Serpentine’s new pill-shaped pavilion is where we’re touching grass this summer

Now in its 25th year, the Serpentine Pavilion has become one of the most anticipated and ambitious commissions in the world of architecture. And if I’m being honest, the spot where locals, tourists and visitors flock to live out their London summer photo dump dreams of a garden party against an architectural stunner. Since its launch in 2000 with a bold debut by Zaha Hadid, the Pavilion has presented the first UK structures by some of the most significant names and emerging talents in global architecture. What began as an architectural one-off has since evolved into an annual glow-up, and more importantly, a participatory platform that fuels Serpentine’s community programmes.

Enter: Marina Tabassum. The Dhaka-based architect has made a name for herself not by chasing architectural trends, but by creating work that is poetic, place-rooted, and quietly radical. And with her 2025 Serpentine Pavilion, A Capsule in Time, she’s once again asking the big questions about time, memory, community, and what it means to touch grass. 

This is a dreamy half-dome of a pavilion that feels like a whisper of memory and a celebration of summer all at once. Unlike most architectural deployments in today’s day and age, this one doesn’t scream white noise. It listens with the patience of a grandmother sun-roasting mangoes in ceramic pickle jars. An internationally acclaimed architect, educator, and quiet disruptor, Tabassum is known for making architecture that listens to the land, to the people, to the rhythms of rivers, and to the cultures often drowned out by concrete and glass. Her work isn’t flashy. It is rooted in history, grounded in context, and always reaching toward a more dignified, human future. If you haven’t deduced already—we’re obsessed!

The Serpentine Pavilion is London’s annual moment for architectural stardom. However, instead of making a statement, Tabassum offers a question: what does it mean to build something that’s meant to disappear? A Capsule in Time looks like it floated in from another reality. “When conceiving our design, we reflected on the transient nature of the commission, which appears to us as a capsule of memory and time,” says Tabassum. “The relationship between time and architecture is intriguing; architecture aspires to outlive time. It is a tool to leave behind legacies, fulfilling the inherent human desire for continuity beyond life.”

The relationship between time and architecture is intriguing; architecture aspires to outlive time. It is a tool to leave behind legacies, fulfilling the inherent human desire for continuity beyond life.”

A half-capsule with vaulted canopies and translucent semi-domes, the structure draws from the fluidity of the Ganges delta—a region where homes move with the rivers and memories live on in stories. “In the Bengal delta, architecture is ephemeral as dwellings change locations with the river’s shifting course. It becomes memories of the lived spaces continued through tales,” she explains. Wrapped in light, locally sourced materials, and built to be reused, the Pavilion holds space for joy, reflection, and maybe even reckoning. 

At its heart stands a tree—both symbol and witness—anchoring a courtyard designed for gathering. “This tree at the centre of the structure will bring the park inside the Pavilion. Its kinetic dimension will also harken back to the levitating element of Rem Koolhaas and Cecil Balmond with Arup Serpentine Gallery [for the Serpentine Gallery Pavilion 2006],” explains Hans Ulrich Obrist, artistic director of the Serpentine.

My mind cannot shake off the lingering memory of Arun Chakraborty's Bengali poem from the 1970s. Dedicated to a leafless palash tree in Srirampore station, and later turned into a folk song by Bengali band Bhoomi, it urges in wistful earnestness the leafless palash tree to return to the land of red soil—where it belongs. The play of filtered sunlight nods to the Bengali shamiyana, a festive tent used in weddings, reimagined here as a soft, glowing beacon of unity and shared experience. “We envision various events and encounters taking place in this versatile space that unifies people through conversations and connections,” reflects Tabassum. It is architecture as embrace. 

Tabassum founded her studio, Marina Tabassum Architects (MTA), in 2005 with a mission as radical as it is poetic: to create an architecture of relevance. MTA resists the churn of consumer architecture and, instead, leans into the climate, geography, and cultural fabric of each project. The result? Work that feels inevitable—like it always belonged. Her Bait Ur Rouf Mosque, which won the Aga Khan Award in 2016, is the kind of building that doesn’t need ornament—it’s all light and air, quietude and refuge. With its perforated brick walls inspired by Sultanate-era religious architecture, carefully positioned courtyards formed through strategic voids, and a deliberate lack of traditional symbols, the mosque shows how modern design can create calm and contemplative spaces for worship. It was also named one of the top 25 postwar buildings in the world by The New York Times. 

Tabassum’s approach is hyperlocal and human-scaled. She works with geographers and climate scientists. She builds with bamboo and thinks deeply about impermanence—not as flaw but as fact. Her firm also collaborates with low- to ultra-low-income communities across Bangladesh, designing dignified, climate-resilient housing like the Khudi Bari, a modular mobile home that’s as nimble as it is necessary. 

When she’s not designing luminous spaces, Tabassum is in the classroom. She’s a professor at Delft University of Technology, and has taught at Harvard, Toronto, and BRAC University. She believes in shaping minds as much as structures and she’s got an honorary doctorate from the Technical University of Munich to prove it. Beyond academia, she’s a fierce advocate for equity through design. She chairs Prokritee, a fair-trade platform for Bangladeshi women artisans, and leads FACE (Foundation for Architecture and Community Equity), a nonprofit bringing architectural solutions to climate-affected communities. Her motto? Architecture should serve, not show off.

So, what does it mean to design in a world on fire, in a time of fracture? For Tabassum, the answer lies in coming together. Her Serpentine Pavilion is a place for book readings, music, and conversations that matter. It is also all gearing up to be the location for London’s hottest summer event: the Serpentine Summer Party. To be hosted by artist and humanitarian Cate Blanchett this year on June 24, the party brings together luminaries across creative fields from the globe for an evening of bonhomie and fundraising for the gallery’s year-long activities. 

But at its very heart, A Capsule in Time is a call to action disguised as a summer hang. It’s architecture as activism, as gathering, as grace. And it reminds us that maybe, just maybe, the most powerful buildings aren’t the ones that last forever—they’re the ones that stay with us.

A Capsule in Time is open to the public from June 6 to October 26, 2025, at Kensington Gardens, London. The Serpentine Summer Party will take place on June 24, 2025