Constructing culture

LP: Several factors drive Mexico's construction boom. Post-crisis, smaller companies and families began investing in real estate, capitalising on the government's regulatory changes. This shift towards more localised construction efforts, along with the government's leniency in oversight due to the sector's economic importance, has contributed to a thriving construction environment. Furthermore, the “do it yourself” mentality, prevalent across various income groups and professions in Mexico, fosters a culture of creativity and self-reliance in construction. This, coupled with a global shift towards authenticity and the embracing of local identity, has encouraged Mexican architects to innovate and experiment, moving away from European mimicry towards a focus on heritage.

LB: This new movement, increasingly evident post-pandemic, spans architecture, art, food, design, and fashion, reflecting a deeper search for identity while integrating modern influences. This ideology, rooted in reconnecting with traditional craftsmanship, techniques, and narratives, encourages a reinterpretation of these elements in contemporary settings. Through this blend of heritage and innovation, Mexico's creative sectors are redefining their output, showcasing how tradition can meet modernity to address contemporary challenges. This synthesis marks Mexico's cultural and creative landscape, illustrating the country's unique approach to blending the old with the new.

LP: There's a prevalent notion in Mexico, described as the "bucket of crabs", suggesting a lack of unity where success for one is often hindered by others. However, younger generations are challenging this mindset, advocating for collaboration to achieve better outcomes. Social media has played a significant role in fostering this change, serving not just as a tool but as a platform for realising the collective impact architects can have. This shift in mindset towards collaboration is evident in the architecture community. People freely exchange ideas, materials, and techniques, unlike before when secrecy prevailed. Such openness benefits everyone, raising the overall quality of architecture in the city and making it easier to showcase and sell good designs.

Two cities, one vision

LB: The combination of diverse proposals challenging centralisation, alongside our passion for preserving and showcasing local and traditional techniques, forms the foundation of Guadalajara's architectural identity. It's not merely about romanticising the past; it's about embracing sustainable, affordable practices that resonate with the community and make practical sense. Many commissions for projects around the country, congresses and exhibitions about architecture, have been centered in Mexico City. To address this, people in Guadalajara are starting to organise themselves in promoting workshops, exhibitions and different activities across different age groups, including students, professors and professionals. This close-knit community fosters collaborations among architects.

LP: In Mexico City, the architectural scene is highly competitive, attributed to its dense population and the abundance of skilled architects. This competition makes networking and opportunity-seeking challenging, with many architects working outside the city for better prospects and to be closer to family. With the flexibility to work from anywhere, many professionals choose to stay in Mexico City, contributing to its continued centralisation. The Frente Unido that Laura mentions is evident in Guadalajara, but it's a national phenomenon, essentially everyone collaborating against the dominance of Mexico City. This sentiment isn't about hating those from the capital; in fact, many architects from there are good friends with those in Guadalajara. They often admire the openness and camaraderie in Guadalajara, which they feel is lacking in Mexico City's competitive environment. Mexico City, being a global city, draws influences from around the world, making it challenging for professionals to slow down and connect with others. Taking time to build relationships can be a luxury they can't afford, as it may detract from their client work and job prospects. It's not the architects' fault for being caught up in the current trend happening outside Mexico City. 

Exploring Mexican identity has long been a complex topic, often described as an eternal struggle between European and native descent. This ambiguity is captured in Octavio Paz's "The Labyrinth of Solitude", where Mexicanness is portrayed as not fully understanding what it means to be Mexican. For a long time, people grappled with this issue, trying to come to terms with it. But nowadays, especially in architecture, younger generations have a clearer understanding of what it means to be Mexican. While there's still uncertainty and struggle, you don't have to face these challenges when designing architecture. Instead, you can create spaces that promote well-being and harmony with the environment, considering our natural and cultural surroundings. For instance, if you live by the coast, you'd want to enjoy the sea breeze, so using familiar wooden structures is the way to go. This shift from pondering Mexican identity to demonstrating it through architecture has energised the country's architectural scene. Instead of just theorising, architects are actively showcasing Mexican identity through their work. In contrast, projects in Mexico City tend to be more conceptual and less practical, yet still very intriguing. 

Terraces of tradition

LB: Both of us relocated here in Guadalajara to attend college and study architecture. I'm from Sonora, which is up north in Mexico. It's a desert region with a vast landscape and extreme weather. Growing up there, we spent more time indoors because the outdoors could be hostile. Moving to Guadalajara was a bit of a shock for me. I noticed right away how social life here revolves around terraces and courtyards. It's common for families to gather around a dining table outside, enjoying long conversations without feeling rushed. This social practice of “sobremesa” is deeply ingrained in Guadalajara's architecture.

LP: When I met Laura, I was working with Jorge Rivera, a highly respected architect who now lives in Canada. He was an excellent professor and had a significant impact on many architects of our generation, including Laura and me. His class was pivotal for many students; it either sparked their interest in architecture or made it clear that it wasn't for them. I started working with him in 2010 after being his student in the first semester. Later, I had classes with Francisco Ugarte, and then with Jorge Méndez Blake, both very talented artists. I faced a dilemma because I wanted to pursue architecture but also had a passion for art. When I told Jorge that I wanted to do both art and architecture, he reviewed my work and said, “Are you rich? If you are not, you have to choose”. I decided to focus on architecture, which he agreed was a better fit for me.

LB: I faced a dilemma similar to Luis Aurelio's. When considering my career path, I wasn't sure whether to pursue sculpture, fine arts, or architecture. I spoke to a family friend who was an architect, seeking advice. He explained that architecture offers opportunities to engage in artistic processes while also incorporating engineering principles. Having said so, art is still a prominent component of our lives and work. Since I was five years old, my parents encouraged me to explore various forms of art, including sculpture, oil painting, watercolour painting, ballet, and music. What I loved about the arts was their ability to convey narratives and tell stories. Whether through music, painting, or sculpture, each art form had a unique way of communicating emotions and ideas that couldn't be expressed in everyday language. In my art studies, we explored how artists' personal experiences and cultural backgrounds influenced their work, shaping them into representations of their culture or country. I found this process fascinating, as it revealed how art could capture a moment and evoke a sense of place.

Whimsy and wisdom

LP: I was midway through school, and the pay wasn't sufficient; therefore, I had to find alternatives. I ended up in one of the best local architects here in Guadalajara: Juan Palomar. Palomar is a significant figure who shaped the perception of Luis Barragán globally. He's the foremost archivist and advocate of Barragan's work. Barragan is a local hero, revered for his magical approach to architecture. Palomar's designs often include whimsical elements, like a room for a wizard in a tall building, showcasing his unique perspective on architecture. Though these projects are rarely realised, they highlight the importance of symbolism, historical study, and narrative in architecture. This was crucial for us, especially when most of our projects involved working with developers. It's easy to get lost in numbers and spreadsheets and lose sight of the essence of architecture.

LB: One experience that profoundly influenced my approach to architecture was working with Jorge Tejeda, known as El Padrino, The Godfather. He has been a professor at ITESO for over 30 years. During this time, his office was conveniently close to my apartment. I cherished this period of my life, walking to work, taking the train to university, and returning to his office. Jorge emphasised the importance of broadening one's horizons beyond architecture. He encouraged us to explore literature, poetry, and cinema, to cultivate a refined sensibility for creating inviting and comfortable spaces. Most days in Jorge Tejeda's office involved a mix of design work and stimulating discussions. He often delved into topics like Greek mythology or films by inspiring directors. This influence, along with that of figures like Juan Palomar, who embraced a more mythical approach to architecture, laid a foundational understanding for our practice.

Design dreams meet reality

LP: After gaining experience in various studios, I joined forces with friends from university to start our first company, Diagrama Arquitectos. The crisis ended, and Guadalajara experienced a construction boom. Our old-school professors warned us against working with developers, implying that it was unethical. They suggested focusing on designing houses for the wealthy. However, we disagreed with this approach. Currently, developers play a crucial role in city construction. If skilled architects don't collaborate with them, the city's landscape could suffer. The initial high-rise constructions in Guadalajara are subpar. Laura and I approached developers with our method, which we honed over the years.

LB: It was at Jorge Rivera's studio that Luis and I realised we needed to take the initiative to generate our own work. During our time with Jorge, we developed a plan to scout different neighbourhoods for potential project sites. We identified available properties, including houses with renovation potential and empty plots. After documenting these locations, we analysed each one to propose potential projects. Our idea was to then seek investors to fund these projects. We recognised that waiting for clients to approach us wasn't feasible. Jorge provided valuable guidance in organising this approach.

LP: From a business perspective, some of the practices where we worked where not really fruitful. We learn both from their successes and their failures.

LB: In our initial five years of work with Diagrama Arquitectos, our focus was on housing, hotels, and mixed-use buildings, such as offices with apartments. However, our approach was deeply rooted in our interests. Each project was an investigation into its context, the existing structures, and the lifestyles of the residents. We also incorporated our personal interests in archaeology, history, and cinema into our designs. Despite the financial goals of each project, they were opportunities for us to apply our studies quickly. While the design process was rapid, construction progressed slowly. In that period, we designed over 30 projects, but only two were built.

Building bonds with surroundings

LB: In 2022, we transitioned from Diagrama to BARBAPIÑA. We took some time to reflect on what aspects of our practice we wanted to retain, and we realised that we value continuous research and investigation. With each project, we delve into understanding the original materials and context of the region, including social and traditional construction practices. This contextual investigation provides us with valuable insights into the design process. Our goal is to create buildings that feel deeply connected to their surroundings, embodying a sense of place and belonging. Our practice is defined by ongoing study, experimentation, and the translation of these findings into contemporary designs.

LP: We don't strive to create something overly new or novel. Instead, we focus on understanding the origins of things and finding what makes the most sense without overcomplicating matters. For instance, if we're constructing in La Baja, which has a relatively short architectural history of around 100 to 200 years, contextualisation becomes crucial. The towns there are small, and there's flexibility in how buildings are constructed. So, we need to ensure that our buildings fit in with the local environment. While they might also suit other parts of Mexico, they may not fit well elsewhere.

LB: We learn valuable lessons from historical examples like Mexican convents and haciendas. We analyse their typologies and try to understand what makes them unique. Then, we apply these insights to create new spaces. It's not just about proportions or the life within the spaces; it's about capturing the atmospheres and essence of those historical designs and adapting them for modern use.

LP: We have the advantage of diverse backgrounds. Laura hails from Sonora, a desert region, while I come from Tampico, a swampy coastline area. Currently, we reside in Guadalajara. Interestingly, the weather in Quintana Roo resembles that of Tampico, while the climate in La Baja is similar to Ciudad Obregón. It's very exciting for us to explore various regions of Mexico and discover different materials and techniques. By learning the vocabulary or language of construction unique to each place, we can apply it to our design process. This results in projects that are completely different from what we might have created for the same client or commission in a different city, for example.

Historic whispers in modern spaces

LP: For the HOTEL LA PAZ project, we were fascinated by the ancient constructions in Baja California Sur, especially the concept of ruins. We appreciate both pre-Hispanic ruins and human-made structures reclaimed by nature. Thus, we aimed to create a building resembling an old La Paz Mexican structure. Although regulations in the area lean towards a historicist approach, we wanted to avoid that. Instead, we drew inspiration from neoclassical architecture introduced by the Spaniards. We incorporated elements like window proportions and sturdy construction, which suited the desert climate. Additionally, we included small courtyards reminiscent of other ruins in northern Mexico. Our investigation involved measuring sites using Google Earth and visiting locations for inspiration. We aimed to balance built and natural elements, integrating vegetation to blend the building with its surroundings.

LB: Because our design was deeply connected to the history of La Paz, we received a positive response from the plot owners. Being natives of La Paz, they were familiar with the city's architecture, including the missions that are now ruins but still hold sentimental value. By referencing these familiar landmarks during our presentation, we tapped into their collective memories, evoking enthusiasm for the project. One of the owners initially hesitated to sell the property, fearing a modern, stark white building would disrupt the neighbourhood's character. However, he supported the project once he saw that our design respected the area's heritage.

Upon studying architecture, I realised the importance of storytelling. Architects create the stage for people's lives to unfold, designing the setting with lighting, colour, textures, smells, air quality, and sound. Understanding this aspect inevitably influences one's work in architecture. Let’s take our Mawaa project in Tulum: our design process began with observing the empty plot with its large trees. We considered aspects like where would be the best spot to relax or cook. We envisioned the activities in that setting before designing the space. This approach led us to think about how one would enter the house and what sounds they would hear, shaping our design accordingly. For instance, as you approach the house, you might hear the soothing sound of flowing water. So, we thought of placing a small water feature where you can wash your hands before entering the house, a ritual to mark your arrival home. Similarly, do you prefer a sense of privacy or a connection to the surroundings once inside? These decisions shape the narrative of the space, even though you can't control how people use it. You're just providing cues. In that project, despite the limited space, we aimed to create a warm atmosphere and incorporate designs that evoke familiar memories. For instance, we crafted windows reminiscent of those found in traditional Mexican haciendas or created scenes resembling the chiaroscuro of a monastery in Yucatan. We viewed memories as a material to work with, much like bricks, in constructing a narrative. Our goal was to create something timeless yet reflective of the values of our society.

Tropical tranquility

LB: Although it's uncertain if it will be built, the “NOVUS Residencies” allowed us to conduct research and write essays based on our findings. It is based on 16th-century monasteries in Mexico. Our client, who is from Malaysia but resides in Sweden, fell in love with Tulum during a couple of visits and decided to invest in land there. She envisioned creating residential building for permanent living, as there were plenty of options for short stays but not many for long-term residents. She wanted something authentically Mexican but not the typical beige and white stone associated with Tulum. We proposed the concept of a tropical monastery, not in terms of aesthetics but in terms of arrangement. To help our client understand our vision, we prepared a presentation, including an essay of our conducted research on the analysis of pure architecture form of 16th-century Mexican monasteries, leaving the spiritual aspect aside. It was enlightening to delve into their architecture and functionality. We discovered that the design elements, such as cloisters, intuitively evoked feelings of intimacy and connection to the sky. The spacious passageways encouraged interaction rather than mere circulation. We were fascinated by these aspects. We noticed how the rooms in the monastery were arranged, each offering a different level of intimacy. Activities transitioned from public to private spaces as you moved through the building. Inspired by this, we structured our project similarly. 

LB: We categorised activities into groups such as welcoming, relaxing, socialising, sleeping, eating, drinking, and exploring. This allowed us to determine the level of privacy needed for each activity. By organising them this way, we gained insights into how to design the layout of the building. Even in a residential setting, we aimed to provide a sense of intimacy and privacy, ensuring residents felt like they were in their own private space.

LP: The project is composed of a series of courtyards, creating various types of apartments to suit different travellers in Tulum, from solo travellers to families and couples. We aimed to design apartments with unique features like spacious terraces or high ceilings tailored to different preferences for sunlight and privacy. Our goal was to create a sense of belonging and trigger memories while also considering the local weather conditions. The result is a contemporary yet homely design, with a clear pathway and a strong connection to the landscape. This project exemplifies how we analyse concepts to inform our designs effectively.