Expos have always been better at asking questions than answering them. With Osaka’s Expo 2025 now officially underway, Japan has hosted three World Expositions — six in all if we include the smaller specialized iterations. Of them, the inaugural Osaka Expo of 1970 still occupies a kind of mythological high ground. With a record-shattering 60 million visitors (a figure only eclipsed by Shanghai’s 2010 showing), moon rocks, and a space shuttle on display, it captured a utopian optimism that’s hard to replicate today.

Kenzo Tange’s vast steel canopy encircling Taro Okamoto’s Tower of the Sun defined the aesthetic of that era. Tange had recently completed the iconic Tokyo 1964 Olympic Gymnasium; he wasn’t just building for that moment, he was setting the tone for an entire generation. 25 years later, Aichi Expo 2005 made a noble attempt, restricting nations to standardized sheds to avoid the usual architectural landfill. Admirable? Yes. Memorable? Less so. The architectural highlight was a circulatory track called the Global Loop by Kiyonori Kikutake – a faint echo of the Metabolist grandeur that once defined Japan’s radical future-facing design.

Another two decades on, Osaka’s Expo 2025 opens to a very different world. Today, the socio-economic, political and technological landscape is radically changed, and existential questions come baked with each new global mega-event. What is the point of an expo in an age of environmental crisis? Can it address the climate catastrophe in a meaningful way, or is it another bonfire of vanity projects and greenwashing? These questions long preceded Expo 2025’s April 13 grand opening. And naturally, they will continue to resonate long after the fair closes in October. Yet, Osaka’s turn on the global stage comes with whispers of radical optimism: Sustainability can be poetic, progress doesn’t require pomp, and the future needn’t be a landfill. Below, look at 10 highlights that caught our eye.

1

The Grand Ring by Sou Fujimoto

Sou Fujimoto, the fresh-faced maverick, is now in his early fifties. His Grand Ring is a two-kilometre-wide timber halo perched on reclaimed land called Yumeshima (“island of dreams”), soon to become a resort complete with casino. Made largely of Japanese cypress and hinoki, it riffs on temple joinery and registers as a sky-framing colossus rather than a sun-worshipping sculpture. Guinness World Records has already anointed it the largest timber building in the world by footprint.

It’s also a literal platform: you can walk on it, view Osaka and the sea beyond, and feel, momentarily, like the future might be worth building. On opening day, 10,000 people climbed it to sing Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” It is massive, meticulous, and magnetic. If it disappears post-expo, much of this moment risks being reduced to a mirage. Sou Fujimoto has given us a future relic – let’s hope we don’t waste it.

2

Uzbekistan Pavilion by Atelier Brückner

While national pavilions often espouse grandeur and power, the Uzbekistan Pavilion, commissioned by the Uzbekistan Art and Culture Development Foundation (ACDF) and designed by Atelier Brückner, takes a humbler, more thoughtful route. Made from local sugi wood and reclaimed clay bricks, it channels the spirit of ancient Silk Road caravanserais. QR codes on the timber columns tell you the origin story of each tree.

An immersive film spins a moving platform — a new technology for Japan that required the same permit for a rollercoaster — that quietly conveys visitors upstairs almost unawares. Blue ceramic stools by Nada Debs, inspired by the Juma Mosque in Khiva, await on the open-air terrace. Parts of this pavilion will become an educational centre back home. Rarely does sustainable design feel so earnest — or so moving. That this pavilion had two women at the helm – namely, Gayane Umerova, chairperson of the ACDF, and Shirin Brückner of Atelier Brückner — is telling.

3

German Pavilion by LAVA

Germany’s effort, courtesy of LAVA, is a clear and coherent manifesto on circularity, conceived as a prototype for repurposing and reusing buildings. Seven cylindrical volumes made from rented scaffolding and bio-based materials form a small city: Roof gardens. Interactive plush guides. Minimal footprint. Maximum impact.

Even the cuteness feels calculated — but in a way that humanizes reuse and doesn’t come across as cloying. It’s tidy, self-aware, and fun.

4

Kingdom of Bahrain Pavilion by Lina Ghotmeh

Lina Ghotmeh’s Kingdom of Bahrain Pavilion is all movement and maritime memory. Cedar timbers arranged like oars jut from its sides, as if about to set sail. Inside, canvas walls flicker with projections; scents from Bahraini products swirl in jars.

Designed to be disassembled and reused, it floats breezily through the expo with no mechanical air conditioning — save for one VIP suite. It’s sustainable, poetic and beautifully open-ended. 

5

Qatar & Portuguese Pavilions by Kengo Kuma & Associates

Kengo Kuma’s Qatar Pavilion also nods to dhow boats but feels somewhat more architecturally conventional in its array of stretched canvas and man-made waterways. Inside, OMA/AMO‘s exhibition is a deep dive into Qatar’s coastal towns.

His Portuguese Pavilion is ropier — quite literally — with silver cords elegantly cascading from its facade, evoking Portugal’s oceanic history. Whether the architecture and storytelling really marry in these pavilions is up for debate.

6

Chile Pavilion by Constructo & Baltic Pavilion by Artūrs Analts

Some nations are confined to sheds — their budgets barely cover walls. Chile makes a virtue of it with a seismic-safe timber structure (designed by Santiago-based youth architecture collective CONSTRUCTO) adorned in tapestries woven by 200 Mapuche women.

Once dismantled, every part will return home. The Baltic Pavilion, by Latvian artist Artūrs Analts, offers a similarly pared down wall that condenses moisture to simulate a forest. It’s interactive, it’s low-key, it makes a point.

7

Paper Seeds Pavilion by Takenaka Corporation

The Paper Seeds Pavilion is a quiet marvel. Two 3D-printed cellulose domes, planted with sprouting seeds, and left to biodegrade into the forest floor. A third dome contains a soil-cooling pump. Takenaka Corporation‘s Atsushi Yamazaki and Yukina Onishi have created something that might outlive the entire event, not in form but in legacy.

8

Signature Pavilion ‘Better Co-being’ by SANAA and Hiroaki Miyata

At the centre of the fair ground floats the ethereal, barely-there structure by SANAA and Hiroaki Miyata: a gridded steel cloud hovering above a wooded clearing. Inside, visitors help co-create artworks. Here, architecture is a quiet facilitator rather than an attention-seeker.

9

Netherlands Pavilion by RAU Architects

RAU’s Dutch Pavilion makes climate activism playful. Visitors carry glowing balls through a glowing sun and end in a synchronized spectacle. Its clever, theatrical exhibition, suitable for toddlers and pensioners alike, has been created by the Dutch studio, Tellart.

The giant sun floating inside the building references the face on Okamoto’s Tower of the Sun from Osaka Expo 70, whose golden glow once signified the future.

10

Japan Pavilion by Oki Sato and Nikken Sekkei

Water, produced from food waste and cleansed using algae, is the centrepiece for this pavilion. Walls constructed with CLT (cross-laminated timber), intended for reuse after the expo, reverberate and expand the centrepiece like a ring of water created by a pebble thrown into a pond.

Oki Sato, the creative force behind Nendo, designed the 2020 Tokyo Olympic cauldron. The Toronto-born Japanese designer could receive more attention here than he did then, especially with his assertion that there is synergy between Japanese aesthetic principles and sustainability. 

Yuki Sumner is a writer and researcher specializing in architecture and design.