Remote realms of architectural freedom

EH: Being an architect in Mexico is particularly engaging. You encounter many unique aspects that you would need help finding in the so-called established countries. In Mexico, some things are completed, while others are still yet to be discovered. The situation here in Todos Santos is unique, with trucks passing outside your office or studio, as well as horses, chickens, birds, and more. This is characteristic of the local community. However, if you go to the mountains or forests, the scenarios and materials are entirely different. Todos Santos has its own unique geography, weather, society, and other characteristics that make this place truly distinctive. Baja California Sur is the region where we have chosen to live and primarily develop our work.

SD: Something very important to note is that there are fewer rules and bureaucratic processes for becoming an architect who can build in Mexico. I compare this with my family in Germany, and they tell me it's insane that I graduated, started my own firm, and am able to build right away. In Germany, just to give an example, you first need a master's degree, then two years of career experience, and then another permit to become an architect who can build. It's a whole other process. In Mexico, we don't have that. We go to architectural school, which is rigorous, but after graduation, we are able to build and have many opportunities to test our ideas in the field. We don't need an additional six years to get those permits. This is also why there are so many emerging architects and young firms. We all realise that we don't have to work at an office for ten years before starting our own practice. 

EH: We refer to Baja California as the end of the world. It feels like the end of the world because we are located in the North Pacific, the most separated piece of continent outside, with nothing else between here and Asia. It's not considered mainland; it's almost like an island due to its geography, being a very long peninsula. Interestingly, from Todos Santos, if you draw a straight line to Mexico City and another straight line to Tijuana (which is also in Baja California), Tijuana is farther away than Mexico City. This is surprising and highlights the remoteness of our location. Everything here must come either by ferry, crossing the Sea of Cortez, or by land, which means travelling 2,000 kilometres from north to south to reach us. This makes it challenging to bring in people, materials, and other necessities.

Unexpected lushness 

EH: The general perception of the peninsula is that it's a desert, right? However, this part of the South Peninsula has a lot of water. There are tall mountains, more than 2,000 meters high, that form a different ecosystem, a forest with water, oases, and palm trees. All of that water and minerals come down from the mountains and create rivers that end up in the ocean. Here in Todos Santos, one of the biggest rivers flows into the ocean, creating an oasis right next to the beach. This unique geography means you have the beach, which is truly amazing, combined with an incredible ecosystem. For example, you can see whales migrating from Alaska to Mexico and back, and it's one of the few places where you can sit on the beach and watch the whales without needing a boat. Additionally, the oasis refreshes the atmosphere, making it more than just a desert. While you can find desert-like conditions, there is also a lot of vegetation and water, creating a diverse and vibrant environment.

You know you're arriving in Todos Santos when you see the palm trees. It’s striking because, in the midst of the desert, you encounter a vast area covered in palm trees. This is a key feature of Todos Santos. Despite being in the desert, it has more water compared to other areas of the Baja Peninsula and Baja Sur, such as La Paz. Additionally, the positioning of the mountains creates a unique microclimate in Todos Santos. Consequently, the weather here is typically three to four degrees cooler than in San José del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas and five to six degrees cooler than in La Paz. This temperature difference adds to the distinctiveness of the region.

SD: There's a wide community of people from the United States that settled in Todos Santos, mostly from California. Initially, it was a relatively quiet town. However, as the Mexican Baja lifestyle gained popularity, younger people from California began moving here, creating more activity. This influx eventually included individuals from other states like Oregon and Colorado, although the majority were still from the United States. During COVID, Todos Santos experienced a significant increase in interest. Many people from various locations, including Mexicans, decided to move here. While some came due to the pandemic, many chose to stay long-term.

Towards a fresh start

EH: I left Mexico City to explore other parts of the country, including Veracruz, the forests, and the beaches of the Yucatán Peninsula. During the pandemic, I even considered moving to Portugal, but the numerous rules and regulations made it challenging. Since childhood, I've always loved Baja California, starting with my first family visit. Eventually, I decided it was time to move there. I took my motorbike, drove for three days, and crossed over on a ferry. Not realising I needed to book a private room, I ended up staying outside in the cold. Fortunately, a fellow traveller offered me 12 beers, saying, "Since we don't have rooms, let's drink to stay warm." It was a memorable and welcoming introduction to Baja. Upon arrival, my first impression was that Baja was very different, characterised by a slower pace of life, which I found appealing. I then had a second profound experience. Walking in the desert, I realised something important: living in Baja means confronting your inner self, as it's a place with few distractions. Unlike forests with tall trees and waterfalls, the desert offers low vegetation and rugged terrain. This stark environment creates a powerful experience for self-reflection and connecting with nature. The desert's raw beauty and the opportunity for introspection were significant factors in my decision to move here. The landscape's ability to facilitate personal growth and contemplation ultimately drew me to make Baja my new home.

SD: The reason I came to Baja was Elias, who was already living here. My first invitation to Baja came from him. At the time, I was still living and working in Mexico City, and although it was during the pandemic, I was content with my work in the art world, even though I did miss architecture. Despite the global chaos, Mexico City was still working well for me. However, Elias’s invitation prompted me to visit Baja for the first time. After just a couple of days, I realised that I needed to stay. I told Elias I needed six months to get everything in order. I quit my job and moved to Baja. This is how everything started. We officially started our practice a couple of years ago, in 2022. The first year wasn’t fully dedicated to the practice; it was more about collaborating on various projects, trying to earn a living, and figuring out whom to approach and how to proceed.

EH: A key figure in this story is Kevin, an architect in his sixties who played a crucial role. He welcomed us with open arms and invited us to collaborate on several interesting projects. Kevin was significant in our development and served as a mentor. I appreciated his energy and his role as a teacher, so I asked him if he was interested in formalising our partnership. He expressed uncertainty, he wanted to keep it as an independent collaboration. So, about two years ago, Shanik and I began collaborating more closely, and eventually, our own partnership was established.

Unconventional clients

SD: The community here is quite unique. When you think about it, living so secluded in the middle of the desert seems unusual. It takes a particular kind of person to endure this way of life, and perhaps a bit of eccentricity as well. For this reason, our clients also tend to be a bit unconventional—one might even call them "crazy geniuses."

EH: This level of informality is different from what we were used to, and it’s not an isolated experience. Many of our clients have unconventional requests, such as wanting a secret room in the middle of the desert, which we are advised not to talk about. Baja is not, and won’t ever be like Tulum or other more mainstream destinations. Its unique and extreme nature means it’s not for everyone. In fact, probably half the people who come here and try to settle end up leaving. 

SD: It’s a beautiful place, but it’s not for everybody. Many people are drawn to Baja, saying, “Oh, I want to move here.” However, they often find that after renting a place for a few months it’s too rough and complicated. They end up saying, “I have to go back,”. Our clients are quite particular and have specific desires. This is definitely a shift from what we were accustomed to in Mexico City, where the client base was more predictable and uniform. Here, the clients are constantly changing and tend to have a unique, sometimes eccentric quality. It has been a significant learning experience. With each client, we learn more about ourselves and how to interact effectively with them. In a small town like this, where the community is tight-knit, you’re likely to run into your clients at the market, the bar, or elsewhere, leading to constant contact. What has encouraged us to stay here is learning to adapt to these informal interactions and establishing clear boundaries. This has been one of our most important lessons: understanding and maintaining boundaries. As we navigate these unique dynamics, working with our clients becomes easier, which in turn motivates us to continue living and working here.

Structures of life

SD: “Hueso,” pronounced as “Weso,” is derived from the Spanish word for bone. The spelling might differ, but the concept remains the same. Bones are omnipresent, symbolising both structure and continuity, much like how they are a constant presence in our work and surroundings.

EH: Death and life are ever-present, and this duality is reflected in our work. We find beauty and inspiration in bones, structures that symbolise both the support of life and its inevitable end. Our fascination extends to the vertebrae, columns, and osseous structures that inform our designs. For instance, we were given a whalebone, which holds a special place in our studio. The desert has this vast, open, and somewhat daunting aspect that we find intriguing. It’s a place where challenges are palpable, and it inevitably brings out one's inner demons. This experience profoundly influences the people who live here, shaping the unique character of our clients and the distinctive nature of the architecture they request. The desert’s stark environment translates into very specific, often intense design requirements, reflecting the profound impact it has on those who choose to live and work within its bounds.

Casitas to utopian designs

EH: One of our first commissions was a small house, often referred to as "casita." Personally, I dislike this term. We started with this small residential project and then moved on to larger houses. The client, who is an English speaker from elsewhere, used the term "casita," which means a small house. In our current projects, we are deliberately avoiding this term. Instead, we prefer "cottage," "bungalow," "tent," or "glamping" to describe the project. We feel that "casita" doesn’t accurately represent our vision or the quality we aim to deliver.

SD: It might seem like a minor detail, but it actually is important. We now avoid using the term "casita" with our clients, but we recognise that it is a concept deeply ingrained in their language and thinking. Everyone here tends to be a bit sceptical, and it's interesting to observe how these cultural nuances influence our work.

EH: At the beginning of 2024, we were invited to work on a project involving an abandoned house in the desert near the beach. A real estate agency approached us to propose a design that would enhance the house and make it marketable for sale. They had contacted us and a few other architecture studios, something like a contest. We were excited about the opportunity and decided to take a unique approach. Instead of focusing solely on the sale, we aimed to create a statement reflecting the present state of the community and the rapid development occurring in the area. Our concept, which we called Biosphere 3, drew inspiration from the Biosphere 2 project in Arizona during the 1990s. In that experiment, various ecosystems—water, jungle, humans, and animals—were enclosed in a controlled environment for three years. For our project, we envisioned Biosphere 3 as a space integrating all the local ecosystems: desert, caves, ocean, and mountains. We designed it as a kind of contemporary Noah’s Ark. Although the concept is highly utopian and artistic, it aimed to make a meaningful statement about the area's unique environment. 

Even though the project won’t be executed, it was a valuable exercise for experimenting with new ideas. We divided the space into different sections and even staged a performance at one of the local restaurants, humorously promoting the house. We pitched it as a unique opportunity to own a private ocean, interact with sea lions, and coexist with bats. The presentation was deliberately satirical. The underlying statement was clear: with so many people buying land and building similar houses, we wanted to challenge the norm. Instead of creating another generic "casita" we encouraged potential buyers to think differently and infuse their projects with creativity and meaning. The goal was to create something truly unique and enjoyable. Our project embodies this spirit through its utopian and eclectic design.

SD: Although it wasn’t officially labelled a competition, there were essentially five other architecture firms involved. We anticipated that the expectations for the project were quite different from what we delivered. The other firms were likely expected to provide realistic renderings of how the house could look in order to facilitate its sale. When we discussed our approach with the person who invited us, we made it clear that our vision diverged significantly from the typical market-driven designs. We emphasised that we were opposed to the exploitation of land and the formulaic approach prevalent in the area. We stated that if we were to participate, our submission would reflect our unique perspective rather than conforming to conventional expectations. The response we received was, "It's not a competition, so feel free to do whatever you want." With that in mind, we decided to create a utopian concept in the midst of Cerritos, the area's touristy beach.

Simplicity in a harsh context

SD: For us, critical thinking and design are centred around three key elements: understanding our specific context, addressing the challenges it presents, and simplifying the construction process. Our context here is unique and often harsh, encompassing not just weather and topography but also community dynamics and various other factors. 

EH: One important principle we adhere to is simplicity. We avoid overly complicated designs and materials. For example, we are currently experimenting with cast concrete in an area where it hasn’t been used before. Traditionally, construction here relies on cinder blocks and different methods. By introducing cast concrete, we’re not only exploring new techniques but also ensuring that the process remains accessible and manageable for local builders. Our approach is to make things as straightforward as possible. Since we’re not in a city with abundant resources and experienced teams, simplifying the construction process benefits everyone involved. It makes the work easier for the builders and ensures that our projects are practical and feasible. 

In this region, cinder blocks are the most commonly used material. While not traditional in the ancient sense, since very few early societies inhabited Baja and they lived in rudimentary structures like caves or simple wooden shelters, cinder blocks have become the standard in modern times. Aside from cinder blocks, the local builders are also familiar with working with brick, clay, and stone. These materials are relatively affordable and widely understood in the area. However, it is unfortunate that cinder blocks have become the predominant material in Mexico. While they offer a straightforward solution, it’s not our preferred choice.

SD: Cinder blocks have become popular here primarily because they are a simple and cost-effective solution. Construction costs in Baja are significantly higher than in Mexico City, almost double, in fact. Therefore, efficiency and affordability are crucial in this context. Historically, people here didn’t hire architects. They would simply hire a builder and specify basic requirements like a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom, often resulting in basic, functional designs. The approach was straightforward: a big square for the living area, a small square for a bedroom, and so on. However, with the recent influx of new residents to Todos Santos, there has been a shift. More people are now hiring architectural firms to design their homes. This change reflects a growing appreciation for more thoughtful and well-designed spaces, moving beyond the traditional use of cinder blocks and the creation of simplistic "shoebox" homes.

A primitive workflow

EH: There's a phrase in Spanish that I love: "Si no te equivocas, estás equivocado," which translates to "If you don’t make mistakes, you are mistaken." It means that if you’re not making mistakes or trying new things, you’re probably afraid of taking risks and not fully engaging in the process. Making mistakes is essential for understanding and growth. We make mistakes all the time. We’ve only been here for three years and working actively for two, so it's a continuous learning process.

One project we’re particularly excited about right now involves clients who have undergone a profound personal transformation. They overcame substance addiction in the U.S. through the birth of their children. They came to this area with a vision to create a centre for truth. The project, named Etéreo, aims to be a healingcenter utilising psychedelics, positive experiences, nourishing food, and a conducive environment. We’re developing a master plan for this project, which includes private bedrooms and is set in a unique location—secluded in the mountains. The site itself adds an intriguing element to the project, enhancing its focus on healing and transformation. 

In this project, we are working with a site that lacks electricity, so everything will be powered by solar panels and alternative water systems. The complexity of the project is part of what makes it appealing to us. The design involves a straight line that divides the site, which spans about 10 hectares. This linear division is guided by the topography, which allows us to plan the construction effectively. On one side of the land, there is a cliff, which limits our design to a single axis. We aim to preserve as much vegetation as possible. The construction will proceed along this line, starting from one end and moving progressively towards the other, allowing us to build as we go while minimising disruption. Conceptually, the line represents a journey through the site, leading visitors through what we call the "Inferno" the "Purgatorio", and "Paradiso". These elements are deeply connected to the client's vision and the themes of psychedelics and spiritual transformation. The design will include ceremonial spaces, such as a whalebone structure for psilocybin ceremonies and bungalows or event spaces arranged in circular formations. These forms draw inspiration from structures like Stonehenge and the Espacio Escultórico at UNAM, integrating both conceptual depth and practical considerations into the design.

SD: It’s interesting how we often get commissions, such as this one, through unconventional means. Many of our clients come from casual interactions, playing tennis, attending the same morning classes, meeting at the market, or through mutual friends. Essentially, it’s all about word of mouth. In this small community, connections are fundamental. The network is quite informal: you have the architect, the chef, the doctor, each person playing a role in this tightly-knit environment. It’s a very organic, almost primitive way of doing business.