Return to Vernacular

KE: When I think about local architecture in Guadalajara and at the national level, I consider climate to be a determining factor. Many of the spatial solutions encountered here respond directly to climatic and territorial conditions. Another important factor, specific to Guadalajara, is the presence of a guild of architects who share common values and promote the pursuit of shared themes and ideas, fostering dialogue. This is less common in other parts of Mexico. A significant aspect of the current discourse is a return to origins, to the vernacular, but interpreted in a contemporary way. These themes are interconnected: Mexico is a country where many cultures throughout history have addressed architectural challenges by considering the physical environment and available technologies. This approach is now evident among many emerging practices, which are reflecting on these issues, generating critical mass and facilitating knowledge exchange. This trend is driven by two factors: on one hand, Mexico's unparalleled geographical diversity means that architectural responses vary greatly depending on the location—whether in Guadalajara, its surrounding natural environment, or elsewhere in the country. On the other hand, the construction boom we are currently experiencing has enabled many firms to work on projects across different settings: on the beach, in the mountains, and in urban areas.

Many architects, myself included, are grounding our research in origins. We are asking questions like: How was housing designed in the past? What materials and solutions were used in those contexts? How was it built, and what techniques were employed? Architecture is universal, and as a result, universal solutions are often proposed—but the answers cannot be. They must account for specific factors such as techniques, cultures, and local identities. Perhaps, both formally and technically, the response lies in adopting simple solutions, such as a thatched roof—an archetype of the vernacular. This element of ephemeral architecture naturally disappears over time without harming the environment and is often created through self-construction. We might describe this approach as a contemporary vernacular.

Global Problems, Local Solutions

KE: After a more experimental initial phase, my projects over the past ten years have gained greater reflection and a unified identity. Rehabilitation has become one of the most recurring themes, closely tied to the need for promoting sustainable architecture and addressing global issues through local solutions. This connects to the concepts I mentioned earlier: urgent global challenges require responses that consider local factors and proximity. 

I particularly enjoy rehabilitating buildings and working with pre-existing conditions—a passion that began with my final university project. Over the years, I have had the opportunity to work on various projects aligned with this approach. One notable example is a residential building in the Moderna neighbourhood, called FR Moderna. In this project, we oversaw every aspect, from purchasing the building to delivering the finished apartments. It began when a former client, for whom we had designed a bar, approached us again, mentioning her family-owned warehouse in the Moderna neighbourhood. We were intrigued by the project and, before anything else, secured the resources to buy the building. Our proposal was to create 13 homes while preserving most of the structure, including the perimeter walls and slabs. Instead of demolishing the building, we rehabilitated its interior. Although this method of conserving a building's structure might seem common in other parts of the world, it is still rare in Mexico—particularly in Guadalajara. This approach wasn’t arbitrary; restoring a building is a respectful way to engage with the environment, utilise existing resources, and minimise waste. It’s also an opportunity to raise awareness, showing that buildings can have a second life. While a single project may not create widespread change, it sets an example and starts a conversation. 

In Mexico, demolition and new construction are often the default choices, but these are not always the best solutions. In this case, the decision to rehabilitate wasn’t driven by heritage considerations, as the building lacked historical significance. Instead, it was an act of recycling. For me, this project was like pursuing a PhD—it lasted seven years and taught me invaluable lessons. If I had the chance to approach it again today, I might do it differently. I view it more as a learning exercise than a masterpiece, but the concepts it introduced continue to inform my recent work. I am particularly interested in anything that can be given a second life. For example, whenever possible, I have chosen to renovate, including the house where I currently live. 

FR Moderna demonstrates that it’s possible to introduce new programmes into established neighbourhoods. It’s not about creating a new neighbourhood or a gated community where only the wealthy live behind walls. Instead, it’s about integrating housing into areas where services already exist, offering a vibrant 24-hour city. It’s a place where people can work, rest, and socialise without needing to leave the district or rely on cars. This approach stands in contrast to current urban models, where cities expand endlessly in a horizontal sprawl. During the execution of this project, we also promoted art exhibitions, reusing waste materials from demolitions. Today, different families live in the building, creating new dynamics and contributing to the vibrancy of the neighbourhood.

Educational Experiences

KE: The idea of embarking on an independent professional path and establishing a studio emerged shortly after graduating. That’s when I decided to open a studio in collaboration with Javier Arias, with whom I still share a good friendship. Over time, our paths diverged—Javier now runs his own studio in Morelia. Our studio was called Regaa – Studio Arquitectura. We were a small team and worked on a variety of projects, including housing, public spaces, retail, construction details, and even objects. After we parted ways, I decided to slow down my practice, focusing on no more than two projects per year. To date, I have completed over ten projects that I am proud of. 

One of the most significant experiences during this early phase of my career was working on my first project right after graduating. It was an enriching experience, as we had the opportunity to learn directly on-site for a project we had designed ourselves. Another milestone was participating in the KUKURUCHOS project, which marked an important step in my career. KUKURUCHOS was a collaborative space created by a small collective of friends from various studios and disciplines, working together in a borrowed space. Our client provided the initial resources to rehabilitate the building, but we had to secure additional resources to develop a cultural programme featuring exhibitions and events. Although the project lasted just over two years and included four or five exhibitions, it was incredibly formative. It gave us the chance to work closely with a multidisciplinary team toward a shared goal. Driven purely by a passion for art, we lacked sponsorship to continue, but it remains one of the most influential experiences of the early stages of my career. 

On a personal level, another major milestone was getting married and starting a family. This coincided with my separation from the studio, allowing me to find my own voice with five years of professional experience. From that point, I began focusing on renovation projects and became increasingly interested in reusing the resources already at hand. Another key moment was my decision to return to studying ten years after graduating. During the pandemic, I enrolled in a diploma programme called Metropolitan Landscapes, organised by TEC de Monterrey and the Architectural Association School of Architecture (AA) in London. Going back to study after a decade was an incredibly enriching experience. It allowed me to delve deeper into topics that have always fascinated me, such as territory, landscape, and city planning. Today, these subjects incorporate advanced tools like big data analysis, new mapping technologies, and strategies to address critical issues. Since completing the programme in 2020, I’ve continued to reflect on these themes, and they now play a significant role in shaping my recent projects during this more mature stage of my career.

Recycling the City

KE: In the Metropolitan Landscapes program, I deepened my understanding of cities and the processes that shape contemporary urban spaces. I explored global issues that, in my view, demand local solutions. Through the program, I analysed data that illuminated these challenges, ultimately concluding that addressing global problems requires first comprehending the local context. 

One key focus of the program was examining which countries generate the most waste, how cities handle it, and how waste management processes vary across different contexts. We analysed how waste is collected, treated, and disposed of, as well as the environmental challenges that arise at an urban scale. This approach was particularly interesting because, instead of designing traditional architectural projects, we created maps and diagrams. These layers of information enabled a deeper understanding of each context. Using this data, we proposed solutions to urban issues through architectural responses. It was a unique process—rather than solving a problem by designing a building, we studied complex dynamics that demand architectural interventions and, ideally, would eventually inform public policies. 

Some of these ideas are reflected in a recent project that, although small, marks a new phase for the studio. This project is a small house with a wooden structure, designed during the post-pandemic period. It aims to have minimal impact on the land: it can remain in place or be dismantled without harming the soil. I believe Mexico needs to invest more resources in these areas. Compared to other parts of the world, where the environmental impact of construction has been studied for decades, Mexico still lacks a strong culture of sustainable building practices. With my Greek and French heritage in mind, I decided to name this project Kalyva, which means "hut" in Greek. The concept is a small shelter where one can reconnect with nature—a response to the isolation many of us experienced during the pandemic. Simplicity is a core aspect of the design: the structure comprises two wooden platforms connected by columns. It’s almost a provocation, encouraging reflection on what we truly need and promoting a reconnection with nature, living with only the essentials. The project invites us to consider how we might return to our roots, drawing inspiration from vernacular architecture while reinterpreting it in a contemporary way to stimulate thought. The original vision was to create a small community, complete with systems for water and waste management, composting, and educational initiatives. However, due to limited resources, we were only able to build a prototype—a skeletal structure that is adaptable to various contexts by altering its exterior.

Processes

KE: Our team consists of 3–4 people, and I aim to keep it that way. I feel most comfortable working within a small studio. We are deeply focused on the construction process, which is why we always collaborate with a photographer to document it. For us, the construction phase is where our intentions are most clearly reflected, and capturing those moments is invaluable. In fact, I believe documenting the construction process holds more significance than photographing the completed work. This meticulous documentation not only preserves an image of our intentions but also serves as a tool for discussions and decision-making, which are ultimately reflected in the final outcome. Every project we undertake begins with a rigorous approach. We start with a site visit, followed by meetings to align the project’s intentions. We foster an open and dynamic environment where everyone contributes ideas and explores various options, creating a diverse range of images and typologies. Once we align on a direction, we begin testing materials and refining concepts until we reach a solution that feels right. Most of our built work is located in the Jalisco and Michoacán regions. We primarily work in Guadalajara and the western part of Mexico, including Santa María del Oro in Nayarit. We have also had the opportunity to design projects in Culiacán, Sinaloa; Cabo San Lucas; and even a marble warehouse in Italy. However, many projects outside Jalisco have remained at the conceptual stage. Everything we have built has been closely monitored and experienced firsthand, reflecting our commitment to hands-on involvement throughout the process.