Small towns to big cities

JM: Guadalajara can be seen as fertile ground for emerging practices in architecture. Education, including architectural education, is a privilege in many parts of Latin America, contributing to the complexity of the profession. Despite these challenges, there is a high demand for architects, especially in cities like Guadalajara, Mexico City, Monterrey, or Querétaro. However, it's important to explore beyond the typical projects such as suburban housing or large commercial developments. There is an opportunity to serve smaller towns in Mexico where resources exist, but professional expertise is lacking. For instance, it's fascinating to observe places like Switzerland. In small towns with populations as low as 2,000 people, you can find remarkable architecture in public buildings like museums or cultural centres. This kind of architectural richness is challenging to find in Mexico but presents a significant opportunity. Even smaller municipalities may have the resources to invest in architectural projects, and by engaging with them, architects can address needs in various parts of the country. Take for example, the architecture firm Comunal: they uniquely collaborate with indigenous cultures, integrating traditional construction methods and materials into their designs. This approach offers vast opportunities for architects in Mexico, which is driven by the country's large population and constant demand for new buildings and renovations. The world always has tensions, especially when there’s an economic incentive to construct commercial buildings, making it difficult to focus on less developed areas. Architects often reach a point in their careers where their practice grows, relying on a team, which needs taking on more projects to keep the operation running. It becomes hard to step back from this cycle to focus on projects that may not offer the same level of comfort or financial reward. Following one's principles while managing the economic realities of architectural practice is tough. In the early stages, taking on projects that benefit the local community or offer added value for little to no financial gain is not always feasible. However, accepting certain commissions is understandable. Through some of my projects, I hope to explore whether there's a possibility to make a statement or to acknowledge that dedicating even a small portion of our time to meaningful work is valuable despite the challenges. This approach may not be common, but it’s an important consideration for how we might work differently.

Crafting architecture amidst crises

JM: I don't yet consider myself or my architectural practice as fully established. It's a continuous journey, and I hesitate to claim a solid place in the architecture world just yet. There's a broader global agenda that I find crucial, one that encompasses human rights, citizenship, gender equality, and the urgent climate crisis. While these issues are vital and deserve attention, I believe there's a risk of losing focus on the core craft of architecture.

For example, in my involvement with the cultural project ForA, I've noticed some practices prioritising narratives around gender equality over the architectural essence. While these topics are important, it's essential not to lose sight of the emotional impact and essence of architecture that truly moves and inspires people. There's a bit of a distraction when we get caught up in trying to address broader societal issues and overlook mastering the fundamentals of our profession. Before delving into these wider agendas, architects must first focus on honing their skills and understanding construction techniques, materials, and design principles. We're emphasising that architecture must address these pressing issues, including the climate crisis. However, we often find ourselves misled. When you search for terms like "green architecture" or "ecological architecture", the architectural outcomes may not always be the best solutions. Some architects successfully navigate these tensions. For instance, Colombian architect Rogelio Salmona, who excelled in craftsmanship and tackled the challenges of his time. Another example is João Batista Vilanova Artigas, known for projects like the FAU building in São Paulo. These architects not only address societal tensions but also create graceful and inclusive buildings, fostering a sense of community and participation. Architecture is inherently complex. It involves not only considering global tensions like human rights and environmental concerns but also navigating the intricate details of each project. To tackle the complex issues of contemporary society, we must first master our craft. When I reflect on my practice and the reality we face today, it's clear that navigating the world's complexities isn't easy. At my age, with the challenges we're confronted with, it's difficult to define my practice and its focus confidently. We're striving to understand what the hell is going on in the world and address the many issues around us, but we're still figuring it all out. I believe that you never really feel completely certain about your work. If you do, it's time to retire. But that moment never arrives. I prefer to question my abilities constantly rather than become overly confident. 

From designing success to constructing the future

JM: Reflecting on the past 15 years, I began my architectural journey in Guadalajara before spending a semester abroad in Melbourne, Australia. Halfway through my studies, I interned at an office called AD11, which later split into two new firms: Estudio Macías Peredo and COA Arquitectura. While there, I formed close friendships with Salvador Macías and Magui Peredo. After completing my internship, I spent five years working for Luis Aldrete, another close friend. It's worth noting that in Mexico, architecture schools offer more flexibility compared to the rigorous demands of schools in the United States. This allowed me to gain practical experience while still studying. Following graduation, I continued working with Luis. However, I then received a scholarship to pursue a master's degree in architecture and discourse, focusing on history, theory, and criticism, at Cornell University in upstate New York. This was my first foray into teaching, and I discovered a passion for academia.

When I returned to Guadalajara, there was a person who entrusted me with significant projects in different areas of the country. This was a dream come true, and it inspired me to establish my practice. Unlike many architectural firms that start with small projects and gradually expand, my journey was different. I began my practice with three projects. One of them was 13,000 square meters, another was 8,000 square meters, and the third was around 3,000 square meters. For a newly established office, this was unusual. These projects were not acquired through competition but were direct commissions. I've found that handling more than five projects simultaneously is overwhelming for me. Currently, we are working on three projects, some are in the construction phase. Two are under construction in the surroundings of Lake Chapala, and another one is a small terrace built on a cliff. These are the projects currently underway, giving you a snapshot of where our practice stands at the moment.

From vacancy to vibrance

JM: Besides the design activity, I invest a reasonable part of my time in ForA (Foro Arquitectura), a space for critical analysis of architecture and the city. This project came into the picture almost by chance. I was working on a project for a friend when he mentioned a building owned by his family that was sitting empty and facing vandalism and theft. Curious, I offered to join him to see if we could find a solution, like finding someone interested in renting the space or making it more appealing. When we arrived, we found a three-story building with an institutional character. At first glance, it seemed perfect for any company. However, upon exploring further, I discovered a hidden gem: a 100-seat auditorium tucked away behind a door. Suddenly, it wasn't so straightforward. Who would need an auditorium and use it enough to justify paying rent? I suggested the idea of a cultural programme to my friend, and we decided to approach his family about it. Interestingly, right after that visit, I had plans to meet Luis Aldrete and Javier Dueñas at Luis Aldrete's studio, where we often gather to enjoy tequila. Luis, Javier, and I discussed my recent discovery. I excitedly shared with them my idea of turning the space into a cultural centre for architecture, highlighting the lack of such a venue in our city. While there were plenty of museums for art and theatres for dance and music, there was nothing specifically for architects. I asked for their thoughts on who we could approach to make this idea a reality. Luis chuckled and replied, "Jorge, you should do it. You're passionate about theory and academia, and you often complain about the limitations at the university. Here, you can do whatever you want". Inspired by his words, I agreed to take on the project, and the first decision was that I would lead this project with the help of a council comprised of Luis Aldrete, Salvador Macías, Magui Peredo, Rafael Plasencia, Juan Lopez Vergara-Newton, who has a strong academic background, and Patrick Charpenel, an art curator directing the Museo del Barrio in New York. Despite our diverse backgrounds, we share a common interest in architecture.

For its sustenance, ForA offers courses for a fee and organises conferences, drawing participants from various backgrounds. We conduct analyses through conferences, courses, and exhibitions. The funds we gather from courses and donors are used to create exhibitions. Our aim is not to glorify architecture but to be critical. For example, our first exhibition featured beautiful pictures and models. However, we went further by producing a book showcasing conceptual drawings and the building process. We included the initial proposals, presentation materials from the competition, executive drawings, and construction documents for both architecture and engineering. We disassembled all the building components and documented the entire construction process. So, it's about construction, but you can also learn from the building's drawing processes and how to communicate the ideas behind it. This approach has been quite fascinating, and we've continued to organise more exhibitions along these lines.

What's interesting about ForA is that when we sought funding to repair or adapt the building, we approached government institutions first, but they all rejected our requests. So, we changed our strategy and began seeking support from private donors, like companies. To my surprise, every company we approached agreed to contribute to the project. They all recognised the value of having something unique in the city. This enabled us to raise enough funds to restore the building. So, in that sense, we operate independently from the government and universities. This gives us the freedom to shape our academic programme as we see fit.

Redefining intentions in architecture

JM: Before I transitioned from teaching to directing ForA, there was something I always stressed to my students: I preferred hearing about their intentions rather than using the word "concept". I wanted to know what they aimed for and how they wanted their work to feel. That was my approach to guiding their creative process. As I reflect on my own practice, I realise that instead of having strong, definitive arguments, I tend to have more reflexiones or ‘reflections’. Somehow, it involves pondering and considering various aspects. It's a very specific word. 

For instance, in one of our first built projects, which consisted of two houses sharing a plot for a brother and sister, I was intrigued by the siblings sharing the same plot. It led me to ponder the definition of fraternity or siblinghood. They're different in their thinking but similar in appearance, having grown up together. Now, with each married and leading separate lives, it made me reflect on how relationships evolve. The design features two L-shaped volumes forming a central courtyard, like a patio house. Despite having identical dimensions, each volume has a distinct interior programme, reflecting the occupants' individual lifestyles. While they share the courtyard and physical characteristics, they lead separate lives, which was fascinating to observe. 

In another project, we encountered a small house adorned with a traditional niche for a virgin in its entrance. This led us to discuss the meaning of identity. Despite being over 50 or 60 years old and not officially designated as heritage, we chose to preserve it. Why? Because it represented a prevalent architectural style in the area and throughout the city, signifying a sense of identity. Just like how people wearing the same shirt to support their soccer team reflects tradition and shapes who they are, architectural elements can also convey a shared cultural identity. Recognising this, we can decide not to demolish the existing structure, even if the client prefers a completely new and modern design. We can explain to them that the building holds its identity, and we can enhance it with new additions without erasing its past. It's about intervening while preserving memory and authenticity. Destruction isn't necessary for progress. We can discard outdated elements or ways of thinking, but there's no need to demolish everything. For instance, I used to advise my students to forget the names of objects. If I handed them a red disposable cup and said it was just an object, they might use it as a tool for building sandcastles or pretend it's a telephone by attaching a string. When you forget an object's specific function, you can explore new possibilities with it. Forgetting names opens up a world of creative potential. Similarly, with the house we discovered, although it seemed ripe for demolition, we could reimagine its purpose. That aspect made the project enjoyable. 

Shaping social spaces thoughtfully

JM: One of our projects currently under construction overlooks the lake. It involves modular housing units. However, there's a significant challenge. Firstly, it's affordable housing, which is not straightforward to achieve in Mexico. Here, they term it "social housing", but it lacks any social purpose. It's essentially less expensive housing. So, for this project, understanding what affordable housing entails in Mexico is crucial. Until recently, the budget for affordable housing used to be around 400,000 pesos, which is approximately 25,000 euros. This affordable housing project has a maximum budget of 1,800,000 pesos, equivalent to 100,000 euros. Exceeding this budget disqualifies it as affordable housing. Understanding and navigating this budget complexity is crucial yet often overlooked in traditional education. This tension between budget constraints and creative aspirations was a significant aspect of the project, highlighting the need for more realistic educational programs.

The project sits in an elongated plot with an adjacent lake and street, along with a nearby house. To optimise sunlight and views, we shifted all volumes by 15 degrees, creating a rhythmic pattern. This enabled most apartments to enjoy views of the lake and receive gentle morning sun, avoiding the harsh evening sun typical in that area. This exploration demonstrated how the form and distribution of buildings could be tailored to specific site conditions. Something very Tapatio, characteristic of Guadalajara, is that when you arrive, the building doesn't immediately reveal itself to you. It's sculptural, with a captivating interplay of light and shadows, but its purpose isn't immediately clear. This is something I appreciate in architecture, when it's more introverted, inviting exploration from within rather than being immediately understandable from the outside.

A language of light and landscapes

JM: I often link architecture to a language. Just like how we learn to speak, by imitating our parents, uttering our first words, and gradually learn to communicate. It may take several years before we grasp writing and structuring sentences. This process interests me, and I believe there's a similar process in how we learn architecture. Vocabulary plays a crucial role here. Take, for instance, the Japanese word komorebi, which translates to the contemplation of sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees. They have a specific word for that phenomenon that we don’t in Spanish (in english its dappled light). Here's another example: Shakkei is a Japanese term meaning "borrowed landscape". It refers to incorporating landscape elements from your neighbour's property, like trees, to enhance the view of your own site. Then there's the German word gemütlichkeit, which translates to feeling completely at home, snug and comfortable. The fascinating thing is that once you learn these words, you can use them as tools in your work. For instance, now that you know "komorebi" describes sunlight filtering through trees, you can utilise it in a project. It becomes part of your toolbox.