Chilean Modern Architecture since 1950 [1 ed.] 9781603443333, 9781603441353

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Chilean Modern Architecture since 1950

Number Eight: Studies in Architecture and Culture Malcolm Quantrill, General Editor

Chilean Modern

Architecture since 1950 Fernando Pérez Oyarzun Rodrigo Pérez de Arce Horacio Torrent Edited by Malcolm Quantrill With a Foreword by Bruce Webb Texas A&M Universit y Press

College Station

Copyright © 2010 by CASA (Center for the Advancement of Studies in Architecture) Manufactured in the United States of America All rights reserved First edition The Studies in Latin American Architecture series of CASA’s Studies in Architecture and Culture is published with supporting grants from the Graham Foundation for Advanced Studies in the Fine Arts, Chicago, and the Office of the Vice President for Research, Texas A&M University. Unless otherwise noted, drawings are by Umberto Bonomo. This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48–1992 (Permanence of Paper). Binding materials have been chosen for durability.

For a complete list of books in print in this series, see the back of the book. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pérez Oyarzún, Fernando, 1950– Chilean modern architecture since 1950 / Fernando Pérez Oyarzun, Rodrigo Pérez de Arce, Horacio Torrent ; edited by Malcolm Quantrill ; with a foreword by Bruce Webb. — 1st ed. p. cm. — (Studies in architecture and culture ; no. 8) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-1-60344-135-3 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 1-60344-135-2 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Architecture, Domestic—Chile—History—20th century. 2. Architecture, Domestic—Chile—History—21st century. 3. Architecture—Environmental aspects—Chile.  4. Architecture— Conservation and restoration—Chile.  5. Vernacular architecture— Chile— Valparaíso.  6. Valparaíso (Chile)—Buildings, structures, etc.  I. Pérez de Arce, Rodrigo.  II. Torrent, Horacio. III. Quantrill, Malcolm, 1931–2009.   IV. Title.  V. Series: Studies in architecture and culture ; no. 8. NA865.P47  2010 720.983—dc22 2009023280

contents Foreword The New Architecture of Chile: Bandaging the Wounded Site  vii Bruce Webb Introduction The Cultural and Professional Background of Modern Architecture in Chile  ix Fernando Pérez Oyarzun, Rodrigo Pérez De Arce, and Horacio Torrent Chapter 1 Theory and Practice of Domestic Space between 1950 and 2000  1 Fernando Pérez Oyarzun Chapter 2 Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  45 Rodrigo Pérez De Arce Chapter 3 Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  91 Horacio Torrent Notes  157 Index  165 In Memoriam: Malcolm Quantrill  175

foreword

the new architecture of chile: bandaging the wounded site

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here’s one thing we all know for certain about Chile: that the poet Pablo Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971 and became a national hero in his own country. In his personal life and in his poetry he took a bold stand against the violation of human dignity. The Nobel Prize Committee praised his poetry as “a celebration of the dramatic varieties in the Chilean landscape.” Chile is a long and narrow country, 2,800 miles from north to south and only 260 miles wide at its widest, a veritable longitudinal section of South America sandwiched between the Andes mountains on the east and the Pacific Ocean on the west. A professor of English at the University of Santiago named Galvez asked the rhetorical question: “How could a people living between such an ocean and such mountains exist without poetry?” Poetry is a way of taking possession of our circumstances, and in talking about the contemporary architecture of Chile and its theoretical underpinnings, one soon encounters the Amereida, a long, collective poem of origins whose name comes from the hypothetical joining of “America” and “Eneida” (Virgil’s Aeneid). It is a reflection on a north-south journey (traversia) from Chilean Patagonia to Santa Cruz de la Sierra in Bolivia, a safari undertaken by architects, poets, and intellectuals who set out in search of an authentic indigenous culture to counter the false aedicule constructed around the story of Columbus discovering America. To the writers of the Amereida, that Columbus stumbled upon America was merely a mistake, an impediment to his intended goal of reaching the East. These writers followed an axis that bisected the country, traversing what they referred to as the “inland sea”—in other words, that part of Chile that was of little interest to coasthugging Europeans. The Amereida was a poem of cultural rediscovery and renewal, forging a connection to the theoretically fertile school of architecture in Valparaíso. The poem forms part of Fernando Pérez Oyarzun’s contribution to this study, in which he confronts both theory and practice in

architecture. As an allegorical framework for the Chilean condition, it grounds the challenge of connecting European modernism with Chile’s past, as well as with local conditions. In the spirit of the Ame‑ reida the Valparaíso School founded the inventive and exploratory “Open City” on the coast at Ritoque, creating a fascinating laboratory for experiments in autopoetic construction. The story of this project is well documented in Ann Pendleton-Julian’s book The Road That Is Not a Road and the Open City of Ritoque, Chile. Rodrigo Pérez de Arce situates Chilean modern architecture between assured firmness and an acute precariousness. In a land of earthquakes and extreme climatic variations—rainfall in the south and extreme dryness in the northern deserts—architecture must find both poetic and practical inspiration to counter such adversity. De Arce’s discussion of material construction in several buildings from Chile’s modern period, the decades after World War II, shows how idea is transformed into substance. This in turn generates an architecture of heightened realism that is, however, “tempered by low budgets, the absence of extravagant technical means, [and] the threat of frequent earthquakes.” Horacio Torrent returns to the Amereida in his essay, linking architectural form to the land in a radical synthesis in which buildings themselves become the landscape, or at least part of it. One is reminded of Sverre Fehn’s analogy of the architectural project inevitably cutting into the site and wounding the terrain in the process. This requires the architect to dress the site with care and sympathy, ensuring that his formal design has the effect of applying a therapeutic bandage. Viewed together, these essays paint a picture of ideas that take seed as architecture in a vernacular landscape. There they grow and ripen into native fruits. In Malcolm Quantrill‘s series of studies in the architecture and culture of Latin America, of which this volume is part, the models of international modernism come back to us in new and original forms. Modernism is seen in these essays, not as an “end game” in itself, but as a responsive spirit that, in discovering the anima, or soul, of a place, attempts to identify also with the very essence of its nature. Bruce Webb, Professor Gerald Hines College of Architecture University of Houston, Texas viii  Foreword

introduction

the cultural and professional background of modern architecture in chile

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he tradition of a self-conscious architectural culture, differing from that of the colonial master builders and more clearly attached to the concept of professional practice, goes back, in Chile, to the late eighteenth century.1 It is connected with the presence and work of Joaquín Toesca in Chile over two decades.2 Born and educated in Italy, Toesca practiced in Spain as a collaborator of Francesco Sabatini. In 1780 Toesca arrived in Chile to take charge of the most significant constructions of the period. These included the coinage factory (La Moneda, now the Presidential Palace), the Mapocho river dikes, or tajamares, and the finishing of the new cathedral, begun by Vázquez de Acuña thirty years earlier. Toesca was responsible for the introduction of new and technically more sophisticated uses of brick masonry, and of a soberly simplified classical language employed in a manner that recalls some of the seriated procedures of the Baroque. The influence of some of Toesca’s disciples—for example, Goycolea— dominated architectural practice at the beginning of the nineteenth century, prolonging the dominance of that tradition for some years after the country had become independent from Spain. Not until the mid-nineteenth century was a new architectural manner, along with a new aesthetic sensitivity, introduced into the country. The change was wrought by the French architect Claude François Brunet de Baines, who in 1848 was appointed architect to the government by President Manuel Bulnes. Brunet had been educated in France, and he arrived in Chile at a moment of particular cultural flourishing. This was due to the presence of a group of distinguished immigrants, including a Venezuelan, Andres Bello, and two Argentinians, Bartolomé Mitre and Domingo Faustino Sarmiento. Brunet’s responsibilities included the design of institutional buildings commissioned by the government, as well as the education of a new generation of Chilean architects. A professional architectural course was therefore established and briefly directed by Brunet himself, until his death in 1855. This ef-

Fernando Pérez Oyarzun. Rodrigo Pérez De Arce, and Horacio Torrent

fort gave birth to the publication of an academic textbook on architecture, very probably one of the earliest in Latin America.3 His fellow country­man, Lucien Henault, was subsequently appointed to continue Brunet’s architectural as well as educational tasks, a role he continued to fill from 1857 to 1872.4 Both Brunet and Henault brought to Chile a more explicitly Beaux Arts architectural language, which had to be adapted to local circumstances, as it involved changes in both complexity and scale. The results of this early French connection can be easily recognized in buildings such as the Municipal Theater, as well as the Parliament Building and University of Chile buildings, all of which were erected in the second half of the nineteenth century. Private buildings and residences, such as the Palacio Pereira, were built using similar aesthetic criteria. Very few Chilean architects were educated under Brunet or Henault; among them were Aldunate and Vivaceta. During this period some Chileans were sent to study architecture abroad, a tradition that lasted until the beginning of the twentieth century.5 In this way, qualified architects continued to be brought to Santiago and other cities. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, other foreign architects arrived in Chile. Some of them came from France, such as Paul Lathoud, Emile Doyere, or Emile Jequier; others from Italy, such as Chelli, Provasoli, Brugnoli, and Cremonesi. Those of other nations included a German, Burchard, and the Spaniard, Forteza. Some were employed by the government, while others established themselves in private practice. They brought to Chile new forms and new technological methods, which were embodied in numerous institutional and private buildings, from schools to residences, and from churches to tombs. As a result, Chile came to possess one of the most interesting and complex architectures in nineteenth-century Latin America. The buildings erected on the occasion of the centennial celebration of independence, around 1910, represent the culmination of a cultivated style of architecture that was often inspired by European models. A century of political independence from Spain, and the increasing consciousness of a national identity, created in Santiago an architecture of monumental scale and effect. Buildings such as the Mapocho Railway station and the new Fine Arts Museum—site of the centennial art exhibition—both designed by Jequier, are representative of this attempt to re-create the quality associated with a European capital. Memorable public spaces, such as the Parque Forestal, were also inaugurated at that time. This project to establish x  Introduction

a new aesthetic order for Santiago was partially supported by significant infrastructure works, such as the canalization of the river and the implementation of a new sewage system, fundamental to improvement of health standards in the capital. Many attempts to reform the whole city according to Hausmannian criteria were proposed in the following years. Most failed to be accomplished, but the proposals themselves express some of the urban ambitions and dreams for Santiago at the turn of the century. With the indispensable support of foreign-born architects in Chile, formal courses on architecture were established both at the Universidad Católica and the Universidad de Chile during the 1890s. Thus, professional courses in architecture became a reality in Chile before they were realized in other Latin American countries. Later these courses were consolidated to became Schools and Faculties of Architecture, which not only provided education for successive generations of Chilean architects, but also became a significant factor in local architectural culture. Thus, by the second decade of the twentieth century, a new body of Chilean architects came into existence, having benefited from a well-grounded professional education. These architects began to be increasingly active throughout Chile, providing the basis for a truly Chilean architectural production. The new architectural ideas that emerged in Europe after World War I began to exert influence in Chile by the end of the 1920s. This influence led to both the appearance of new buildings, such as the Oberpauer and the Santa Lucía by Sergio Larraín and Jorge Arteaga, and to criticism of traditional teaching methods of the Schools of Architecture. These ideas were also reflected, at least to some extent, in the work of Juan Martínez, who designed the magnificent School of Law at the Universidad de Chile in the mid-1930s, and in the Cap Ducal restaurant built in Viña del Mar by Roberto Dávila Carson. These architects and others, such as Costabal and Garafulic, who designed the Santa Maria Clinical Hospital according to the new functional principles, were able to incorporate new European architectural trends although their own education had been in the old academic tradition. Others, like Mauricio Despouy, were able to design interesting residential buildings, or, like Jorge Aguirre, to collaborate in the design for the first modern institutional buildings of the state. Thus, modernist architects and their buildings began to permeate the academic environment of the Schools of Architecture in the late 1930s, though unofficially, since modernism was not taught in the Introduction  xi

schools. But not until the 1940s did a new generation of architects, definitely oriented toward modern ideals, become clearly recognizable. Emilio Duhart, Alberto Cruz, Fernando Castillo, Hector Valdes, and Mario Pérez de Arce were among the most significant of these new Chilean architects. From an urban viewpoint, the presence of the Austrian architect Karl Brunner, who visited Chile on two occasions during the late 1920s and the early 1930s, must be emphasized. Contacted by the Chilean Rodulfo Oyarzún Philippi in Vienna, Brunner became very influential in the renewal of urban ideas and practices in Chile. Brunner not only founded one of the first urban seminars in Latin America but, as an adviser to the Ministry of Public Works and to the city of Santiago, he was also able to introduce some significant urban innovations to the capital city. The emergence of a significant number of Chilean-born architects brought about a search for different ways of organizing themselves into professional societies and communities. The Sociedad Central de Arquitectos and the Colegio de Arquitectos de Chile, the latter founded in 1942 under the presidency of Alberto Risopatrón, were successive stages within this process.6 These organizations, like those in other parts of the world, not only provided a means of defending professional interests but also created a forum for discussion of architectural and urban issues. They also offered new cultural instruments for the dissemination of architectural ideas, for example, through journals and conferences.7 Chilean architects were already participating in the Congresos Panamericanos de Arquitectura y Urbanismo (Pan-American Conferences on Architecture and Urbanism) in the early 1920s, thereby gaining international awareness about communal problems within the profession and the discipline. This in turn facilitated greater access to political and academic institutions.8 Educational reforms, which had been promoted by students since the early 1930s, finally succeeded as attempts were made in the midto late 1940s to modify and improve the curricula in the Schools of Architecture by introducing new educational orientations received from abroad. These new directions derived mainly from the Bauhaus experience and the ideas of the modern masters, which became better known in Chile thanks to the arrival of journals and books from overseas. At the Universidad de Chile, the reforms that had failed in 1933 finally took place in 1945, and similar reforms were introduced xii  Introduction

at the Catholic University in 1949. As a result of the latter set of reforms, Sergio Larraín, who had become one of the leading architects in the country, was appointed first as director of the School of Architecture and then, in 1952, as dean of the Faculty of Architecture. Also in 1952, reform took place in the rather new School of Architecture at the Catholic University in Valparaíso, which had been founded some fifteen years before. As the result of the arrival of the architect Alberto Cruz, the poet Godofredo Iommi, and a group of young architects educated at the Catholic University in Santiago, reforms began that led eventually to the installation of a radically new curriculum. This was based on direct observation of the urban phenomenon and also received a significant influence from avant-garde poetry and art.9 Despite the small size of Chile as a country and its geographically peripheral location, a rich cultural and professional complexity is evidenced throughout the long process of institutionalizing architecture. The presence and the influence of this tradition is consequently reflected in Chile’s architectural production during the second half of the twentieth century. From the very brief account presented here, it is obvious that what happened within Chilean architectural practice and production during this period has much to do with the long history of the development of architecture as a discipline, as an instrument of social and political action, and therefore as a significant element in the process of modernization.

Introduction  xiii

Chilean Modern Architecture since 1950

theory and practice of domestic space between 1950 and 2000

The practice of architecture in Chile seems to have been closely connected with certain theoretical activities, which have accompanied the work of a significant number of architects as well as permeating the entire professional culture. This is fundamental to our understanding of architectural production in the second half of the twentieth century. Special attention has been given to the architecture produced in Chile during the last fifteen years, as reflected in international exhibitions and publications.1 In addition to social, political, or economic reasons, understanding how such a level of architecture has been attained in a small Latin American country must take into account the impact of this theoretical phenomenon. The peculiarities of this intellectual activity point to a strong focus on theory and to the presence of a variety of connections between theoretical thought and architectural practice. The discussion concerning the importance of architectural space is one example. Whether accepted, neglected, or rejected, this concept highlights the theoretical shifts that took place in the Chilean architectural environment between 1950 and 2000. By following the tracks of these alternatives, we can gain a better understanding of the ideas and values embraced by Chilean architects during that time. The importance attached to domestic design is one of the distinguishing characteristics of modern architecture. Designing a house has reached the status of a classic, in which the preferences and ideas of an architect are expressed. An architect’s thoughts about a house tell us a lot about his ideas concerning architecture as a whole—his concepts, convictions, and sensitivity. Thus, by following the evolution of house design, we can trace the path of Chilean architecture

1 F e rna n d o Pé re z O ya r zun

through the second half of the twentieth century. The number of significant houses designed during this period will not only afford us a synthetic view, but also provide indications of underlying theoretical activity. Our purpose here is to present the houses themselves, and also to recognize the architectural convictions and preferences that underlie them—the theory that implicitly or explicitly supports architectural projects. theory and design during the second half of the twentieth century The problem of striking a good balance between theory and practice has been a matter of dispute among architects since ancient times. In the first century b.c. Vitruvius defended the importance of theory as the basis for practice. However, agreement upon this question has still to be reached. Among modern architects, one can think of Le Corbusier, who wrote theory almost as much as he designed buildings. Yet other architects, such as Alvar Aalto and Mies van der Rohe, have been almost silent on theoretical issues.It would be erroneous to limit architectural discourse to what we find in architectural literature. Architects who not write for publication are still able to express their architectural ideas very effectively in their work. Thus, architectural thought can be found in different forms, varying from written discourse to its silent presence within architecture itself; each manifestation being capable of elucidating clear architectural positions. Nevertheless, throughout most of the history of architecture there have been repeated attempts to fix the theoretical component of architecture in a more explicit and systematic framework. Those who favor or oppose recognizing the significance of theoretical activity are influenced by cultural environments or by responses to individual sensitivities. Nevertheless, an increasing interest in generating theory seems to be apparent at moments when new attitudes toward projects emerge, requiring the support of an explicit theoretical discourse. The need to explain those new attitudes to others—whether colleagues or clients—gives importance to theoretical positions. In the Latin American context, the significance of Chilean theoretical activity during the second half of the twentieth century is quite remarkable. Not always explicitly connected with the profes2  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

sion, but always influential within practice, this theoretical component plays a significant part in architectural production. However, the Chilean case is not alone within the Latin American tradition of this field. Writings by Lucio Costa in Brazil in the early 1930s played a definitive role both in establishing modernism and in influencing the way avant‑garde attitudes were understood within local cultures.2 Another interesting case is that of the Institute of Architecture in Tucumán, which in the late 1940s attempted to renew the teaching of architecture in Argentina. In addition to its many international contacts, the institute was the locus of a significant theoretical production, exemplified in the writings of Vivanco, Sacriste, Tedeschi, Lapadula, Calcaprina, and others.3 During the 1960s and 1970s Claudio Caveri, well known as an architect and theoretician, also made a serious attempt in his writings to connect architectural design and philosophical speculation in Argentina.4 However, in spite of these and other Latin American examples, an accent on theory seems more clearly present in Chile, and this explains, at least in part, the achievement of a certain quality in Chilean architectural production. The School of Valparaíso is one of those distinctive poles of theoretical activity we may identify in Chile during the early 1950s. It emerged when a group of architects educated at the Catholic University in Santiago, led by Alberto Cruz Covarrubias and his friend, the Argentinean poet Godofredo Iommi, transferred to another School of Architecture at the Catholic University in Valparaíso. There they founded an Institute of Architecture, which was intended to promote architectural research and innovative practice. The institute seemed to offer the possibility of developing experimental projects which, accompanied by theoretical statements, criticized the bases of common, everyday architectural practice. Observation, introduced as a particular form of annotated drawing, was proposed as a method for generating the architectural project. Poetry was thought of as the starting point of modern architecture, as they began to understand it, and artists—that is painters and sculptors—sharing their radical views, were invited to enrich the design process of the project. The resulting principles were then applied both in the architects’ teaching and in their design practice. The ideas of the school, which have continued to be put into practice from 1952 until the present day, evolved naturally over time. One of the turning points in this evolution was the publication of Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  3

Amereida in 1967.5 As described above, in the foreword to this volume, the book consists of a long collective poem, written as a result of a journey undertaken by members of the school together with invited artists and intellectuals.6 This poetic journey began in Punta Arenas in the Chilean Patagonia, with the participants attempting to reach Santa Cruz de la Sierra in Bolivia, following the path of inner America, and performing a series of poetic acts during its course. Amereida emerged as a poetic chronicle and a reflection on the journey, becoming a fundamental reference for the school: the vision of America proposed by the poem permeated all the activities of the school from that moment on. In 1971 the ideas of the group were summarized in a book entitled Fundamentos de la Escuela de Arquitectura de la Universidad Católica de Valparaíso.7 Already in 1970 members of the school had founded the Open City, a mixture of utopian settlement and experimental camp, where a series of constructions, including family dwellings (called hospederías) and public spaces, were conceived and built. At ten-year intervals the school has organized a public exhibition in Santiago to put its ideas and achievements on view to the public. Praised by some and devalued by others, the School of Valparaíso has remained a point of reference in Chile and has been increasingly recognized internationally. The ideas of the Valparaíso School have undoubtedly permeated both teaching and practice across the country. The group formed by Juan Borchers, Isidro Suárez, and Jesus Bermejo provides another case of interaction between theory and practice. It originated in the friendship of Borchers and Suárez, who met in their native Punta Arenas, while studying together at the Universidad de Chile. In the late 1940s in Madrid, the two contacted the younger Jesus Bermejo, who was born in Galicia, Spain, and studied architecture at Tucumán in Argentina. He joined in the activities of the Borchers/Suarez group more formally after he moved from Argentina to Chile in the late 1950s, and he participated in the group’s most significant projects before returning to Madrid in 1973. Juan Borchers, the group’s leader, dedicated his life to study and research, alternating his activities in Chile with long stays in Europe. He was interested in the most varied theoretical issues, from the origins of Latin American cities to the mathematics of architecture. In the early 1960s, the group designed the Copelec building in Chillán and the Meneses house in Santiago. Both of these works reflect their concerns and sensibilities: a dense elaboration of Corbusian mor4  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

phology, permeated by an attempt to reach a maximum precision of architectural form through metrical control. These topics were a central concern in both Institución Arquitectónica and Meta‑Arquitectura, published by Borchers in 1968 and 1975 respectively. Borchers died in 1975, leaving a large legacy of unpublished work. Isidro Suárez, who died in 1986, taught in a variety of Chilean universities. Likewise, Jesus Bermejo taught in several Spanish universities after he left Chile. Their ideas and works constitute a permanent reference within Chilean architectural culture. José Ricardo Morales, who was more closely connected to academic institutions, made a significant contribution to the development of a more rigorous approach to architecture at both the Universidad Católica and the Universidad de Chile, in parallel with his activity as a playwriter. Born in Spain, Morales had participated in the Spanish Civil War on the Republican side, and had to leave the country afterward. He arrived in Chile in 1939 on board the Winnipeg, a ship that had been chartered in France by the poet Pablo Neruda to help exiled Spaniards find a new destiny in Latin America. Also on board were a number of other outstanding intellectuals and artists, whose influence was fundamental to the development of Chilean culture in the following years. Morales taught theory and history of art and architecture. In the field of history he was able to formulate a comprehensive vision of the development of art throughout the ages. In his classes, different arts were presented as interrelated and integrated. In the field of theory, he undertook both a critique of what he considered to be the prevailing theories of the moment, and the construction of his own theory, articulating his own ideas in the field. He published two books, Arquitectónica I in 1966 and Arquitectónica II three years later.8 The first of these provided a critical vision of what Morales considered the main theoretical poles in the field: the classical approach, functionalism, and organic architecture. He discussed these approaches, stressing the inability of any one of them to provide a comprehensive view of architecture. The book also gave him the opportunity to acquaint Chileans with some of the sources of contemporary architectural theory—Italians such as Zevi, and Germans such as Schmarsow and Riegl. In his second book, Morales developed his personal vision of architecture. Adopting a phenomenological approach, he began with the notion of man confronting vastness. He then inscribes upon this “field” such operations as orientation Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  5

and shelter, thus making possible the intensification of architectural space. The teaching of José Ricardo Morales left its mark on several generations of architects. His influence was felt in both the Universidad Católica and the Universidad de Chile. He brought to the Chilean environment an intellectual rigor as well as his knowledge of a number of topics which, at that time, were relatively unknown in the Latin American milieu. José Ricardo Morales’s criticism concerning spatial notions of architecture illustrates his intellectual position rather well, and allows us to capture a significant aspect of the local reception of modern architectural ideas. The chapter of Arquitectónica I dedicated to this topic was considered interesting enough to be included in a special issue of the Spanish magazine Hogar y Arquitectura (Home and Archi‑ tecture) published in 1970.9 The issue also featured articles and works by Borchers and other significant Chilean architects, such as Emilio Duhart. In his chapter, Morales discusses the incompleteness of spatial theory as an idea for realizing architecture, denouncing its lack of originality and contrasting it to the ideas of the German critics of the late nineteenth century, mostly those of Schmarsow. Locally, the concept of space had been, as elsewhere, a way of opposing an exhausted version of purely rational functionalism, seeking instead a more complex way of understanding architectural phenomena. The School of Valparaíso, for instance, had frequently made use of the term space to capture the poetic condition of architecture; meanwhile, Borchers had strongly opposed the use of this term as a key to understanding architecture. In any case, the term began to be increasingly used both in the practice and in the Schools of Architecture, clearly evidencing a certain shift in the perception of modern architecture. Assessing the situation retrospectively, and taking into account the above-mentioned cases as symptoms of a wider cultural environment, we can see that a high point in the field of theoretical activity was reached during the period 1965–70. Inevitably marked by a certain political inflection during the early 1970s, it reemerged with new strength during the 1980s. Postmodernist ideas became very influential among Chilean architects, while the theory and history of architecture proved once again their capacity to provide inspiration for the architectural project. Additionally, a new appreciation of pre6  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

existing contexts and conditions in the urban fabric spread widely among professional architects. A surge of editorial activity was also apparent during this period, with an increased production of both books and journals. During the mid‑twentieth century architectural production had been documented by only one or two journals. AUCA is the best known of these. During the same period books appeared rather infrequently. From the 1980s onward both journal and book production increased, and the quality was greatly improved. Journals like ARQ, published by the School of Architecture of the Catholic University, or CA, published by the Architects Association, and others published by universities or independent groups became influential in Chile, and helped Chilean architecture become better known abroad.10 These journals also provided opportunities for increased theoretical reflection, through the publication of individual essays, professional articles, and book reviews. Books made their own contribution by recording both historical and contemporary practice.11 Theoretical discussion was stimulated by all this publishing activity. Both theoretical and editorial discourses have developed continuously in Chile from the 1990s to the present, becoming established as one of the principal cultural polarities within Latin American architecture. The Architecture Biennale, founded in 1977 by the Architects Association, became a significant focus for local architectural discussion. In addition to the professional prestige gained by the exhibition itself, the biennale has definitely helped disseminate new ideas within a context that exhibits an increasing growth of cultural connections. tensions in the 1950s: between the local and the universal As was the case in other latitudes, the years following World War II brought a more mature and tolerant attitude toward modern architecture in Chile. Overcoming narrow and often naïve views of the avant‑garde, architects became free to make use of a wider and more refined vocabulary and also to seek connections with historical traditions. As a result, the younger generation were decidedly more radical and complex in their approach to design issues than their predecessors had been. Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  7

During the 1930s and 1940s the Chilean landscape had been enriched by some interesting but rather isolated works by architects such as Roberto Dávila, Juan Martínez, Sergio Larraín, and the younger Jorge Aguirre. They contributed by introducing into the country some of the ideas and spirit that had been so effectively sown throughout Europe and the United States. Their cultural role was reinforced by their teaching at various Schools of Architecture, forging a permanent link to the younger generation. Nevertheless, this generation often entertained doubts about the principles of the modernist movement. No matter how talented and cultivated their elders were, or how much praise their work received, the following generation introduced modern ideas in a more radical and comprehensive way. Only during the late 1940s and early 1950s did this new generation of architects manage to impose their terms for a new architecture, opening the possibility for its increasing dominance in both the private and public spheres of building. Three outstanding houses built during this decade will help us to characterize, as well as to gain a better understanding of, the architectural attitudes and ideas held by their authors, who were key participants in the Chilean architectural revolution at that time. Emilio Duhart is a good example of that generation’s characteristics. Born in Chile to a French immigrant family, he completed high school in France but returned to his native country to study architecture at the Universidad Católica in Santiago. Belonging to the same generation as Hector Valdés, Fernando Castillo, and Alberto Cruz, after finishing his undergraduate studies Duhart pursued graduate studies at the Graduate School of Design at Harvard University, where Walter Gropius was his teacher and I. M. Pei and Philip Johnson were among his classmates. He then associated with Sergio Larraín García Moreno, probably the most influential professor at the Universidad Católica School of Architecture. Following his return from Harvard, he himself became one of the key teachers in the school, responsible for a design studio and a course in urbanism. Duhart’s own house, designed and built in 1948, was located in Vaticano Street in Las Condes. The place was, at that time, a suburban area on the east side of Santiago. The inverted pitched roof of the house crowned a simple volume and referred inevitably to the Errázuriz house designed by Le Corbusier for a Chilean diplomat in 1930. However, the lightness of the enclosure and the use of natural stone and timber recall some of the houses designed by Breuer in 8  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

the United States. In spite of being located in an area that was supposed to follow the pattern of a garden city development, the house with its T‑shaped plan is located on the border of the site, generating two patios. This arrangement avoids the idea of the isolated volume in the center of the site, the typical scheme of garden city developments. Instead, the house is able to conform to urban regulations and embrace a central patio scheme that refers to the traditional urban fabric. The continuity, especially between the living area and the garden, seeks a special fluidity between interior and exterior, becoming one of the most stable architectural intentions in the following years. Selected by Henry Russell Hitchcock for inclusion in an exhibition and publication on Latin American architecture organized by the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1951, this house provided a model for the emerging generation of Chilean architects. The way international trends and ideas were combined with local motifs is illustrated again by the Mingo House in Santiago. It was designed by the firm of Valdés, Castillo & Huidobro in association with Arturo Urzúa in 1955. Hector Valdés, Fernando Castillo, and Carlos Huidobro belonged to the same generation as Emilio Duhart, and had all studied at the same school. They established an architectural firm during the 1940s and later, with the addition of Carlos Bresciani in the 1950s, became one of the most significant firms in Chile over two decades. Valdés and Castillo also became influential professors at the Catholic University in Santiago. Subsequently, Fernando Castillo was rector of that university from 1967 to 1973, while Bresciani became dean of the Faculty of Architecture in the Catholic University at Valparaíso. Commissioned by a young industrial entrepreneur, the Mingo house can be seen as the culminating achievement in a series of houses designed and built by this office from the mid‑1940s onward. Though located in the same area as the Duhart house, it occupies a considerably larger site. At first view, the house resembles a conventional modern design of the mid‑1950s: a single‑story, horizontal volume, executed in light materials. Thin columns support a flat roof in a way reminiscent of Mies van der Rohe’s sensibility, except that its construction shows more stylish ways of employing colored materials and protective steel grilles for the windows. The plan of the house is organized around two patios, both conceived as modern interpretations of traditional urban forms. One of these, located in a central position, could be covered by a retractable Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  9

Emilio Duhart House, 1948, Emilio Duhart. Photo by A. Montealegre., Emilio Duhart Arquitecto, Ediciones ARQ, p. 54.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Mingo House, 1955, Valdes, Castillo, Huidobro, Urzua. Photo by Rene` Combeau.

Mingo House, inner patio. Photo by Renè Combeau Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Sergio Larraín House, 1959, Sergio Larraín and Jorge Swinburn. Photo by Jocelyn Froimovich.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

steel-and-glass roof. The second is conceived as a garden that, in a way, recalls Mies’s patio houses and expands the living area into the exterior. The strict discipline of the plan, combined with precision in the details, results in a masterpiece. The way the house is located in the lot speaks, once again, about the prestige gained by patio houses on the international scene, at the same time offering a critique of the conventional rules for the garden city area in which it is located.12 The reference to the traditional urban house, which had been made lighter in a way reminiscent of contemporary Brazilian architecture, speaks of the oscillation that characterized Chilean architecture in this period. A certain climax of this tension between local traditions and international innovation is represented by the house that Sergio Larraín built for himself and his family in 1959. Born in the first decade of the twentieth century, Larraín was older than Duhart, Valdés, Castillo, and Huidobro. In fact, he had taught all of them. As a member of the older generation, and in spite of the importance of some of his early works, Larraín had assumed a much more skeptical and ambiguous attitude toward the new architecture.13 But it was perhaps this same attitude that allowed him to undertake the project for this residence. The context of this house shows a certain displacement that removes it from the purely innovative notions of modern architecture, locating it instead in one that allows references to and connections with local traditions to be opened up. In 1958 Larraín, then dean of the Faculty of Architecture at the Catholic University in Santiago, terminated his partnership with Emilio Duhart, with whom he had worked since his return from the United States in 1945. Following his advice, the Catholic University had purchased an old colonial house with the intention of moving the School of Architecture into it. The piece of land for sale was probably more than the university needed. Sergio Larraín bought the remaining part of the lot, which included a small colonial house attached to the main one. He intended to adapt this smaller unit as his own residence. The rest of the lot was subdivided, allowing the construction of new residences for his son and daughters, as well as a small housing development. That Sergio Larraín, one of the promoters of modern architecture in Chile, had recommended the conversion of an old colonial building into the new home for the Faculty of Architecture speaks quite clearly about the evolution of his convictions, which at that time were very focused on local vernacular examples.14 Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  13

His personal decision to move from his previous residence, a modern bungalow, must have come as a surprise to his fellow architects in Chile. Conversion of the colonial house, executed in association with young Jorge Swinburn, included an interior renovation, creating a wide room for the living area, and the addition of two new wings toward the east and west, respectively. The new west wing, containing a library and services, was detached from the old house, and included a patio that served as a new entrance for the original building. Materials salvaged from old houses were used for exterior pavements and the enclosure of an old “corredor,” or open veranda. The old house preserved its simplicity and sobriety but became slightly abstracted and amplified within the new architectural composition. The additions were built in ordinary white painted brickwork with the aim of producing a modern equivalent of ancient adobe walls. As different as these three houses are, they all share the same intention: to connect modern architecture with the past, or at least with prevailing local conditions. The historical connection is more obviously apparent in the case of the Larraín house, but for all three, beneath their modern language lay the search for an architecture of appropriate character. The question about specific character in confronting the inter­ national nature of modern architecture would become one of the most persistent in Chile—perhaps not so different from other countries—in the years immediately following. The search for spatial continuity seems also to have been a shared concern. More apparent in the transparency of the Mingo house, this issue is also present in the connections of living and bedroom areas to their respective exteriors in Duhart’s house, and even in the way in which Sergio Larraín turns the subdivided interior of the existing house into one single and continuous space. the 1960s and the alternative house During the 1960s a new sensitivity to modern architecture brought the opportunity to crystallize modernism in relation to established cultural forms. This attitude was not merely focused on adapting forms and ideas to the local conditions, but had the more ambitious 14  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

Jorge Swinburn House, 1964. Photo by Jorge Swinburn.

Jorge Swinburn House. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Jorge Swinburn House, entrance gallery. Photo by Jorge Swinburn.

aim of questioning modernism’s central orientation and tenets. Those convictions of the Valparaíso School and the Borchers studio, which challenged the conventional notion of modern architecture, had matured during the 1950s. However, there were neither significant publications nor buildings to demonstrate how those ideas might be embodied in actual examples. The Valparaíso School had failed to get the commissions for the Pajaritos chapel and the Achupallas urbanization through which they had hoped to put their convictions into effect.15 They had also failed to win the new Navy School competition, despite the best efforts of not only the academic staff but also the entire school. In 1960, however, they received a very important commission: the construction and/or reconstruction of a number of churches in southern Chile that had been damaged by a severe earthquake. This commission was to yield significant results in subsequent years. Almost at the same time, another commission was received by Fabio Cruz, one of the founders of the school: a house for his parents in Santiago. This project would offer Professor Cruz, and also the school, the opportunity to test the range and scope of their theoretical proposals—among them, the role of observation in the generation and construction of a project, and the possibilities of a collective approach to architectural design. In 1957 Juan Borchers returned from a long stay in Europe. His presence in Chile had activated the group for which he was the magnet. Notable members included Isidro Suarez and Jesús Bermejo, the latter settling in Chile in 1958. By that time, Borchers had arrived at a certain synthesis of his investigations into the problem of architectural proportions, trying to reach a contemporary vision of architecture’s mathematical foundations. The commissions to build both the Copelec building in Chillán and the Meneses house in Santiago, occurring in the early 1960s, presented the opportunity for him to test his theory against actual results. Obviously the total architectural production of the decade extends far beyond the activity of these exceptional groups, but their unique visions furthered the evolution of Chilean architecture, imprinting a distinct character upon it. More closely connected to the professional mainstream is Jorge Swinburn, who at that time was still working for Sergio Larraín. Swinburn is a good representative of the younger generation who had entered the profession at the same time. Refined, talented, and cultivated, Jorge Swinburn shared ideals with other architects educated like himself at the Catholic Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  17

Meneses House, 1963–64, Juan Borchers, Isidro Suárez, Jesus Bermejo. Photo, Fondo Juan Borchers, Archivo de Originales Centro de Información, Sergio Larraín. Garcia Moreno. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

Meneses House, dining area. Juan Borchers designed the table. Photo, Fondo Juan Borchers, Archivo de Originales Centro de Información, Sergio Larraín. Garcìa Moreno. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

University in Santiago—for example, Rodrigo Marquez de la Plata— who searched for meeting points between modernist iconography and abstractions rooted in local traditions. Returning to the Valparaíso School, the Cruz house, for the parents of Fabio Cruz, challenged both the conventional forms of a residence—even those conceived as modern examples—and the process for its design. As a first urban gesture, the conventional lot in a Santiago neighborhood, once again part of a garden city development, was divided into two triangular areas by a diagonal line. The volume of the house was located in one of those resulting triangles. The other area was to become a patio. The house volume was perforated by a variety of windows, blurring any recognizable sense of levels, so that it resembled the organization of a Cubist composition. The inner space was conceived as free‑flowing, suggesting that continuity Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  19

and richness of views are more important than the distinction of specific areas. At the entrance level, an ascending circulation element led to the inside of the house like a “trough,” creating a particularly rich interior promenade. The living areas are accommodated in an unconventional way, making use of the variety of levels provided by the plan. Taking a look into the design process, we can see how the Cruz house broke conventional rules. Once a general plan, roughly corresponding to the main structure, was conceived, it was actually built in the form of a three‑dimensional, reinforced concrete grid. The enclosure and the partition walls, most of which are timber, were designed and built afterward. The building process itself, therefore, brought an opportunity to reflect on how the already built portion of the house was able to inspire its subsequent progress. Thus, there existed a concept of improvisation, offering openmindedness to the suggestions of actual conditions experienced during construction: all this radical thinking was incorporated into the process of actually making this unique house. Once completed, the Cruz house was not only recognized as a significant work of the period, but also became established as a model for future projects of the Valparaíso School. Many of the architectural concepts that appeared later in the Open City refer to the Cruz house as their primary source.16 Belonging to a similar trend, the Meneses house, designed by Borchers, challenged the garden city pattern in its own way. The house is built with a combination of reinforced concrete and brick masonry. The plan is dominated by a central void, a twisted square from which the main walls project in a swastika‑like scheme. A major square, containing the virtual limits of this expanding form, generates four triangular areas that correspond to the main rooms of the house: living room, master bedroom, gallery, and kitchen. Other bedrooms are located in an adjacent volume. The curvilinear and monumental bathrooms are conceived as reinforced concrete volumes attached to the perimeter of the house. Some services are accommodated in an independent volume built of timber. Beyond the particularities of its geometry and its precise proportions, which belong to the cubic series by Borchers, two central ideas characterize the architectural strategy behind the design of this house.17 First, the complete surface of the lot was conceived as the house plan, so that the exterior spaces are an integral part of

Cruz House, 1960, Fabio Cruz and members of the School of Valparaíso group. Photo, School of Architecture archive, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Cruz House, living room, intermediate level. Photo, School of Architecture archive, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

the overall geometry; this means that each of the interior spaces has a complementary exterior space that expands it. Second, the hierarchic relationships established between massive walls and light screens allow different possibilities for the actual use of the house. This structural approach offers a criticism of strict functionalist attitudes that make architectural form dependent on function. The Meneses project was conceived prior to its building process, so there was no role for improvisation comparable to that in the Cruz house. Nevertheless, once again, a series of significant decisions were made during the actual building process. Suspicious of the capability of conventional representation to transmit the complex reality of architecture through drawings, the designer accorded the actual construction process a significant role in the final architectural result. In contrast to the exceptional qualities of these two houses, both of them powerful but nevertheless isolated statements, the contemporary Swinburn house can be seen as representing a particular generation of professionals educated at the Catholic University in Santiago. Jorge Swinburn built his family house in the Pedro de Valdivia Norte neighborhood, close to Sergio Larraín’s own residence. Swinburn was at that time a young and talented architect working in Larraín’s office. He had collaborated on the renovation of the Larraín house, sharing with his employer an interest in local traditions. He was part of the generation, including Rodrigo Márquez de la Plata and others, that tried to achieve a synthesis between modern architecture and the old colonial tradition. His own house not only represents one of the culminating moments of his own career, but is also one of the high points of domestic architecture in Chile. Located on the slope of San Cristóbal hill, the house plan was conceived as an H‑like form, generating two patios. The first one faces the street and also serves as the formal entrance to the house. The second, conceived as the plan’s core, connects to a garden that, ascending into the slope, mediates between the house and and the natural terrain of the hill. The obvious reference seems to be the traditional urban grid and the colonial past. Located within a garden city urban expansion, the design of the house had to overcome restrictions imposed by urban regulations to achieve its patio scheme. In the modern interpretation of the traditional patio, its use as a privileged living space, with references to the simple white volumes of colonial buildings, seems to be key. The two white-painted longitudinal volumes, built Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  23

Sergio Larraín House, living and dining areas. Photo, Fondo CA. Archivo de Originales Centro de Información Sergio Larraìn García Moreno. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

in ordinary brickwork, are connected by a gallery that acts as the boundary between the two patios. Formally, these refer to the modesty and simplicity of local colonial architecture. The eastern one accommodates living and dining rooms, kitchen, and services, while the western wing contains the bedrooms. The whole house, with its single-pitched roofs, presents a modest yet elegant appearance. Even the sloped garden, also designed by the architect and containing a swimming pool he conceived as a fountain, seems to refer to the old tradition of cármenes (gardens located on a slope, typical of Granada, Spain, consisting of a series of terraces) in southern Spain. Swinburn represents the emergence of a very refined generation

24  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

of professionals who were able to interpret the heritage of the masters in a mature and openminded way, blending it with local motifs and traditions. As in the Benedictine chapel or the Sergio Larraín house, the white volume is less a reference to abstraction or to the industrial world, than a gesture in search of a poetic and spiritual expression. utopian alternatives in the 1970s The decade of the 1970s was clearly marked by the political turmoil that affected Latin America generally and Chile in particular. First Allende’s government, and later Pinochet’s military dictatorship, strongly polarized social and cultural life. The consequently tense political situation, combined with the economic crises that also occurred in the 1970s, resulted in a decline in architectural production. Issues such as social housing tended to occupy the center of public debate, and it is rather difficult to find many significant family houses in that period that are worthy of mention. The early 1970s were marked by interestingly grouped residential projects, such as Conjunto Copalén, by Christian de Groote; Quinta Michita by Fernando Castillo, Cristián Castillo, and Eduardo Castillo; or Los Carpinteros by Flaño, Nuñez & Tuca. At the end of the decade, and perhaps in the wake of relative economic stabilization achieved by the Junta regime, some interesting works by Christian de Groote, such as the Slachevsky or the Ross houses, constitute a prelude to the many remarkable residences that he would design during the following decade. Two houses designed by Enrique Browne and Jaime Bellalta in Charles Hamilton Street, Santiago, in the difficult year 1974–75 are also of great interest. Known as Casas Parrón (Vine Arbor Houses) they conceive the intermediate spaces as the core of the house. These houses not only forecast some of the directions Browne’s future work would take, but also manifest a theoretical attitude that gained importance in the following years. This approach seeks a regional identity, paying particular attention to geographical conditions. Among the events of those stormy years, the foundation of the Open City in 1970, by members of the Valparaíso School, should be given special attention. The Open City—a cross between an experimental camp and a utopian settlement—was a place where a new Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  25

kind of dwelling could take form and a new way of conceiving architecture could be explored. Following the ideas established in Ame‑ reida, this new way of life included the idea of hospitality as a central focus, and it also supposed a poetic conception of the world. Social utopias dominated the political scene, and this poetic statement represented an alternative vision. In the Open City, the idea of hospedería (hostelry) replaces the conventional family house. Hospederías are normally inhabited by one or two families but not considered as private properties. They normally admit other uses, eventually public ones, and are open to receive guests. Occasionally, the name hospedería is given to buildings designed for different purposes, such as study rooms or workshops, perhaps alluding to the essential capacity of architecture to host human life, but considered in a broader sense. The Doble Hospedería or Hospedería del Banquete (Double or Banquet Hostelry, 1974) is one of the most radical examples of this type of structure within the Open City. Viewed from the outside, it looks like a complex and informal volume, as if it were the result of innumerable additions. Its material presence is modest, consisting of the most commonplace timber construction, combined with the complexities of an extremely organic volume. The interior is conceived as a series of strongly self‑centered spaces, as if there were no interest in producing visual connections with the sand dunes that surround the building. The formal complexities of the volume come not only from the architect’s preferences but also from the project method, which involved a collaborative process known as en ronda.18 The interior arrangement was conceived as a somewhat labyrinthine form. A wide living room associated with a kitchen provides the common core of two, more private sets of rooms. Located on an upper floor is a studio, with an autonomous connection to the exterior spaces, that complements the Doble Hospedería’s architectural brief. Certain distinctive elements, such as the column bases or the pavements, are conceived as particular architectural events. These emphasize the lack of unity that characterizes the building, when considered from a conventional viewpoint. Following the poetic bases of the Open City, the hospederías are conceived not only as typical dwelling spaces but also, more particularly, as poetic ones, challenging the form and the brief of a conventional house. 26  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

Juan Purcell Doble Hospederia, c. 1974, Open City, Ritoque. Alberto Cruz and members of the Open City Group. Photo, Corporación Cultural Amereida. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Doble Hospedereia, studio. Photo, Corporaciòn Cultural Amereida.

tradition, identity, and context during the 1980s During the 1980s, under the military Junta, Chile witnessed the first signs of economic recovery. Following an international trend, the professional milieu came to be dominated by a new interest in traditional architectural and urban values. New publications like ARQ and events like the Architecture Biennale in the Fine Arts Museum, offered an arena for professional discussion in which questions about local identity and historical reinterpretation played an important role. These new attitudes made a valuable contribution to the development of architectural theory and to the reevaluation of urban heritage. However, the understanding of the prevailing architectural ideas proved somewhat superficial, and even with the acceleration of economical activity, it did not bear much valuable fruit. Only a handful of buildings conceived in that era would survive the test of time in the following decades. Some of the most interesting works of the 1980s seem to have been produced at a certain distance from this theoretical discussion, although undoubtedly affected by it. During this decade, for example, Christian de Groote produced some of his most remarkable houses, as did several of the architects attached to the Valparaíso School—for example, Cristián Valdés and Miguel Eyquem. Christian de Groote was particularly perceptive in his concern for Latin American identity. Born in Cuba, he spent part of his childhood in Mexico, and then studied architecture at the Catholic University in Santiago. Later, he pursued graduate studies at the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago, where he met Hans Hollein as a fellow student. He returned to Chile in 1958 and worked with Emilio Duhart on the United Nations building in Santiago (1960), probably the most significant building under construction in the period. He established his own practice in the early 1960s, and since then his work has been well received and widely respected. His designs range from industrial buildings to furniture and other objects, and the quality of these products resulted in his being honored with the National Award for Architecture (Premio Nacional de Arquitectura) in 1993. After he designed his own house in 1961, de Groote received many Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  29

significant residential commissions. His prestige peaked in the 1980s when he, along with Hugo Molina, designed an amazing set of houses, many of them on a very large scale. The idea of drawing inspiration for their designs from the geographic conditions of a site can be seen as one of his most enduring contributions. This search for a specific geographical identity protected de Groote against the dangers of a too simplistic postmodernism, of the kind that prevailed among so many architects during that period. In 1980 de Groote designed a weekend house in Algarrobo—a seaside resort near Santiago—for Constanza Vergara. It is not a very large house. On the contrary, the project had to deal with the constraints imposed by a medium‑size program and budget, in addition to the peculiarities of the site. Located between a coastal street and the seashore, the triangular lot imposes strong conditions on the design. The scheme proposed by de Groote is delicately contextual but avoids many of the conventions then in use. A masonry wall of local stone protects the house from street traffic, creating a platform that opens towards the seaside. Located over this platform, the main volume is constructed of timber, contrasting its material delicacy against the roughness of the stone. Thus, the house has the appearance of some kind of monumental furniture carefully posed over the stone platform, reaching a near-perfect balance between contextual sensitivity and an object‑like autonomy. The horizontality of the volume, which is open to the sea, is broken only by the main bedroom, located on an upper floor. The quiet and transparent façade is modulated by the regularity of the windows. Although the design explicitly seeks visual and functional continuity between interior and exterior spaces, the house still stands as a precise and material object. The pragmatic poetics and technical precision that characterize de Groote’s architecture are well exemplified in this house. Miguel Eyquem is another team member of the School of Valparaíso. He participated from the start in the project for the Instituto de Arquitectura in the Catholic University in Valparaíso. Since then, his career has remained closely allied to the school. Although he has undertaken commissions as an independent architect, he has always developed them by starting from the convictions and methods shared by the Valparaíso group. He maintained the same attitude even during his brief participation in public administration, when he served in the Corporación de Mejoramiento Urbano (Urban Improvement Corporation, CORMU) in the 1960s. At CORMU, he 30  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

Constanza Vergara House. Photo, Guy Wemborne.

Constanza Vergara House Algarrobo, 1980, Christian de Groote, Hugo Molina. Photo, Guy Wemborne. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Peña House, Colina, 1980, Miguel Eyquem. Sketch, Miguel Eyquem.

was in charge of the San Luis project, a significant work of urban renewal, attempting to envision it as a radically new urban experience.19 The commission for the Peña house (1980) came from Eyquem’s friend, the remarkable entomologist Luis Peña. Its brief was, therefore, not a conventional one. The client was an unmarried scientist, whose demands included space for laboratories and a room for entomological collections. The house was conceived as an investigation of form, construction, and environmental problems, and its design had to work within a limited budget and very simple means of construction. There was no formal contractor, and Eyquem and Peña themselves had to lead the construction process. This building process was understood as a kind of self‑build experience. It resembles others that took place during that period, although now interpreted in more poetic terms. In this context, the Peña house is not far removed from the experiments of the Open City. The site of the Peña house was on a hill in a suburban area to the north of Santiago.The concept for the plan was a very simple one: a square rotated through 45 degrees permitted Eyquem to orient the house in relation to both the sun and the predominant winds. This initial schematic gradually eroded during the development of the project, reaching a point at which the initial geometric traces became scarcely recognizable. A small interior patio is conceived as the nucleus of the house. Following the existing topography, the floor ascends from the entrance in a series of platforms. This, together with the curvilinear surface of the ceiling, creates the sense of the interior as a continuous flowing space. A double roof allows the wind to pass through it, refreshing the house during the hot, dry summer. 32  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

Peña House, Miguel Eyquem. Photo, Fernando Pérez. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

The main structure is of reinforced concrete. It consists of a series of slender columns, supporting Vierendeel beams, which are located so as to form a series of parallel structural lines. The enclosure is fabricated in brick and glass. The apparent complexity of the house volume is strictly regulated by the superimposed and contrasting order of a series of layers, including the floor, the structural grid, the ceiling, and the roof. The house behaves as a kind of filter that is affected by wind and light. Thus, while sensitive toward its context, the house does not appear as the expected image of a contextual building. Oriented according to American geographic coordinates, experimental in the use of reinforced concrete, seeking for spatial complexity and continuity: this house is perhaps the best example of the possibilities offered by the Open City to inspire a unique architecture, one that is not limited by its own boundaries. The house built by Cristián Valdés in Pirque (1990) is part of a series conceived after he designed his own house in Santiago (1966). Valdés began to study architecture at the Catholic University in Santiago. However, his architectural sensitivity seems to have been shaped more by his travels and his studies at the Catholic University of Valparaíso, to which he transferred and from where he graduated in 1961. In addition, he was influenced by his experience at his father’s furniture factory. As part of the team participating in the Cruz house (discussed above), Valdés considered that experience as the point of departure for his personal work as an architect and designer. His own house in Santiago, the one he designed for his sister on a neighboring lot, and the García Huidobro house in Santo Domingo, although built of different materials, share a similar concept, including the central role assumed by the architectural promenade. Apart from his architectural work, Cristián Valdés is considered one of the most significant industrial designers in Chile. His furniture designs are among the most valuable contributions to that field in Chile and Latin America. In the 1980s, Pirque was a rural area, located 20 kilometers to the southeast of Santiago; it subsequently became part of a suburban development process. The idea of re-creating some of the conditions of traditional local architecture was the source for several neo‑traditional houses in the area. This connection to the traditional Chilean country house must have been considered by Valdés, who filtered it through the screen of the Valparaíso School concepts and methods. Thus, not being obviously reminiscent of traditional rural architec34  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

House in Pirque, Cristian Valdés,1990 Photo, Cristian Valdés.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

House in Pirque. Photo, Cristian Valdés.

ture, the Pirque house seems to have been inspired by the proportions and ways of using a site that belong to this tradition. The general plan included separate elements distributed over the site: an entrance gate, a curvilinear path leading to the main house, a guardhouse, and a swimming pool. All serve as strategic points of the scheme, with the intention of dominating the 7,000 square meters of the lot. The house itself is stretched toward a linear scheme, in which two nuclei are connected by a long promenade including a ramp. The first of these nuclei corresponds to the private area containing the bedrooms. The second accommodates the public area, in which the living room expands toward a patio shaded by an existing old tree. This patio, shares the same pavement with the living room, is slightly sunken below the ground level to produce an exterior precinct within the rather flat lot. In this project, both the patio and the long promenades that characterize the traditional rural house have been abstracted and reinterpreted, in the tradition of the Valparaíso School. Inverting the common notion, the circulation here is not merely presented as a service space, but acts as the core of the house. With respect to materiality, Valdés’s houses differ, in spite of their similarities: while his own house had originally been conceived in steel and brick and García Huidobro’s in timber, the Pirque residence presents a variation in timber and stonework. The house in Pirque, like the whole of Valdés’s work, speaks about the tendency to move toward the philosophy of the Valparaíso School, confirming the role the school has played within Chilean architecture during the second half of the twentieth century. Evidence of this tendency is visible in the work of architects such as Juan Baixas, Tomás Browne, José Cruz, Enrique del Río, Cazú Zegers, and many others. a new generation emerges During the last decade of the twentieth century Chilean architecture received wide‑ranging international recognition. As a part of this phenomenon, a new generation of architects has entered the international scene.20 The Chilean pavilion, designed by José Cruz and Germán del Sol, for the Seville international exhibition in 1992, generated considerable interest, resulting in a number of publicaTheory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  37

tions and exhibitions in different countries.21 Most of them celebrate the names of very young Chilean architects, whose work it would be premature to evaluate here. We are still too close to their achievements, and we therefore lack the perspective necessary for adequate assessments. Nevertheless, we can provisionally define this new generation as a rather pluralistic movement that includes quite different sensibilities. Reflecting prevailing global events and trends, this generation examines local culture against the background of international debate. In general terms, this architecture seems more inspired by the particulars of the situation than by preconceived forms. Moreover, and very frequently, these architects are able to perform both in the field of practice and in that of theory. Some the best known among them—Guillermo Acuña, Alejandro Aravena, Eduardo Castillo, Sebastián Irarrázaval, Mathias Klotz, Cecilia Puga, Smiljan Radic, and Ian Tidy—are able to fluently express their architectural ideas and purposes, side by side with their achievements in the field of built designs.22 This generation did not monopolize the production of the entire decade, although it constituted an important element of it. The School of Valparaíso, for instance, received international recognition as well.23 Among the works produced within the Open City milieu, the Hospedería del Errante by Manuel Casanueva has attracted considerable attention. Sensitive to new architectural trends and ideas, many other professionals, relating to earlier generations, continued to produce interesting and substantial architecture. This includes the significant domestic production of Luis Izquierdo and Antonia Lehman. In spite of their youth, their work received the National Award for Architecture in 2004. The same is true of José Domingo Peñafiel: the consistently high quality of his domestic work is quite visible in his own house in Santiago. José Cruz, for his part, continued developing his work; both conceptually and from the point of view of built designs, houses play a fundamental role in his process. Houses designed by Juan Baixas, Enrique del Rio, Juan José Ugarte, Tomás Browne, and Cazú Zegers explore through their different approaches a kind of organic freedom, which in some ways refers again to the world of the Valparaíso School. Teodoro Fernández has also offered a commentary on his work, mainly focused on public buildings and landscape architecture, through some interesting examples of his houses. Also of interest are such exceptional works as Cristián Boza´s 38  f e rna n d o pé re z o ya r z u n

house in Los Vilos, which succeeds in combining references to the Malaparte house in Capri, the metaphor of the house as a small city, and the recognition of conditions imposed by the place. Built in 1995, this house manifests a certain shift in the sensibility of Chilean architects, which, cutting across the different generations, moves from historical, typological, or metaphorical references to geographical, abstract, or other conceptual motifs. This shift is also well exemplified in Casa del Cerro (Hill House) by Undurraga & Devés, which received the Andrea Palladio award in 1991 and inaugurates a new phase in the firm’s work. Conceived as a response to the dominant geography of the site, the house consists of a single volume contained between two walls, which act as a kind of architectural dam, located in a mountain ravine and overlooking the valley. The rather massive volumetric concept includes a series of inner patios that take part in a sinuous promenade that, descending toward the entrance patio, enters the house, then crosses toward the front garden, finishing upon a grass platform that acts as the roof of the house.

Maku House, 1992, Alex Moreno. Sketch by Alex Moreno.

Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  39

Maku House. Photo, Alex Moreno. .

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Alex Moreno’s Maku house in Peñaflor is conceived as a self-sufficient container: a surreal geometrical ship anchored in the middle of the countryside. Built in very humble brick masonry and painted white, the house evokes the traditional country farmhouse in a similar way to those designed earlier by Swinburn and others, in an effort to achieve a contemporary version of old adobe buildings. Instead of references to Le Corbusier or Aalto, the house makes a gesture toward Kahn’s sensitivity in the way it employs symmetry and manifests a transcendent notion of order. In the original project, the house acts as a big wall, which, complemented by a linear pergola, some tree plantations, and a circular swimming pool, gives shape to the exterior spaces. Casa Chica (Small House, 1995–96) is the work of Smiljan Radic. He is one of the strongest voices in this younger generation, and this house illustrates very well the attitudes and preferences of its designer. It is located in a natural setting in the Andean Cordillera near Talca, 250 kilometers to the south of Santiago. A kind of contemporary primitive hut, this small building is conceived as a 30-square-meter shelter, built with raw materials arranged in a sort of sophisticated bricolage. The description offered by Radic presents the house as a poetic object made up of commonplace objects and materials. The description takes the form of an almost technical account: different types of stone, windows salvaged from other buildings, ordinary steel structures, glass, window grilles, and Portuguese marble. The theoretical references range from railway bridges to Le Corbusier and Adolf Loos, from local rivers to the prisoners who cut the stone, from Asturian houses to a kitchen range made in Temuco. As for the house itself, semi‑buried in the ground, the volume mediates between two platforms. The first contains a table and a roasting jack. The second is conceived as an extension of the house. The roof provides a deck that expands the existing mira‑ dor (viewpoint). As with other works by Radic, this house is intended to explore the limits of architecture and its possibilities to interact with other arts.24 Another of these new voices is that of Mathias Klotz, whose widely published and internationally celebrated work includes the Müller house in Chiloé (1994) and the Reutter house in Cantagua (1998). Like many other houses designed by Klotz, these examples explore the spatial continuities, and sometimes also the structural Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  41

Small House, 1996, Smiljian Radic. Photo, Smiljian Radic.

Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

virtuosities, of what are very simple architectural boxes that have been settled into the landscape. Guillermo Acuña and Sebastian Irarrázaval are able to generate rich interior landscapes contained within the volumes of the Caballero (1997) or Moro (1999–2000) houses. In his Sculptor house, in La Florida, Santiago (1997), Alejandro Aravena already predicts some of his future architectural achievements. Among these we should include the invitation to teach at the Graduate School of Design at Harvard, which, apart from recognizing his personal merits, can also be seen as reflecting a more general interest in the architectural production of his generation in Chile. Frequently more focused on the material nature of the object than upon the intangible condition of the space, this generation has maintained the tradition of a fertile tension between theory and practice, and has therefore been able to relate new tales about the classic topic of the house. This tension is particularly visible in Aravena’s work, which includes not only a series of celebrated and widely published buildings, but also several noteworthy publications in the field of architectural theory.25 In the 1990s, as in earlier decades, the house not only remains a significant architectural topic, but also presents a field in which the architectural reflections of Chilean architects can be explored and realized. Intimately associated with domestic architecture, the mutual relationships of theory and practice seem to have become established as key elements in our understanding of the broader scope of construction in Chile during the period from 1950 to 2000.

Theory and Practice of the Domestic Space, 1950–2000  43

material circumstances

the project and its construction

A close-up view of a precarious structure, clearly in process of decay, appeared in a recent issue of Casabella magazine, serving as the introduction to a discussion of contemporary architecture in Chile.1 But why was such an image selected for this purpose? One reason might be the absence of a more suitable icon. Perhaps another reason was a desire to accent the material context of architecture, the availability of materials and technologies, as well as the craft of building and their uses. The very notion of a history associated with the scatter of constructions and shacks that is presumed to populate this “remote” landscape at the southern tip of the New World, a history so unlike European experiences: this might also be considered as a powerful support for such an otherwise unlikely choice. The image in question portrayed an extremely fragile structure, devoid of heroic or sublime associations, suggesting precariousness as its prevailing material being. Even though its relevance might be challenged, the notion of the project’s materiality, as well as the relationship between firmness and precariousness, constitutes a legitimate framework for the discussion of modern architecture in Chile. A circumstance is “a condition, fact, or event accompanying, conditioning, or determining another.”2 Consideration of material circumstances relating to Chilean architecture in the second half of the twentieth century directly links the project to the actual conditions of its production. Tactical instinct as well as practical intelligence for the project can be judged from this approach. Aside from the cultural climate that nurtures a project’s conception, strong budgetary or technical constraints also play their part. This fact distinguishes

2 rodrig o Pé re z de arce

the Chilean architectural design process from other processes in the so-called “first world.” Political constraints, combined with a volatile economy, also have their effects on architectural production. Small design teams, short timetables, and expediency of execution and building tolerances often result from such conditions. Thus, the best Chilean architecture of the period exemplifies acute design attitudes in opposition to such strong limitations. Our purpose here is to illustrate how these adverse conditions have actually stimulated quality and inventiveness. lightness and firmness Unlike contemporary architectural experiences in Brazil, Argentina,3 or Uruguay, Chilean practice has to cope with violent earthquakes; the most outstanding during the twentieth century being those at Chillán (1939), Valdivia (1960), Valparaíso (1972), and Santiago (1985).4 They have imposed taxing demands upon both structure and building form, affecting also the overall budget for projects. “It is difficult to imagine good quality architecture in Chile devoid of seismic consciousness in its configurational criteria,” observes Sergio Rojo, whose practice combines the fields of both architecture and structural engineering. Furthermore, he comments: “there is a local written tradition of at least 50 major earthquakes, however it is futile to expect the understanding of a seismic culture that is solely derived from such personal experience” and “the state of mind of someone who experiences an earthquake is not conducive to the acquisition of knowledge about that event.” The earthquake, says Rojo, “shakes that immobility which characterizes architecture, disrupting it in incomprehensible ways, shattering not only its material logic but also its intelligent being.”5 Just as the epicenters of earthquakes shift, such experiences as may be gained from them are both discontinuous and unreliable, since they preclude systematic observation. Thus, the true structural performance resulting from innovations in the design of the Manatiales Building (see below) has yet to be proven. Notwithstanding those facts, the accumulated seismic experience has left an imprint upon structural design criteria, as well as on the formulation of stricter building codes. Although a certain de46  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

gree of design freedom and lightness of structure can be observed in recent developments, seismic experience has also fostered new expectations and prejudices. For example, the 1939 Chillán earthquake was instrumental in bringing about the widespread introduction of modern building techniques, such as the use of reinforced concrete. A further result was the development of national building codes and a strengthening of building controls through professional bodies.6 Following the same logic, the structural engineer’s role in the design process was strengthened. Seismic awareness places modern architecture in Chile on a similar footing to that of California or Japan.7 Following the implementation of updated criteria, fewer structures have suffered damage in recent occurrences. By the same token, the appearance of buildings often betrays their seismic bias, a fact that will become apparent in the presentation of examples here. Integrated into design language, both heavy structures and lateral bracing typify local buildings: the emphatic horizontality of the United Nations building, the sheer robustness of its piers and perimeter beams, illustrates the former, while the expressiveness of diagonal bracing in the Manantiales office scheme confirms the latter. Structural symmetry in the plan also affects design strategies, although its expression is not always evident. Unlike the spirit that animates projects by South American masters, such as Niemeyer, Williams, or Dieste, where structural lightness is often literal, in Chile the expression of lightness must often resort to artifice. As illustrated below, the elegant and slender structures of the Montemar Marine Biology Institute did not perform as expected during an earthquake, and an extra layer of concrete around the original piers was therefore necessary. This resulted in the loss of lightness that had been achieved in the original design. In any case, solidity and firmness are culturally necessary in Chile. By the same token, wood, which is quite an appropriate structural material, was often dismissed by the public, even though its seismic performance is capable of reaching near optimum levels. As regards its usage, by the mid-1990s it was noted that “wooden architecture comprises fundamentally four areas: emergency housing solutions; holiday homes by the coast; southern types derived from vernacular forms; and most recently some industrial architecture.”8 With the exception of the southern region, where wood was a traditional material, wooden structures have remained somewhat marginal. Yet Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  47

during the same period, it was noted that a true laboratory of wood construction was emerging in Valparaíso: “the contemporary site that has gathered the greatest number of wooden structures with the aim of study and invention is the Open City at Ritoque, which was constructed by architects teaching at the Catholic University of Valparaiso.”9 The influence of this school will become apparent in the following case studies; however, the exceptional quality and unique context of the Open City limit the effect of their experience in providing a model for subsequent projects built outside the boundaries of the Valparaíso School’s Open City. Since the mid-1990s the prestige of wood construction has certainly increased, although timber does not as yet compete on an equal footing with brick or concrete. The recent experience of Centromaderas, included in our case studies here, illustrates both the potential of wood and the progress made in the timber industry. An acquired pride in the attributes of wood could well lead to a wider acceptance of wood as a visible constructional material. Reinforced concrete, reinforced brickwork, and timber account for most building construction in Chile, while a second type of brick walling, embedded in a concrete frame of pillars and beams, has become the most common type of construction in the country. Although there are some remarkable cast iron and steel structures dating back to 1863, it was not until the 1950s that the local steel industry began to operate efficiently.10 Recent statistics revealed a share of only 2 percent use of steel in multistory steel buildings, while in the United States it is approximately 50 percent. Trends, however, show a gradual increase of the market share of steel within Chile. When it comes to prefabrication, a singular strategy for a Citroën Furgonnette House was designed by Jeff Storneck, whose idea was to build a residence entirely from body parts made locally at Citroën Chile SA. It was featured by English architect Martin Pawley in the early 1970s, in the context of alternative housing strategies.11 It is likely that, had this enterprise been pursued, the resulting radical and minimalist dwelling would have clashed with formal expectations and with ordinary lifestyles, but it was never built. Other attempts, more in tune with local budgets, techniques, and the prevailing culture, enjoyed a better fate. Among these are the housing methods developed by Mena and Elton, where wooden frames with composite panels were combined to produce airy, single-family 48  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

houses for the middle class.12 These proved to be cost-efficient and generous in terms of light and space. Unfortunately, they were neither durable nor sustainable from an energy viewpoint. Within the early period, building practice remained overwhelmingly craft-based, labor-intensive, and impervious to the potential of industrialization. Meanwhile, vernacular methods, such as the local manufacture of bricks by means of traditional primitive processes, nevertheless offered an alternative solution. Two examples featured here illustrate the conflicts between vernacular technology and more progressive and experimental attitudes. In spite of its shortcomings, the building industry did undergo substantial changes within the period 1950–2000. Occasionally these were politically induced: for example, in the mid-1960s government strategies within the domain of urban planning and design13 introduced a mandatory typology of twenty-story apartment towers. This typological bias stimulated the creation of powerful building consortia, anticipating changes the building market would confirm in the following decades.14 Other initiatives were short-lived: heavy prefabrication plants introduced from the Soviet Union in the early 1970s for the construction of housing blocks did not generate any significant progeny. Still other changes were induced by market forces, the most notorious one being within the timber industry, which became a prominent export agent by the mid-1980s. climate mediation Although a temperate climate predominates in Chile, rainfall is prevalent in the south while extreme dryness characterizes the north. Radical climatic differences may also be appreciated within the crosssection of the country, but in terms of habitation, the climatic patterns of the mountain areas are of little statistic relevance. The metropolitan region, containing about half the total population, enjoys a temperate climate and a short rainy season, its conditions being somewhat similar to those of southern California and the Mediterranean basin. The present selection of projects illustrates some of the environmental control strategies developed during the period of study. The mild climate that characterizes most of the populated areas has encouraged the use of sheltered outdoor spaces, while stressing the need for sunlight control devices. However, single-skin Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  49

wall construction predominates even in extremely moist areas; the issue of sustainable architecture still awaits its due share of attention in Chile. dialogue Aside from the local reception of the modern movement in architecture and personal international exchanges, in the earlier period there was an awareness of the best architecture worldwide.15 As regards Latin America, developments in Brazil, Argentina, and Mexico were closely followed.16 An awareness of avant-garde experiences in architecture and the arts existed within some intellectual groups. This was the case particularly among the founding members of the so-called Valparaíso School.17 Increasingly, international dialogues were sustained through publications, exhibitions, and the Architecture Biennale. Yet, with the sole exception of the Brazilian landscape architect Burle Marx, who designed a scheme for an urban park adjacent to the United Nations Headquarters in Santiago, no projects by Latin American masters were built in Chile.18 Material decisions are influenced by theoretical propositions: while the intense production of theory by the Valparaíso School, led by Cruz and Iommi, together with the independent efforts of Juan Borchers and José Ricardo Morales, has remained somewhat peripheral to international discourses, their inputs explain some of the most remarkable designs discussed here.19 The absence of great canonical models is characteristic of Chile. Conversely, the customary engagement in building activity by much of the population through self-build activity becomes an identifying feature. If the former confirms the absence of a monumental tradition, the latter suggests myriad small-scale, precarious inventions creating a background that affects the way Chilean architects both think and practice.20 case studies: buildings and objects How should one present the material circumstances portrayed in Chile during half a century of architectural production? I have se50  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

lected a case-by-case approach, which I believe offers the best opportunity for a comprehensive review of this period. The choice here favors a very selective presentation through a handful of projects that have acquired local status as models. Though sometimes exceptional in the exact circumstances of their involvement (budget, client, or program), these nevertheless represent particularly sharp responses to the specific tensions that characterize the interplay of idea and substance.21 The examples include conventional as well as experimental programs. The relationships between abstraction and material choices; between the designs of objects, various artistic practices, and architecture; and between the prototype and the actual architectural project are examined in connection with specific instances. For clarity, the sequence of works discussed here is chronological. The selection of examples is not intended to ignore certain facts about the realization of projects in Chile within this period: for example, social housing is still built within budgets equivalent to USD 7,000 (a current estimated value in 2005 for a 30-square-meter minimal dwelling). Naturally, extreme differences in incomes within the country have had their impact upon building activity at every level. Nevertheless the chosen projects not only embrace a range of design, construction and, occasionally, managerial strategies relevant to our subject but also include a broad range of budgets. At another level, the period 1950–2000 covers the technological transition from the early awareness of techniques introduced or popularized following World War II to more mature experiences with techniques, the performance of materials, and structure sustained in the following decades of intense activity. As an example, purpose-made curtain walls manufactured by means of labor-intensive practices by the early years of this period are superseded in later decades by system-built façade components for high-rise commercial office blocks. This trend illustrates the passage from a closed to an open economy, where the practice of craft work increasingly gives way to standardized industrial procedures, while the notion of comprehensive design is replaced by the tendency to rely on the assembly of ready-made components. Of course, the danger of following worldwide trends is that local suppliers are soon confronted by the increasing competition of their international peers.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  51

core and substance At the core of this inquiry is the relationship between idea and substance, design and building—where matter, being intrinsic to construction and thus to the art of architecture, clearly exceeds a status of mere “support.” The rapport between idea and substance is best examined through concrete experiences embodied in built projects. So perhaps one question for which we should seek an answer is: “How does the architect respond to this issue?” This question forms the basis of our inquiry and is therefore the object of the following series of case studies. Reinforced concrete is the dominant material in these examples, registering a trend during this period: four of the schemes discussed are conceived almost entirely in this material. Two cases illustrate the uses of wood, while only one makes use of brick. For balance, a temporary composite structure is also included. In all these examples the structure is exposed. The remaining cases either accept material diversity or else conform to more standard practice. Experimentation with materials and techniques is often easier when the field is that of object design. Prototypes can often be used in this context without excessive expenditure. A range of architect-designed objects—furniture, sculpture, and playground equipment—is also indicative of a characteristic trait of this period, wherein architects engaged in parallel explorations, often testing with the aid of small-scale “models” particular issues that relate to those of the architectural project. site, program, and structural language The Maritime Biology Institute, Montemar, Viña del Mar, 1941–50 (Enrique Gebhardt, architect; Raul Campusano, structural engineer; Santiago Arias, structural repairs) Gebhardt is a first-generation modern architect, who introduced modern architectural ideas to Chile. He did so in such diverse fields as academia, the public sector of social housing, as well as institutional assignments and urbanism (both in Chile and Argentina); he was also influential through his publications. He joined the 52  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

Overall plan of the Maritime Biology Institute complex as fully developed: public sequence to the left includes entrance porch, administration, and aquarium. To the extreme right, auditorium with roof terrace, accessible from the block that contains administrative offices and labs; center block with labs and, on the upper right, the library. The public areas were not implemented. Only the operational areas to the right were built. Gebhard collection. SLGM archive.

International Congress of Modern Architecture (in Spanish, Con‑ gresos Internacionales de Arquitectura Moderna, or CIAM) in 1946, becoming its representative in Chile. Noteworthy among his projects was the Institute for the Improvement of the Race, an embodiment of new programs, commissioned by the Popular Front government and derived from notions of health and hygiene. Programmatic inventiveness was also a feature of the Maritime Biology Institute, a research-based branch of the state university. Located at a short distance from Valparaíso, its extraordinary site comprised a small bay surrounded by granite rocks situated in an area of seaside resorts.22 The links between traditional fishing activities and biological research were fundamental to the purposes of the institute, and this played a dominant role in the siting of this facility. Gerhard’s elevated idea of the program informs the complex, which is organized through an overlay of situations related to fishing, research, leisure, and education of the public. Pilotis, or pilings, were instrumental in the simultaneous unfolding of these activities, liberating the beach areas destined for the fishermen’s tasks. Connecting the plinth to the beach, V-shaped ramps echo the form of the pilotis, stressing the light appearance of the building’s impact on the ground. The choice of a reinforced concrete structure enabled the architect to accommodate the various uses within the complex topographic and other ground conditions of the site, offering sufficient flexibility in response to the diverse requirements of the functional elements: laboratories, lecture hall, library, studios, and so forth.23 The original project also inluded a maritime garden, an aquarium, and a small museum. These elements, had they been built, would have provided a cultural promenade of great variety and interest. Overall, the Montemar complex represents a sophisticated transfer of the concept and plastic ideas of modern architecture into a unique setting. Earthquake damage was actually concentrated in the V-section pilotis: these were subsequently recast within an additional outer layer of concrete. Thus their earlier graceful profile was superseded by a more robust one. Hence, the scheme lost some of the lightness associated with Brazilian work, while retaining a significant synthesis of site response and programmatic invention. It is likely that the performance of these structural forms could not be fully grasped at the time this inaugural piece was conceived: perhaps the modern lexicon 54  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

Library wing north prospect. The original color scheme considered white render plaster, exposed concrete, and finely granulated sand-colored surfaces. Gebhard collection. SLGM archive.

was as yet devoid of full understanding concerning the performance qualities involved. Language and structure become better tuned in some of the following cases. abstraction and the open palette of materials The Pajaritos Chapel, Maipú, 1952–53 (Alberto Cruz C., architect; Barros y Poblete, structural engineers; J. P. Domingues, natural lighting consultant; Jorge Brunner, acoustic consultant) The program also engendered primary design considerations in the small but influential scheme of the Pajaritos Chapel in Maipú. Together with the Argentinean poet Godofredo Iommi (1917–2001), the architect Alberto Cruz (b. 1917) is the acknowledged leader of the Valparaíso School, of which this project is one of the founding realizations.24 Cruz’s teaching and design activities spanned the entire period 1950–2000. This modest rural shrine was intended to be located at a crossroads within the region of Santiago. It generated a minimal program centered upon a small oratory, whose maximum capacity would be Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  55

Isometric view of the rural context: the traditional farmhouse with its extensive array of ample courtyards is to the left, the Pajaritos Chapel being deliberately placed in a more public setting, confronting the access road and organizing through its raised atrium the forking of the paths. Original drawing by Alberto Cruz. Copy in SLGM archive.

achieved through the annexation of exterior spaces. Although the project was never built, its concept is indicative of an attitude that would characterize the Valparaíso group, introducing powerful arguments about the reason for a particular building strategy. The main thrust of this design may be described as an attempt to materialize a mood, to construct an atmosphere conducive to prayer and meditation. The architect described his intentions by analogy, his main purpose being the attainment of a space inviting the sense of spiritual surrender, comparable to the effect of sand on a beach, which can so quickly suggest repose in its support of the body. Thus, the parti, or fundamental strategy, for this unbuilt project of 107 square meters was created with a strong motivation for the attainment of the qualities of “absence.” Within this scheme, a sequence of cubic volumes of varied scales 56  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

linked shrine, sacristy, oratory, and belfry, while a plinth established a domain apart from the adjacent farmed areas and in sympathy with a religious purpose. The clarity of the cube and plinth forms would have stood in sharp contrast to the surrounding farm buildings. The harsh natural light that characterizes the region would have emphasized the pristine forms of these smooth, white volumes. Light was the shrine’s ultimate material, so all efforts were channeled toward the achievement of a subdued, evenly distributed natural light quality. Such an atmosphere could be created by means of simultaneous design operations, such as the rotation of the almost square plan at 45 degrees with reference to the north, and the development of a reflective ceiling, conceived as the main device for even distribution of available light. Composed of four panels, the pivoted concrete doors were also intended to be shutters, which could alternately bounce or filter the sun rays from the northwest. The subtle differentiation of hues, ranging from the white cement wall finish within to the white paint outside, was intended to keep a degree of contrast between those different spaces by means of color tones and the “temperature” of the light.

Floor plan of Pajaritos Chapel. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  57

Manipulation of light and the abstraction of “absence” ensured primary qualities, while the architectonic parti reconciled a versatile building specification—the result of stringent economic factors— within which materials and objects supplied by the client were incorporated. These included bricks, oak beams for the roof structure, stone for the altar and flooring, Oregon pine for the sacristy steps, and galvanized steel sheets for the roof.25 Conversely, certain high-performance items, such as the steel structure supporting the roof trusses and those required for the exterior of the shrine, were firmly controlled under the contract, thus guaranteeing precision where it was most needed. Cruz states that “nowadays the conception [of a project] may arise from quite unforeseen events,” stressing the openness referred to here.26 The architect’s statement alludes to this circumstantial aspect, consciously assuming the challenge of mastering architecture “with any means available,” a flexible attitude that surprisingly admits the inclusion of such items as a neo-Romanesque altar, combined with a surprising confidence in the capability of primary design decisions to mitigate possible interference from these somewhat alien objects. The strong formal discipline of the chapel, combined with a strategy of finely tuned parts and on-site adjustments, regulated the interplay of those “as found” objects27 with the chapel’s crisp cubic forms, while the unifying cloak of whiteness was intended to “tie everything together.”28 Electric Cooperative, Chillán, 1960–64 (project), 1964–65 (building) (Juan Borchers, Isidro Suárez, and Jesús Bermejo, architects; Rodrigo Flores, Sergio Volosky, and Atilano Lamana, structural engineers) Together with Alberto Cruz, Juan Borchers (b. 1910) distinguished himself by his theoretical investigations and his direct interest in design. His inquisitive drive compelled him to research and write extensively, although he published only two books on theory.29 The considerable legacy of Borchers’s unpublished notes, drawings, and texts is indicative of his broad interests, which included organic processes; problems of measurement, geometry, and structure; phenomenological questions; and territorial and urban processes.30 Despite his relative isolation from schools of architecture, Borchers succeeded in gathering an influential group of disciples. Committed to the idea of architecture as an autonomous discipline, he once defined the project in terms of “a density of material textures.”31 His 58  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

built work was limited to a handful of buildings, of which the Chillán cooperative is the most significant. The program called for the accommodation of offices, a sales space, and an apartment. A small pavilion was to connect through a back yard to the main building, but this subsidiary element was not built. The area of the main building is approximately 600 square meters, yet its appearance suggests a much larger volume. The building is a simple volume set on the street frontage. The façades fronting onto the main views are of rectangular composition, while the side façades reveal more modest forms, concealing a complex interior. This respectful parti sets the scene for a dense experimental field, which is characterized by the simultaneous presence of numerous visual foci. So construed, the visual field of the two-story interior hall eliminates the possibility of any perspectival structure. Its somewhat somber interior epitomizes a sense of excess, assembled like some cluttered cubist still-life, so that each item plays the role of an “elementary project.” According to the author, this concept defines the smallest possible reduction of architecture. Thus, the double-cone columns, main stair, and ramp co-participate in this play, each assuming an equal status to the others. The project’s idiom has been defined as “using the same words [as Le Corbusier] for a different purpose.”32 Within the extensive volume of a spacious interior, three aspects reinforce its unity: a monolithic fair-face concrete fabric, a clean rec­ tangular format, and a compact enclosure. The enclosure is formed

According to intention, the main building parts of the Chillán cooperative enjoy enough autonomy to be considered elementary projects. Borchers archive, SLGM.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  59

Respectful of the urban pattern, the building is aligned with the street frontage, but instead of the heavy and hermetic façades of the neighboring patio houses, here the only opaque plane is situated at a high level.

The structure combines seven 5.88-meter invertedcone columns with two end walls and a set of three objects independent from the rectangular box. The prism’s northsouth transparency is mediated by these highly sculptural elements. Borchers archive, SLGM.

by two blind walls that are contrasted by the southern (street) and northern (patio) façades. These main façades are strongly differentiated: while oblique views are obtained on the street frontage, a frontal view is enriched by water reflections from within the patio. As in Pajaritos, the management of natural light is a main concern for Borchers, whose design orchestrates and modulates it through an assortment of light wells and reflectors. Throughout the process, the architect retained independence from the client, assuming a great measure of autonomy with regard to routine programmatic requirements. Consequently, the program for the electric cooperative, comprising offices, showroom, reception, and an apartment (which was later left out), became secondary to the desire to experiment according to the architect’s intense theoretical agenda. Thus, the building is primarily an exercise in issues ranging from formal disposition and perception to scale and urban propriety. The design period of the project coincided with the 1939 earthquake, which signaled the emblematic reconstruction of Chillán. Here, emphasis on Eduardo Torroja’s structural types, as well as the performance of reinforced concrete, informed the design process.

The workers’ previous experience was in the fabrication of reinforced-concrete electric posts for the cooperative. Having no previous building experience, they engaged the construction process with the very active presence of two of the architects, who took turns to be on site. Borchers spent most of his time away from site, but followed progress through continuous communication. Borchers archive, SLGM.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  61

Some forms, however, such as the double cones of the columns, proved to be partially redundant. Following extensive design preparations, the architects assumed responsibility for site management, including the training of unskilled labor for the careful preparation of the form works that were required in order to achieve the diverse textural finishes. Although Borchers seldom visited the building site, his collaborators maintained almost daily supervision. A frequent interchange of notes among the members of the team characterized the building process, where an unusual degree of control over layout, accurate measurement, geometry, distribution, form, and texture was combined with sufficient tolerance between drawings and actual building to permit equally numerous site adjustments. The site architects occasionally participated directly in the building process, exerting considerable control over the construction. The villalike character of the building suggests a new urban scale, while consolidating the traditional motifs of the patio and the continuous street façade. In this way Borchers remained faithful to the Spanish urban tradition, which he had studied thoroughly while he was in Seville. The electric cooperative could then become a symbol of urban renewal in this city, combining its fresh innovative qualities with the Spanish tradition of a continuous street frontage. a building with two rhythms The United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, Santiago, 1960–66 (Emilio Duhart, H. R. Goycoolea, O. Santelices, and C. De Groote, architects; Cesar Barros Hartmut Vogel, structural engineer) “The United Nations Latin-American Headquarters in Chile re­ sembles both a house and a monument. This house of the nations represents a sharing with the community, while the monument is a visible expression of the nation’s social and spiritual aspirations. House and Monument together will build a plastic and functional Unity understood by all.” This was the architect Emilio Duhart’s statement in his opening remarks for his competition entry.33 Duhart´s design equates the typology of the traditional courtyard house with the scale of the Spanish colonial urban block, both understood as “genetic” Latin American types. The scheme features 62  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

an emphatic structural design, while responding to both the climate and the locale. While explicitly indebted to Corbusier, this building is nevertheless very original, and represents the highest standard of building accomplished in Chile at that time. Its mono-material strategy and debt to Le Corbusier resemble Borchers’s work, yet Duhart’s appraisal of the building process was radically different, engaging him directly in all its phases and operations. The issue of structure became less intellectual here than in the case of the electric cooperative at Chillán, and more closely linked to the primary attributes of the complex. A 96-square-meter perimeter ring of open-plan office spaces surrounds a core where the more specialized programs are housed within three autonomous buildings: the assembly chamber (the snail), the committee rooms (the unbuilt diamond), and a block of main vertical circulations, common amenities, and a Delegates Lobby. Two seismic strategies are combined in this complex: suspension for the open-plan office ring and load-bearing-wall construction for the specialized core buildings. This approach resolved requirements for flexibility, openness, light, and views in the former and for specificity and enclosure in the latter. Buffers dissipate the possible impact of the ring beams upon the perimeter piers. This dual strategy is further emphasized in the character of the respective parts. Supported by eight massive piers on each side, a strong perimeter beam crowns the ring’s exterior and the patio façades. The modulated cable structure, which supports the office floors, doubles as a mullion

The original site plan for the U.N. Economic Commission project indicates the approach sequence through the oval pond, the river embankments, and two additional office blocks devised for future extension. The ensemble would have been complemented with Roberto Burle Marx’s landscape project. Duhart collection photo archive, SLGM.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  63

The perimeter configuration and scale are analogous to the historical checkerboard urban block that characterized Latin American colonial cities, while the precinct is conceived as a microcosm that gathers different landscapes. Each quadrant represents Chile’s climatic conditions: the arid, the Mediterranean, and the moist. Hefty walls protect these gardens, while allowing the fresh air to flow.

Air view of model, as from entrance prospect. Duhart collection photo archive, SLGM.

system for the glazing. Thus defined, the structure ensures openness at ground level: it is nevertheless flanked by massive embankmentlike walls that guarantee protection from eventual floods and provide a degree of enclosure sympathetic to the internal character of the courts. Emphasis on a stratified order emerges from this parti, accentuating the contrast between gravitational parts, represented by the structures that rest heavily upon the ground, and the suspended office structure above. The design strategy also considers a whole range of experiences, from full daylight into the controlled twilight of the Assembly Hall. In this way the total ensemble can also be understood as a light-control device, an aspect that is emphasized by the care taken to bring daylight into the Assembly Hall. This involves the use of an oculus, a mechanism that combines mirrors and an adjustable, concave reflective ceiling. It can also be understood as a processional mechanism that unfolds in two distinct paths: first, the sequence of interior Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  65

Southern prospect: access route view through reflecting pool. Through its own configuration of horizontal and “topographic” forms, the building establishes active rapports with the surrounding landscape of hills. A pedestrian path was intended to cross the pond. Duhart collection photo archive, SLGM.

programs, as already described; second, an ascending promenade that links adjacent exterior courts and extensive roof terraces, culminating in the ziggurat-shaped Assembly Hall which enjoys a commanding view of the mountain landscape. Awareness of this promenade is heightened by features located at the approach to the building, where the “footpath” curves around a pond to open up a three-quarter view of the massive complex before entering. This promenade stops at a porte-cochère where a thin, double-curvature shell makes a canopy against the massive, rusticated concrete walls. Resembling a bridge, the building is simultaneously robust and light. Concrete, its prevailing material, displays a full range of effects: quite primitive in its massive embankment walls and most refined in the canopy. The fine-tuning of material structure and programmatic requirements was managed within a very restricted budget (an estimated cost of USD $220 per square meter at 1965 value). Nevertheless, the spaces are generous, and the use of materials is untypical, including finishes specific to South America.34 Although the idea of landscape is not normally associated with this project, its presence against a background of riverbed and nearby hills, the all-embracing promenades, and the sequence of waterways that follow the reverse entry path through the courtyards all

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mark landscape connections in the broader sense. These aspects also reinforce the courtyard theme with its attendant ambiances, each representative of a landscape and an awareness of the uses of material—concrete revealing its diverse states of manipulation. This suggests a strong affinity with the idea of landscape, either at the level of topographic complexity or else through sheer environmental diversity. This idea might have been further reinforced with the realization of a riverbed park designed by the Brazilian landscape architect, Roberto Burle Marx, a scheme that was, sadly, never implemented. from building into architecture Parish Church Reconstruction, Corral, 1961 (José Vial, Jorge Sanchez, and Alberto Cruz, architects, with collaboration of tutors from the Valparaíso School; Sergio Rojo, structural engineer; Alberto Vives, construction adviser; Reinhold Klubstchko, environmental adviser) Situated in the humid southern region of Chile, and built on a promontory overlooking a small fishing harbor, the Corral project belongs to a program for the reconstruction of chapels located within a devastated region; it was undertaken by the Valparaíso School in the aftermath of the 1960 earthquake.35 Here, students and tutors worked together on the site, anticipating later collective experiences—for example, involvement in the experimental conception of Ciudad Abierta (the Open City, described below). Its first initiative is therefore linked to innovative teaching and design approaches. The objective was twofold: first, to salvage a rudimentary structure, built by artisans, that had been severely damaged by the earthquake; second, to ennoble this ruin by attempting to transform a mere building into architecture. These ambitions presupposed a delicate balance between subtraction of old material forms and addition of new values. Furthermore, there was considerable unwillingness on the part of construction companies to participate in such an experimental project, especially considering the high demand for their services generated by the the reconstruction of nearby Valdivia, a substantial community. Thus, the devastation resulting from the earthquake was aggravated by other unforeseen circumstances. The chapel’s original basilican plan was flanked by a two-story classroom wing. Bearing structure and interior finishes were of wood, while the external cladding consisted of corrugated galvanized steel. Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  67

Isometric study of the components of the parish church reconstruction project, Corral: the original chapel’s recycled and adjusted corrugated iron carcass, the monumental trusses and their vertical supports, the frames providing lateral bracing and a continuous but inflected ceiling plane contribute to the creation of an altogether new condition arising from a preexisting construction.

Counteracting the high level of humidity, an air flow system is implemented. CA magazine archive collection, SLGM archive.

In addition to humidity in the structure and foundations, the presence of condensation within the nave had caused serious damage. Material and conceptual considerations illuminate the design process. Confronted with the absence of specialized labor, notwithstanding the ambitious nature of their architectonic agenda, the architects adopted a pragmatic approach. Accepting the modest format of the chapel, together with its materials and primary properties, they viewed the project as a worthwhile challenge. Their strategy can be summarized in the following criteria: To salvage the structure by inserting large-scale structural elements within the body of the building To recast the interior space of the chapel by means of lateral enlargement, the elimination of its columns, and the redefinition of its proportions by lowering the ceiling To redefine the chapel’s interior character by both natural and artificial lighting To repair and recycle the original cladding and to reuse old timbers, wherever possible To redesign the façade Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  69

Two monumental trusses were introduced, while the old roof structure was strengthened and lowered. Support and lateral restraint for these primary elements was provided by triangulated frames, which were a combination of timber, steel tension rods, and concrete joints. This new structure ensured the desired openness of the nave—attained through the removal of the internal columns and partitions—while guaranteeing resistance to seismic shock. The composite structure was conceived to isolate distinct performance requirements: it defined very simple timber sections, while the use of concrete in the more complex geometry of the joints provided constructional ease, combined with the possibility of fine adjustment and dimensional tuning. Two lateral support frames were freely positioned, adding further structural strength with the advantage of fine light-deflecting trellises. The interior, where all spatial relationships had been re-formed, allowed for new ritual directives: achievement of a close rapport between priest and congregation; improved lighting, both natural and artificial; and, above all, an expanded interior volume whose dimensions brought a new dignity to the church. The redefinition of ritual spaces is also noteworthy: it anticipated events prompted by the effect of the Second Vatican Council, resulting in the reshaping of the presbytery of Catholic churches. As the prevailing building material, wood dominates the interior, the diagonal grooves of its joints contrasting with the orthogonal discipline of the nave. Timbers were salvaged and retrieved from a sunken cargo boat. In addition to the natural textures, a few areas are painted in plain colors, notably a white band that embraces the nave. Most remarkable is the very fine art of drawing over the wood planks in a dense abstract graffiti technique: this accentuates the textures of the interior while also defining strong perceptual contrasts. the path and the desert Benedictine Monastery Chapel, Santiago, 1961–62 (project), 1963–64 (construction) (Martin Correa and Gabriel Guarda, architects; Raul Ramirez, structural engineer) Set halfway up a hill and against the colossal background of the Andes, commanding magnificent views over a lush valley, the 550-square-meter chapel of the Benedictine monastery crowns an 70  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

ensemble of monastic buildings. These include the monks’ cells, common rooms, and a library. It was initiated by architects from the Valparaíso School in stages between 1954 and 1960. Following the community’s rejection of the Valparaíso master plan of 1960, Martin Correa and the young architect Gabriel Guarda, along with the monks themselves, assumed the responsibility for the chapel project, their opera prima.36 The complex gains some of its principal features from its superb location: a sense of separation; a sequential approach path that winds around the slopes, gradually offering views of the Andes until it reveals the chapel and monastery; the arid quality of the hill in opposition to the lushness of the valley; in an austere landscape of thorn bushes, dry grasses, and olive groves, the chapel standing out against these features as a sign within the landscape. Defined by its authors as “a procession and a desertlike space,” the chapel embodies an absolute conviction about elementariness. Flanked by a wall and a row of trees, the extended approach path folds around the hill until it reaches an atrium conceived as a belvedere. Upon entering the building, the promenade turns again, now ascending by a ramp that focuses on a single figure of the Virgin Mary. Bathed in indirect light, the luminous white interior contrasts visually with the horizon. The extended approach path leads the visitor to the main axes, where he or she confronts the altar located on

Layman’s approach to Benedictine monastery chapel, western prospect. Perspective view by Gabriel Guarda.

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Main floor plan: to the left, west entry and access ramp; to the right, monks’ choir and side chapel. Light sources are placed so as to create a serene and subdued ambiance for prayer.

The inverted isometric views show aspects of the architectonic parti, such as the articulation between the two cubic volumes, the way in which clerestory lights are devised, and the inflections within the main ceiling that signal the main interior axis.

axis at the highest point. The architects state that, at this juncture, “landscape ceases to impose itself and silence predominates.”37 The idea of the desert is linked to the monastic denial of comfort and material goods. As with the Pajaritos chapel, natural light becomes the prime material and true splendor, various light sources ensuring its relevant presence throughout the monastic day. A prime consideration was the even distribution of light, resembling a glow and avoiding any suggestion of theatrical effects. The exploration of light qualities was mainly conducted through the manipulation of a large-scale model. The design parti revolves around the meeting of monks and laymen within the nave spaces, functionally defined by the interlocking of two cubic volumes. This spatial geometry ensures their coming together around the altar, while simultaneously maintaining distinct separation of the two domains. Particular care was taken in the creation of an appropriate ambiance, a sense of fullness for all occasions, including occasions when the monks have their own, exclusive celebrations. The choir, bathed in light, can be used as a space com-

The intersection of the cubes as seen from the western atrium: nave and congregation to the left; presbytery and monks’ choir to the right. Photo archive, SLGM.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  73

The breaking of the cube: changing light on the main axes. Photo archive, SLGM.

plete in itself, with the nave acting as a backdrop. There is a diagonal linkage between the two main foci—the altar and the icon of the Virgin—that are the culmination of the ascending approach path. Horizontal and vertical textures, resulting from the wood form work, animate the wall structures. These are otherwise uniformly covered in whitewash. Thus, this landmark building, already visible from a great distance, reveals quite delicate tactile qualities through the process of approach and arrival. 74  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

Emplaced within the experimental grounds of Ciudad Abierta, the Palace of Dawn and Dusk at Ritoque belongs to a continued attempt to redefine the grounds upon which the design of a project can be sustained. Its name alludes to the passage from light to obscurity. The “palace” is in fact a system of five interconnected courts, some of which are paved with bricks. Drawing by Umberto Bonomo.

chance and character Palace of Dawn and Dusk, Ritoque, 1982 (Alberto Cruz, Jorge Sanchez, and Ciudad Abierta Group, architects; Sergio Rojo, structural engineer) Known as the Open City, Ciudad Abierta comprises an extensive area of coastal dunes and plateaus that front on the Pacific Ocean near Valparaíso. The land was acquired by the founding group of the Valparaíso School. Since 1971 its destiny has been closely linked to the development of the school, as the site has been used as an experimental platform for architecture, while also embracing live research and construction.38 Two projects form part of this activity . A handful of buildings populate the site: they follow no prescribed plan but instead offer a case-by-case approach. This strategy nevertheless recognizes prior interventions within the sequential logic of a game played in turns (en ronda). In the spirit of the project, most buildings are designed and Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  75

produced to be experienced collectively, some within an open process of consecutive interventions, others with a greater emphasis on unity. As with the Pajaritos chapel, the significance of a title or description is important: “Dawn and Dusk” alludes to that magical moment when daylight is dissolved in obscurity. Conceived as a gathering-place, the setting was to be designed in stages without any preconceived final forms. As it happened, this process ended upon the completion of its first phase; thus, the openended conceptual process was interrupted without losing its sense of integrity. Had the initiative been taken further, the compound could perhaps have been partially roofed; as it stands, it belongs to the open landscape. Chance ruled the design discipline of this process since vernacular brick, the sole material, was actually donated for this particular project. The architect’s acceptance of its properties and constraints sets the scene for a creative endeavor that is inscribed within a series of analogous experiments at Open City. The original scheme had a roughly symmetrical plan that incorporated three large courts distributed throughout the structure. This initial project was later expanded through the addition of peripheral volumes constructed in reinforced concrete. This powerful composition of open-air sequences is situated on a high plateau that commands views of the Pacific Ocean. Enclosure became a prime consideration, prompting the erection of brick walls. An ingenious procedure was devised in order to achieve self-supporting wall structures made of brick. These had to be capable of withstanding lateral forces without the benefit of steel reinforcement, in order to keep the budget under control. This strategy first of all assumed that the wall lengths could be broken down into a series of modular units capable of providing the desired spatial enclosure. Then each module was designed to be structurally self-supporting by means of subtle inflections in plan—for example, using a segment of an arch—giving its plan guaranteed lateral stability. Finally, to achieve an effect of vertical stability, its section was conceived so that in the event of an earthquake, each piece would bounce back and return to its original point of equilibrium. Open joints between the panels accommodated differential movement. The tectonic language integrated economy with structural efficiency and the desired architectural effect. The interplay of concave and convex sides enlivened the spatial effect of the enclosures, while 76  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

a singular quality of unity was achieved through the recourse to a single material. The open joints helped alleviate the sense of enclosure by subtly counteracting the views obstructed by the 2.2-meterhigh walls. While the walls were entirely disciplined by the repetition of the chosen module, the flooring followed freer, more diversified patterns, the most emphatic being a three-dimensional promenade that springs up from one of the courts and offers views toward the distant horizon. Conceived as open paths, they prescribe no predetermined sequence or hierarchy. The uses of this humble type of vernacular brick were extensively explored in other instances within the Open City, such as the cemetery, the noteworthy sculpture of the pit, and some other structures and plinths. Yet there are no material preferences or limitations in Ciudad Abierta.

For the Exhibition Hall at Ritoque, the topographic configuration of the roof was a given, since it followed dominant patterns of the dunes as modeled by the effect of the prevailing winds. Similarly, the ground-floor surface issued from the desire to house a number of people within; thus, in a sense, the main strategy focuses upon the spacing and bearing elements, which keep the desired roof profile according to a predetermined floor plan.

reverse strategies Exhibition Hall—Casa de los Nombres, Ritoque, 1992 (demolished) (Fabio Cruz, Boris Ivelic, Grupo Ciudad Abierta, architects) The challenge was to build an exhibition pavilion over a sand dune that offered no firm foundation: a paradox that confronted the deMaterial Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  77

The roofing combines cheap textiles commonly used for agricultural purposes with transparent plastic ribs so that light falls unevenly through the black tone of the former and the transparent texture of the latter. Photo by Eugenio Garces.

At night, light shines through the roofs so that Casa de los Nombres becomes a beacon perched on a prominence over the extensive dunes. Photo by Eugenio Garces.

signers at the outset of this minimal-budget project. The objective was to create a 550-square-meter exhibition hall capable of accommodating large audiences during the celebration of the school’s fortieth anniversary. Like other projects built within the compounds of the Open City, this project was embraced within a teaching strategy that comprised design and building operations collectively. Two main difficulties had to be overcome in this enterprise: how to ensure a firm foundation upon the unstable ground; and how to ensure formal and structural stability against the relentless pounding of winds upon this exposed site. A layout consisting of a grid of 20 equal quadrants was defined as a criterion for the creation of the single space. One column was omitted, thus subtly upsetting an otherwise uniform matrix. It was also assumed that the best guarantee of formal stability lay in imitating the topography of the dunes by artificial means. Once the outlines of the plan and section were defined, the site procedures had to be organized to ensure successful operations against the obvious difficulties arising from the constantly shifting ground. To trace the plan upon the sand, a purpose-made device was developed, consisting of a flexible grid of plastic canes bound together. This instrument was also capable of assuming the necessary formal tolerances without sacrificing dimensional coordination. All trapezoidal quadrants were unique in the resulting layout. Adjustments to the subtle topography and the related positioning and orientation of the structure could then be easily achieved. Once the structural coordinates were fixed, twenty-nine units of 7-meter-long precast concrete posts were embedded into the sand, each rising to the height established by the grid. A perimeter retaining structure was fastened to the edge pillars, creating a primary enclosure. The fixing of the roof caskets followed, thereby creating the initial shelter against the wind. Once this primary shelter was secured, the mechanical excavation for the interior space could safely be undertaken, thereby reversing the normal sequence of construction, where work proceeds from the foundations upward. Each roof casket is composed of lightweight, prefabricated composite trusses that carry a light membrane roof cover. Translucent rainwater pipes were installed between caskets so that daylight could penetrate through the joints, while the black fabric of the Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  79

The transverse section shows the relationship between the office spaces, emplaced toward the northern front, and the large interior hall. The laminated timber structure is thoroughly braced. José Cruz office archives.

Location and roof plan of the Industrial Hall, Centromaderas, Santiago. Left, above: location plan in relation to Santiago; Centromaderas is emplaced by a main thoroughfare that issues from Santiago toward the north. Left, below: site plan. Right: roof structure plan. The doublespan structure defines two working spaces underneath. Originally conceived as production and storage areas, these are currently used only for timber storage. José Cruz office archives.

ceiling remained more dense and comparatively opaque. The overall roof shape roughly reproduces the contours of the dunes: through topographic assimilation it assumes the critical effects of wind upon the site. A sheer cut defines entry over a protected and glazed front. Eventually, this temporary structure was dismantled. The entire collective process of building became paramount in this project, confirming the intensity of the tactical response to these unusual site conditions. 80  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

The building is emblematic of the uses of timber, thus assuming a direct representation of the company-elaborated softwoods. The distinctive patterns of the eastern façade are perceived from the highway, as this becomes the most public front. Its surface is divided through a broken profile that separates the lower clapboard surfaces and the upper semitransparent screen, which comprises an inner layer of polycarbonate and an outer layer of wooden trellises, as seen in the construction and finished images. José Cruz office archives; photo by Juan Purcell.

the texture of distance Industrial Hall, Centromaderas, Santiago, 1995–96 (José Cruz O. and Juan Purcell, architects; Mario Wagner R&G, structural engineer) Throughout the centuries architects have explored the uses of timber construction and its unique language. These techniques achieved a point of maturity in the design of the Chilean Pavilion for the 1992 World Exposition in Seville.39 Like the Seville project, Centro­maderas is approached within the discipline of a single material. Furthermore, the purpose of this vast wooden hangar perfectly matches its Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  81

Parallel to the façade, the ramp ascends to the main offices, sheltered by the large overhang. Its path highlights the active profile of the building while also making evident the rich tactile quality of its surfaces. Above the office level, the upper screen provides ventilation. José Cruz office archives; photo by Juan Purcell.

material expression, since it houses an industry devoted to the uses of timber in building. According to the architect’s statement, “the project is motivated by the desire to make a factory capable of celebrating both its inherent function and the selected means of construction, rather it is oriented more toward progress in the technology of building production, emphasizing the unique characteristics and potential possessed by wood.”40 Given the limited structural capacity of laminated timber trusses, the plan had to be divided into two equal spans, suggesting differentiated naves, a decision that could easily equate structure and appearance. This duality was counteracted by a slightly inflected roof profile that introduced unity through its continuous curvature. In a similar way, fine trellises combined with opaque panels created unified, textured planes on three of the façades, the fourth one being entirely open. Ventilated and hermetic planes were composed of

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The line of vertical supports placed midway within the large nave also provides lateral bracing. This line originally separated the production from the storage facilities, according to the client’s concept. The exposed bolted joints become relevant expressive elements. Jose Cruz office archives; photo by Juan Purcell.

wooden boards arranged in horizontal and diagonal patterns so that each façade presents its own particular appearance. Massive laminated piers, located midway within the plan, form a structural spine to resist the loads generated by the double-nave solution. Lateral bracing is provided in all planes by means of timber members of varied section. The wood grain sets the scene for a precise visual and perceptual field, ranging from the expression of its totality as surface to the recognition of its form as a sharp profile that is easily recognizable from the nearby motorway. Upon closer inspection, the fine traces of the timber joints, the various sections and weights of the structural members, and the bolts and connectors reveal other design considerations where the senses of sight and touch converge. diagram and parti The Manantiales Office Building, Santiago, 1997–98 (Luis Izquierdo, Antonia Lehman, José Domingo Peñafiel, and Raimundo Lira, architects; Luis Soler P., structural engineer) Medium-size office blocks predominate in Chilean building production, where large-scale, open-plan office floors are virtually unknown. The Manantiales building is no exception, with its single-span spaces accessed directly from the vertical core. A complex project, it includes a large underground parking garage as well as subsidiary structures that act as mediators between the new building and existing blocks in the neighborhood. At the same time it makes optimum use of the floor area permitted by Santiago building regulations. Thus, the structure accommodates different situations as it rises on the site, developing the clean profile of an office tower. From a broad perspective, the Manantiales office building follows a lineage of office projects, in which the façade assumes primary structural roles. Among noteworthy precedents are the Carozzi Mills (Duhart and Mitrovic, 1961) and the Ministry of Works tower (Duhart and Montealegre,1969). The creation in the structure of an active and sculptural form thus became a design strategy that was clearly more sympathetic to the control of strong sunlight. This implementation of a variation of Le Corbusier’s brise-soleil succeeded in cooling the outer glass skin by introducing shade reinforced by the effect of air movement. 84  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

The Manantiales building floor plan reveals the nature of an asymmetrical structure where walls predominate on the northern and eastern flanks. This arrangement responds to a particular urban situation whereby the southwest prospect acquires great importance. Izquierdo Lehman office archive.

Although somewhat indebted to earlier experiences that explored the stiffened or braced façade principle in high-rise buildings, the Manantiales scheme departed from precedent in that— unlike those earlier examples, where symmetrical structural layouts ensured an even distribution of structural elements—here the interplay of masses results in an asymmetrical ensemble. Two open sides rise to the full seventeen-story height, while the walled façades enclose both the main body of the building and its subsidiary elements, which result from conforming to the setbacks required by the building codes. Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  85

The main prospect reveals the design strategy whereby pairs of facades hinge upon a corner. This diagonal faces on to a public square.

The desire to equalize structural behavior could only be achieved by structural manipulation on the perimeter façades. Those open façades have both vertical and diagonal members that reflect a diagram of forces necessary to counter seismic movement. Each member responds to a particular stress, contributing in this way to the restoration of balance within the asymmetrical design of the fabric. Highlighted by the building’s southwest corner, this motif reinforces the diagonal determined by its asymmetrical plan. Although discreet and well integrated from an urban viewpoint, this building is undoubtedly something of a landmark. parallel practices: design, sculpture and collaboration A brief account of the architect’s own, or the collaborative, experience in allied fields may help broaden the scope of our inquiry into the material circumstances of this project. Furniture is one classic field of modern practice. Two practitioners in Chile represent this approach of alternating between architecture and furniture design: Cristián Valdés and Jaime Garretón. Both are actively engaged in furniture design and manufacture, while in parallel they are involved in architectural practice, considering in both spheres a host of issues related to production, material, structure, image, and comfort. These experiments form part of the cultural and material landscape of the period. Valdes was a student at the Valparaíso School. Faithful to the idea of observation as the point of departure for a project, his 1977 laminated pieces derived the uses of timber from observation of the fabric and structural performance of the tennis racquet. Constructional principles emerged from this consideration, leading to the design of two main furniture lines that combine laminated wood, a metal chassis, and leather. Sculpture and architecture are occasionally linked, once again mainly in work from the Valparaíso School, but also in the collaborative efforts of Radic and Correa. The Amereida Sculpture in Santiago (1992) by Claudio Girola is representative of initiatives by the Valparaíso School associated with either the creation of new public spaces or the demarcation of new contexts within well-established public areas. In such projects artists often collaborate with architects Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  87

and designers. The use of materials acquires some unexpected qualities, particularly in this case, where the overall calligraphy described by the bars is counterpointed by a micro-landscape of sharp angles and bent forms. Campo Culipran (1998–99) was a joint effort of architect Smiljan Radic and sculptor Madgalena Correa, destined for the creation of a “field” within a rural scenario in nearby Santiago. The earth objects placed within it were intended to be consumed, since they also fulfilled the role of disposable kilns for the production of charcoal. Architecture, sculpture, vernacular practices, and contemporary ideas were combined, recasting a relationship between handmade earth structures and collective space. As with other projects by Radic, the imagery is charged with direct and oblique connotations. Like the early work of Mies van der Rohe, the architect’s schemes follow a path characterized by the predominance of a different material in each one: glass, copper, timber, earth. (Horacio Torrent fully describes this scheme in his own chapter.) Likewise, in The Helix Wheel (2000) Manuel Casanueva, Ariel Nuñez, and Elias Cancino experiment with a piece of play equipment that follows an analysis of performance, gesture, aerodynamics, and structural rules. The movement of the object takes its inspiration from the pattern generated by coins falling onto a horizontal surface. The piece is inscribed within Casanueva’s longstanding research about play forms and structural and material performance, a line of research that sees an affinity between technical and plastic exactness in the production of modern objects. Similar preoccupations may be observed in his design for a hostel at the Open City of Ritoque. Substantial differences of approach are revealed in the projects discussed here: the landscape of modern architecture is as varied in Chile as it is elsewhere. Material aspects provide an important clue for the development of new proposals, even though the attitudes of the architect toward materials, both from a conceptual viewpoint and allowing for individual sensibilities, vary widely. Also, the impact of varying building contexts and circumstances upon a project must be taken into account. Sometimes the process of construction holds the key to an important discovery, as some of these examples have shown. Also, occasionally, the process achieves a fluid transition from the idea to the reality—tempered by low budgets, the absence of extravagant technical means, the test of frequent earthquakes, and the presence of extensive areas of “informal” building activity. 88  rodrig o pé re z de a rce

The best production of the period reveals the truth about the task of the architect. What, then, might be the true common denominator for such a varied assortment of architectural projects? Would it be, perhaps, a heightened realism? I wish to thank Marcelo Sarovic for supplying his model of the COPELEC Building; Rafael Moya for lending me valuable material about Casa de los Nombres, a building no longer extant; Eugenio Garces for supplying valuable images of the same building, and Matias Lopez for his invaluable research support. I also thank Paloma Parrini of the Architectural Archives at our Faculty of Architecture Design and Urban Studies for making possible the use of the archives and the photography of the Borchers and Duhart collections.

Material Circumstances: The Project and Its Construction  89

abstraction and tectonics in chilean architecture since 1950

The most typical conditions of Chilean architecture in recent years have been dominated by several factors: a pressure to build quickly a product that expands the country’s economic growth; the availability of a significant quantity of architectural projects for the market; the crisis of a welfare state; and the absence of a public entity that promotes disciplined architectural strategies. The landscape of the city and the territory of Chile at this time consist of works that are oriented, in terms of development and shape, to the new directions that the market promotes, segmented by groups, classes, and origins, according to the demand for the depiction, setting, and spacing of the activities of a society in a developing country. In principle, it seems a difficult time for some architectural works to emerge—for example, those that appeared more or less systematically in different international publications in the mid‑1990s.1 Paradoxically, there has been a qualitative change that can be corroborated in an as yet small group of works and architects. Many of the good qualities of this architecture come from a greater dynamic between the principal protagonist of the local architectural culture and his interaction with a strongly internationalized architectural culture. The architecture now being produced in Chile is not exempt from the erosion of the dual models of interpretation and design actions that have been gradually replaced by a way of thinking and developing the project and the construction that more fully encompasses local social and construction practices and the plurality of opinions. There are many historic reasons behind the consolidation of such a fertile environment for the emergence of some notable architectural

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works that shape a certain personality and unique position from which to contribute to the more generic problems of architecture as a discipline. Elsewhere, I have emphasized the existence of a change in paradigm, or a profound change in practice, that has taken place among a relatively small number of professionals and academics, who are alert to the particular future of architecture in Chile.2 This change has spread, given the cultural promotion of architecture, the publication of specialized magazines, and core Chilean biennials of architecture, with an intense fluidity of ideas, concepts, and images occurring within local architectural culture.3 Regardless, there are historic conditions inherent to Chilean architectonic culture that have had their influence on recent architecture. This is not to say that the experience has been definitively developed in isolation from the context of international works and ideas, but rather to recognize that events and historic conditions have conveyed a certain particularity over the half-century.4 And above all, it is a question of highlighting the formation of what might be a system of concepts, thought processes, instruments, and values that have given Chilean architecture a certain singularity, shaped historically during the last fifty years. By presenting some of the most important works of architecture from the period 1950–2000, I will try to explain the relational continuity between the abstract conception of shape and tectonic attributes that form it. This process of development is viewed through a selection of paradigmatic cases that must necessarily be complemented by those presented in the other chapters in this volume. Of course, this is not an attempt to construct a genealogy, but merely to highlight the most important topics present in modern Chilean architecture that can be read at different moments. I argue that the modern shapes in the most recent Chilean architecture still form the base of the architectonic conception, because the intellectual tools of architecture come from elemental compositions in the process of design, established at moments of maximum recognition of modern architecture in Chile. I also review the interactions between professional practice and geography, the influence of scientific knowledge and art in the search for form in the 1950s, contributions made by postmodern debate through a recognition of the role of traditional material culture between the 1970s and 1980s, and in more recent times, the tectonic approach. This last is 92  hor a cio t orrent

elaborated between body and architectural experience, and the reenchantment that the landscape of this long, narrow country, its crazy geography and local myths, propose to architecture as a discipline and as a profession. elemental composition and modern shapes Since 1929, the year when what is considered to be the first modern project was constructed—the Oberpauer building, designed by Sergio Larraín and Jorge Arteaga—modern architecture in Chile experienced vicissitudes similar to those of its international expression. In the early works and probably through the end of the 1940s, key characteristics included elimination of ornament, a certain rationality in the shape of layouts, and the structural and aesthetic conception of the open ground plan and the façade. The 1931 house of Rodulpho Oyarzún Philippi was an early clear example of this tendency. These elements of composition had been important in the experience of Chilean architecture since the mid‑nineteenth century. Education at universities was structured strongly along the Beaux‑Arts model, while architecture was governmentally institutionalized around the public works model. The principal local protagonists in those two arenas—government and academia—were trained in the academic discipline. The academic dimension meant that a type of architectonic production strongly regulated by the concepts of composition and arrangement endured through 1948, the year of the last modernist reform in the teaching of architecture, attention being focused on the classic proportion, on hierarchical configuration, and on rhythm. The second half of the 1940s saw a change in the way buildings were designed.5 Since then, much more attention has been paid to adapting defined undertakings than to the classic disposition and also to the needs as well as the possibilities of construction that were already available in Chile. The old artistic conception that architecture had enjoyed since the great works of the Centennial of the Republic moved toward composition. An appreciation for the figurative and ornamental dimension of traditional styles changed over to mastery in the way of uniting the needs of the plan and available materials in architectural forms through elemental compositional relationships. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  93

It is well known that purism defined typical objects, such as those capable of bearing fundamental, invariable properties, of being recognized at any time and in any place—in other words, the creation of universal objects, with a certain permanent capacity to provoke primary reactions in sensitivity. These objects appeared in the consciousness through an abstraction of figurative conditions. But the earliest modern architecture exposed the object in its plenitude of abstraction by eliminating all figurative conditions: the form was dominated by abstract relations established by composition. The elemental composition became the conceptual tool in designing an architectural project, and it acquired a certain splendor in Chile during the 1940s and 1950s. The design of a house constituted a highly important field where formal trials were conducted on the predominance of pure masses; formal, unsymmetrical equilibria; and the use of elements like piles or horizontal windows.6 The pilot Cifuentes house by Mauricio Despouy (1935) is representative of the many cases that were developed under these concepts in Santiago and leading Chilean cities in the 1930s and 1940s. The ideas would become radical in the 1950s, even establishing some repetition of designs based on the centrifugal composition. This is possibly best expressed in the house designed by Jorge Costaval in Vitacura in 1955, which was selected by Henry Russel Hitchcock for his book Latin American Architecture since 1945.7 During the 1950s, the cubist design patterns on a cubic form and on the elemental articulation were also repeated in buildings made of wood. Of note are the houses designed by Ventura Galván Li. One feature that would gradually be accentuated was the configuration of a principal mass that is lifted above ground by a retracted foundation that draws a shadow line and establishes the autonomy of form in relation to location; this was attempted in the house on Eduardo Castillo Street designed by José Dvoresky in 1952. This separation from the ground will become increasingly evident, moving on to more public subjects as one way of embracing the condition of establishing on new ground the modern attempt at tabula rasa and abstract volume, which appeared in specimens of magnificent conceptual and architectonic soundness. The house on Américo Vespucio Avenue in Santiago designed by Hernán Labarca (1957), or the Santos house at Papudo Beach (1961) and the Social Security Building in Antofagasta (1959), both designed by Bresciani, 94  hor a cio t orrent

Front view of the main facade. Recently demolished, the Social Security Building was clearly representative of the adoption of primary forms. The lattice pattern allowed ventilation © Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. Photo by René Combeau.

View from the main hall towards the interior courtyard. By incorporing the inner courtyard, formal configuration was reinforced while adapting the building to its climatic situation. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. Photo by René Combeau.

Social Security Building. Cross section. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Social Security Building. Second floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Valdés, Castillo & Huidobro, can become paradigmatic cases of the form produced by this relationship to the ground: an abstract and independent conception separate from the ground. The problem of location, of situating a mass on the site, has since then been a key problem in Chilean architecture, understandable as a pact between abstract form and location. The Social Security Building in Antofagasta consisted of a parallelepipedon, or prism, in a squared, towering one‑story ground plan that seemed to float slightly over a modulated series of piles. That is how the difference in gradient of the ground was handled, and as a result, shaped a utilities area. The noble and public planes of the upper mass were organized through an off‑center interior terrace, configuring offices on each of its sides. One entered through a stairway located outside the area and found a sequence of intermediate spaces propitious to the weather in the north. Outside, it was enclosed by woven blocks of shutters that enhanced the planes of the cantilever. This building was demolished in 2005, but could well have been considered representative of the exemplary characteristics of modern architecture in Chile. During the 1950s and 1960s architects experimented with new formal developments in the design of apartment buildings, probably reaching, in this area, one of the highest levels of the average production of architecture in Chile. The buildings, initially from four to six floors, consisted generically of a clear, white, specific mass that was separated from the ground by a noble floor frequently of contrasting designs. Examples are the buildings designed by Jaime Bendersky in the borough of Providencia. Between 1950 and 1970, modern architecture was imposed as a social transformation and caused a material change in culture. Under the universalist aspiration, the modern project also became a possibility of articulating a civilizing condition through architecture that would be seen from Arica in the north to Punta Arenas in the far south. A new state of the trade and the profession, a new technical culture, and a new culture of habitation were being promoted in the intent to cover the entire scenario of a long and varied territory. We know that the modern project was incomplete in many ways, that it did not conceive such a diverse reality. That is why in this country, permanently extreme by nature, modern architecture adopted the social attempts at change and represented them in ways that were Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  97

in opposition to nature, and it amplified the existing urban designs through modern form. Work within the city tended to produce expansive, long lines of urban forms through abstract designs and isolated spaces. The large housing complexes were promoted by new public agencies like CORVI (Housing Corporation) and CORMU (Urban Improvement Corporation). They proposed new urban landscapes on the basis of strongly abstract relations and canonical forms of postwar architecture. The result was a great change in scale of the modern forms and the presentation of constructional conditions, generally in reinforced concrete. The Olympic Village, built in Santiago between 1960 and 1963 according to a design by González, Mardones, Hegedus, Bravo & Poblete, constituted one of the great projects that proposed a rational order within the urban weave: it was based on large blocks within which courtyards were formed. The blocks were designed following organizational grids that were also expressed on their façades. These large complexes that held, on average, from 1,000 to 2,000 housing units became an important part of Chilean cities, developing an urbanism of large compositional lines materialized through large blocks of houses and towers in the midst of parks. Some of the most outstanding contributions were the following: President Rios Villa (De la Barra, Hurtado Geisse, 1945–59), President Frei Villa (Larraín, Larraín, Balmaceda, 1965–69), and the Providencia Neighborhood Unit (Barella, Eskenazi, 1965) in Santiago; the Playa Ancha complex of Ricardo Pulgar in Antofagasta (1957–68); and the CORVI remodeling in Concepción (González, Iribarne, Mardones, Mardones, Poblete, 1965). The Portales Neighborhood Unit was internationally recognized following its publication in the book The New Brutalism, by Reyner Banham.8 The team made up of Bresciani, Valdés, Castillo & Huidobro programmed and developed an enormous, decidedly experimental operation for the ten years between 1954 and 1964, with more than 2,000 housing units. A combination of scales was established, shaped into different types of blocks and small groups of houses above ground. The largest blocks, 240 meters long, held seven floors with a corridor on the third level. The remainder had four floors. The raised streets, bridges, and footbridges above the houses interconnected the blocks to a public, central square and service buildings (which were not built). A network of routes was thus composed that 98  hor a cio t orrent

contains notable formal variants in crossing buildings, marked by the visible concrete structure, which consisted of different textures provided by the finishes, the shutters in different colors, and the inclusion of bas‑relief in the concrete. Its best‑known image is the curved ramp supported by a triangular structure for vehicle access to the third‑floor corridor street. However, the construction of large architectural complexes through autonomous masses achieved its best specimen in the complex of the State Technical University (Bresciani, Valdés, Castillo & Huidobro, 1957) in Santiago. The complex was projected as a disintegration of the compact form that had characterized university buildings, and it is organized through the separation of the parts of the plan as isolated masses that are united by covered routes as a clear plastic expression of the open space. As a layout, it is predominantly elementalistic. The linear design established by the covered circulation joins the main buildings: an access that starts perpendicular to one end of the chancellor’s building and integrates the parallel bodies of the two main schools. Toward the inside of the property, the classrooms are arranged alternately between courtyards, creating a weave of fullness and vacuum, with cross‑diagonal views that maintain the openness of the arrangement. Some singular buildings conceived radially, with inclined roofs that lodge common auditoria, set the tone for free forms that characterize the treatment of the courtyards. The dominant theme in the architectonic conception lies in the covered route that becomes the plastic articulator of the masses through the repetition of the steel structural elements that modulate the formal and constructive organization. The reiteration of the modulation and the steel sections is intended to establish a spatial continuity, both in the route and in the spaces. Steel, crystal glass, and concrete created a technological image in harmony with the purpose of the institution. Yet they also mark new tectonics, confirmed by the limpidity and clarity of the play of encounters between these materials. Modern architecture embraced the development of public infrastructure during an extensive and intensive period. Using codes based predominantly on the composition of pure spaces that use a few fundamental geometric elements, it was also displayed by the most varied subjects—schools, municipalities, hospitals—in a quite homogeneous manner, with formal definitions that would endure for quite some time. It also contained unusual and particular Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  99

characteristics in some more significant and monumental buildings, some of which are illustrated elsewhere in this volume, such as the Benedictine Monastery Church in Las Condes (G. Guarda and M. Correa, 1964) or the headquarters of the U.N. Economic Commission for Latin America (Duhart, Goycoolea, De Groote, 1960–66) (see chapter 2). Modern architecture was definitively institutionalized as “the architecture of the State” early in the 1950s, and it was best represented through the early 1970s. In 1968 Francisco Bullrich, an Argentine critic, presented a monograph on Chilean architecture saying that “the indices of originality” were “too much to ignore that we are seeing an authentic creative process.”9 Subsequently, Antonio Díaz characterized some of the conditions that contributed to that originality and noted that Chilean architects were more zealous at investigating on the basis of concrete subjects and, consequently, less ready to adopt the “latest fashion.” He identified several central issues, including ideas on the basis of the subject (a series of original proposals designed on the basis of the plan, the people, and the site, coming from a certain isolation and the vital experience of the daily practice of the profession) and simple construction (“even the large buildings are expressively supported by trusses, column beams and simple materials, obtaining valuable and stimulating results”). Clear and simple ideas were adopted (always achieved by working with a few masses and sections) where the concern lay in elaborating the mass (“the basic prisms are very elaborated, broken and perforated”) and in creating useful settings (taking advantage of the climate, “creating usable places designed for people”). Finally, a certain formalism in language was avoided because it did not “reflect the uses of buildings and express things as they are.”10 These were the conditions revealed with notable clarity to those who viewed Chilean architecture from the outside; the development of a coherent and integrated discipline, which decidedly marked local architectonic culture, was clearly evident. Toward the mid‑twentieth century, the figurative advances in modern architecture developed in Chile were aligned with the ideas that were proposed to modernize society and the country. Architecture formed part of a social project that aspired to build a modern country, and therefore, many of its approaches and techniques remain in harmony with the social aspiration of “the man in the 100  hor a cio t orrent

street.” This proved to be a good opportunity for the development of the architectural discipline, together with its practical and theoretical cohesion. The rhetorical form inherent in the models of modern architecture, even when these bore a heavy symbolic burden based on abstraction, was developed under a principle that unified it with social legitimacy, humanism, and belief in an action for all that was displayed throughout the territory by public agencies and private activities. In reality, architecture was a socially desirable artistic practice because it possessed a sense of civilization: its principles were shared because they were not merely figurative, but also of great material force in the real transformation of the living conditions of people.11 This is why it proved to be a notable architectonic experience that had a strong influence on design in the following decades. geographic consciousness and architectural practice Chilean geography is rich in contrasts and abundant in scales, with a quality of being as yet largely untouched. In the north there is a wide desert, with open valleys in the center, dense forests throughout the south, and glaciers and icebergs in the far south. It is hard to believe that a particular sensibility would not be developed to these territorial conditions, and this is seen in Chilean architecture. Already in the 1940s, there is evidence of a clear awareness of the dimension of the country’s geography.12 This awareness becomes explicit in literature and poetry, but it takes shape through architecture in relation to tourism and recreation. From very early on in the development of modern architecture in Chile, the opportunity arose to adapt the tools in the modern project to the country’s geography. There are some very clear predecessors, such as the Cap Ducal Hotel and Restaurant in Viña del Mar, designed by Roberto Dávila Carson in 1934, which was emplaced like a ship on the edge of the ocean and embraced modernist ideas in the conception of architectural shapes and language.13 However, the development of works of architecture in areas strongly influenced by geographic conditions would become more potent in the 1950s. Without an exclusive theoretical or conceptual approach, several Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  101

Aerial View. The Cap Ducal Hotel embraced modernist ideas in the conception of architectural shapes and language, related with the promenade at the seaside. Photo courtesy Macarena Cortés.

View from the street access towards the main facade. Photo courtesy Macarena Cortés.

projects would take on the dimension of the landscape, as the Montemar Marine Biology Station of Enrique Gebhard (1943–50) did in relation to the fishing cove on the Pacific seaboard.14 The practice of the profession gradually, and virtually intuitively, developed the ability of architecture to exalt the geography through the implementation of mechanisms behind the project. The most frequent modality was the contrasting of masses of an abstract geometrical design, or the adaptation of the structure to the land. Standards of clear and suggestive principles were incorporated in relation to the topography, and particular attention was paid to views of the site at the time the design was conceived; therefore, transparency was a part of the composition. The constructive expressions merely served to accentuate those roles, without significantly integrating their particular cultural or territorial characteristics. A paradigmatic case of this relationship to geography is found in the Antumalal Hotel, located on the edge of Villarrica Lake in southern Chile. Inaugurated in 1950, it was designed by Jorge Elton, who conceived it fully in relation to the natural setting, in terms of both interior design and furnishings, for which he used native lumber, and the design of the gardens—apparently wild—and their incorporation of native plant species. In the ground plan, the design contemplates a linear diagram of ten consecutive rooms and a body that concentrates public spaces and associated utilities, quite common in a hotel of that size. However, the diagram takes on a particular shape when it is implanted on the site. The line of consecutive rooms, although staying at the same level, is broken in relation to the lines of the topography, and is divided into two bodies that lodge two different types of rooms, shortening the corridor in terms of space. The main body consists of three levels that have different shapes: an upper space that is straighter and more rational; the main level, which represents geometrically the union of the two axes of the project; and the lower level, which includes the pool and recreational areas below the terrace in the form of a gallery. There are several benefits to varying the orthogonal design. The long front of the line of rooms is counterposed to the slope and composes the entrance yard. At the meeting point of the line of rooms and the main body, there is a space that allows for a complete view of both sides. The variations in the directions of the views and the lines of the natural topography of the site define the principal body of a complex geometry and relations with the terraces, wings, and roofs. In this way, upon entering, Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  103

Antumalal Hotel. View from the slope next to the lake. The way of placing of the building aims to integrate modern forms into the landscape. Photo by Rodrigo Booth.

Antumalal Hotel. Exterior view towards the dining room. The transparency of the volumes propose a constant presence of the view of the lake in the public rooms. Photo by Rodrigo Booth.

the space immediately attracts one to the view of the lake; a large inclined plane of crystal glass makes reflections disappear and clearly presents the magnificent landscape beyond. The integration into the site is complete, and the interior‑exterior relationship is diluted by including the exuberant vegetation of the south. While the architectonic design is adapted to the relationship to the ground and the compositional lines of the spaces are put in relationship to the site, the landscaping indicates the attention placed on other mechanisms regulating the project that go beyond a pure formal definition so as to embrace the geography. There is a form rationally regulated by the plan for the long mass of the dormitories that are erected directly above the topography. This is expressed in the façades through the construction of a stone‑covered foundation and above it, a continuous line of concrete that supports some short, projecting pillars that separate the large windows of each room, ending in a wing that closes the form. For the main body, there is a certain distributive rationality, confirmed in part by the conformation of the mass, but principally a freedom of formal configuration arising from the clear and direct use of the opportunities of the open layout; also, the clear façade allows for the pillars to be set in stone and the crystal plane to be free of any obstruction. Yet because the concept of an open layout is used here on the platform that is erected in part on the rock of the hill, it also extends and floats above the ground. It is apparently just a suspended plane, of which one becomes aware because of the height of the trees at which one finds oneself. The use of these tools in the modern project radicalizes the perception of a distant geographic scene. The differences proposed by the work with regard to any attempt at a fusion with nature are substantial. On the one hand, the artificiality of the planes and masses, and on the other, a strong formal assertion of technique that occurs in the conical trunk column that is also painted red reaffirm the base of the platform at the most exposed point of the mass. In addition, the stone is shown not as a construction material but merely as a finish. This is an evidently modernist conception of construction that clearly presented the artificial condition of the architectonic object in order to contrast it with the geography. The Yacht Club in Herradura Bay was designed by Martin Lira and built in 1950. It is a long building with a roof of slight scissors gradients where the base is a continuous slab that is supported on Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  105

Antumalal Hotel. Floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

two rocky promontories, between which the ocean waves flow. Its ground plan shows a clear rational conception, comprising several hotel rooms and large dining spaces at the end. It is completed by a “promenade” consisting of perimetral terraces placed in continuity with a large entrance ramp from the beach. Here again, the landscape was used as a scene and the building as the place from which to view it. The building implantation was central to the decisions for the design; the form and composition of the layout were regulated by the conditions of the view of the bay and the presence in relation to the geographic accident of its base. Either by imbricating, as in the Antumalal Hotel, or by imposing, as at the Yacht Club, architecture would maintain a certain formal and tectonic autonomy. It entailed the inclusion of the work in a natural setting, the implantation of modern forms placed as an adaptation to the landscape, assumption of some form of integration, basically through the exposure of views from the inside to the 106  hor a cio t orrent

Chinchorro Public Housing. Panoramic view of the houses. The layout of units placed as unique volumes create an urban fabric of geometric patterns. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. Photo by René Combeau.

Chinchorro Public Housing. Back facades of the houses and shade roof. The volumes integrate traditional ways to deliver shadow, recognizing the possibilities of daily out door living. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. Photo by René Combeau.

Chinchorro Public Housing. General complex layout. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

outside, and the creation of a new ground separated from the natural topography. The geography is understood as a context in which the work was installed and from which it had to represent something, through its spaces and forms—although distant from the notion of landscape, as would be later understood. But a position regarding geography could not suffice alone as a scenario in defining what type of professional practice was necessary in each case. Awareness of regional differences, established basically through climate, would also encompass the idea of differentiated forms of habitation, which progressed in respect of more rational conceptions of the design for the layout, the concentrated disposition of functions, and the formalization of pure masses inherent to modern architecture. At least two cases of public housing would represent this, both built in the north of the country, one for an official development agency (the Arica Advancement Board) and the other for a public housing agency (the Housing Corporation, or CORVI).

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In the far north of the country, in Arica, the public housing project for the Chinchorro District (Bresciani, Valdés, Castillo, Huidobro, Arnello, Lorca & Jordan, 1956) is one of the first cases of a clear position taken in this regard. The complex is designed on the basis of repeating elements or units that are displaced successively on a grid over a regular weave of small boxes that are established as units of the complex, creating a succession of courtyards. The units in the Chinchorro project were inward-looking houses with a closed perimeter organized around a central courtyard, an idea tried in several contemporaneous works by the same office of architects; it acted to concentrate life and relations between the different spaces, recognizing the possibilities of daily living outside. The absence of a direct relationship between the kitchen and the dining room established new forms and dispositions that went beyond the usual rationalist formats for public housing. The arrangement of interior pergolas and the use of walls made of perforated blocks to separate the back yard from the central court, as well as for the apertures within the perimeter, showed new approaches of detailing in relation to climate. These houses were closed off from public areas. The perimetral walls made of blocks presented a graphic set resulting from the absence of some at regularly ordered points. The textures created by their ordering were in opposition to the formal elementariness of a material condition that was associated with the location. The public spaces consisted basically of several alleys and interior streets that showed the sequence of volumes resulting from the diagonal arrangement of the layout. The slight gradient of the site and the continuity of the lines of the flat aprons accentuated the abstract impression of these volumes, which contrasted with several light steel structures that were covered by bamboo to produce shadows (an idea that came from historically developed ways of sun protection in the Chilean north). This contrast of situations in relation to the climate and the interpretation of more traditional ways of living gave professional practice a new understanding of how modern architecture was developing more in harmony with geography. Between 1959 and 1960, Mario Pérez de Arce and Jaime Besa designed the Salar del Carmen housing complex. It is located in Antofagasta, a seaport situated in the northern desert. It was intended to accommodate local industrial workers, port workers, and Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  109

Salar del Carmen housing complex. View towards the public stairs and back facades. The white volumes appear in contrast to the geography of the Atacama Desert. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. CA Magazine Archive.

Salar del Carmen housing complex. The distribution of the units in the place and its interior configuration recognizes the topography, creating terraces that expand towards the public space. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. CA Magazine Archive.

miners. It was placed in what was, at that time, the outskirts of the city, on a low hillside at one of the points where the desert touched the sea. The 885 houses were grouped along the continuous lines of the slope and were scaled on successive terraces. The complex was organized according to basically modern patterns of settlement, plotting the ground in an abstract grille and separating pedestrians and vehicles by locating vehicle routes on the perimeter of the complex. But the sidewalks and public spaces stood out in respect of that abstract grille in the dense arrangement of homes, which faced toward the ocean horizon. Thus, spaces were narrow, in contrast to the amplitude of the natural surroundings. The houses were designed, as in the previous case, around a central courtyard that extended the social spaces toward the outside and communicated between bedrooms, aligned utilities, and kitchens in the shared walls. A significant number of the homes were two‑story, with the upper part, containing the bedrooms, enhanced by balconies from which one could look out upon the distant sea. Since they were superposed, the houses constituted a disaggregate form that could be easily associated with the image of a desert. They were built of cement-block walls and nervate slabs that were simply stuccoed and painted white. The rooms stood out because of the colorful windows that were arranged to accentuate the lightness of the roof plane. The small windows, typical of the north in providing relief on hot days, and the sequence of shades enhanced the “small town” image.15 This project had a topographical sensitivity quite different from any previous housing complexes, both in its urban design and in the concept of the units. At the same time, it enveloped a particular expression of modern architecture in relation to the light of the Atacama Desert, with its white walls and simplistic construction— using methods more elemental than those of the large city—favored by the absence of rain, which left aside any claim of perfection and provided textures inherent to workmanship that offered a sense of modern architecture in that location. Such awareness of the geography as practiced by the profession would take on new forms in construction during the 1960s. Toward the end of the decade, it would also begin to take shape in theoretical discourse, as a reflection of the relations between the work and the landscape. “The work of architecture is wrapped up in the atmosphere of a place; the natural light will make it stand out or will Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  111

Salar del Carmen housing complex. General complex layout. Original drawing by Mario Pérez de Arce. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

melt it into the surrounding landscape while the weather that has an impact on the way of life in a region will determine, in turn, some of the characteristics of the buildings and urban spaces,” said Mario Pérez de Arce in 1968.16 The most complete understanding of the natural setting and an appreciation of its values, the visual manifestation of the geography and the awareness of installing a work of architecture in that context, must not make any romantic claim of creating or resembling a style; rather, it represents a way to channel the local conditions into modern architecture. design, knowledge, and poetic research The decade from 1955 to 1965 would bring the years when modern architecture finally consolidated and architects gained building practice. But also in those years, some alternative approaches to practice were begun, and theories were formulated for a new way of expressing architecture. 112  hor a cio t orrent

The need for a theoretical approach on which to ground professional practice arose with the transformation in programs of study in the two most important schools of architecture, which took place around 1947. At the Catholic University in Santiago, the course in Architectural Composition, run by Alberto Cruz, proposed plastic research based on relations between planes, and a centrifugal composition approach to elementarism. At the University of Chile, Tibor Weiner, a Hungarian immigrant who had been a disciple of Hannes Meyer at the Bauhaus, developed the Architectural Analysis Workshop. In that workshop, pyschophysiological explorations turned into functional and technical formulations, and the sequences and frequencies of movements led to organizational laws, in the search for knowledge that could serve as a basis for architectural design and that would embrace objective conditions imposed by the local reality, through a synthesis of practical exigencies. These courses were clear manifestations of attempted theoretical formulations that would regulate formal creation and would become stronger in the coming years. In 1953, a group led by Alberto Cruz and the poet Godofredo Iommi founded the Institute of Architecture at the Catholic University in Valparaíso.17 This initially implied the complete transformation of a preexisting school of architecture through new ideas and contents. The Valparaíso School of Architecture is usually thought of in relation to poetry, but early on, another component of the conceptual body was also significantly present: research and its relationship with science. At the beginning, the idea of the team and architectural design came from a new platform.18 It is important that the name under which they would be grouped was that of an institute, a type of institution appearing only recently in Latin American university structures and oriented toward the inclusion of modern science and technology, and principally, of research and the creation of knowledge. Instituting the practice of design as an attitude basically intended to integrate forms of scientific research arose out of a need at the time to seek for principles and laws; this transcended arbitrariness or the pure visibility of formal creation that had characterized local practice up to that time. It is not that there were purely scientific components or that the method was used, but rather that the design practices were to be heavily permeated by ideas and practices accruing from the world of science. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  113

The positions adopted by Tomás Maldonado at that time did not prove to be far‑fetched. There were close ties with him in those early years. On the one hand, there was a direct relationship between some members of the Chilean group and the Argentine group in the concrete art; on the other hand, a bit later, there was the attention he received from afar, including visits and former students—the contemporary experience of the School of Ulm. In 1954 Maldonado explained one of the tasks proposed by Max Bill for Ulm: “what he is really advocating is that the ‘aesthetical’ consciousness” of ‘space and time,’ which constitute the raw material of concrete art, accompany and express the changes and enhancements that are taking place in the ‘scientific’ consciousness of space and time.”19 Maldonado also made Bill’s proposal explicit with regard to “improving on the use of science solely to regulate the art,” on the need to “view science from a new perspective” and as an “originator of a new theme.” In Valparaíso, the “new theme” therefore came from the integration of some procedures frequently used in scientific research, more specifically from the method of observation, a concept based on “human acts” for surmounting functionalism. At the same time, there was an implicit objectivist attitude that led to profound attention to technique, geometry, and physicality in construction, and this after being liberated from ideology, above all in the design of contraposed objects in those early years. Similarly, the capacity of language to give meaning to action became increasingly important, as language gives a sense of theoretical coherence to scientific activity. This last point, initially found in the attention to ideas stemming from scientific discourse, would later definitively become, in poetic discourse, the seed of architectural creation. The initial moment of this scientific approach came from parallel actions between the architectural workshop and the laboratory, the search for a logical method of creation and confirmation, a mental discipline based on experimental research, and fundamentally from observation as the key to gaining knowledge. Observation is used broadly, inference based on perceptive data that results in new data within a scientific process, a new empirical base from which to presuppose an implicit theory. The categorization of phenomena as “observable” and the possibilities of the theory of perception were part of the formation of mental tools used by the group. The use of observation in contemplation was formalized through a dense description, filled with content, using codes established by drawings, 114  hor a cio t orrent

Naval School in Valparaíso. Photo of the model as presented in the competition. In Ureta, Andrés, “El proyecto de la Escuela Naval del Instituto de Arquitectura de Valparaíso. Investigación y Arquitectura 1956–57.” March thesis, Pontificia Universidad Católica, Chile. January, 2007. Naval School in Valparaíso. Wind diagrams are the key to distribution of the volumes. In Ureta, Andrés, “El proyecto de la Escuela Naval del Instituto de Arquitectura de Valparaíso. Investigación y Arquitectura 1956–57.” March thesis, Pontificia Universidad Católica, Chile. January, 2007.

especially the sketch. The need to capture phenomena to trigger the creative process in a work of architecture was also the goal sought in the development of an aesthetic discipline essential to the group: this involved drawing with thick lines filled with meaning, capable of capturing and representing the phenomena. The first few projects of the institute were designed with this attitude in mind. The one that best represents it is the one presented in the competition for the Naval School in Valparaíso in 1956, which gained the fourth prize. The project design was led by Francisco Mendez and involved all the professors and students. The preliminary stages of the project would put the outillage mental (mental toolkit) developed by the group to use, and more specifically, the simultaneous and watchful observation of the acts and the place. The everyday rites and acts of sailors that would take place in the building became a key to the project, and they were developed as the fundamental basis for analysis. The cadet’s route, the sequence of activities in a typical day, plus the rituals inherent to the institution, were displayed in tables and analytical drawings. The daily regime of the cadets and their movements, the traffic from one place to another, the rhythmic pace as an expression of time and space— of the feet and the eyes—began to give a shape and measure to the project. Taking this traffic into account shows a dynamic concept and a comprehension of movement in creating architecture. Once the project had progressed, the ritual acts were developed in the storyboard format, using successive sketches. The studies of this type, which came from a functionalist and decidedly scientific approach to the activities, became more phenomenological and interpretative of the acts when they were put in the precise location in relation to the site’s topography and the presence of the sea where “the land appears to be an anteroom before boarding.”20 The wind seems to be a phenomenon clearly observable in the site location—a point in the Valparaíso Bay, quite exposed to the sea. The problem arose from the idea of designing for the wind, involving analysis of the interaction and effects of the forms of the buildings with relation to the prevailing winds. The successive analyses of the shapes of the buildings helped avoid the turbulence that rectangular buildings would create in adjoining spaces and, at the same time, helped create calm wind zones by means of two resources. One was the curvy shape of the blocks and the position they would hold on 116  hor a cio t orrent

the site so as to act as barriers against the wind. The other was the creation of deflectors that would establish differences in speed and height of the air currents by modifying the wing of a plane. This device, called a slot, came from technological research where the shape was governed by the laws of physics. The confirmation of the experiment was added to the procedure through an analysis of the results, and the shapes of the blocks and the devices were tested in wind tunnels. The project finally presented contained these analytical approa­ ches in a complex comprising three large, curved blocks and several smaller buildings that were terraced on the land. The three curvy buildings bore slots and were arranged centrifugally around a central tower. One of them, the longest and lowest, acted as support and defined the relationship to the city. Another projected out onto the cliff, and the third supported and protected the school’s courtyard of honor from the prevailing wind. The conceptual tools employed were able to create a highly attractive and avant‑garde project. In 1960 the development of a significant number of projects and works with respect to chapels destroyed during an earthquake facilitated research on the shapes of the new Catholic liturgy and its implications for the construction of the new sacred structures.21 The liturgical studies prepared by Cruz indicated that the dimensions had to be established in relation to the major celebrations, and the presbytery would be the place of greatest attention in the project because the altar faced the congregation and because of the light that it needed. Maximum attention was dedicated to the rites and processions behind the architectural design and, among other things, the fact that the reconstruction of the chapels had to overcome the problem of typification and maintain the highest quality in the processes of erection and a minimum of effort in the work process. The Candelaria Chapel in San Pedro, Concepcion (1960), designed by Arturo Baeza, proved to be an opportunity to formalize the liturgical studies, above all, through research that tested the limits of non‑Euclidean geometries and was rooted in the configuration of the object and the possibilities of its construction. The chapel consisted of a square 15 meters on a side and no more than 7.5 meters high, and it was formally created by conical portions that seemed to be boats inverted in a continuous mantle that created a virtually unique space entered through the diagonal. The distribution was made in harmony with the parts defined by the shape: the presbytery Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  117

left: Exterior view. The Candelaria Chapel shows a clear search on the generation of geometric form and its construction potential. Photo Archive Universidad Católica de Valparaíso. In Morgado, Patricio, “Reconstrucción de las iglesias del sur después del terremoto de 1960 por la Escuela de Arquitectura de la UCV : el caso de Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria.” March thesis, Pontificia Universidad Católica, Chile. 1994. right: Candelaria Chapel. Interior view towards the altar. Photo Archive Universidad Católica de Valparaíso. In Morgado, Patricio, “Reconstrucción de las iglesias del sur después del terremoto de 1960 por la Escuela de Arquitectura de la UCV : el caso de Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria.” March thesis, Pontificia Universidad Católica, Chile. 1994.

occupied one room in the layout, while the entrance, the vestry, and the altar of the Virgin Mary were arranged diagonally in the other room. The other two spaces were for the congregation. The shape of the chapel was a strong abstraction and radical in its geometry in order to facilitate the constructive properties required for its implementation. The construction took into account that the structure and shape formed a single unit. The crossing of both arches above the medians and the two straight lines above the diagonals of the square layout defined the central point at which eight edges, four concaves and four straight lines, converged to define the conoid mantles that became, constructively, ten types of helmets that were repeated four times each. The forty pieces were mounted on the basic structure and affixed in relation to the four pillars of the edges and the horizontal cross of the roof. The outside mantle (surface) of diagonally placed pine board listels and the interior lining of cypress listels collaborated in the structural efforts of the system, balanced simply by gravity. The windows were located along the line of an inverted arch between the vertices of the form, and the most exposed surface was covered by zinc boards as far as the windows. The Candelaria Chapel surpassed the research of acts and moved geometric rationality toward the construction itself. The new contents, like the 118  hor a cio t orrent

Candelaria Chapel. Elevation. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Candelaria Chapel. Floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

organization of collaborative work or the definition of the work as a problem in construction, were added to the complex—and still in formation—reflexive frame of the group, and they were put to test as other chapels destroyed by the same earthquake were reconstructed, such as those of Corral, Lebu, and Curanilahue. In 1965 the grounds for the poetic architectural project were finally integrated. The initial poem, Amereida (the Aeneid of America, Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  119

1967), posed the question of language and announced the value of travel in teaching that “words are like strangers to the things they name.”22 It also marked the definition of a position of independence regarding existing knowledge and recognition of the inherent abilities to create it from the place they held in the world: “we will begin to travel America to free us and free the present from any suspected imposter of tomorrow.”23 Amereida confirmed the abandonment of any vestige of science to propose, instead, words as the vehicle for observation—now introspectively—and poetry as the creator, generator, origin of the work of architecture. It gave poetry the ability to capture and transcend phenomena, and the poetic word makes newness and originality emerge. And just as language offers a sense of theoretical coherence in scientific activity, attention would focus, from that moment onward, on the ability of poetic language to give meaning to the creation of the work of architecture, which definitively characterized the designing by the Valparaíso School. The school would be dedicated for years to teaching architecture and, fundamentally, to developing works in the Open City, on the supposition of poetry as a base for the creative act of design, and from a strong phenomenological position. This would be the field of experimentation of the group set up in 1970 as the Amereida Cooperative.24 The Music Room (1972) is a compact and hermetic white box that has acoustic devices on the inside walls and a skylight in its center, while the Water Towers (1974), a magnificent structure made of cement tubes with tight interior wires drawn in the public space, are some of the works that represent the continuing search at Ritoque Beach. The ongoing existence of this laboratory has widely spread the conditions of some modes of operation that become alternatives for improving professional practice and allowing new, more integral concepts of architectonic problems. This is something quite close to the notion of reflexive practice proposed by Donald Schön.25 His legacy to local architectonic culture consists of using observation as a method of design concordant to the place and to human acts, a certain constructive experimentalism, and principally, the need for a reason for the work of architecture that goes beyond the assignment, the plan, or the place. The reason is the necessary condition to meditatively articulate the intentions and decisions in the design, provide a coherent base for decisions made in the architecture, and also inspire a new association between professional practice and 120  hor a cio t orrent

knowledge, between practice and research, that is outside of the suppositions of formal language, outside of everyday life, and that seeks to go beyond merely doing in order to achieve something original and poetic. material realism and language Perhaps a degree of vernacular tension has been present in the context of twentieth-century Chilean architecture since Le Corbusier designed a house for Matias Errázuriz in the Zapallar bathing resort on the South Pacific coast. The house was designed to be artifacts conceived in a radical white asceticism, but it was raised on a strong rock base, its doubly inclined roofs were made of clay shingles, and the interior structure was made of wooden logs and beams. It may well be thought of as an early vernacular experiment that modern architecture proposed for this land, but it would not be unique. It seems clear that the type of approach this case represents is made in the form of a bond between the work of architecture and the site, as well as the geography, but differently from what is explained above. This is definitively a proposal that seeks to contain cultural significance in both form and its materiality. It implied for modern architecture, at some points, the search for origins or approaches to popular productions by way of reference. Some rationalist searches by modern architecture are also known in regard to the bond between the place and the project, through considerations of the climate (strong sunlight, sun orientation) or an abstract interpretation of local activities. However, recording and elaborating visual or tactile images on the basis of local materials implies a search for the creation and transmission of significance that has a positive impact on local culture. This means developing a language that would supposedly help identify, or bring the work closer to, the place where it is situated. It is also known that one of the ethical imperatives of modern architecture is originality, which led to the interpretation of the local conditions under the category of innovation. The tension between innovation and local culture was also present in Chile in the second half of the twentieth century. It has assumed different shapes and has also bordered, in some way, on the limits between picturesque, vernacular and traditional. The revision Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  121

that modern architecture made of the colonial past in South America undoubtedly encouraged many of the proposed approaches, above all in the area of home design.26 But some alternatives did not stay solely within that framework; rather, they were developed mainly in the search for a relationship between image and structure, as one way of offering a certain local condition to modern conceptions and, in some cases, offering images that can be understood to be close to the more vernacular or regional conditions. Sometime later, it took on the development of “intentional language,” based on the semantics existing in local materials or, more directly, in the vocabulary or styles of other architectures preexisting in the project location. The recognition of the colonial past proposed an approximation to entirely local content, in terms of typology as well as of materials. Hence, the courtyards of traditional houses were reinterpreted in the design of the household environment and the dense, whitened adobe walls were made into elements that provided clear references to tradition. The Requinoa House that Mario Perez de Arce and Emilio Duhart designed in 1948 entailed a centrifugal composition that still shaped courtyards and galleries, materialized, nearly in its entirety, of thick adobe walls. The features were strongly assimilable to those of mansions built during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries in the Chilean central valley. In 1959 Sergio Larraín took on a major urban development in the North Pedro de Valdivia Sector in Santiago as part of the establishment of the campus of the Catholic University’s School of Architecture in a manor house, the former Lo Contador Manor. It was an adobe-and-shingle structure from the eighteenth century. He kept a small colonial house for himself, which he restored and enlarged with new architecture. He built a service pavilion and library in front of the old structure, leaving a courtyard between them. The modern concept lay principally in the simple shape of the structure, the inclusion of a curved wall that enclosed a small garden near the library, and the material treatment of perforated walls. In addition, there was a steel structure in the covered path that joined the pavilion to the old house. Between 1964 and 1968, Jorge Swinburn would reinterpret the colonial courtyards in his own house at the foot of Mt. San Cristobal in Santiago. It is a design in the form of an H, with one wing for public areas and another for bedrooms, and a gallery that joins them and 122  hor a cio t orrent

separates an entrance yard from the inside court that opens out to the garden up against the hillside. Another tendency arose in the search for significance associated with materials and the relationship between image and bearing structure. Based on a clearly modern conception, the designs tended to organize space dynamically or reveal structural tensions, using wood as the local and the preeminent material. Fernando Castillo built his own beach house in Algarrobo in 1962, and its design created a new type compared with the architecture that had been developed during the 1950s. Although, on the one hand, the basic design of the house conformed to an elemental prismatic space, and its relationship to the ground was also inherent to modern architecture, the way it was supported proposed a clear view that integrated vernacular components and the possibilities of on‑site construction. The simple mass was arranged on a platform that separated it from the ground, built on a horizontal base of eucalyptus logs that rested on an inverted tetrahedron structure made of poles that were supported by the foundation. The roof, made of a catenary laminated surface, hung from a linear succession of four poles per side, braced by crosspieces. This structure, made up of equivalent parts, opened toward the landscape, the poles representing the tension and making the work look lighter.27 The Ancud Hostel designed by Emilio Duhart in 1962 offered a synthesis of a clear rationality in the layout and an approach to construction by a wood structure made of rough tree trunks and vertical log walls and roofs with a strong incline.28 Located on a point above the sea, with a view of the bay, the structure linked the landscape with “touristic” design and a mountain aesthetic whose significance was clearly expressed through the construction. The hostel is structured in a layout of two perpendicular wings of rooms organized around a small interior courtyard and a central entrance. The lounge and dining room consist of two levels, one at the entrance and the other below the general level, taking advantage of the gradient. The articulation of the structures covered by tiled roofs, the interior‑exterior relationship coming from the large planes of crystal glass and the terraces, and the large salon created by the uncovered wooden pole structure originate in modern concepts. The modern spatiality is interpreted through the materials that are associated with a typically southern style. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  123

Ancud Hostel. Main view from the bay. Duhart experiments with configurations of modern origin while in tension to the vernacular language with the use of wood logs. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

Later, the integration of geographic awareness in architectural practice and vernacular approaches led to a strong tension when regional languages came into play, together with the real possibilities of construction using easily accessible and controllable local technologies. The varied landscapes in the country became the hosts of new architectural experiences that took on the development of intentional languages in line with the disciplinary concerns of the time, positively linking the place to the work of architecture. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the ideas that had guided recent experience were revised. This revision, in a new key to interpretation based on a reading of the typological and constructive traditions, proposed new languages and a way of doing architecture that sought the integration of local ways of living and of production. But it was also based on the semantics of the materials or the construction vocabularies previously existing in the project location.

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The south of the country would be a privileged place in which to develop these alternatives to modern concepts, around the interior sea of Chiloe, in a zone that had been kept apart from modern development. This was a sort of Arcadia, a world of myths and legends, a part of Chile that had remained largely isolated and far from modernization because of its geography; it was a predominantly forest and maritime zone and therefore had a material culture involving wood, boat construction, and stilt structures. Wood is an easily and immediately available material in Chile. In those years, there were still native forests, principally alerce, and it was possible to build with a low level of complexity that did not require communication with the continent. This is because an autonomous technical evolution had taken place, represented by the Chiloean churches, now designated as a World Heritage. This material culture led to innovations in architecture that had already been rein-

Ancud Hostel. View from the entrance. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  125

Ancud Hostel. Ground floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

terpreted, in part, by Duhart in the Castro Hostel and in the Ancud Hostel, described above. In summary, what was called, at that time, “the spirit of wood” would help poetically articulate signifi­cance with local references, identity, and regional particularity—many of the ideas that were present in the architecture of the moment. The first notable example was, once again, a building conceived for tourism. The Ralun Hotel (Cristian de Groote, Hugo Molina, and Gloria Barros, 1977) was located on the Reloncavi Gulf, on the continental edge of the interior sea of Chiloe. It was a complex consisting of a hotel building and twelve cabins that were distributed in three large groups on the hillside.29

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Ralun Hotel. View from the Reloncaví Gulf. The traditional technique of wood roof tiles merges with the compositional mechanisms and elaborations over the conditions of the site. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. CA Magazine Archive.

The hotel building consisted of a large mass with a roof leaning toward water, which housed the public rooms and services, and one wing of rooms that moved upward under the same continuous roof. It followed an elemental typology of a corridor and the displaced sequence of rooms. The large mass had wide, open inside spaces where exposed wood structures were dominant. The large window diagonal to the inclined roof plane framed a succession of stairs that connected the different floor levels. It quite clearly represented the new attempts to transgress pure forms and introduce the compositional tools to regulate the geometry of designs. On the outside, the roof tiles emphasized the geometric configuration, making the

Ralun Hotel. Side view towards the public area. Photo archive. Archivo de Originales. FADEU. Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. CA Magazine Archive.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  127

Ralun Hotel. Floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Ralun Hotel. Access elevation. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

continuous mass look large in comparison to the airiness and lightness of the interior structure. The entire structure was set on a platform with rock‑lined edges that continued in the series of vertical chimneys in each room. The cabins were simple structures with inclined roofs midway up the slope, formally regulated by a square layout and an interior compositional display of the spaces around a central chimney. Despite its short life (it burned down during the early 1980s ), the Ralun Hotel signified the staging of traditional techniques of wood roof tiles in elemental concepts of shape, as well as the introduction of compositional mechanisms and elaborations based on language, albeit in an essential manner, with a simple design and careful style that avoided any affectation. In 1978 Edward Rojas and Renato Vivaldi, recent graduates at that time and looking for work, set up business in Castro, Chiloe, and 128  hor a cio t orrent

Dalcahue Market. Front view from the public square. In the market, the material tradition of wooden roof tiling and approaches to other local formal languages are used to cover a space opened towards surrounding geography. Photo by Horacio Torrent.

Dalcahue Market. Back view towards the pier. Photo by Horacio Torrent.

established the Puerta Azul Workshop, a research and work team that made up of architects, historians, and anthropologists interested in the local culture. There they would put into operation several trials that attempted to incorporate cultural imponderables into architecture.30 Particularly significant from this point of view was the Dalcahue Market (Eduardo Rojas and Renato Vivaldi, 1983), where the reflection regarding the typological concepts of the market appeared in the definition of structure and materials. The market was intended to lodge the Sunday fair, where locals from the different islands in the archipelago, mainly wool craftsmen, sold their goods. Dalcahue is the principal port of the nearby fjords and a small tourist center. The market was conceived as a large, rectangular layout with a roof perpendicular to the coast. On one end there was a pier whose piles were sunk into the water. It was completely open on all sides, was built on the edge of a square, and framed the views. The roof was large, covered with wooden tiles, and had a slightly off‑center tower with square base with hexagonal finish and inclined roofs that imitated the towers of the island’s churches. The large roof of Dalcahue represents a radical change in conceptions of the time. This and some other works, such as the San Francisco Rural Boarding School in Castro (Eduardo Rojas and Ivannia Goles, 1988), emphasized the particular integration between a critical view of culture and architectural production through attention to the true conditions of local culture. The technologies available, preexisting constructions, forms of settlement, and urban scenes, among others, provided the material that Chilean architecture could use for the purpose of gaining access to new types of expression marked by the concept of difference and integrated as a form of artistic representation of the significant elements present in society. The intentional recovery of history would later become the—virtually neglected—integration of artistic ways of doing things that had become a part of architecture, including the material culture, and principally the crafts culture, present in the true state of production in the country. This led to the abandonment of the voluntarism of the perfect form or the rigorously formalized construction that had dominated the architectural scene since the 1950s. These trials were a key to situating this vision in the Chilean architectonic culture, but they also constituted a quick exercise in approach and mimicry concerning the scene of these towns based on a historical and anthropological interpretation of the project loca130  hor a cio t orrent

tion. More romantic and decorative architectural responses gradually arose that were often alien to the location, yet this vision had a strong impact on the architectural culture in the 1980s, in harmony with the spread of some postmodern ideas also associated with regionalist concepts and practices that sought an identity for architectonic production. In the early 1980s, a source also consolidated in the search for significance that would deviate widely from the material and productive realism that had characterized earlier orientations. The Chilean architectonic panorama was not exempt from the return of traditional compositional mechanisms or from appeals to language and significance that took place in the international environment in those years. If they left their mark in Chile, it consisted of the explicit recognition of the communicational capacity of architecture and a clear awareness of the need for historic continuity in urban and territorial interventions. This theoretical debate revived with unusual force the architectonic culture, which had been somewhat lethargic since the

Dalcahue Market. Perspective view.

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1973 coup d’état, above all because this meant, in addition to purely political implications, the end of government promotion of the discipline and a strong contraction in public projects and university activity. Nonetheless, new theoretical alternatives allowed architects to adopt positions regarding the role of architecture in the construction of the city, the critical recovery of the past, and the reconstruction of architecture as a discipline, based on the fact that the location and its setting were a clear source of inspiration for projects. The close tie that this stance would develop in Chile between theoretical intentions and professional practice fostered new forms that reflected the relationship to the location with a contextualist approach, the reappearance of traditional compositional tools, a formal control of the layout through symmetry, the recomposition of urban rhythms, and the use of traditional typologies. The enthusiasm for the idea of the place would also be transformed into the manipulation of formal designs and codes that would become repetitive, including certain rhetorical exercises that took on picturesque forms. Contemporaneously, these subjects would be the core arguments in the Latin American movement in search of an identity for architecture. The Chilean involvement would be identified by the strong correlation between theoretical discourse and professional practice. The Chilean architects were the ones who probably elaborated more arguments and conceptual positions and took them perhaps quickly to construction. In that context, one may identify the work by Cristian Fernández Cox and his vision of the right kind of modernity for Latin America,31 and its representation attempted in the Montolin Building (1988), or those of Enrique Browne in relation to the spirit of time and the spirit of the place. The search for a more or less precise orientation of work that gave architecture a vocation identifiable with the project location and became evident in the work itself principally derived from the multiple trials regarding the potential languages to be used. In that context, some quite dissimilar approaches can be seen in the search for alternative languages. On the one hand, there are those that made reference to formal clarity in relation to the design of the city and typological composition, emphasizing the unique and nearly monumental nature of the work. This approach can be represented by the Plaza Lyon Building (Murtinho & Asociados, 1979–82). On the other hand, there are those that might be considered an example of experimentation with material elements as well as components 132  hor a cio t orrent

of more ample languages and significances, including political. This approach may be represented by the Papal Altar in the Bandera District (Jorge Iglesias, Leopoldo Prat, and Mariano Puga, 1987), which reproduced, by choosing a rhetorical configuration in a sort of staging and testimony to reality, the façades of low‑income homes at the bottom of the altar from which Pope John Paul II celebrated Mass in his encounter with the poor of Chile during his visit while Pinochet was in power. Finally, we have the intentions of overcoming the pitfalls of language through the relationship between architecture and nature, and through the integration of environmental concepts present in local tradition, as well as the systematic trials of Enrique Browne with vine‑shrouded homes (casas parrón),32 or later, the search for the design of new alternatives along the same line by vegetation integrated in the façades, in the particular intervention together with Borja Huidobro in the Consorcio Building in 1990. One work that can be considered key to overcoming these interpretations in connection with the possibilities of language is the House on the Hill by Cristián Undurraga and Ana Luisa Devés, which won the Andrea Palladio prize, and its repercussions for the local architectonic culture. Built in 1990, it is, unlike any communicational attempt, a project resulting from an assignment to activate an area of suburban growth in Santiago where the geography and nature impose an initial foundation. The house is sunk at the bottom of the slope, and the linear organization of the spaces separates two areas: on one side, the closed front yard between the slope and the building; on the other, a wide park that dominates the distant views of the city. The house looks like a dike, and that condition is asserted by a single line of heights and the strong presence of the mass of walls that only open into the central part, designed in the form of a pergola opposite the living room. The House on the Hill announced the basic components of architecture for the coming years: landscape and elemental shape. It is a house contained between two lines whose definition is simple and rigid, based on few elements: the walls, regular yards, and the box emerging from the pergola. But at the same time, it is, conceptually, a territorial operation that shows an intelligent interpretation of the local geography. It is not presented as a map that contrasts with the surrounding landscape, but rather is inscribed within it and presented as a sign of reference. It is a strong line of construction, virtually an archaic territorial infrastructure. Again, the core conditions Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  133

of the project have to do with the disposition in comparison to the ground, submission of the shape to the surrounding landscape, the present relations between construction and nature, and the awareness of an operation that creates a new topography or even a new geography. boxes and tectonic approaches In Chilean architecture of the 1990s, many works share a group of primary elements that propound an architecture made of (aesthetic) plastic constants capable, through a simply regulated syntax, of responding to universal properties of senses and also of establishing a certain comfortable order in nature that guarantees the significance of the work of architecture as a work of art through its contrast to the landscape. The conception of the shape is regulated by the reduction to basic forms, erected within the patrimony of modernity. It entails pure forms to which the work can be taken through a general process of abstraction that establishes the principles of geometric definition and, therefore, the possibilities of alteration or juxtaposition with respect to other, similar forms. Therefore, a trust is established in the notion of composition, facilitating technical design and tectonic expression of the constructive apparatus of the works. This formal base is always accompanied by events coming from modern spatial imagery: entrance through the roof, a double height, the conquest of the elevated horizon, the creation of artificial ground, or continuous circulation, among others, as the spatial matrices that strengthen the aesthetic intensity of the elemental geometry. The Tongoy House (M. Klotz, 1990) is a work that is clearly understandable by the inevitable reference to the primitive cabin, the most elemental response to shelter from the outside, while simultaneously establishing permanent principles and laws of architecture: simplicity and beauty. On the entry side, the block is completely closed, while on the other side, it opens out into transparency and terraces contained within the perimeter of the mass. It is compact on the outside, a box measuring 6 by 6 by 12 meters. In the ground plan, the services are aligned in a block that constitutes the support for the central, double-height space. The systems of sliding doors provide a horizontal continuity with the lateral rooms and recompose 134  hor a cio t orrent

left: Tongoy House. View from the entrance. While being a compact box from the outside, measuring 6 by 6 by 12 meters, at the same time the house makes a counterpoint to the vast geographic extension of the beach. Photo by Horacio Torrent. right: Tongoy House. View towards the terrace. Photo by Horacio Torrent.

the lines of reference of the mass on the inside. The system of construction is quite simple and common, as in the most usual or regular constructions, made up of a regular weave of right angles and wooden reinforced beams, lined on the outside with horizontal boards and superposed sashes. The structure is separated from the natural ground by its foundation, which keeps it free from moisture and contamination. This reinforces its autonomy in relation to the location. The stability of the shape contraposes the construction against the surrounding sandy landscape, intensifying the formal experience and transcending the place itself through its abstraction. The Moro Showroom (Sebastián Irarrazabal and Guillermo Acuña, 1996) is a large container used to display wooden furniture, located on the periphery of Greater Santiago, an area always undergoing expansion. It is a cylinder around 50 meters in diameter and 8 meters high, completely lined in wood. The pure form of the drum emerges from the need to make the building clearly legible in a context that is plagued with shapes that are varied, because they derive from the metropolitan state, yet dispersed, because they are still in a semirural setting. That is why it also uses forms present in the Chilean countryside, such as rodeo arenas made of lumber. On the inside, the large diameter is divided by a lengthwise courtyard that cuts off the view of the nearby hills. The showroom is on one side, the warehouses on the other. In both cases, the cylinder is completely visible from the inside. The most notable point lies in the overwhelming mass, but the way in which its finish is placed is definitive. The arrangement of the wooden tables horizontally, separated from the ground and crowned by a steel valance, determines the formal identity. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  135

FIGURE 3.34 MISSING

Tongoy House. First and second floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

The large shed for the Coca Cola bottling plant in Santiago (Juan Sabbagh, 1996) seeks to minimize the impact of a large facility on its surroundings. It does so through a large nave that is simply and strongly defined. The longest point on the roof is a curved line that descends toward the edges from its greatest height at the center. This notable definition is accentuated by the form taken on by the finishes of the side walls and the use of red to highlight the laminate on the roof and lighten its presence. The utilization of elemental forms is also seen in other contexts. The house in the Faena District for the Santa Cruz Congregation (Juan Manuel Santos, 1994) represents the application of the basic shapes in a low‑cost house on a lot measuring 9 x 18 meters, the most common type of lot in Santiago. In an effort to contain any architectonic showiness, the house has a very simple ground plan, where the center is occupied and an alternation of rooms leaves yards around the edges and in the front. The second floor is built only in the center of the site and is elevated to present the pure and closed shape

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left: Torreburu House. View of the back facade towards the garden. Clear is the developing of form through a successive subtraction of parts resulting in the geometric design of the plan. Photo, Juan José Ugarte. right: Torreburu House. View of the double height terrace. Photo, Juan José Ugarte.

toward the outside. The work is entirely made of concrete blocks— quite popular and low in cost—which establishes a precise metric regularity and exposes its materiality. As in many other projects built in recent years, the design is defined on the basis of geometric figures and simple organizational diagrams. Yet, as we have seen, their construction is the basis for their poetry. These structures gain a presence and an identity through their type of construction. However, simple shapes are also at the base of more elaborate designs. Like a form of reference, the work of architecture is created through a successive subtraction of parts. This is the case of the Torreburu House (Juan José Ugarte and Hernán Cruz, 1995). The operations inside the box slowly dematerialized it. The crossing of two orthogonal weaves turned at 45 degrees produces the central element that establishes the main walls and liberates the distances to achieve a greater interaction of views between the inside and the outside. Here, the tectonic definition delimits the differences among the three materials used: concrete, brick, and wood. The concrete provides the topographical base for the house and consolidates the differences in gradients of the land, while creating the walls on the first floor, some of them for containment, and the second-floor apron. The reinforced brick walls conform to the service areas and those of the second floor. The wood appears in the structure in large pieces of laminate and as a closure made of plywood boards. The box is partially recomposed on the roof through eight portions at different heights that create different scales for the interior areas. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  137

Torreburu House. Ground floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Torreburu House. Ground floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

At the School of Mathematics of the Catholic University (Alejandro Aravena, 1998), the creation came from the need to unite two preexisting buildings. The internal geometries are displayed according to the elemental definition of the box so as to allow the building to be crossed on its two faces. Through the dual front, the spaces on each side are articulated through a pleat in the concrete laminas that are, alternatively, wall, apron, and roof. The material continuity horizontally and at the pleat is reinforced by the surface treatment of the copper laminate on vertical faces. The definition of a geometric body is restored through the portico that shapes the entrance. In these works, the use of basic shapes seems to be more a process of simplification, but in an inverse sense: it starts from the valuation of the shape that is rationally more appropriate and then elaborates the design through the extraction of the outstanding elements from their syntax and manipulates them until they lose their original meaning and give way to a new formality. The systems of construction and materials shape the original bodies and the formal elaboration that has been implemented. constructed architectural meaning, definition, and experience The 1990s were a period of expansion and consolidation of architecture as a moment in experience—in other words, a time when the habitability of architecture resumed a leading role in the concept of design. But this was true not only in the most functionalist or even climatic or environmental sense that traditionally drove the notion of habitability during the twentieth century, but also in a more abstract modality, as the source of topological decisions in the configuration of the work, and in a more concrete modality, through the inclusion of corporeal and preceptual situations. The decade of the 1990s witnessed material changes that brought together ideas on human behavior, and sensory, phenomenological, and existential considerations that enabled the inclusion of new significances over and above the notion of language. References to the body and experience have been present in different forms and in different intensities in Chilean architecture in the second half of the twentieth century. On many occasions the approach consisted of a theoretical formulation in conjunction with Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  139

the projects. As we have seen, an initially functionalist tension was present in the searches that were encouraged by Tibor Weiner. Later, more specific interrogations were developed by Juan Borchers around the concept of architecture keyed to measurement and human activity. Obviously, there was also the importance given by the Valparaíso School to the issue of experience and its phenomenological and poetic approach. But it was during the 1980s when the theoretical design of the Catholic University of Valparaíso definitively included existing experience in its field of experimentation in the Open City at Ritoque. The mere fact of inhabiting hostels in the Open City placed habitation in a leading role as a hub of disciplinary conceptualization. Habitation became the third moment in the sequence of architectonic definition, after design and construction.33 This way of understanding and embracing the conditions of experience itself as a key to the acts of design has become widespread among professionals. In recent years, it has also become more intensely absorbed into professional practice. On the one hand, this is included in the configurations designed from more generic visions in relation to more specific subjects; one may note in particular architecture for education and architecture as a place of religious rite. On the other hand, in more integral and complex conceptions that assume varieties of scales and configurations but are principally characterized by their inclusion of a record of bodies in movement, it resorts to the time‑space experience and embraces a clear move from the visual to the tactile and kinesthetic. By preferring tactile over visual, the matter becomes central and the details (in an evasion of their rhetorical role) become the privileged tools for making the conditions of experience evident. The Altamira School building (Mathias Klotz, Pilar Calderón, Carolina del Campo, and team, 1998) can thus be interpreted as a large public salon contained by two linear masses that, through their slight aperture, bring the mountain range into the yard and liberate the plane of the yard to achieve a panoramic view of the city below. The power of the large gymnasium space is exploited to articulate a simple composition, while at the same time representing the civic values of formal education. This is achieved through a fold that raises an artificial ground like a counterslope to the inclination of the natural ground in a way where the yard is the roof of the large salon. The space between the artificial ground and the natural ground arising from the contraposition of the slopes, a simple act of design, creates 140  hor a cio t orrent

Altamira School. Panoramic view from the yard towards the mountains. The design of the school organized around public spaces, with the gym underground and the inclined plane square above, order the linear volumes of the classrooms and connect the paths. © Felipe Fontecilla, www.barqo.cl

Altamira School. View of the main yard and classroom blocks. © Felipe Fontecilla, www.barqo.cl

Altamira School. Ground floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Altamira School. Longitudinal section through the yard. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

an intermediate space that has the ability to establish connections between different levels sheltered by the roof‑ground. It links the different levels of the classrooms through its inclination and thus makes the yard an active area, a place of spatial friction that is created by the principal act of design, the manipulation of the ground and the generation of an artificial topography. The roof thus becomes the activity yard providing a lookout on the distant city. Underneath, the wide space offers the possibility of more than one activity. It can alternatively be a gymnasium, a ceremony room, a meeting place, a game yard, or a place of community encounter. It is a place of memorable experiences, of free play above and of regulated play below, capable of being remembered as a vital experience in that stage of life when we are students and, at the same time, full of new possibilities of events and experiences. In the Sacred Heart Temple on the San Joaquin Campus (Teodoro Fernandez and Sebastián Hernandez, 1994–97), the composition of 142  hor a cio t orrent

the masses into a triangular ground plan, the distortions caused by the curvature of the wall, the laminate of the roof, and the partial exposure of the column structure offer a figurative intensity to which the eye surrenders in favor of the space. The nave is apparent because it is defined by the prisms of wood hanging from the roof that determines solely the space of the rite. The light from the stained glass over the entrance, sifted through the wooden shutters, causes a diffusion of limits and makes the abstract relations established between the adjusted repertoire of elements on the inside transcend their visibility to give way to the experience of the lighted space. The principal decisions on design come from a consideration of the acts, not only in the ritual meaning proposed by the plan but also, fundamentally, because of the explicit material conception and the dualities between spatial configuration and the value given to immaterial effects caused by the choice of materials in creating the cult setting. In 1992 a work of architecture was designed that represented Chile. And it also represented some hope, some traditions, many products from this country, and many aspirations, in an effort to show the changes—and the challenges—that Chile was living. The Chilean Pavilion at the Seville World Fair was emblematic—not only because

Built in plywood, the Pavilion shaped the country’s image in the international fair. Ana Turell, 1992.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  143

The Pavilion proposed a shift in Chilean architecture by stressing its proposal on the definition of shape through those conditions inherent to the experience of space. Ana Turell, 1992.

of the concern in many ways for the forms of localism and wooden tradition, but more so because it was a sign of the state of the art. As a sign of the architectural knowledge in this remote country, the pavilion exhibits a different conception of architecture. Founded on the most permanently professional characteristics of architectural design, it was an artifact conceived to express in its own shapes the design tools and the thought process by which it was conceived. The Seville Pavilion (José Cruz and Germán del Sol, 1990–92) was also paradigmatic in the change in architectonic concerns of the Chilean architectonic culture: the final abandonment of the problems of language as a code of meanings, to give way to the definition of shape through the conditions inherent to the experience of the space. On the outside, it maintains the dimensions and scale of a public building through the settling on the socle, the long curved walls that go even further because of the horizontal position of the board, and the unfurling of the ceiling above the ribs of the structure. The heads invert the direction of the curves and are composed of series of shutters that end in the large edge ribs, which delimit and compact the entire body. The inside is a large, unitary space oppressed by a complete view, but yet with a dual clearance: on the one hand, a zenithal line of indirect lighting that crosses the roof, establishing a diagonal direction between the two entrances; on the other, the double opposing curve of the walls and the inclusion of two semicircles on the ends—tiers of access to the auditorium and a supported sector—which establish a double turn that cancels out

Seville Pavilion. Ground floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  145

the opposite orientations. This play tends to create the movement of the bodies in multiple routes within an expositive space. There is full recognition of the weather in Seville. The intent is to control the sun and let the air flow between the structure and skin to construct what the architects called the open tempered light. The light is filtered between the suspended planes of the edges and is reflected in the wood. For this to happen, the ceiling is separated slightly and exalts the details of the encounters between structure and envelope on the inside and on the outside. The details also establish graduations in sizes and the material continuities necessary, as well as the differences in light at each point. The pavilion transposed the virtues of wood in space by showing its dialectic between touch and vision. Tectonically, it linked the method of construction directly to expressiveness and overcame, through the treatment of light, the reasons for the shape to stay open to a clear understanding, resulting in a distracted and participative use that offers the experience of being in it. Some of these strategies would be repeated at the Explora Hotel in Torres del Paine (1991–94) in the Provincia de Última Esperanza in the far south of the country. There the same architects built a work whose form is related to the position in the territory, on a geographic scale as well as on a more immediate scale. On a site between Peroe Lake and the start of the Paine River, the building develops as a linear mass that opens toward the north and the views of the magnificent and monumental horns of the mountain range. The building has four levels: a noble plane, a semisunken level that lodges the service areas, and two upper floors with thirty rooms. The noble plane is where the design strategy centrally embraces the body and the experience. The ground plan comes from the routes and the construction of an interior, whose dimensions in turn emerge from the possibilities of seeing the outside landscape—to contemplate not only the view, in itself monumental, but also “the multiple dimensions of an elaborated space,” according to José Cruz.34 This spatial elaboration is proposed in contrast to the pure, overwhelming visibility of the landscape so as to construct an interior landscape capable of welcoming the containment made obligatory by the climate. There are two shapes within this elaboration. On the one hand, the entire long interior of the building unfurls in a sequence that starts in the entrance hall, later evolving into a ramp, expanding the floor to the living room, and reaching, after a turn, the dining 146  hor a cio t orrent

room on the other end. The expansions of the lounge put crosswise depths in opposition that create other interior distances, inclined as compared to the façade, so as to avoid any direct confrontation with the view and instead present it from a certain depth. On the other hand, the walls and ceilings are built with boards in different directions in order to balance the tactile conditions of the interior against the strong visual conditions offered by the windows. Overall, the hotel is a remarkable attempt to provide value to the human experience and maintain the scale in relationship to the body, in the midst of the striking conditions of the geography. material rhetoric, production of sense Beyond the demand of creating it, beyond the conditions imposed by a subject or content, there is always a production of sense in architecture. One of the most interesting tensions in architecture at the end of the century in Chile is taking that approach. There is a direct relationship to artistic production. One of the most recurrent characteristics is the adoption of constructions in the landscape, which are then refined through a formal synthesis, followed by the construction of a sense of difference through a materialization that alters the original condition to convert it into an aesthetic object. In the Museum of Modern Art in Chiloe (Edward Rojas and Eduardo Feuerhake, 1992), simple structures that re-create, in abstraction, the traditional form of Chiloean sheds are overlaid in different ways and expose the idea of the house. In the picture warehouse, the traditional finish of wood tiles is abandoned and replaced by metal boards with yellow valances, which creates a transposition of senses and makes the box a manufactured icon. In the case of the Gracia Vineyard (Germán del Sol, 1996), the approximation to popularly recognized forms goes beyond picturesqueness to embrace the formal characteristics of the typical country shed. The envelope design that separates the vertical wooden boards amalgamates the shape without windows or apertures and allows for an interior lighting that creates a diffuse setting. The chapel designed by Eduardo Castillo (1998) re-creates the shapes of roadside memorials, those very small chapels that are commonly built on the side of roads to remember the dead in the Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  147

House in Los Vilos

An alteration in the clear and concrete meanings that allude to the more primary and universal memory of the house or home, while also to recurrent forms of popular and ordinary construction. Courtesy Cristobal Palma, www.cristobalpalma.com.

same place where an accident occurred and to protect their spirit so that it does not drift away. In a process of synthesis and formal elaboration, it becomes one single object through the constant use of a simple constructive detail—the same horizontal board on the faces and the roof that creates the envelope. The continuity between wall and roof thus resolves the tension between the abstract figure and the constructiveness that highlights, in packaged tectonics, the relationship to the original, archetypal object. The Larraín house in Bahía Azul, Los Vilos (Cecilia Puga 2001) offers an interpretation that first imposes the meaning of the art. It has been shaped into a simple elemental composition of pieces that refer to the artificiality of the house, but the singularity lies in the inversion of the shape. Once again, a disconcerting effect is provoked by the appearance of the formal configuration of a roof

Longitudinal section, cross section. Ground floor and second floor plans. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  149

where the ground is expected. The plays of significance bring about an alteration in the clear and concrete meanings that allude to the more primary and universal memories of the house or home, and to recurrent forms of popular and ordinary construction. Yet the Larraín house literally inverts it, making the inclined roof the base and the base a roof plane. The inversion of directions—a mechanism of contemporary art—is reasserted through a materialization in reinforced concrete that alludes to the traditional construction of lumber through the sequence of boards of the plank molding used in building. But there are other architectures that enhance a condition more transcendental than their use or materiality, a condition that is not in their purpose, that goes far beyond the product of architecture nowadays. By not being at the service of something, by deviating from the indications proposed by the use or the evidenced‑based plan, what remains is to articulate an experience itself. Meaning can only exist as a property of a work of architecture when its actions go beyond literalness, when it deviates from what is concrete, when it establishes a distance, when it offers a relationship such as we establish with the landscape or nature, meaning when the operation to create the work is beyond all evidence. A large part of contemporary architecture aspires to achieve this endowment of meaning. The most frequent approaches are found in work with ambiguity, a reduction of elements, silence, depersonalization, the establishment of codes with plural meanings, an absence of logic, a denial of repetition, even in its context, and a certain proximity to “soft” technologies where the presence of manual labor is strong and the use of machine work only apparent. The meaning appears when the reflexive capacity of the observer of the work—or, better said, the participant in the work—does not find in the data provided by the architect an ability to understand within the usual keys to interpretation. One can only live the work after this denial of understanding. The Amphitheater of the Open City in Ritoque designed by Juan Purcell, Jorge Sanchez, and the Open City Group (2000) is a large, continuous disk that is deformed to embrace the topography, tiered in parts, merely inclined in others, with a square inscribed on its inside. The differences appear from the varying use of brick in its creation. It is crossed by a small canal that envelops the continuity of the ravine on which it is founded. The canal marks the difference 150  hor a cio t orrent

left: Culiprán Public Field. Aerial view. This design delivers a game of lines and objects contained in an unusual square, abandoning the productivity of design and instead implementing the act of memory through the use of the traditional technique of coal burning mud spheres. In Arquitectura reciente en Chile: Las lógicas del proyecto (Santiago: Edicianes ARQ, 2000). right: Culiprán Public Field. Detail of the burnt mud spheres. Photo by Horacio Torrent.

in height at each of the sides, exposing the frieze on which the poetic work is inscribed. The way the immanent geography and geometry are embraced offers an experience that constructs the meaning of the work itself. The Public Field in Culiprán (Smiljan Radic and Marcela Correa, 1999) is a work in which the production of meaning in Chilean architecture reaches its peak. The architects here constructed an enigmatic discourse. There is a play of lines and objects contained in an unusual square, surrounded by palm trees and accentuated by the tangentiality of the road. The elements that make up this Public Field unleashed references in all possible senses. The spheres made of burnt mud, the mortar, the canals all exercise their influence as Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  151

Culiprán Public Field. Floor plan. Drawing by Benjamín Goñi.

the genetics of the territoriality and at the same time as memories of the past. At Culiprán, the elements act in concert, with no need for synthesis because each component maintains its properties. The compositional and phenomenological actions are integrated into a logic of meaning, where the configuration of situations is not understood to be of service to acts but rather to promote them because it links them to the eventuality. They are not presumed to be a condition of the design, but rather the possibility of experience. The things present there are disconcerting because they seem to invite one to attribute allegorical or perhaps symbolic meanings to them, and none of that is necessary because the things themselves reject those meanings—they merely are what they are. They do not need our interpretation. It suffices to “be there.”

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conclusion: artifacts in the landscape For some time now, the Chilean landscape has been a subject of description, reflection, and interpretation, particularly in an aesthetic dimension that constructs autonomous frameworks of meaning of the global culture. In other words, it represents the local conditions, even within framework of the international cultural industry. Local or international tour guides have created many of the perceptions we now have of that geography: they have made it into landscape. Magnificent photographs represent hidden locations where nature is exuberant. Poetry has always recounted these particular conditions of a country of such varied geography, climate, and peoples. Literature expresses several of the more recent intellectual excursions, since Bruce Chatwin traveled around South America, transforming exoticism and simple picturesqueness into a sort of metaphysics.35 Gabriela Mistral said: “Everything is there: a geological boldness, rough forest, long orchards, pinnacled snows and icebergs.”36 It is inevitable that a particular sensitivity would develop with regard to this territory and to its cultural representations. It is well known that landscape is a cultural image and, at the same time, a way of representing it, structuring it, or even simplifying it.37 The landscape is always an interpretation of the physical medium and not the setting itself. Its representation requires devices that make it evident. Painting or photography frequently act to bring the landscape to light, to describe and interpret it. Architecture also has that ability and can therefore become a device for making landscape appear—and also for creating it. The local architecture at the end of the twentieth century inscribed the landscape in a context of aesthetic proposals where Chile is the object. It became reenchanted with the conditions of the landscape, its geography, its myths and legends, its precariousness, its materiality, and its temporality. If the geographic awareness had previously facilitated an architectonic practice in relation to landscape, it had done so with the landscape being the host—where the site was valued, where the views profoundly shaped the design, and where some materials associated with the understanding of the locale— even if they were alien in themselves—were rhetorically used in construction. Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  153

In the 1990s, the ways of relating to the landscape were somewhat different, although on the same bases, but with a form of architectonic action that capitalized in part what could be understood to be a system of concepts and values that led to the historical definition of the discipline in the Chilean context, though never free from interaction with the international context. Nearly all the recent works pose a particular relationship to the landscape, as if they cannot forget the dimension offered by nature, where the works propose building the limits of their own landscapes. This happens even in the urban setting, but it is summarized in the work itself and has little ability to influence the conception and construction of the public space, which reveals a clear debt owed by the discipline. Of course, this consideration becomes more evident in the rural or natural context, where the basic operation lies in the contraposition of the work to the landscape in order to make it appear, give it meaning, and construct it. The resource has been in the use of basic shapes in a strangeness as compared to the ground. If there is something that identifies Chilean architecture today, it is that particular relationship with an abstract base that composes quality. In some way, recent Chilean architecture has become an articulated field of experimentation in a search for construction, materials, and local technologies, often popular and cheap, that have made a path toward rethinking the significances of buildings and the relationship between architecture and territorial landscape. This has been achieved either through a strongly abstract conception or the use of popular local forms that are given a particular type of materialization, which makes them different and a reference in the landscape. Of course, the value acquired today by the material culture in the context of the Chilean architectonic culture is at least equivalent to what it had in the 1950s and 1960s, and it holds the place that language held during the 1980s. It is likely that this derives not solely from concrete theories but also from the constructive intensity facilitated by the recent economic development. Perhaps there is something of this in the seduction unleashed by the subject as the generating element of the project during the 1990s. But the capacity of expression through architectonic form is fundamentally recognized in the deed of construction itself, values that are more or less permanent and allude to real conditions established 154  hor a cio t orrent

by the medium—a certain authenticity of the territory. It is as if the technique would try to impose itself upon nature in a country where nature still wins the battles from time to time and reminds us, by subtle or tremendous ground movements, that our works are temporary, temporal and perhaps ephemeral. Not in vain has a construction culture been developed grounded on frugality, a lack of affection, and starting anew. All these are characteristics of a place on the planet frequently subject to catastrophes and a certain permanent ancestral poverty. That is why the more recent works represent a substantial change in the concept of weight in opposition to movement in recognition of the more elemental, ancient techniques that release stress and indicate lightness more than support. The local architectonic culture has also begun to consider landscape apart from its condition of host and to embrace it as a phenomenological experience. This takes care of the location through the inclusion of the work that is not imposed on it, but rather constructs it, shapes it, on the basis of the intervention. It therefore knowingly offers the architecture itself as landscape. It is no longer a matter of collaborating with the project location, but rather of making the location through the project. In that regard, the visual considerations have given rise to other, more complex, yet sensory considerations that constitute a part of the experience of individuals and their relations to the geography and culture in the territory. The change offered by more recent works—which, of course, represent a singular approach to the globalized panorama of architecture—largely comes from a particular development of architecture in the last fifty years and from more recent changes in the local architectonic culture. This is due, fundamentally, to the role that the idea of grounding all architectonic action in relation to the place and to the acts of man has had in the theoretical base that has gradually been elaborated with a certain autonomy in Chile during the second half of the twentieth century.

Abstraction and Tectonics in Chilean Architecture since 1950  155

notes introduction 1. A comprehensive history of colonial architecture can be found in A. Benavides, La Arquitectura en el Virreinato del Perú y la Capi‑ tanía Genral de Chile (Santiago: Ediciones Ercilla, 1941). 2. The importance and influence of Joaquín Toesca has been portrayed by G. Guarda, El arquitecto de la Moneda Joaquín Toesca 1752–1799: una imagen del imperio español en América (Santiago: Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, Escuela de Arquitectura, 1997). See also M. Waisberg, Joaquín Toesca: arquitecto y maestro (Santiago: Universidad de Chile,1975); and I. Modiano, Toesca: arquitecto itinerante de la tradición clásica del siglo XVIII y otros ensayos (Santiago: Ediciones del Pirata, 1993). 3. Claudio Brunet de Baines, Curso de Arqui‑ tectura, escrito en francés para el Instituto Nacional de Chile . . . I traducido al castellano de orden del supremo gobierno por Francisco Solano Pérez (Imprenta de Julio Belin i Ca., 1853). 4. M. Waisberg, La clase de arquitectura y la sección de bellas artes: en torno al centenario de la creación de la sección de Bellas Artes de la Universidad de Chile 1858–1958 (Santiago: Instituto de Teoría e Historia de la Arquitectura, Universidad de Chile, Facultad de Arquitectura, 1962). 5. One of the few comprehensive views on Chilean architecture during the nineteenth century is E. Pereira Salas, “La arquitectura chilena en el siglo XIX,” Anales de la Universi‑ dad de Chile. 6. Before the Colegio de Arquitectos was founded, three different organizations (the Sociedad Central de Arquitectos, the Instituto de Arquitectos de la Universidad de Chile, and the Sindicato de Arquitectos de la Universidad Católica) had been grouped

together in one institution called Asociación de Arquitectos de Chile, whose first president was Ricardo Larraín Bravo. 7. A significant number of journals were published throughout the twentieth century in Chile, many of them connected to professional organizations. A record of most of them can be found in H. Eliash and M. Moreno, Arquitectura y modernidad en Chile (Valparaíso: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile, 1989). 8. The creation of the Faculty of Architecture at the Catholic University followed one of these conferences. 9. The movement generated by this reform came to be known as the Valparaíso School, associated with the foundation of the Open City in the early 1970s. Chapter 1 1. Various international journals, including Casabella (no. 650 [November 1997]) and Ar‑ quitectura Viva, Spain (no. 104 [July–August 2002]), have dedicated special issues to Chilean contemporary architecture. In addition, an outstanding number of Chilean architects were selected as finalists in the two competitions for the Latin American Mies van der Rohe Prize in Architecture. Book monographs and exhibitions have been nationally and internationally dedicated to their work. 2. In his 1934 “Raçoes da Nova Arquitetura,” Lucio Costa (1902–98) shows a lucid understanding of the European architectural avant-garde and takes a very original position about its connection with historical tradition. See Lucio Costa, Registro de uma vivencia, 2 ed. (São Paulo: Empresa das Artes, 1997). 3. The book Sapere vedere l’architettura, published by Bruno Zevi in 1948, was translated by Cino Calcaprina and Jesús Bermejo in

1951 within the academic environment of the Tucumán Institute and was published by Poseidón in Buenos Aires. 4. See C. Caveri, El hombre a través de la arquitec‑ tura (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Carlos Lohlé, 1967). 5. Amereida (Santiago: Lambda, 1967) is a collective poem published by a group of architects, poets, and artists attached to the School of Architecture of the Catholic University in Valparaíso, following a poetic journey through the Latin American geographic interior. 6. The participants connected with the school were Alberto Cruz, Godofredo Iommi, Fabio Cruz, and Claudio Girola. From outside were invited the philosopher François Fédier; the poets Jonathan Boulting, Edison Simonds, and Michel Deguy; the painter Jorge Pérez Román; and Henry Tronquoy, a sculptor and designer. 7. Fundamentos de la Escuela de Arquitectura de la Universidad Católica de Valparaíso (1971). Presented to the Centro de Estudios del Pacífico on occasion of the Pacific Conference, September– October 1970, and published by the school. 8. J. R. Morales, Arquitectónica I (Santiago: Ed. Universitaria, 1966); Morales, Arquitectónica II (Santiago: Ed. Universitaria, 1969). 9. J. R. Morales, “La Concepción espacial de la arquitectura,” Hogar y Arquitectura 3–4 (1970): 21–25. 10. In the late twentieth century the Universidad de Chile, Universidad Católica del Norte, Universidad del Bío-Bío, and others all published architectural journals. 11. The universities, specially the Catholic University through ARQ and Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile, have published a significant number of architectural books. 12. Other houses of the same period, like the Borgheresi house (1959), make use of the patio scheme, in this case under the inspiration of Frank Lloyd Wright. 13. Shortly after having completed his studies in architecture, Larraín, in association with Jorge Arteaga, built the Oberpauer (1930) and the 158  Notes to Pages 3–38

Santa Lucia (1932) buildings, considered by many historians as the first modernist structures ever built in Chile. 14. A great collector, Larraín was the owner of many modern art works, most of which he eventually sold to acquire pre-Columbian pieces. His huge and refined collection allowed him to found the Museo de Arte PreColombino in Santiago. 15. Although they failed to be completed, both projects were published by the school, along with theoretical statements that let others learn about the ideas behind them; see Anales de la Universidad Católica de Valparaíso 1 (1954): 219. 16. An interesting report on the house can be found in ARQ, 16. March 1991, 31–39. 17. The theoretical bases of this proportional system can be found in his book Meta Arquitectura (Santiago: Mathesis Ediciones, 1975). The cubic series based on a 7-centimeter unit was conceived as a kind of alternative to Le Corbusier Modulor, aiming to solve some its limitations. 18. En ronda means to play a round game, like children. 19. The Corporación de Mejoramiento Urbano (Urban Improvement Corporation, CORMU) was created under the Eduardo Frei government, with the explicit purpose of promoting a significant urban renewal in Chilean cities. In San Luis a combination of rural and urban conditions were included in the project. 20. See Generación del 90 (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 2001). See also Arquitectura reciente en Chile, las lógicas del proyecto, introduction by Horacio Torrent (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 2000). 21. Among the exhibitions were the following: Espai contemporani a Xile Collegi d’Arquitectes de Catalunya; Demarcació de Barcelona; Venice Biennale 2002 and 2004; and Alejandro Aravena’s exhibition at the Graduate School of Design, Harvard University, October 2004. Conferences dedicated to contemporary Chilean architecture were held in Quito, Ecuador, in 2004 and in Caracas, Venezuela, in 2005.

22. Much of the most valuable domestic production of these years can be found in two books published by Ediciones ARQ: Casas, Obra de arquitectos chilenos contemporáneos, with an Introduction by Ann Pendleton-Jullian (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 1997); and 24 Casas, Obra de arquitectoschilenos contemporaneos, with an introduction by Alberto Sato Kotani (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 1999). 23. See F. Perez and R. Perez de Arce, The School of Valparaíso Open City Group, ed. R. Rispa (2003: McGill University Press). Material coming from the Open City buildings was included in many international exhibitions during this decade. 24. That is the case of his Public Camp in Culiprán, Melipilla, which is difficult to situate between the fields of urban design and land art. His house in Chiloé can be seen as another version of an elemental shelter. 25. See F. Perez, A. Aravena, and J. Quintanilla, Los Hechos de la Arquitectura (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 1999); A. Aravena, ed., El lugar de la Arqui‑ tectura (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 2003); and A. Aravena, ed., Material de Arquitectura (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 2004).

chapter 2 1. Casabella 650 (November 1997). The magazine compiles a useful selection of essays and contemporary projects in Chile; the cover photograph is by Alberto Piovano. 2. Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, 11th ed. (Springfield, Mass., 2005). 3. With the exception of certain regions, such as Mendoza and San Juan, Argentina does not suffer from earthquakes. 4. These represent the most densely populated areas of the country. 5. Sergio Rojo, “Arquitectura y sismos en la arquitectura y sus problemas en Chile,” Aisthesis 4 (1969). 6. As a note of interest, Le Corbusier was approached at the time to become the master planner for the reconstruction of Chillán, in an initiative that did not prosper.

7. Chilean seismic codes were first based upon Japanese precedent, and later, beginning in 1972, assimilated to California codes. 8. Montserrat Palmer, Eugenio Garces, Patricio Morgado, Javier Del Rio, and Vicente Perez, “La Arquitectura de la madera en Chile, un estudio para su desarrollo entre 1960 y 1990,” Fondecyt Research No. 0655–91 (Santiago, March 1993). 9. According To Montserrat Palmer in a monograph on modern timber architecture in Chile: Palmer, Montserrat and Eugenio Garces, La ar‑ quitectura de la madera en Chile, un estado de su desarrollo entre 1960 y 1990, Fondecyt Research Project 0655–91, p. 1 10. Palmer Montserrat, Arquitectura metalica en Chile. 11. Martin Pawley, “Garbage Housing II: Chile and the Cornell Programme,” Architectural Design, December 1973. 12. Elton was also responsible for the remarkable “Antumalal” Hotel, which is portrayed in the essay “Artifacts in the Landscape.” 13. This agency called CORMU (Urban Improvement Corporation) enjoyed widespread powers for urban renewal, such as urban planning, eminent domain, and the establishment of joint public-private ventures. CORMU was dissolved by the military government in the early 1970s. 14. Although there are a few point blocks predating this trend, they remained exceptional, the most outstanding being Torres del Tajamar, a landmark housing scheme in Santiago (Bresciani Valdes Castillo Huidobro, Bolton Larrain Prieto Lorca, architects, 1962–67). 15. Prolonged periods of study abroad, such as that of Borchers, or postgraduate experiences such as Duhart’s, or even the practice within some noted atelier, such as Duhart’s within Corbusier’s studio, illustrate the case. 16. These influences were highly selective: for example, Lina Bo Bardi was largely ignored, also Villanova Artigas and the Saõ Paulo school. 17. Three main schools of architecture existed at the outset of our period: within the University of Chile in Santiago, the Catholic University in the same city, and the Catholic University ValNotes to Pages 38–50  159

paraíso. The Valparaíso School was reformed in 1952 to become the most experimental one in the country. By the year 2000, and as an effect of liberal policy and sustained student demand, there were some thirty schools of architecture in Chile. 18. This little known 1963 project is featured in an essay by M. Viveros, published in ARQ 28 (1994). As mentioned earlier, Le Corbusier was approached following the 1949 earthquake in Chillán with the idea of commissioning him for the master plan for the reconstruction of that city, but the initiative collapsed. The attempts for the realization of his scheme for the Errazuriz House of 1930 also failed. 19. Iommi and Cruz were fully engaged in academic activity. Based in Santiago between extensive periods of travel, Borchers related to a small group of followers and occasionally lectured to select audiences. José Ricardo Morales was in charge of theory classes in two of the main schools in Santiago. 20. A recent example of this grass-roots building activity was the overnight erection of a large community of houses for the purpose of weekend recreation in the northern region of Caldera. 21. Housing is excluded in this chapter partly because of a focus upon special structures. For examples of residential architecture, see chapter 1. A useful source for the subject of modern architecture within the period is Humberto Eliash and Manuel Moreno, Arquitectura mod‑ erna en Chile (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, XXXX). 22. A full description of the complex development of this project is published in ARQ 18 (September 1981), featuring research by F. Perez. H. Riesco, P. Urrejola, and P. Bannen. 23. This structure includes areas of brick, bound to concrete elements according to the “reinforced brick “ structure devised for seismic purposes. 24. See Fernando Perez and Rodrigo Pérez de Arce, Valparaiso School Open City Group, ed. Raul Rispa (XXXX: McGill University Press, 2003); also Ann Pendleton Jullian, The Road That Is Not a Road and the Open City Ritoque, Chile 160  Notes to Pages 50–66

(Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1996). The first account of the project is to be found in Alberto Cruz, “Proyecto para una Capilla, en el Fundo Pajaritos,” Anales de la Universidad Católica de Valparaíso 1 (1954). 25. The detailed description issues from Cruz’s own text, “Proyecto para una Capilla, en el Fundo Pajaritos” (1954). 26. “Hoy en día el nacimiento está en cualquier acontecimiento” (ibid.). 27. According to the expression coined by Peter Smithson. 28. Cruz, “Proyecto para una Capilla, en el Fundo Pajaritos.” 29. Both were published in the aftermath of the Chillán Project: Juan Borchers, Institución Ar‑ quitectónica (Santiago: Editorial Andrés Bello, 1968); and Borchers, Meta Arquitectura (Santiago: Mathesis Ediciones, 1975). 30. This legacy is archived at the Centro de Documentación Sergio Larrain Garcia Moreno at the Faculty of Architecture, Design, and Urban Studies, Catholic University, Santiago. 31. Juan Borchers, “Discourse for a Student of Architecture” (1973), abridged edition reprinted in the monograph edited by Pérez, Bannen, De la Cruz, Urrejola, and Riesco in CA 98 (July– September 1998). 32. Rodrigo de la Cruz, in “Cooperativa Eléctrica de Chillán,” ARQ 13 (August 1989). 33. Educated in Chile between 1935 and 1940, by 1941 Duhart worked for the corporation for the reconstruction in the realization of rural schemes for the devastated area around Chillán. In 1942 Duhart joined the Harvard master’s program where he worked under Gropius. He joined the Atelier de Rue de Sèvres in 1952, collaborating during one year in projects for Ahmedabad and Chandigarh. He taught at the Catholic University, Santiago. 34. Estimated costs as well as other characteristics of the building are based upon Alberto Montealegre Kenner, Emilio Duhart Arquitecto (Santiago: ARQ Editions, 1994). To this date this is the most significant reference text on Duhart’s work.

35. Eight chapels were either rebuilt or built anew within this program, which combined academic and professional work. The account of this enterprise can be found in Iglesias de la Moderni‑ dad en Chile (Santiago: ARQ Editions); also in Perez and Pérez de Arce, Valparaiso School Open City Group, ed. Rispa. 36. The most complete account of the complex is to be found in Patricio Gross and Enrique Vial, El Monasterio Benedictino de Las Condes (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile, 1988). 37. Ibid. 38. For an extensive presentation of the Open City, its origins, and its objectives, see Perez and Pérez de Arce, Valparaiso School Open City Group, ed. Rispa. 39. The Chilean Pavilion at Seville was jointly designed by José Cruz and German del Sol. 40. José Cruz, in “Fabbrica di essence, stabilimento per la lavorazione del legno a Lampa, Santiago,” Casabella 650 (November 1997).

Chapter 3 1. Initially, the participation of some works in the exhibition “Presente y futuros de las Ciudades,” in Barcelona 96. See Presente y futuros: La arquitectura en las ciudades (Barcelona: UIA, ACTAR, 1996). One year later, the monograph published in Casabella no. 650 and the significant rise in reporting on Chilean works in other magazines and publications (Abitare no. 353, L’Arca no. 93, Arkinka no. 28, A&V no. 48, Deutsche Bauzeitung no. 129, 2G no. 8, Praxis no. 2). In May 2002, an exhibition of the Barcelona Architectural Society: Espai contemporani a Xile: Condiciones de Illunyania. See Pilar Calderón and Marc Folch, “Condicions de Illunyania,” in Arquitectures del mon, Diari no. 9 (Barcelona: Collegi d’Arquitectes de Catalunya, 2002). Some months later, the monograph of Arquitectura viva called “Ultimo Chile” (Arquitectura viva 85 [July–August 2002]). See also the recent monograph on architecture entitled Chile: Folk Inferno (Architectura 41 [Bucharest] [February 2006]).

2. Horacio Torrent, Arquitectura reciente en Chile: Las lógicas del proyecto (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 2000). 3. See Horacio Torrent, “Lo que falta no daña: Una indagación sobre la cultura y la crítica arquitectónica chilena del último tiempo,” Revista de arquitectura 6 (September 1995). 4. Rafael Moneo introduced the monograph issue of Casabella saying that “given its condition of belonging to a ‘faraway’ country whose more advanced minorities have inevitably aimed the compass toward Europe, Chilean architecture has been developed in relation to the conquered proximity of its sources, pursuing the program of being ‘modern,’ understood to be proof of the fact that it is possible to satisfy the aspiration of canceling out distance.” See Rafael Moneo, “Architettura e globalizzazione: Alcune riflessioni a partire alle vicende dell’architettura cilena contemporanea,” Casa‑ bella 650 (November 1997). 5. See Humberto Eliash and Manuel Moreno, Arquitectura y modernidad en Chile: Una realidad múltiple 1925–1965 (Santiago: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Chile, 1989). 6. Andres Téllez, “25 Houses in Santiago, Chile, 1935–1950,” Docomomo 34 (March 2006). 7. Henry Russel Hitchcock, Latin American Archi‑ tecture since 1945 (New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1955). 166. 8. Reyner Banham, The New Brutalism: Ethic or Aesthetic? (London: Architectural Press, 1966). 9. Bullrich’s monograph presented several paradigmatic works to the Argentine public: the Portales Neighborhood Unit, the Salar del Carmen District, the Republic Remodeling, the Zenteno District, the Olympic Village, the University College of Antofagasta, and the Chapel of the Benedictine Monastery in Las Condes. See Francisco Bullrich, “La Arquitectura de Chile,” Summa 11 (April 1968) 22–24. The Headquarters of ECLA had already been shown in no. 8 of the same magazine. 10. Antonio Díaz, “Algunas condiciones sobre la arquitectura chilena,” Summa 11 (April 1968): 25. Notes to Pages 67–100  161

11. Horacio Torrent, “Arquitectura Culta, anotaciones en los márgenes,” ARQ 50 (2002). 12. Among others, Pablo Neruda clearly refers to it in Himno y regreso in 1939, later included in the Canto general. See Pablo Neruda, Canto general (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991). 13. See Macarena Cortes, “Un nuevo espacio de veraneo: El Cap Ducal en la génesis de la modernidad,” ARQ 55 (December 2003): 48–49. 14. See Fernardo Perez O., “Un edificio y veinte años de Arquitectura Moderna 1940–1960,” ARQ 18 (September 1991): 30–31. 15. On many occasions, the image of the Salar de Carmen complex has been associated with that of the Saharan settlements. This referential image is quite obvious and might have had a relationship to the complexes built by Atbat. However, there is little doubt that except for the strong disaggregation of masses and the whiteness of the façades, there is a clear approximation to the way the living space of the people in the Chilean north is organized and materialized. See Glenda Kapstein, Espacios intermedios: Respuestas arquitectónicas al medio ambiente (Antofagasta, Chile: Universidad del Norte, Fundación Andes, 1988). 16. Mario Pérez de Arce L., “El ambiente natural y la arquitectura,” in Aisthesis: Revista Chilena de investigaciones estéticas. No 4. La arquitectura y sus problemas en Chile (Santiago: Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, 1969). 125. 17. See Fernando Pérez Oyarzún, “The Valparaíso School,” Harvard Architecture Review 9 (1993). 18. The original group consisted of Francisco Mendez as well, followed by Claudio Girola. See Fernando Pérez Oyarzún and Rodrigo Pérez de Arce, Valparaíso School Open City Group, ed. R. Rispa (2003: McGill University Press). 19. Tomás Maldonado, Max Bill (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Nueva Visión, 1954). Reprinted in Maldonado, Escritos preulmianos (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Infinito, 1977), 111. 20. I am indebted to Andres Ureta for this point. 21. Alberto Cruz, Estudio de iglesias parroquiales: Territorios parroquiales (Valparaíso: Instituto

162  Notes to Pages 101–133

de Arquitectura, Universidad Católica de Valparaíso, June 1960). 22. Amereida, 2d ed. (Valparaíso: Talleres de Investigaciones Gráficas, Escuela de Arquitectura, Universidad Católica de Valparaíso: 1986), pp. 45, 77. 23. Ibid., 111. 24. See in particular Ann Pendleton Jullian, The Road That Is Not a Road and the Open City, Ritoque, Chile (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1996). 25. Schön, Donald, The Reflective Practitioner (1983). Kenneth Frampton used this notion around 1991 to interpret the architecture of four countries: Finland, France, Spain, and Japan. I am aware of the similarities that many have emphasized between Chile and Finland in regard to development models or landscapes, yet I believe that this notion points out notable differences for this case, such as no master, idiosyncratic distance, Latin culture, and economic dynamics. See Kenneth Frampton, His‑ toria crítica de la arquitectura moderna, 6th ed., expanded (Barcelona: Gustavo Gili, 1991), 333. 26. The approximations of modern Latin American architecture to the colonial past are quite well known—for example, Lucio Costa in Brazil, the Austral Group in Argentina, or Martinez in Colombia. 27. See Humberto Eliash, Fernando Castillo de lo moderno a lo real (Bogotá: Editorial Escala, 1990). 28. See Alberto Montealegre, Emilio Duhart, arqui‑ tecto (Santiago: Editorial ARQ, 1994). 29. See Fernando Pérez Oyarzún, Christian de Groote, la arquitectura de tres décadas de trabajo (Santiago: Editorial ARQ, 1993). 30. See Edward Rojas, El reciclaje insular. (Bogotá: Editorial Escala, 1996). 31. See Cristian Fernández Cox, Arquitectura y modernidad apropiada: Tres aproximaciones y un intento (Santiago: Taller América, 1990). 32. The arbor is a structure that bears the growth of the grapevine. It is traditionally used in the wine-making zones of Chile and entails

a wooden structure that gives shape to an intermediate space by means of a plant mass and thus provides shade. It is also used in gardens. The work with these structures by Enrique Browne began with the house on Charles Hamilton Street, built in 1974, and continued with several other works and projects, mainly houses on Paul Harris Street in 1980, and the house on San Damian Court in 1986. See: Tuca, Browne, and Walker, Enrique Browne: Obras 1974–1994 (Santiago: Ediciones ARQ, 1995). 33. This idea was developed briefly by Crispiani. See Alejandro Crispiani, “Heredar la Vanguardia o la estela de la forma,” in Hacia una nueva abstracción, ed. A. Crispiani and Bennett (Santiago: José Cruz Ovalle, Ediciones ARQ, 2004), 9.

34. José Cruz Ovalle, “Hotel Explora,” in ibid., 64. 35. Bruce Chatwin, In Patagonia (New York: Penguin Classics, 2003). 36. See Gabriela Mistral, prologue, “Contadores de patrias,” in Benjamín Subercaseaux, Chile o una loca geografía (Santiago: Editorial Universitaria S.A., 1998). Originally published in 1940. English translation: Chile: A Geographic Extravan‑ ganza (New York: Macmillan, 1943). 37. See D. Cosgrove and S. Daniels, eds., The Ico‑ nography of Landscape: Essays on the Symbolic Representation, Design and Use of Past Environ‑ ments (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988).

Notes to Pages 140–153  163

index Aalto, Alvar, 2 “absence,” abstraction of, 56, 58 abstraction: of absence, 56, 58; and constructive properties, 118; in local traditions, 19; and material circumstances, 51, 55–62; and tectonics: and box shapes, 134–39; and constructed meaning, 139–47; elemental composition and shape, 93–101; and geographical consciousness, 101–21; landscape as cultural image, 98, 153–55; material realism and language, 121–34; material rhetoric and production of sense, 147–52; overview, 91–93; and urban forms, 98 Achupallas urbanization project, 17 acts/activities, influence of on design, 54, 70, 114, 116, 120–21. See also experience and constructed meaning; ritual acts and design Acuña, Guillermo, 43, 135 adobe, modern interpretations of, 14, 41, 122 Aguirre, Jorge, xi, 8 Algarrobo, Chile, 30, 123 Allende, Salvador, 25 Altamira School building, 140–42 Amereida, 3–4, 26, 119–20 Amereida Sculpture, 87 Amphitheater of the Open City, 150–51 Ancud Hostel, 123, 124, 125, 126 Andrea Palladio award, 39, 133 Antofagasta, Chile, 94–97, 98, 109–12 Antumalal Hotel, 103–105, 106 apartment building design, 49, 97 Aravena, Alejandro, 38, 43, 139 Architectural Analysis Workshop, 113 architectural culture, development of. See modern theory, development of Architecture Biennale (exhibition), 7, 29 Argentina, architecture in, 3, 4, 114 Arica Advancement Board, 108–109 ARQ (journal), 7, 29 Arquitectónica I and II (Morales), 5, 6 art and architecture, 3–4, 5, 70, 87–88, 114, 147. See also poetry and architecture Arteaga, Jorge, xi, 93, 158n 13

asymmetrical structures, 84–87 AUCA (journal), 7 autonomous masses, 94–99 avant-garde influences, xiii, 3, 7, 50, 117 Baeza, Arturo, 117–19 Baixas, Juan, 37, 38 Banham, Reyner, 98 Banquet Hostelry, 26, 27–28 Bauhaus, xii, 113 Beaux Arts model, x, 93 Bellalta, Jaime, 25 Bello, Andres, ix Bendersky, Jaime, 97 Benedictine monastery chapel project, 70–74 Bermejo, Jesus, 4–5, 17, 58–62 Bill, Max, 114 block structures, 98, 109, 116–17, 134–35 Borchers, Juan: Duhart’s similarity to, 63; Electric Cooperative project, 58–62; and human activity, 140; and mathematical foundations of architecture, 16; Meneses house, 4–5, 17, 18–19, 20, 23; overview, 4–5, 58–59; and spatial theory, 6 Borgheresi house, 158n 12 box shapes, 41–43, 109, 134–39 Boza, Cristián, 38–39 bracing structures, 47, 68, 83, 84 Bravo, Rodolfo, 98 Brazilian architecture, 3, 13, 50, 54, 67 Bresciani, Carlos, 9, 94–97, 98 Breuer, Marcel, 8–9 brick: locally manufactured, 49, 76, 77; as paving material, 75; prevalence of, 48; in self-supporting walls, 76–77; Toesca’s techniques, ix; in traditional construction style, 14, 20, 24, 41 bricolage, 41 brise-soleil, 84 Browne, Enrique, 25, 132, 133 Browne, Tomás, 37, 38 Brunet de Baines, Claude François, ix–x Brunner, Karl, xii Index  165

building codes, 46–47, 84, 85. See also urban regulation and design Bullrich, Francisco, 100 Bulnes, Manuel, ix Burle Marx, Roberto, 50, 63, 67 CA (journal), 7 Caballero house, 43 cable structures, 63–64 California, 47, 49 Campo Culipran, 88 Cancino, Elias, 88 Candelaria Chapel, 117–19 Cantagua, Chile, 41 cantilevered structures, 97, 103–105 Cap Ducal hotel/restaurant, xi, 101–103 Casabella (magazine), 45 Casa Chica (Small House), 41, 42 Casa del Cerro (Hill House), 39, 133 Casa de los Nombres exhibition hall, 77–80 Casanueva, Manuel, 38, 88 Casas Parrón, 25 Castillo, Christián, 25 Castillo, Eduardo, 25, 147, 149 Castillo, Fernando, 9, 25, 123 Castillo house, 123 Catholicism, 70, 117 Catholic University, Santiago, Chile, 3, 9, 13, 113, 122. See also Universidad Católica, Santiago, Chile Catholic University, Valparaíso, Chile. See Valparaíso School Caveri, Claudio, 3 Centennial of the Republic, x, 93 centrifugal composition approach, 94, 113, 117, 122 Centromaderas, Santiago, Chile, 48, 80, 81–84 chapel reconstruction project (Corral, Chile), 67–70, 117–19 Chatwin, Bruce, 153 Chilean architecture: historic overview, ix–xiii; international influences on, ix–xiii, 7–14, 91, 131–32; and landscape as cultural image, 98, 153–55; in Latin American context, 2–3; material circumstance as framework for, 45–46; modern culture of, 91–92; and modern theory, development of, ix–xiii, 91–93, 113–14, 120–21, 130–32; originality of, 100; overview of 1920s to 1950s, 166  Index

93–94; and social aspirations, 100–101. See also climate; Latin American architecture Chillán, Chile, 4–5, 46, 47, 58–62 Chiloé, Chile, 41, 125, 126–28, 128–30 Chinchorro Public Housing project, 107–108, 109 CIAM (Congresos Internacionales de Arquitectura Moderna), 54 Cifuentes house, 94 circumstances. See material circumstances Citroën Furgonnette house, 48–49 Ciudad Abierta. See Open City experimental camp classical approach, ix, 5, 93 climate, 32; desert conditions, 111; design adaptation to, 95, 109, 112, 121, 146; humidity issues, 69; overview of, 49–50; regional differences in, 108; and representative design, 64; shade structures, 107, 109, 111; sunlight control methods, 19, 84 Coca Cola bottling plant, 136 Colegio de Arquitectos de Chile, xii colonial heritage, ix, 62, 64, 121–22. See also modern interpretation of traditional style color, use of: colored materials, 9; and contrast between spaces, 57, 111; red, 105, 136; as a textural element, 99. See also white color composition concepts: centrifugal composition approach, 94, 113, 117, 122; Cubist designs, 18, 59, 94; elemental, 93–101, 134–39, 149; parti, 56; traditional mechanisms, 131–32; transparency, 103–105. See also modernism; modern theory, development of concave/convex elements, 76–77 Concepcion, Chile, 98, 117 concrete: blocks, 136–37; doors, 57; exposed, 55, 99; precast, 79, 137; reinforced, 19, 34, 47–48, 52, 54, 61, 98; versatility of, 66, 67 Congresos Internacionales de Arquitectura Moderna (CIAM), 54 Congresos Panamericanos de Arquitectura y Urbanismo, xii conical structures, 59, 60, 105, 117 Consorcio Building, 133 Constanza Vergara house, 30, 31 constructed meaning. See meaning, production of construction process: role of in project result, 22, 88; self-build experience, 32; simple/traditional, 124, 135. See also material circumstances

cooling techniques, 84. See also shade structures Copelec building, 4–5, 17 Corbusian morphology, 4–5 Corporación de la Vivienda (CORVI), 98, 108 Corporaión de Mejoramiento Urbano (CORMU), 30, 32 Corral, Chile, 67–70 Corral church reconstruction project, 67–70 Correa, Martin, 70–74, 87, 88 corredor, 14 CORVI remodeling project, 98 Costa, Lucio, 3 Costaval, Jorge, 94 courtyards: in formal configuration, 95; in public housing projects, 109, 111; in sequence, 75–77; traditional, reinterpretations of, 62, 67, 122–23. See also patios crafts culture, 49, 51, 130 Cruz, Fabio, 17, 19, 21–22, 34, 77–80 Cruz Covarrubias, Alberto: chapel reconstruction project, 117; and composition approach, 113; contributions of, overview, 58–62; and founding of Institute of Architecture at Valparaíso, xiii, 3; and Pajaritos Chapel, 55–58; Palace of Dawn and Dusk, 75–77; parish church reconstruction project, 67–70 Cruz house, 17, 19–20, 21–22 Cruz Ovalle, José: on Explora Hotel, 146; Industrial Hall project, Centromaderas, 80, 81–84; international influence of, 37–38 Cubist designs, 18, 59, 94 curvilinear spaces/surfaces, 19, 32, 82, 99, 116–17, 143–46 cylinders, 135 Dalcahue Market, 129, 130, 131 Dávila Carson, Roberto, xi, 8, 101–3 De Groote, Christian, 25, 29–30, 31, 62–67 del Rio, Enrique, 38 del Sol, Germán, 37–38, 145 desert environments, 70–74, 77–80 Despouy, Mauricio, xi, 94 Devés, Ana Luisa, 39, 133 diagonals, use of, 18, 117–19 Díaz, Antonio, 100 Doble Hospedería (Hospedería del Banquete), 26, 27–28

domestic design: 1930s and 1940s, 8; 1950s, 7–13; 1990s, 37–43; 1970s, 25–28; 1980s, 29–37; 1960s, 13–25; and elemental composition, 94; habitation and conceptualization, 140; overview, 1–2; prefabrication methods, 48–49; public housing projects, 98–99, 108–12. See also theory and practice, balance between Double Hostelry, 26, 27–28 Duhart, Emilio: Ancud Hostel, 123–24, 125, 126; Castro Hostel, 126; Duhart house, 8–9, 10, 13; Larraín, partnership with, 13; overview, 8; Requinoa House, 122; United Nations building, 29, 62–67 Dvoresky, José, 94 earthquakes, influence of, 46–47, 54–55, 63–64, 67–70, 76 economic issues, influence of: budget constraints, working within, 30, 32, 46, 66; closed vs. open economy, 51; crises of 1970s, 25; income level differences in, 51; recovery of 1980s, 29 education in architecture: historic overview, ix– xiii, 93; Institute of Architecture, Tucumán, Argentina, 3, 4; Universidad Católica, Santiago, Chile, xi, xii–xiii, 5, 6 (See also Catholic University, Santiago, Chile); Universidad de Chile, xi, xii–xiii, 4, 5, 6, 113. See also Valparaíso School Electric Cooperative project (Chillán), 58–62 elemental composition, 93–101, 134–39, 149 elementarism, 71, 113 “elementary projects” in visual field, 59 Elton, Jorge, 48, 103 en ronda methodology, 26, 75 environmental control strategies, 32, 49–50. See also climate Errázuriz house, 8, 121 experience and constructed meaning: acts/activities, influence of, 54, 70, 114, 116, 120–21; explanation of, 139–47; and landscape as cultural image, 98, 153–55; material and production of sense, 147–52; ritual acts and design, 70–74, 116, 117, 143. See also phenomenological approach Explora Hotel, 146–47 Eyquem, Miguel, 29, 30, 32 Index  167

façades, styles and treatments of: representative, 133; streetfront, 59–62, 84–87; and vegetation, 133; view and integration into landscape, 105 Fernández, Teodoro, 38 Fernández Cox, Cristian, 132 Finland, 162n 25 Flaño, Nuñez & Tuca, 25 form: abstraction of, 97, 130; elemental, 134–39; vs. function, 22; urban, 9–10, 98, 107. See also composition concepts; shape in modern architecture foundations: retracted, 94–97; and unstable ground, 77–79 Frampton, Kenneth, 162n 25 French influences, ix–x functionalism, 5, 6, 22, 114, 140. See also phenomenological approach Fundamentos de la Escuela de Arquitectura de la Uni‑ versidad Católica de Valparaíso, 4 furniture design and architecture, 34, 87 Galván, Ventura, 94 García Huidobro house, 34, 37 garden areas, use of: cármenes style, 24; as living area, 13; native plants in, 103 garden city development pattern, 9, 18, 19, 22, 25 Garretón, Jaime, 87 Gebhardt, Enrique, 52–55, 103 geographical conditions: as design inspiration, 30, 39; and regional identity, 25 geographical consciousness, 101–21, 124, 133–34, 153–54 Girola, Claudio, 87 González, Sergio, 98 Goycoolea, H. R., 62–67 Gracia Vineyard, 147 graffiti technique, 70 grids, construction, 19, 79, 109, 111 Gropius, Wlater, 8 ground, separation from, 94–97, 103–105, 123 Grupo Ciudad Abierta, 77–80. See also Open City experimental camp Guarda, Gabriel, 70–74 habitation and conceptualization, 140 Harvard University, 8, 43 Hegedus, Pablo, 98 168  Index

The Helix Wheel, 88 Henault, Lucien, x hierarchical configuration, 22, 93 Hill House (Casa del Cerro), 39, 133 historical reinterpretation, descriptions, 7, 13, 29, 122, 130–32. See also modern interpretation of traditional style historic continuity, 130–32 Hitchcock, Henry Russell, 9, 94 Hogar y Arquitectura (Home and Architecture), 6 Hollein, Hans, 29 horizontal structures: Constanza Vergara house, 30, 31 Hospedería del Banquete (Doble Hospedería), 26, 27–28 Hospedería del Errante, 38 hospederías, 4, 26 hospitality as conceptual focus, 25–26 hostelry: Ancud Hostel, 123, 124, 125, 126; concept of, 25–26; and habitation concept, 140; Hospedería del Banquete (Doble Hospedería), 26, 27–28 hotels: Antumalal Hotel, 103–105, 106; Cap Ducal Hotel, 101–3; Explora Hotel, 146–47; Ralun Hotel, 126–28 house as a city metaphor, 39 houses of note: Boza’s house, 38–39; Casa Chica (Small House), 41, 42; Casa del Cerro (Hill House), 39, 133; Casas Parrón, 25; Castillo house, 123; Citroën Furgonnette house, 48–49; Constanza Vergara house, 30, 31; Cruz house, 17, 19–20, 21–22, 34; Duhart house, 8–9, 10, 13; Errázuriz house, 8, 121; García Huidobro house, 34, 37; Larraín house (Bahía Azul), 148, 149–50; Larraín house (Lo Contador Manor), 12–14, 24, 25, 122; Maku house, 39–40, 41; Meneses house, 4–5, 16, 18–19, 20, 23; Mingo house, 9, 11, 13, 14; Peña house, 32–34; Pirque house, 34–37; Swinburn house, 15–16, 23, 24–25, 122–23; Tongoy House, 134–35, 136. See also domestic design Housing Corporation (CORVI), 98, 108 Huidobro, Borja, 133 Huidobro, Carlos, 9 human experience and architectural meaning, 139–47. See also acts/activities, influence of on design humidity issues, 69. See also climate

Illinois Institute of Technology, 29 improvisation concept, 19, 22 income level, influence of, 51 Industrial Hall project, Centromaderas, 80, 81–84 innovation vs. local culture, 121 Institución Arquitectónica (Borchers), 5 Institute for the Improvement of the Race, 54 Institute of Architecture, Tucumán, Argentina, 3, 4 Institute of Architecture, Valparaíso. See Valparaíso School intellectualism and architecture, 4 interior-exterior integration, 103–5 International Congress of Modern Architecture, 54 international movements in architecture: and absence of paradigm examples of in Chile, 50; influences on Chilean architecture, ix–xiii, 7–13, 91, 131–32 inversion of shape, 148, 149–50 Iommi, Godfredo, xiii, 3, 55, 113 Irarrázaval, Sebastian, 43, 135 Isidro Suárez, 4 Ivelic, Boris, 77–80 Izquierdo, Luis, 38, 84–87 Japan, 47 Jequier, Emilio, x Johnson, Philip, 8 Junta regime, 25 Kahn, Louis, 41 Klotz, Mathias, 41–42 Labarca, Hernán, 94 landscape: connection to, 62–67, 146–47; and constructed meaning, 154–55; contrast to, 134–39; as cultural image, 153–55; and elemental shape, 133–34. See also geographical consciousness language: of architectural creation, 114; and material realism, 121–34; and observation, 120–21; structural, 52–55; tectonic, 76–77; of timber construction, 81. See also material circumstances Larraín García Moreno, Sergio, 12–13; and educational reform, xiii; Larraín house (Lo Contador Manor), 12–13, 24, 122; Oberpauer building, xi, 93, 158n 13 Larraín house (Bahía Azul), 148, 149–50

Larraín house (Lo Contador Manor), 12–13, 24, 122 Las Condes, Santiago, Chile, 8 Latin American architecture: and cultural identity, 29, 62, 64; historic overview, ix–xiii; theory, 2–3, 132. See also Chilean architecture Latin American Architecture Since 1945 (Hitchcock), 94 Le Corbusier (Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris), 2, 8, 63, 84, 121 Lehman, Antonia, 38, 84–87 light, natural: control of, 65; and desert conditions, 111; as material, 57–58, 61, 73; open tempered, 146; and relation to landscape, 112; and use of transparent/translucent materials, 78 lightness vs. firmness, 46–49, 54, 155 linear design schemes, 37 Lira, Martin, 105–106 Lira, Raimundo, 84–87 load-bearing wall strategies, 63 local culture: and expression in architecture, 130; vs. innovation, 7–13, 38–43, 121–22; material culture of wood, 125–26. See also modern interpretation of traditional style logs, 123. See also timber Los Vilos, Chile, 39 Madrid, Spain, 4 Maipú, Chile, 55–58 Maku house, 39–40, 41 Malaparte house, 39 Maldonado, Thomáa, 114 Manantiales Office Building, 47, 84–87 Mardones, Gonzalo, 98 Mardones, Julio, 98 The Maritime Biology Institute, 47, 52–55, 103 Marquez de la Plata, Rodrigo, 18, 22 Martínez, Juan, xi, 8 material circumstances: case studies in: abstraction and materiality, 55–62; approach (entry) and arrival, study in, 70–74; chance and the conceptual process, 75–77; façades in structural role, 84–87; idea and substance, relationship between, 51; reconstruction and architecture, 67–70; reversing normal construction sequence, 77–81; selection criteria for, 50–51; site-based programs and structural language, 52–55; texture and material Index  169

material circumstances (cont.) expression, 81–84; typology of structure and landscape awareness, 62–67; climatic influences on, 49–50; collaborative practices, 87–88; vs. contemporary international trends, 50; lightness vs. firmness and seismic awareness, 46–47; and local materials, use of, 41; overview, 45–46, 88 material realism and language, 121–34 mathematical foundations of Architecture, 16 meaning, production of: acts/activities, influence of, 54, 70, 114, 116, 120–21; explanation of, 139– 47; and landscape as cultural image, 153–55; and material rhetoric, 147–52; ritual acts and design, 70–74, 116, 117, 143 memorials, roadside, 147, 149 Mendez, Francisco, 116 Meneses house, 4–5, 16, 18–19, 20, 23 Meta-Arquitectura (Borchers), 5 Meyer, Hannes, 113 Mingo house, 9, 11, 13, 14 minimalist concepts, 48 mirrors, 65 Mistral, Gabriela, 153 Mitre, Bartolomé, ix modern architecture: and connection with traditions, 13, 14, 17, 23; institutionalization of, 100–101; international nature of, 1, 14; and poetry, 3; and spatial theory, 6. See also abstraction; modern theory, development of modern interpretation of traditional style: historical reinterpretation, descriptions, 7, 14, 29, 122, 130–32; historic reinterpretation, 29; 1970s, 14–25; 1980s, 29–37. See also geographical consciousness; local culture modernism: challenges to, 14, 17, 19, 93; concept overview, viii; emergence of, xi–xii, 3, 8, 158n 13; and geographical consciousness, 101–103, 105; postmodernism, 6, 30, 131 modern theory, development of, ix–xiii, 91–93, 113– 14, 120–21, 130–32. See also theory and practice, balance between Molina, Hugo, 30 mono-material strategy, 63 Montemar Marine Biology Institute, 47, 52–55, 103 Montolin Building, 132 Morales, José Ricardo, 5–6 170  Index

Moreno, Alex, 39–40, 41 Moro house, 43 Moro Showroom, 135 Mt. San Cristóbal, 22, 122–23 Müller house, 41 Museum of Modern Art, Chiloe, Chile, 147 Museum of Modern Art, New York, 9 The Music Room, 120 National Award for Architecture, 29, 38 natural elements, use of, 8–9 Naval School design, 16, 115, 116–17 Neruda, Pablo, 5 The New Brutalism (Banham), 98 Nuñez, Ariel, 88 Oberpauer building, xi, 93, 158n 13 Oberpaur building, 93 objectivism, 114 observation as method, 3, 17, 87, 114, 116, 120 office building design, 58–62, 84–87 Open City experimental camp: Amphitheater of, 150–51; Casa de los Nombres exhibition hall, 77–80; and hospedería concept, 26; and influence of Cruz house, 20; overview, 4, 25–26, 75; Palace of Dawn and Dusk, 75–77; and wooden structures, 48. See also poetry and architecture; Valparaíso School open ground plans, 93 organic architecture, 5, 26, 38 orientation, concept of, 5–6 outillage mental, 116 Oyarzun, Fernando Pérez, 1–43 Oyarzún Philippi, Rodulpho, xii, 93 Pajaritos chapel, 17 The Pajaritos Chapel, 55–58 Palace of Dawn and Dusk, 75–77 Pan-American Conferences on Architecture and Urbanism, xii Papal Altar, Bandera District, 133 Papudo Beach, 94 parallelepipedon, 97 Parque Forestal project, x–xi parti, 56 Patagonia, 4

patios, styles and treatments of: and geographical motif, 39; international popularity of, 13; modern interpretation of traditional style, 19, 23, 37; as nucleus of house, 32; and urban forms, 9–13. See also courtyards Pawley, Martin, 48 Pedro de Valdivia Norte neighborhood, 23 Pei, I. M., 8 Peñafiel, José Domingo, 38, 84–87 Peñaflor, Chile, 41 Peña house, 32–34 perception, theory of, 114 Pérez de Arce, Mario, 109–12, 122 phenomenological approach, 5–6, 116, 120, 139–47, 155. See also acts/activities, influence of on design; ritual acts and design pilotis (pilings), use of, 54, 97 Pinochet, Augusto, 25, 133 Pirque, Chile, 34–35 Pirque house, 34–37 place, idea of, 131–32 plants, native, 103, 133 platforms in design, 32 Playa Ancha complex, 98 play equipment design, 88 Plaza Lyon Building, 132 pluralistic movement, 37–43 Poblete, Jorge, 98 poetry and architecture, 3–4, 6, 26, 41, 112–21. See also art and architecture; Valparaíso School politics, influence of, 6, 25, 29, 49, 131–32, 133 Popular Front, 54 Portales Neighborhood Unit, 98 postmodernism, 6, 30, 131. See also modernism preexisting contexts, 6–7 prefabricated structures, 48–49 Premio Nacional de Arquitectura, 29 President Frei Villa, 98 President Rios Filla, 98 primitive forms, 147 programmatic invention, 54–55 promenades, styles and treatments of: approach and arrival contrast study, 70–74; in central role of design, 34; and connection to landscape, 66–67; as divider for public/private spaces, 37; and geographical motif, 39; inte-

rior, 19; in open structure design, 77; seaside, 102, 106 proportion, classic, 93 Providencia, Chile, 97 Providencia Neighborhood Unit, 98 Provincia de Última Esperanza, 146 publications, influence of on theory, 7 Public Field, Culiprán, Chile, 151–52 public housing projects, 98–99, 108–12 public infrastructure practices, 99–100 public works model, 93 Puerta Azul Workshop, 130 Pulgar, Ricardo, 98 Punta Arenas, Chile, 4 Purcell, Juan, 81–84, 150–51 purism, 94 Radic, Smiljan, 41, 42, 87, 88 Ralun Hotel, 126–28 ramps used in design, 37, 82, 98, 106, 146–47 rationality, 93, 98, 105–106, 109, 121, 123 reconstruction projects, 67–70 rectangular composition elements, 59 recycling of materials, 67–70 red color, use of, 136, 150 reflexive practice theory, 120 Republic, Centennial of, x, 93 Requinoa house, 122 research and architecture, 112–21 Reutter house, 41 rhythm, 93 Risopatrón, Alberto, xii Ritoque, Chile, 75–77, 77–80, 120 ritual acts and design, 70–74, 116, 117, 143. See also acts/activities, influence of on design; experience and constructed meaning Rojas, Edward, 128–30 Rojo, Sergio, 46, 67–70, 75–77 ronda, en, 26, 75 roofs, styles and treatments of, 9; of artificial ground, 140–42; double, 32; doubly inclined, 121; flat, 9; and inversion of shape, 148, 149–50; inverted pitched, 8; retractable, 9, 13; scissor gradient, 105–106; single-pitched, 24; textile membranes, 79–80; wood tile, 127, 128, 129, 130 Index  171

Sabatini, Francesco, ix Sacred Heart Temple, 142–43 Salar del Carmen housing complex, 109–12 salvaged materials, use of, 14, 41, 70 Sanchez, Jorge, 67–70, 75–77, 150–51 San Cristóbal hill, 23, 122 San Luis project, 32 Santa Cruz Congregation house, 136–37 Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia, 4 Santa Lucia building, xi, 158n 13 Santelices, O., 62–67 Santiago, Chile: Amereida Sculpture, 87; Benedictine monastery chapel project, 70–74; Campo Culipran, 88; Casas Parrón, 25; Coca Cola bottling plant, 136; Cruz house, 17, 19–20, 21–22, 34; Duhart house, 8–9, 10, 14; earthquakes in, 46; Industrial Hall project, Centromaderas, 80, 81–84; Larraín house (Lo Contador Manor), 12–13, 24, 25, 122; Manantiales Office Building, 47, 84–87; Meneses house, 4–5, 17, 18–19, 20, 23; Mingo house, 9, 11, 13, 14; modern historic overview, x–xiii; Moro Showroom, 135; Olympic Village, 98; Pajaritos chapel, 16; Pirque house, 34–37; Providencia Neighborhood Unit, 98; Santa Cruz Congregation house, 136–37; Sculptor house, 43; State Technical University, 99; Swinburn house, 15–16, 23, 24–25, 122–23; The United National Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, 29, 47, 62–67. See also Catholic University, Santiago, Chile Santo Domingo, Chile, 34 Santos house, 94 Sarmiento, Domingo Faustino, ix Schmarsow, August, 6 Schön, Donald, 120 School of Law building, Universidad de Chile, xi School of Mathematics building, Universidad Católica, 139 School of Ulm, 114 scientific research and architecture, 112–21 sculpture and architecture, 87–88 seismic awareness, 46–47, 54–55, 63–64, 67–70, 76 self-build process, 32, 50 sense, production of, 147–52 Seville international exhibition (1992), 37–38, 143–46 172  Index

shade structures, 84, 107, 109, 111. See also sunlight control methods shape in modern architecture: and architectonic conception, 92, 134–39; and experience of space, 145–46; inversion of, 148, 149–50. See also form sheds, traditional, 147 shelter, concept of, 6 single-skin walls, 49–50 site management by architects, 61–62 site response, 54–55 sketching, 116 slots and wind, 117 Small House (Casa Chica), 41, 42 social housing: budgets for, 51; and economic crises of 1970s, 25 Social Security Building, Antofagasta, Chile, 94–97 Sociedad Central de Arquitectos, xii space: concepts of, 6; elaboration of, 146–47; experience of and shape, 145; isolated, 98; and time, 114, 116, 140 (See also spatial theory) Spanish Civil War, 5 Spanish colonial heritage, ix, 62, 64, 121–22 spatial theory, 6, 14, 19–20, 34, 99. See also space State Technical University, Santiago, Chile, 99 steel structures, 48 stone, use of, 8–9, 30 Storneck, Jeff, 48–49 structural engineering, role of, 46–47 Suárez, Isidro, 4–5, 17, 58–62 subtractive process, 137 sunlight control methods, 20, 84. See also shade structures suspension strategies, 63 sustainable architecture, 49, 50 Swinburn, Jorge, 14, 15–16, 17, 19, 23, 24–25, 122–23 Swinburn house, 15–16, 23, 24–25, 122–23 symmetry, structural, 47 tactile vs. visual experience, 140, 146, 147 Talca, Chile, 41 technological advancements, influence of, 51 tectonic language, 76–77 temperature. See climate “temperature” of light, 57 terraces, 110, 111, 117, 123 textiles, use of, 78

texture: and material expression, 81–84, 99 theory and practice, balance between, 1–7, 43. See also Chilean architecture; domestic design; material circumstances timber: Constanza Vergara house, 30, 31; in furniture, 87; Industrial Hall project, Centromaderas, 80, 81–84; native, 8–9, 103, 121, 123; salvaged, 70; for service structures, 19; in simple construction techniques, 26, 27–28; timber industry as market force, 49; Valdés’s houses, 37. See also wood Toesca, Joaquín, ix Tongoy House, 134–35, 136 topographic assimilation, 79–80, 111. See also geographical consciousness Torreburu House, 137 Torrent, Horacio, 91–155 Torres del Paine, 146 Torroja, Eduardo, 61 tourism and design, 101, 123, 126–28, 130 transparency in composition, 103–105 travel, value of, 120 triangular spaces, 19, 20 triangulated framing, 70 trusses, 34, 68, 70 Tucumán, Argentina, 3, 4 Ugarte, Juan José, 38 Ulm School of Design, 114 underground techniques, 41 Undurraga, Cristián, 39, 133 The United National Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, 29, 47, 62–67 United States, architecture in, 8–9, 48 universalism, 97 Universidad Católica, Santiago, Chile, xi, xii–xiii, 5, 6. See also Catholic University, Santiago, Chile Universidad de Chile, xi, xii–xiii, 4, 5, 6, 113 University of Chile. See Universidad de Chile urban forms, 9–10, 98, 107 urban heritage, 29. See also local culture Urban Improvement Corporation (CORMU), 30, 32, 98 urban regulation and design, 9, 22, 49, 84. See also building codes urban renewal projects: San Luis project, 32 Urzúa, Arturo, 9

Valdés, Castillo & Huidobro, 9, 97, 98 Valdés, Christián, 29, 34–37, 87 Valdés, Hector, 9 Valparaíso School: activities in 1950s and 1960s, 16; chapel reconstruction project, 67–70; creation of, 3; and Cruz house, 19–20; and educational reform, xiii; and Eyquem, 30; influence of, 3–4, 37; international recognition of, 38; Naval School design, 16, 115, 116–17; and parallel practices, 87–88; and phenomenological approach, 140; and Pirque house, 36–37; and research concept, 113; and spatial theory, 6. See also Open City experimental camp; poetry and architecture Van der Rohe, Mies, 2, 9, 13, 88 vastness, concept of, 5–6 Vatican Council, 70 Vergara, Constanza, 30, 31 vernacular methodology: chance and the conceptual process, 75–77; local culture vs. innovation, 121–22; material realism and language, 121–34; overview, 49. See also modern interpretation of traditional style Vial, José, 67–70 Vierendel beams, 34 view and integration into landscape, 103–105, 106, 107 Villarrica Lake, 103 Viña del Mar, Chile, xi, 52–55, 101–103 Vine Arbor Houses, 25 Vitacura, Chile, 94 Vitruvius, 2 Vivaldi, Renato, 128–30 vocabulary of architecture, 7 walls, style and treatments of: and climate considerations, 109; embankments, 65; load-bearing, 63; local stone, 30; perforated, 122; self-supporting, 76–77; single-skin, 49–50 waterfront structures: Ancud Hostel, 123, 124, 125, 126; Antumalal Hotel, 103–105, 106; Cap Ducal Hotel, 101–3; Castillo house, 123; Constanza Vergara house, 30, 31; Dalcahue Market, 129, 130, 131; Explora Hotel, 146–47; Montemar Marine Biology Institute, 47, 52–55, 103; Naval School design, 16, 115, 116–17; Ralun Hotel, 126–28; Salar del Carmen housing complex, 109–12; The United National Economic Commission for Latin Index  173

waterfront structures (cont.) America and the Caribbean, 29, 47, 62–67. See also Open City experimental camp Water Towers, 120 weather. See climate Weiner, Tibor, 113, 140 white color: as contrast element, 71, 110, 111; and natural light, 57; and traditional design, 14, 23, 24, 41, 122; unifying nature of, 58 wind, influence of on design, 32, 77, 79–80, 115, 116–17 windows, styles and treatments of: cubistic use of, 18; grilles for, 9; use of color in, 57, 111; view and integration into landscape, 31, 103–105, 123

174  Index

Winnipeg (ship), 5 wood: Chilean Pavilion, Seville World Fair, 143–46; in interior reconstruction, 70; marginalization of wooden structures, 47–48; material culture of in Chile, 125–26; seismic performance of, 47. See also timber World Exposition, Chilean Pavilion, 81, 143–46 World Heritage culture, 125–26 Wright, Frank Lloyd, 158n 12 Yacht Club, Herradura Bay, 105–6 Zegers, Cazú, 38

in memoriam malcolm quantrill (1931–2009)

As the founding director of the Center for the Advancement of Studies in Architecture and general editor for the series Studies in Architecture and Culture, Malcolm Quantrill championed the understanding of world architecture as both a function and an embodiment of its particular place. His vision, wit, and leadership will be sorely missed.

studies in architecture and culture

Nuñez, Fernando, Carlos Arvizu, and Ramón Abonce, Space and Place in the Mexican Landscape, ed. Malcolm Quantrill, 2007. Corona-Martínez, Alfonso, The Architectural Project, ed. Malcolm Quantrill, 2003. Quantrill, Malcolm, ed., Latin American Architecture: Six Voices, 2000. Quantrill, Malcolm, and Bruce Webb, eds., The Culture of Silence: Architecture’s Fifth Dimension, 1998. Hartoonian, Gevork, Modernity and Its Other: A Post-script to Contemporary Architecture, 1997. Quantrill, Malcolm, and Bruce Webb, eds., Urban Forms, Suburban Dreams, 1993. Quantrill, Malcolm, and Bruce Webb, eds., Constancy and Change in Architecture, 1991.