A Country Where History Stands in the Middle of the Present
Bulgaria is a country that has always worn its history on the outside. You see it in every stone, every courtyard, every street where eras collide as if time itself never quite decided in which order events should unfold. It is a country where architecture not only tells the story of how people lived, but how they survived, how they adapted, and how they tried to define their identity in the shadow of external powers. Bulgarian architecture is a narrative still being written—often in haste, sometimes in conflict, sometimes with great beauty, but always with heart.
Sofia and Its Architectural Mosaic
The cities reveal this more clearly than anything else. Sofia makes it unmistakable. Roman walls lie beneath glass floors in the metro. A block away stand an Ottoman mosque, a synagogue, and a cathedral on practically the same square. Further along rise remnants of communist monumentalism—broad avenues and buildings designed to project authority rather than humanity. Between all of this stand private new developments that follow their own logic—sometimes brilliant, sometimes disastrous.
This is the tension in which Bulgaria exists today: a place where past and present run in parallel and where the future is not yet fully drawn. But the contours are emerging, and a new generation of architects is beginning to shape the direction ahead.
Bozhidar Hinkov and the New Voice in Bulgarian Architecture
One of the most compelling of these voices is Bozhidar Hinkov, who shows through his thinking and practice that Bulgarian architecture stands at the threshold of something greater than another building boom. He articulates something profound: that architecture is not about objects, but about life. About people, pathways, pauses, and context.
Hinkov grew up surrounded by an inherent respect for craftsmanship and art. His work makes it clear that architecture is not a profession done at a distance. It is a process, a dialogue, a responsibility. He often points out that Bulgarian architecture lacks something essential: the space between buildings, the pause that ties people to place. Architecture for him is not about spectacular shapes—it is about relationships.
A Heritage of Many Layers
To understand the future, one must first look back. Bulgaria has inherited layer upon layer of architecture from the civilizations that passed through. Roman geometry and precision, Ottoman quarters with courtyards and timber houses, the Bulgarian Revival era’s protruding upper floors, socialism’s vast housing blocks—all of it remains.
These are not museum artifacts. They are living environments. Many families still occupy homes built two centuries ago. Others live in panelki—prefabricated concrete blocks from the 60s and 70s, designed for an industrial future that never truly arrived.
Panelki – The Grey Backbone That Still Holds the Country
You cannot talk about Bulgaria without mentioning its panelki culture. These concrete blocks are both loved and hated. They are worn, cold, grey—but they are also home. They solved a massive housing crisis and became a kind of architectural DNA in Bulgarian cities.
Today they are both a problem and an opportunity. If renovated, insulated, and integrated into modern city planning, they become a resource instead of a burden. This is where the future begins: with reuse rather than demolition.
The Present – A Country Building Faster Than It Can Think
The Bulgaria of today is far less uniform than before. After 1990, the market exploded, and building became a lucrative opportunity. Structures rose quickly, often without coherent planning. Quality varied wildly. Yet something new emerged: architectural independence. Sofia became a laboratory of stylistic collisions, experiments, and mistakes.
It may sound negative, but it also signals vitality. Everything that lives transforms. Everything that transforms becomes chaotic before it finds its form.
Hinkov’s View of Architectural Responsibility
It is in this context that Bozhidar Hinkov formulates his perspective on architecture. He speaks of balance between technology and tradition, between beauty and function, between vision and reality. A building, he insists, is not complete the day it opens. It continues to change for decades. It evolves through the people who live in it, pass through it, love it or ignore it. A good building absorbs the passage of time and still retains its meaning.
One of his most interesting ideas concerns how children learn. He says the city itself is a school. A child learns more by being in real environments—by seeing, hearing, participating—than by sitting in an institutional building resembling an office or a barracks. The city teaches through encounters, discoveries, conversations, and rhythms.
In Bulgaria, where education systems long followed Soviet models, this is a radical idea.
The Future – A New Bulgarian Modernism Emerging
This is also where the future begins to take shape. For the first time in a long while, a direction exists. It is not declared by politicians. It comes from practitioners. From architects who recognize that Bulgaria cannot continue building as it has. A new relationship between people and buildings is required.
Cities must become more livable, less stressful, more coherent. Green corridors are finding their way into development plans. Old industrial buildings are being transformed into creative spaces. Renovation is becoming more desirable than demolition. Neighborhoods are seen less as isolated functional zones and more as social ecosystems.
Sofia Moving Toward a Softer City Structure
Sofia stands at the center of this shift. The city is still illogical—but it is slowly moving toward a future where order does not mean uniformity. If this direction continues, Sofia could, within a decade, become one of Europe’s most compelling capitals: a place where history and the present do not compete, but coexist.
Panelki would be upgraded rather than abandoned. Walkability would replace car dependency. Parks would function as integrated green systems rather than scattered patches. Public spaces would be created for conversation rather than consumption.
The Forces Driving Change
Several forces push this transformation forward. Climate realities demand new materials and energy solutions. Architects who studied abroad bring home new ways of thinking. Citizens are becoming more aware of quality and livability. And a new generation of designers, with Hinkov as one of the clearest voices, dares to reject projects without purpose.
Conclusion – A Country Building Itself While Still Discovering Who It Is
Bulgaria is in architectural adolescence. It stands between the ruins of empires, the legacy of concrete modernism, and the dream of a new social contract. It is messy, unfinished, and sometimes frustrating—but also vibrantly alive.
Hinkov says architecture should not be perfect; it should be human. And perhaps that is Bulgaria’s greatest strength. It is a country where architecture still evolves the same way its people do—slowly, imperfectly, with heart, and with enormous potential.
The future will not be built from copies. It will be built from the realization that architecture is humanity in physical form. And Bulgaria is just beginning to understand what that means.
LINK: Arrogant Architects
By Chris...
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