Utilizing the techniques of Interior architectural elements of Mamluk architecture in modern architecture

Each historical period has its own architectural uniqueness, and there isn't a uniform formula for all eras. This drives us to utilize architectural elements from the Mamluk era after understanding its civilizational identity and the purposes for which it was designed
Utilizing the techniques of Interior architectural elements of Mamluk architecture in modern architecture
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https://scholar.google.com/citations?view_op=view_citation&hl=en&user=Y21hTjUAAAAJ&citation_for_view=Y21hTjUAAAAJ:Se3iqnhoufwCWhy Mamluk interior techniques still deserve a place in modern architecture

Whenever people talk about reviving Islamic architecture, the conversation usually settles on facades, domes, and minarets as the visible markers of style. But the deeper I went into Mamluk architecture specifically, the clearer it became that its real ingenuity lived indoors — in how light, color, and sound were deliberately managed inside the space itself.

That observation became the starting point of this research.

Looking beyond the monument Most studies of Mamluk buildings treat them as complete historical artifacts — their heritage value, their stylistic place in Islamic architectural history in Egypt. But the people who actually lived in these houses spent their time inside them, shaped daily by how much light entered through a particular opening, by the color of the wall in front of them, and by how quiet or lively a given hall felt.

The goal here was to understand which of these interior treatments were solving a genuine functional problem, and which of those solutions still hold up in contemporary design.

Discovering that ornament was often function first Looking closely at the interior elements of Mamluk architecture, one observation keeps repeating: what looks like pure decoration was frequently doing real environmental or social work.

The mashrabiya — that finely turned wooden lattice — didn't just soften and scatter incoming sunlight. It let air pass through at controlled volumes while keeping those inside unseen from the outside. The qamariya, a perforated gypsum or stone opening filled with colored glass, solved lighting and ventilation at the same time. And the shukhshaykha, the raised lantern-like opening at the top of long rectangular halls, gave those spaces a way to breathe without letting in outside noise or direct sightlines.

Learning from how these elements were actually managed Rather than treating these techniques as motifs to copy, it's more useful to look at the design problem each one was solving.

Ground-floor openings were sized around the courtyard as the main light source, with their proportions carefully calculated so halls wouldn't be flooded with harsh direct light that strained the eyes of anyone spending long hours inside. Upper floors, far more exposed to direct sun, were treated with tighter turned-wood screens to cut glare while still allowing enough light through. Even the color of the surfaces facing an opening, and the material of the courtyard floor itself, were factored in as variables affecting how much light bounced back into the interior.

Comparing what today's interiors need with what these solutions once provided One of the more revealing parts of this research was setting these historical treatments against what contemporary interiors still need: balanced lighting, privacy, and natural ventilation.

The comparison suggests that many of these solutions don't need full replacement by modern technology — they need reinterpretation. Gypsum-set stained glass, which once balanced daylight entry with privacy, has a direct modern equivalent in interior partitions, skylights, and glazed domes. And the practice of using warm colors in rooms that never receive direct sun is the same visual principle designers still lean on today to compensate for weak natural light.

What actually carries forward into contemporary design A few threads kept recurring throughout the research:

Reworking stained and colored glass — including newer variants like fused, sandblasted, and crystal-beveled glass — into interior partitions, skylights, and ceiling openings, rather than relying only on traditional gypsum framing.

Using the qamariya and shamsiya principle to control light and privacy at the same time, while updating their geometric shapes for contemporary spaces.

Applying the carving and engraving techniques used on gypsum surfaces to different materials, taking advantage of modern gypsum mixes that resist discoloration and weathering far better than before.

Treating the proportion and placement of openings as part of a building's overall composition, rather than designing each opening in isolation from the surrounding walls and ceiling.

Learning from low-tech acoustic treatments — thick walls, dense limestone, and orienting rooms around an internal courtyard — as a lower-cost alternative to mechanical sound insulation.

The goal isn't to literally reproduce Mamluk forms, but to understand the functional logic behind them and translate it using today's materials and techniques.

From analysis to application The most useful part of this research was moving from cataloguing these elements to real applications: a bank building facade in Muscat that reinterpreted Islamic geometric patterning in a contemporary language, the ceiling of Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque where wall and ceiling ornamentation blend into one continuous composition with no hard boundary between them, and contemporary bedrooms and living rooms that use mashrabiya-inspired screens and colored glass in spirit rather than as a literal historical copy.

Where this could go next This research focused specifically on Mamluk architecture, but the underlying question reaches further. As interest in local identity within interior design keeps growing, there's real value in revisiting other historical periods not as a source of ready-made ornament, but as a set of environmental and social problems that were already solved with real intelligence worth studying again.

Because after looking closely at these elements, one conclusion is hard to avoid:

What defined Mamluk architecture most wasn't its exterior facade — it was the quiet, deliberate care built into its interiors, designed for the people who actually lived inside them.

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Go to the profile of Sahar Ramadan
Sahar Ramadan Author
7 months ago

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