Discover how Johor architect Razin Mahmood is redefining Malaysian architecture with tropical modernism

Who and what inspires your architectural approach?

In my early years, I was deeply inspired by Richard Meier. His disciplined use of a monochromatic palette, simple geometries, and precise detailing appealed to my sense of order and clarity. But as I matured in my practice, I realised that architecture isn’t just about aesthetics—it has to respond to its environment. Meier’s glass-heavy approach, for instance, wasn’t always suitable for the tropical climate.

That’s when I started looking closer to home. I became drawn to architects who embrace local materials, local craftsmanship, and cultural identity in their designs—Geoffrey Bawa, Kerry Hill, RT+Q, and SCDA, to name a few. Their work resonated with me because it wasn’t just about form; it was about creating spaces that belong to their place. I began focusing on designing with the climate in mind, using passive design principles, and working with the natural elements instead of against them.

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Your practice emphasises local architectural identity and sustainability—how do these principles manifest in your recent projects, particularly in the context of Johor’s rapid development?

There was a turning point in my practice when I realised that architecture should always be truthful to its time and place.
In the early years, clients often came in with design magazines, bookmarking pages of European or American-style homes, asking us to replicate those aesthetics in Malaysia. At first, we obliged, but over time, something shifted as we built and published more projects rooted in tropical design principles.

Clients began seeking us specifically for homes that embraced open-plan living, natural ventilation, and passive cooling techniques. Expatriates, in particular, were drawn to the idea of experiencing the tropical climate fully—something they couldn’t do in their colder home countries. When you design for the local climate, sustainability follows naturally. Orienting a house properly, designing for shade, and maximising cross-ventilation aren’t just eco-friendly strategies—they make the home more comfortable and livable.

Now, we’re seeing a resurgence of traditional tropical design elements, even in housing developments. Take airwells, for example—once a common feature in traditional shophouses, they are now being reintroduced as “courtyards” in modern terrace house designs. It’s encouraging to see both individual homeowners and developers recognising the value of these timeless design solutions.

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Malaysian architecture often balances tradition with modernity—how do you interpret this in your projects?

I see tradition and modernity not as opposing forces, but as two sides of the same coin. Architecture should respect the past while embracing the present, and in my work, I try to weave both together seamlessly. For instance, I incorporate traditional elements like natural ventilation and deep overhangs but reinterpret them using modern techniques and materials to suit contemporary lifestyles.

Culture plays a huge role in how we experience spaces. Take something as simple as the way Malaysians remove their shoes before entering a home. This small ritual can easily become an afterthought in modern housing design, leading to messy piles of shoes at the doorstep. In one of our projects at Senibung Cove, we addressed this by designing an entryway at the same level as the car porch. This allowed for a more seamless transition—residents could step inside with their shoes on, sit down on a bench, remove them comfortably, and store them neatly in a designated cabinet. It’s a small detail, but one that makes a meaningful difference in daily life.

Similarly, cultural traditions around food influence kitchen design. In Malaysian households, cooking is often a multi-generational affair, with strong, aromatic spices and wok-frying being part of the process. This impacts everything from ventilation requirements to the layout of the kitchen itself. These are the nuances that I love to explore—because at the end of the day, it’s the little things that shape how we experience space.

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What unique characteristics of Johor’s landscape and climate inform your designs?

Johor’s tropical climate, with its high humidity, heavy rainfall, and intense sun, is something I constantly factor into my designs. You can’t fight the climate—you have to work with it. That’s why I always prioritise passive cooling techniques, deep overhangs, and natural cross-ventilation to mitigate heat buildup.

Landscaping plays a crucial role, too. Whether it’s a home, an office, or a public space, I always try to integrate greenery in a meaningful way. Large trees provide much-needed shade, especially on the west-facing facades, helping to reduce heat gain. But it’s not just about placing trees around the building—sometimes, the best place for them is inside. I love incorporating courtyards with trees growing within the building itself.

It’s biophilic design at its core, where nature isn’t just an external element but an integral part of the space. A tree in an interior courtyard doesn’t just provide shade—it actively cools the air, improves ventilation, and enhances well-being. There’s something deeply calming about sitting near a living, breathing tree in the heart of a building.

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How has your international experience influenced your local practice?

Working in Texas for a year in the late ’80s was an eye-opener. The firm I worked for specialised in religious buildings, and I
saw firsthand how they were commissioned for projects all across the country. More than just architecture, I learned about the business side of running a practice—how to build a solid reputation, the importance of marketing, and how consistency in quality earns trust.

Travel, too, has been an invaluable part of my education. For me, traveling isn’t just about sightseeing—it’s research. Every new place offers lessons, whether in urban planning, materials, construction methods, or how people interact with their built environment. I’ve been inspired by Japan’s meticulous attention to detail, Europe’s respect for heritage, and the innovative sustainability solutions I’ve seen in places like Scandinavia. But at the end of the day, I always return to one fundamental truth: architecture has to be rooted in its own place. No matter how many global best practices I absorb, my work has to remain true to Malaysia’s culture, climate, and people.

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Could you walk us through your most challenging project and how it shaped your approach?

Masjid Daing Abdul Rahman was one of the most challenging projects I’ve ever worked on, and also one of the most rewarding. Designing a mosque is more than just creating a place of worship—it’s about embodying faith, culture, and community in a single space. There was a delicate balance to strike: respecting Islamic architectural traditions while ensuring the design felt progressive, inviting, and environmentally responsible.

One of the biggest challenges was reinterpreting traditional mosque elements in a way that felt contemporary yet meaningful. The client wanted a space that carried the essence of Islamic symbolism without feeling overly ornamental.

At the same time, I was determined to integrate passive cooling strategies to reduce reliance on air conditioning. This project reinforced a few key lessons for me: the importance of clear communication, the value of collaboration, and the necessity of creative problem-solving. It also reaffirmed my belief that the best designs don’t just meet functional needs—they carry deeper meaning and leave a lasting impact on the people who use them.

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How do you collaborate with clients to meet their lifestyle needs while maintaining architectural integrity?

It all starts with listening. Every client comes with a unique set of needs, aspirations, and daily habits, and my job is to translate that into a well-designed space.

The first stage of any project is almost like an interrogation—I ask a lot of questions, trying to uncover not just what they want, but why they want it. Then comes empathy—understanding the way they live, work, and interact with their space.

Once I have that deep understanding, I start looking for creative solutions. Sometimes, clients have strong ideas that might not be the best for the long-term, so part of my role is to guide them towards designs that are not only beautiful but also functional, sustainable, and timeless. It’s a conversation—a back-and-forth process of refining and improving. At the end of the day, the best projects come from true collaboration, where both the client and architect bring something valuable to the table.

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Which sustainable design innovations are you most excited to implement in upcoming projects?
I’m really excited about pushing the boundaries of low-tech, passive design strategies. High-tech sustainability solutions have their place, but sometimes, the simplest approaches are the most effective. I’m currently working on projects where we’re using advanced natural cooling techniques, such as carefully placed air vents, shaded courtyards, and thermal massing to reduce heat absorption.

I’m also keen on integrating rainwater harvesting and edible landscaping into more urban projects. Imagine a city where homes and offices don’t just consume resources but also give back—where buildings collect rainwater, where green roofs reduce heat, and where urban gardens provide fresh produce. I’m actually implementing some of these ideas in institutional buildings right now, with plans to obtain official green ratings for them.

Sustainability shouldn’t just be an add-on—it should be embedded in the DNA of every design.

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How do you envision the future of architecture in Malaysia’s rapidly developing urban landscape?

I see a future where architecture serves as a bridge between modernity and heritage. Malaysia is growing fast, and while progress is exciting, we need to ensure that development remains thoughtful and people-centric. The danger is in chasing trends without considering long-term impact.

Technology will play a huge role in shaping our cities—smart buildings, energy-efficient materials, and AI-driven design processes will change how we work. But at the same time, we have a responsibility to protect our cultural and environmental heritage. I believe the cities of the future should be more than just high-rises and glass towers—they should have identity, character, and a strong connection to nature.

The best architecture is not just about creating buildings; it’s about shaping how people experience their environment. If we get it right, Malaysia’s urban future can be one that is innovative yet deeply rooted in its traditions, a place where modern design and cultural heritage coexist in harmony.

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