periphery of discourse, but now your research-driven approach is moving to the center of what the future of architectural practice can look like in terms of political and social involvement.
Cruz García (CG): I agree with you that these peripheral ideas are becoming central, in part due to the accelerated spread of the conditions made by colonial brutalization. The expansion of the plantation model—surveillance, militarization, occupation—is global. Decolonial thinkers, from [Aimé] Césaire to Malcolm X, have warned us of this, and we as architects need to address this brutalization.
We chose architecture—a bourgeois discipline complicit in power—but that doesn’t define us. We, instead, create spaces, whether underground or more established, that allow us to address these issues. Collage, writing, poetry, and publishing are tools to dismantle oppressive structures. Since the beginning, WAI has been about asking critical questions rather than just providing services.
Nathalie Frankowski (NF): WAI is about initiating discussions and engaging with others too. Our practice has evolved through collective projects, forming networks, and learning from different fields. Amid planetary struggles, we must build planetary solidarity, forge strong networks, and make them visible.
FB: Why did you think WAI Think Tank should engage with architecture through narrative and image-making like collages rather than design and construction?
NF: When we met, we had just graduated and found ourselves in this [economic] crisis. A glaring lack of critical discourse in the field, even in this context, left us disillusioned. Especially given our backgrounds, we were politically engaged in different ways. We saw narrative and collage as tools to engage with difficult and complex questions—without abandoning design but rather incorporating it into critical discourse. This allowed us to visualize other narratives while engaging and playing with history and existing materials.
CG: Our backgrounds shaped our perspectives: Nathalie studied architecture and philosophy in Paris–La Villette and made a film for thesis that was highly influenced by leftist politics. I studied in Puerto Rico, a place with an intense political history, where I ended up focusing on the history of subversive methods of representation as my thesis. Architecture has often been a tool of financial capital and state power, but counter movements exist, and representation plays a fundamental role. Early on to address these matters of language and representation, we made zines, wrote manifestos, and declared our intentions idealistically.
FB: Have you found ways for architecture to exist without reinforcing these systemic failures, or is the profession too entrenched with these power dynamics?
CG: Perhaps architecture needs to evolve into multiple disciplines, but the need for new terminology is evident. When speaking with Mabel O. Wilson for the Journal of Architectural Education’s reparations issue, she suggested focusing on “building” rather than architecture. Language is crucial—we reference Indigenous philosophers and historical figures like Guamán Poma and invite other languages into our pedagogy. Our work critiques history while highlighting alternative possibilities and creating spaces for new practices.
NF: Language allows for self-criticism too—both spoken and visual. Our platforms, from studio classes to global workshops, aim to make knowledge accessible and critique how it is distributed. The colonial legacy shapes knowledge production, and we challenge that within architecture.
FB: Your book A Manual of Anti-Racist Architecture Education implies that American education is inherently racist; how do we move toward interdependent educational models, and do you think your Loudreaders initiative could be that model?
NF: Education has always been central to our practice. Our [online public pedagogy and trade school series] Loudreaders emerged during [the] COVID-19 [pandemic] when some institutions abandoned students and faculty, leaving them isolated. Education must function as an exchange, where different tools and disciplines intersect to address urgent issues.
CG: Before Loudreaders, we published an essay, “Cowardice as Architectural Theory,” to highlight the profession’s tendency in avoiding critical issues. A Manual of Anti-Racist Architecture Education was born out of that frustration. We wrote the manifesto in two days during the Black Lives Matter protests, while universities were avoiding these conversations. Architectural publications lack references for discussing antiracism, so we created an explicit text as a guiding tool.
FB: Your work in Puerto Rico exemplifies your theories in practice. How do you engage students in alternative learning models?
NF: It’s about learning from the context and its people rather than imposing solutions. We absorb knowledge from local practices, contextualize it globally, and incorporate it into our work. I think our work goes against this idea of an architect, or architecture, in providing a “solution.”
CG: Loudreaders is a pan-Caribbean and planetary platform. While I’m Puerto Rican, our engagement extends beyond the island. Our 2023 iteration functioned as a public school, with students, artists, and poets engaging across disciplines. This experience informed our pedagogy—feminist architects discussed collective planning; poets tackled translation and colonialism.
FB: Your latest book uses collage and graphic language to navigate complexity. Why archetypes? Is this an attempt to simplify or give a face to these issues?
CG: We were asked to create an architectural equivalent when discussing universal design principles. After writing A Manual of Anti-Racist Architecture, it made sense to develop a visual counterpart. Our work always seeks to make these conversations accessible, providing explicit references to challenge dominant paradigms.
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