What would it look like to watch decades of nature’s quiet takeover condensed into a matter of months? That question sits at the heart of Mondobruto, a series of living terrariums by Italian designer Alessio Fava. Inside glass enclosures, miniature brutalist structures made of concrete become hosts to mosses and plants. It is a project that neither romanticises the image of a ruin nor clings to the permanence of architecture, but instead treats the slow interaction between built environment and organic life as an ongoing experiment.

Fava’s idea of these fragile ecosystems grew from his protracted observations of neglected post-war buildings in Italy, in which cracks and dampness offered footholds to wind-borne seeds and creeping roots. The sight was never static; every time he went back, he noticed subtle changes. “I kept thinking how incredible it would be to witness that process up close, to really see how plants take over,” he tells STIR. Around the same time, he was immersed in the world of terrariums, learning traditional Japanese methods for cultivating moss in controlled environments. Combining these interests to him felt like a natural progression.

Each Mondobruto piece begins as a block of polystyrene, shaped using hot-wire tools and resulting in sharp geometric forms reminiscent of mid-century brutalist architecture. The blocks are used to make moulds for a custom concrete mix designed to achieve precise edges while retaining a slight porosity—a detail that is not only aesthetic but also allows roots to grip surfaces and retain moisture to move through the material, giving vegetation a way in. After curing, the structures are weathered just enough to create subtle irregularities, small ledges and recesses where plants might later take hold.

When asked about species that intrigued him in his experiments, the designer pointed to Ficus pumila quercifolia, a miniature creeping fig with tiny oak-shaped leaves, which, he says, “thanks to its small size and creeping, climbing nature, can cover any surface it comes into contact with.” Moss, he adds, “tends to grow denser over time, creating a visually richer and more layered environment."

Once complete, the structures are placed in glass terrariums prepared with layered soil substrates, precise humidity regulation and tailored lighting. Plant selection is deliberate, focusing on species whose growth patterns and resilience will create long-term equilibrium rather than an unchecked spread. Adapting methods from Japanese moss culture, Fava manages microclimate variables—fine-tuning moisture levels, filtering natural light and pruning selectively to keep the plants thriving without overtaking the structure.

Over time, mosses creep into crevices, foliage spreads across the concrete surfaces and straight lines begin to soften. The process, which in an outdoor setting might take years, unfolds here in a matter of months, thanks to the controlled microclimate. The transformation, however, is never uniform: while some areas remain bare, others become dense and lush, reflecting the plants’ adaptation to light, moisture and texture. For Fava, this unpredictability is part of the appeal. “I can spend hours in front of any habitat, just watching which plants take over, which stay still, how they interact,” he observes.

Mondobruto is not intended to depict collapse, but rather coexistence. Rather than disappearing, the concrete shifts in meaning as plants reshape its role. A shear wall becomes a shaded slope, a void becomes a thicket and the overall composition shifts from a static object to an evolving landscape. By making this process visible on a small scale, the sculptural series invites viewers to consider how architecture might embrace change instead of resisting it and whether design can account for the inevitability of transformation.

When prompted about whether Mondobruto could be expanded into architectural or urban contexts, Fava notes that “there are already some interesting experiments, such as the Living Bricks developed in the Netherlands, capable of hosting moss and contributing to cooling and air purification. The series could also live on an architectural or urban scale, carrying the same visual and narrative length.” Achieving this, he says, would require close collaboration between architects, landscape designers, botanists and material engineers to select forms and plant species suited to real-world conditions. “If I imagine walking down a street where buildings are completely covered in vegetation, I think of an incredibly fascinating urban experience; one that could transform the very perception of the city,” he adds.

The project also reflects Fava’s approach as a designer, in which an unrelenting patience for natural processes guides his material craft. Born in Italy and educated in design with a focus on material experimentation, his oeuvre spans installation and product design, often incorporating elements that evolve over time. Mondobruto draws together several strands of his practice particularly his fascination with concrete’s sculptural potential, an appreciation for horticulture and a desire to create works that continually unfold rather than achieving 'fixed' conditions.

When it comes to knowing whether a piece has reached its “most compelling” moment, Fava resists the idea of an endpoint. “For me, a Mondobruto habitat never reaches a definitive final stage; it is always in flux,” he tells STIR. In the first months, he watches closely as mosses colonise and plants adapt. Later, the piece thickens in some areas, and recedes in others. “It is precisely this continuous, partly controlled transformation that makes each piece alive and unrepeatable.”

The longevity of each piece depends on ongoing care. While the concrete is durable, the living elements require monitoring. Fava adjusts humidity, trims excess growth and occasionally replaces plant species that fail to adapt. This sustained engagement is part of the work’s identity. The result is an evolving record of interaction, with each habitat carrying its distinctive trajectory shaped by countless small decisions.

The habitats also raise a reflective inquiry: what changes when the built world is left to its own fate? Is it erased by nature or reshaped into something else entirely? Within these glass confines, the answer unfolds at a pace the eye can follow; neither collapse nor preservation, but a shift into a new shared form.

Fava approaches each new piece as a trial in controlled evolution, altering dimensions, concrete mixes and planting strategies to see how different combinations behave. The results are never replicated. Each terrarium becomes its record of interaction, with patterns of growth and wear that could not be predicted at the outset. It is this unpredictability grounded in observation rather than theory that keeps the work in motion.