Bahrain is now at a point from which it can never recede. But how can architecture address this politically -- and inarguably urban -- predicament, if architecture can neither help resolve it nor leave it alone?

Deira is often referred to as "Old Dubai," a generalization that only describes a stop on the Dubai visitor's course. To see a gold souk, a fish market. To take an abra ride for no reason other than to take an abra ride.

First it was "booming Dubai," and then "sinking Dubai." Two years into one of its most cathartic states ever, where do things stand for Dubai?

If any country has learned from the last several decades what architecture can do, Bahrain, as most other Gulf countries, could tell the story of how just a few decades of development can transform a country's shape and its people.

For many observers, the Gulf region's unfailing fixation with the iconic represents the deflated essence of architecture.

For a few sweltering weeks of a Dubai summer, 'Dubai Idol' each year pares down the number of men who have a chance at breaking from the crowd with which they are always associated, if for just a few evenings.

[This article was written with Rory Hyde.] The architect, perhaps more than other professionals, is a mythical figure. He projects a marriage of exp...