The project’s key idea – inverted prisms – emerged during the development of the first phase, with which, as we know, the competition originally began. In short, the six floors of the “scientific arc” connecting the biology, chemistry, and pharmaceutical modules are paired together, while the longitudinal facades of each pair are defined by a dramatic inward slope of 45 degrees.
Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
In section, the form resembles the icon of an upside-down fir tree or three trapezoids stacked one above another. This section is not merely conceptual: it is articulated by the cuts of the vertical planes of the internal passageways and by similarly blank, white, yet sloping planes at the ends.
On the roof of each paired level, there are open landscaped terraces approximately six meters deep, extending along the entire length of the “arc” building. These spaces are intended for spontaneous scientific interaction among researchers from neighboring laboratories – unexpected and unconventional environments for recreation and communication.
Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
At the lower part of the trapezoids, on the third and fifth floors, the floor width reaches 18.6 meters, suitable for a cellular office layout; in addition, the combined width of the galleries on both sides amounts to approximately 12 meters. The width of the upper tier is 24.6 meters: laboratories may occupy the center, while the illuminated outer perimeter can accommodate open-space workstations for theoretical research. A third option is a double-height central space capable of housing larger installations, with balconies running along the perimeter.
As we can see, the inverted trapezoid generates a wide variety of spatial typologies that can be flexibly adapted as needed. This form is not intended to maximize floor-area efficiency. Yet this is not a residential building where every square meter must be optimized. After all, this is a federal research center – one that can afford a certain degree of architectural generosity.
Moreover, the inclination all but eliminates direct sunlight, meaning that the glazed facades would require neither blinds nor shading louvers.
Additional protection from the transparency of the glass would hardly be necessary either, since part of this role would be performed by reflections of the terraces, the plaza, and the surrounding cityscape, which thus becomes a shifting yet natural component of the façade itself.
The longitudinal facades are therefore far from flat: they consist of large parallel bands formed by the edges of the open terraces. These bands curve along an arc, shaping the complex of the first phase, described by the architects as the “scientific arc”. At a smaller scale, the image resembles a metallic “rail”, a fragment seemingly cut from some larger infrastructural trajectory.
Viewed up close from the intersection, the curve would likely appear quite striking: sharp terrace edges running along a rounded flank, a large-scale relief almost geological in character – or, rather, technological.
The glass bands of the circular vivarium, attached to the inner side of the arc like a shuttle docked to a spacecraft, are likewise tilted at 45 degrees, though in the opposite direction, resembling layered “skirts”. The glazing encloses the circulation galleries of the animal facilities. The direct and inverted slopes are rhythmically coordinated, producing a distinctly futuristic image – something akin to a landscape from a Martian colony.
The architects note that one of their objectives was to move away from the conventional image of a research center – and they succeeded. The result feels almost Asimovian, unmistakably science-fictional. After all, this is a center for innovative research.
The second phase consists of two compact square-plan towers in the spirit of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Here, the theme of the inclined façade is developed at a larger scale: the four-story chamfers at the base open up the ground-level area, while above they serve primarily a sculptural purpose – though a monumental one. The top of the larger tower is shaped by an inverted pyramid carved into the sloping façade.
Within this inverted pyramid lies the VIP area of the administration: an eight-meter-high atrium with strong potential for exhibiting large-scale objects, an internal balcony, and what could become a spectacular panoramic view of the city through the reverse-inclined glazing.
The square volumes of the towers are restrained in form, yet their facades contain several striking details. First, the inter-floor bands are noticeably recessed into the building mass, while the strips of glazing project outward. Second, the lower glass bands are whitened with silk-screen printing, concealing interior activity from street-level views while simultaneously dividing the volume into large-scale “upper” and “lower” sections.
Since the competition participants were also asked to develop the evening lighting pattern – along with the landscape, interiors, and even wayfinding – the inverted pyramid was intended to be highlighted in white. The same applied to all the white cuts and sectional planes at the ends and within the arches of the “scientific arc”. Suspended within the nighttime cityscape, they would appear like giant illuminated icons – another vivid and highly unusual solution.
Evening backlighting. Federal Research Center, competition project"A
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
I searched extensively for analogues to the stereometric logic of the project’s principal gesture – the inverted prism and reverse-inclined glazing – but found no direct parallels. Sloping cantilevers are plentiful, especially since the era of the deconstructivists and particularly in the work of Daniel Libeskind, though those projects tend to rely far more heavily on asymmetry. Among the formal experiments of Alexander Nikolaev in the spirit of ASNOVA, one intriguing example emerged, as did the Monospinal office building by Makoto Yamaguchi in Tokyo – though that project is clad not in glass but in corrugated aluminum.
Inclined glazing appears most frequently in airports, where it is used precisely to reduce exposure to direct sunlight.
One is also reminded of the Airport Gallery by DNK ag – specifically its projecting terminal-like cantilever facing Leningradsky Prospekt. Not directly similar, perhaps, but certainly related in spirit. Yet upon reflection, the device had already appeared in the portfolio of Vladimir Plotkin and TPO Reserve: one may recall not only the inclined glazing of the Quadro shopping center, but also the headquarters of the United Aircraft Corporation in Zhukovsky. There, the inclination of the longitudinal facades is far more restrained, though the treatment of the end sections is strikingly similar.
In the project for the Federal Research Center, however, the idea evolved into something larger and considerably bolder – a kind of narrative core for the architectural solution, remarkable for the unconventional way in which volume and the functions of the research center interact.
Still, I would suggest that the primary effect of the proposed form is emotional. A hall shaped as a double-height inverted prism, terraces, inclined glass surfaces – such a building would offer its occupants an exceptional spatial experience.
While the volumetric composition is dominated by sloping cuts and inclined planes, the plan is defined instead by a circular arc. It is worth beginning with how the plan itself is structured. One of the client’s requirements was the use of a large structural grid of 9x9 meters. The TPO Reserve project is among the few in which both phases are clearly organized according to this grid, with only a narrow joint seam between Phase 1 and Phase 2. The first phase begins at the northern corner, where the architects introduced a square; its southern corner accommodates the main entrance. From this point, radii were drawn to define the arc-shaped contour of the first-phase building ribbon.
The fan of radii spreads to the right from the main entrance, and the atrium expands with the same sense of openness and ease. Within it, small clusters of greenery and circular meeting rooms are freely distributed.
Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
Circles and arcs dominate the plan, giving it a visually compelling geometry – but more importantly, they yield extra space. As is well known, a circle offers the minimum perimeter for the maximum area, making the spatial organization both efficient and flexible. These forms also introduce a sense of intrigue: staircases inscribed within semicircles are far more engaging than conventional ones. It is precisely such curved staircases that form the vertical circulation within the main blocks of the first phase. A semicircular staircase – evidently introduced for spatial effect – also appears in the second-phase tower.
1st floor. Elevation 0 000. Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
Even utility groups such as restrooms and controlled-access “airlock” transitions between restricted and public zones are inscribed within circular geometries. Among the largest circular elements is the “spacecraft-like disk” of the vivarium, which counterbalances the “scientific arc”. At ground level, a service road is arranged around it to enable convenient loading.
Another major circle is the conference hall. It is, quite literally, suspended above the reception area, functioning as a large illuminated “lamp” and a powerful compositional accent within the atrium. At the same time, it is structurally legible: the volume of the hall is exposed from below, revealing itself in a way normally hidden – as an architectural element that is both expressive and honest in its construction.
Yet what we see is not only the stepped underside of the hall within the ceiling volume. We also perceive the ribbon of the glazed wall enclosing the conference hall from the outside; it “drops” downward through the slab and even introduces additional overhead light into the atrium.
In fact, the main conference hall is “suspended” at the edge of the floor slab, occupying an in-between condition – neither fully on the first floor nor fully part of the stylobate roof.
The closest analogy here, I believe, would be a funnel-like crater. Imagine that the roof of the stylobate is composed of concentric rings, and the central ring is pressed downward, dragging the surrounding rings along with it in sequence. These rings form the rows of seating in the hall. Yet they exist both inside and outside – wrapping around the glass wall. As a result, the amphitheater extends beyond the boundaries of its own glazed enclosure. Or, alternatively, the glass wall reads as a membrane suspended between “inside” and “outside”.
In short, this creates a potentially remarkable spatial experience, further intensified by the inclined walls along the stylobate’s perimeter.
Another conference hall, featuring an upward-projecting “disk”, was planned in the second phase, positioned at the corner between the two towers along the same diagonal axis as the main hall described above. Along this same diagonal axis, at the outer corner, an open-air circular amphitheater is also located.
A third key theme of the project – and indeed of the entire competition – is internal connectivity; more precisely, the condition of being simultaneously unified and non-unified. As noted, the brief itself was inherently paradoxical: on one hand, the task was to design a chemical-biological research center focused on innovation and pharmaceutical development, composed of numerous specialized departments. Some of these require restricted access, and potentially even protective equipment. On the other hand, the project was also expected to establish a strong connection with the city, avoiding the appearance of a closed “box”, and to foster intense internal interaction between researchers and colleagues – otherwise, why so many conference halls in the first place? Alongside cohesion and separation, all participating teams were required to work first on Phase 1 and then on both phases together, carefully constructing both links and boundaries.
Thus, on one hand, it was necessary to separate and distribute a complex puzzle of functions – effectively a spatial game of “15 tiles”. Certain components, such as the pharmaceutical module, were required to include ground-floor spaces. At the same time, the system demanded both direct, short circulation routes and more leisurely, meandering paths.
One of the most unusual “promenade” connections – the terrace system – has already been described. It is supported by a semi-public space on the stylobate roof, accessible via an amphitheater-like ascent from Usievicha Street, as well as by the atrium with its freely arranged greenery and meeting rooms. A third level, open to the city and located at the pedestrian level, is formed by an egg-shaped plaza between the two phases, allowing pedestrians to pass through the complex. Along Baltiyskaya Street / the tunnel edge, a continuous sequence of cafés and retail spaces is arranged; in fact, a street-facing commercial frontage was a feature shared by almost all competition entries. This layered structure – with its gradations of connectivity, openness, and accessibility – is very much a sign of the times.
To be honest, the internal system of connections is even more interesting.
The exploded axonometric view reveals the structure of the “scientific arc” and four major vertical circulation axes.
There is also a fifth one at the northwestern end, introduced in relation to the second phase. Here, the biolab module of the “scientific arc” connects to the biological tower – and in a rather striking way. A circular stair-and-elevator core leads up to the beam of an elevated link bridge (now commonly referred to as a skybridge) at the 11th floor level, which also connects the two towers to each other, continuing outward as a cantilevered extension.
This is not only a functional passage, but an emphatically expressive one.
The stair-and-elevator core facing Usievicha Street is also fully exposed, and in this respect it strongly recalls the United Aircraft Corporation building by Vladimir Plotkin and TPO Reserve, although it has multiple other precedents as well. Acting as a façade element for those approaching from the “Sokol” metro direction, the core supporting the cantilever with its “tree-cut” profile becomes a key visual marker. Circulation elements that actively shape the architectural image are a defining feature of this project.
At the same time, there is a whole system of more discreet pathways across the site. For instance, a small bridge connects the stylobate roof of Phase 1 to Phase 2. A staff member would cross it above, while beneath it a city dweller would pass through – a literal enactment of separated yet overlapping flows.
Federal Research Center, competition project
Copyright: © TPO Reserve
More broadly, the authors developed numerous diagrams in an attempt to synthesize all lines, circles, and arcs into a single “sign”. One of them even resembles the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph “wedjat” – the Eye of Horus – traditionally associated with health and healing. The inverted pyramid on the tower inevitably comes to mind here as well.
Still, in my view, the most important aspect here is neither the imagery nor the metaphorical parallels that arise across various design moves. For instance, regarding the suspended link bridge and its “sliding” attachment to the towers, Vladimir Plotkin notes that the inspiration came from a recent encounter with what is described as the world’s longest cantilever – the One Za’abeel tower in Dubai, designed by Nikken Sekkei. Similar references to architectural precedents in the Gulf region can also be drawn in relation to the conference hall that “hangs” through the ceiling slab: exhibition spaces in the form of bulb-like volumes in the Norman Foster-designed Sheikh Zayed National Museum are suspended in a comparable way. Incidentally, a similar influence can be felt in the ceiling treatment of the AI Architects project hall as well. The question is not whether analogies exist, but what they become in the process of transformation.
There are also more subtle details. For example, the project documentation repeatedly mentions the architects’ intention to preserve existing trees. Or the creation of a visual axis from Usievicha Street toward the northwest – which in turn explains the “cut” in the lower part of the tower, not only as a means of freeing up ground space but also to maintain that sightline.
Yet it is not these details, nor the vast amount of explanatory text and diagrams that seem to have been necessary for this competition – 122 pages of presentation material, no less – that are most interesting. What matters more is how a large-scale form is able to generate a bold spatial effect through relatively simple operations, effectively “inverting” the entire system, or at least much of it. And here, it is not about decoration, nor about style – subjects that are so often discussed today. Nor even about metaphor. I recently read a book on the architect Alexander Nikolsky, who contrasted “style” with “method”. And it seems that in the TPO Reserve project we are indeed dealing with method – a somewhat forgotten word, but a crucial one.
In any case, it is quite evident that this is not a project “like all the others”. The more you study it, the more details and ideas you discover. Equally telling is the reaction it provoked. The jury’s decision itself need not be discussed – fourth place was awarded. However, what followed in anonymous real estate Telegram channels was a rather aggressive wave of criticism, and notably, it was directed at this project alone among all six finalists: “the renderings are poor”, “it looks like something from the 2000s”, and so on.
If we set aside the very nature of anonymous channels as such, there is still an important point to be made here.
The 2000s, for one, contained a great deal that was genuinely valuable, and reducing the entire period to the label of “capitalist romanticism architecture” is, to put it mildly, illiterate. In fact, there was arguably more interesting work then than in much of the 2010s. And even at that time – roughly two decades ago, when architectural renderings first began to emerge as a dominant form of presentation – there already existed a clear distinction between “architectural” visualizations and “developer-driven” imagery. I still remember being asked not to use developer-style renderings in texts: they were considered too glossy, too tasteless, simply “no good”. In more recent years, the opposite demand has appeared – sometimes even an insistence – to use only those bright, overly polished, “fluffy” commercial images.
The difference is not simply that one format is full of utopian fantasy while the other is restrained and muted. The more fundamental distinction is that architectural visualization is intended to reveal the project as it is – to expose its underlying logic and structure – rather than to conceal it beneath a rainbow-colored veneer of marketing imagery.
In the TPO Reserve project, precisely this kind of architectural rendering was used: simple, but capable of revealing form. Alongside it, there are numerous diagrams – all of them working toward clarifying the concept. In fact, one can understand why, for professionals in the real estate sector – and anonymous channels, however rebellious they may seem, are still ultimately part of that sphere and its interests – such visual language may feel unfamiliar. Yet the competition itself, ostensibly, was not about real estate development.
One would hope that the priorities – and above all, the tastes – of the development industry do not end up overwhelming everything else here.

