Gaining trust, Building references

JT: The main reason there’s a flourishing new generation of architects in France—especially in Paris—is the availability of small-scale private projects. I wouldn't say there's an abundance of work, but there are definitely opportunities, mostly in private commissions: flat renovations, extensions, and refurbishment. These types of projects are stimulating. They create openings for young practitioners. I think this is often the first step in establishing a studio—getting that first flat renovation, for example, gives you the confidence to imagine your own practice.

CB: Another reason relates to a broader shift taking place in society—one that spans many fields, including architecture. The new generation increasingly seeks independence, a trend we’re observing not only in architecture but across various sectors. It’s the result of a combination of factors. Take our experience with Echelle Un, the incubator program we joined at ENSA Paris-Est. What we share with the other teams is this desire to work on public architecture and to gain access to public commissions. Most of us start with small-scale private projects, and then we search for the next one, and the next. There’s a community of young architects, ourselves included, who feel a strong urge to express themselves more freely and in new ways—and public projects often provide that space, enabling us to engage with pressing societal issues.

JT: That’s something we all share: We want to access public commissions, but often we need the support of more established firms to do that. It’s one of the major challenges. Even though we have professional experience—we’ve worked at different studios—you have your past network, but the question is: how do you connect with new people who are willing to trust you? How do you find larger firms that say, "Yes, we’ll partner with you on a project, even though you’re a young practice"?

This is the question we keep asking—both in the incubator programme and in our day-to-day practice. Right now, we mostly have private clients, but the goal is to move toward public interventions. That’s why we’re working on a lot of administrative dossiers and public tenders. But without collaborating with established firms, it’s extremely difficult to be taken into account. You need to build your references first—and that’s probably one of the biggest challenges for a young practice in France. It's like the classic paradox: you need experience to get the job, but you can't gain experience unless someone gives you a chance.

CB: That’s also why we’ve been looking at competitions outside of France. It gives us an opportunity to show how we approach public architecture, and how things might be more accessible in other European countries. We’ve already seen some results—placing third and second in a few competitions—and we're now expanding our interests to Spain, Italy, Belgium, and Switzerland. While it’s not easy, the selection processes in these countries differ, offering new opportunities at this stage of our practice. So for us, there are two paths: one is the private projects—sometimes with a public dimension. The other is competitions—public or semi-public—that are often more accessible in other countries.

A name to build upon

JT: We didn’t originally set out to start a firm, but once we began talking about Fabricaré, things evolved—and that’s what brought us to where we are today. 

CB: The idea started with a conversation about naming—whether to use our surnames or to find a name that would allow space for evolution. We wanted something open, not Beraldin & Torres Martinez, but a name that could evolve with others joining the practice. That’s how Fabricaré came about. We also liked the idea of using a Latin-rooted word, since our backgrounds connect to Latin cultures—Jorge is from Mexico City, and I have Spanish roots from my years in Seville. We didn’t want it to be in Spanish, since we’re based in France, but we wanted something that reflects our roots, our story, and our language. Fabricaré means "I will make" in Latin. It’s a projection, a future-oriented name. It worked in French too—its root is shared with fabriquer, which evokes making things by hand. That’s important to us. We love working with materials, building models, and making things physically—so the idea of craft and fabrication felt right.

JT: Choosing the name was, in a way, our way of making the collaboration official. But a real milestone came when we got our own office space. Before that, we were working from home, without a proper space to meet clients or build models. Getting a dedicated workspace completely changed our energy. It marked a real shift.

CB: That shift also sparked a deeper reflection on who we are as architects. I think we’re still writing our script. We know what we’re doing right now, but we’re still figuring out what we want to say. What we do know is that we want to aim for simplicity—not in a naive way, but in a way that brings clarity. Architecture is often very complex in its details and functions, but the result should feel simple.

JT: Maybe the word is “dense”—it should be dense, but appear simple. When we draw our plans, elevations, or façades, we’re not comfortable if they look too complicated. It’s not a rule or an end goal, but it’s part of our way of working. We’re not trying to add complexity, but rather to make it easily legible.

CB: Simplicity isn’t about form—it’s about how it feels in the end. When you look at it, it should feel like it was always meant to be there.

JT: I think this way of thinking also comes from our generation. With the climate crisis and all the environmental questions we’ve grown up with, we just take it as self-evident that we need to work with fewer resources, to demolish less, to transform more. We don’t need to construct a discourse around it—it just feels like common sense. That said, simplicity is never enough on its own. Each project must carry its own singularity—something unmistakably its own. Even the most straightforward design needs a distinctive presence: a poetic touch, a striking geometry, a unique form that sets it apart. 

In between private and public

JT: One project that really gave us momentum was the Champagne Exploitation for the Bertemès family. It’s particularly interesting because it sits at the intersection of public and private. It’s a private commission, but the building is open to the public, so it touches on the kind of hybrid work we want to do. It’s taken some time—private timelines can be long—but it’s been meaningful. It was a clear commission, a large one, and it gave us the feeling that we were becoming established as a practice.

CB: The project involves a family-run vineyard, looking to evolve and get a contemporary image. The site is a mix of different construction styles and eras. Our goal was to create unity across the whole ensemble; it was also about linking the generations that have shaped the vineyard—to bring a clear identity to the champagne brand and to make it open to the public for visits and tastings.

JT: There’s also a private house on the property, connected to the production area. We were asked to demolish a part of the building that linked the two and replace it with a space for champagne tastings. So we proposed to demolish as little as possible, and instead open up the space and build a lightweight structure in wood that would connect everything. It’s a small public building inserted into a complex private structure.

CB: We worked with the idea of creating unity across a site with many rooflines and angles—tying it all together without erasing its character. Our idea was to find a unified rhythm, using the slopes to bring coherence. Another important element was materials. The region is full of industrial roofs—corrugated metal sheets, for example. At first, the client was surprised. That kind of material isn’t traditionally associated with champagne or luxury. But we wanted to reinterpret it, to give it value. The ground there is limestone—rich in colour—so we also used that palette to inform our design. It’s been a year and a half, and the project is still ongoing.

JT: The intervention is almost patrimonial in spirit. The main house isn’t listed, but it’s protected, and the rest of the buildings are more industrial, post-war constructions. It really reflects the kind of scale we’re interested in. It's heritage work, but not monumental. It’s intimate, contextual. It’s the kind of project that could become a strong reference for the studio. Once it’s built, we’ll be able to use it in our public tenders. 

Referencing Mexico

JT: My first architectural network and professional experience is in Mexico—my friends, former employers, all of it. We’ve been working on a residential project on the outskirts of Mexico City. It’s a private client who wants to transform an old house that had a commercial space on the ground floor. She approached us because she inherited the property and wishes to give it a new life—renovating it into flats while preserving the memory and spirit of her family’s heritage. 

The idea was to work with what already existed. We wanted to preserve as much of the original structure as possible. It was a complex project, but we’re really happy with the outcome. It's not exactly vernacular architecture, but it takes the characteristics of a mostly self-constructed context to make its own contemporary architectural language. In that neighbourhood, I don’t know the exact number, but I’d say around 80% of the houses are self-built. The materials are raw, unfinished—brick left exposed, maybe due to economic constraints that prevent people from completing their homes.

We were really drawn to that language. Personally, I find it very compelling. So we saw it as the perfect opportunity to lean into that aesthetic—exposed materials, concrete, and brick block—the same things everyone uses there. 

We weren’t actively seeking work in Mexico because our goal is to grow in Paris, in France. At first, we hesitated to take it on—how were we going to do this from a distance? But like I said before we started this interview, it’s my home city. I know how things work there. It wasn’t unfamiliar. So we just went for it, and now we’re developing it.

Building in dense Paris

JT: We also have a wooden roof extension project in the 20th arrondissement, near our office in Paris. It’s a 30-square-meter extension, made entirely of wood. That choice comes from both the conditions of the existing building and our interest in working with timber.

CB: It’s very interesting because it’s in the heart of an old Haussmannian block surrounded by the history and unique character of Parisian architecture. There’s a small house there in the middle of the block, and the client wants to add an extension to the roof. It’s really complicated because of the context—lots of neighbours, very dense surroundings. We’ve had to work closely with them. It’s a complex situation, but also very exciting. There’s something special about building in this place, and this project has the quality of a small jewel—modest in scale, but where every detail truly matters.

JT: There will be challenges, especially when delivering materials—they’ll have to close off the street. It’s not a prefabricated project in the usual sense. The structure is being prefabricated in a workshop, but it will be assembled on-site. There’s no way to fabricate anything directly on-site—it’s just not possible in such a dense city like Paris. As Christophe mentioned, the neighbours, the noise—these are all things we have to consider.

Still, it’s a really interesting project, especially because we’re working with the new bioclimatic local urban planning program (PLUb), which includes things like a green roof and timber construction. 

CB: From our recent small-scale rooftop project in Paris, we’re now taking part in a competition for a larger public social housing project in the heart of the city. Nothing has been built yet, but we’re excited to bring our careful, meaningful design approach to this challenge. Stay tuned!