
When Clorindo Testa was asked how he felt upon learning that one of his works, the Casa Di Tella, was going to be demolished, he replied: “I believe that buildings are not made to last. One can say that the Roman Colosseum will endure. They are not going to tear down Notre-Dame Cathedral, nor the Duomo in Milan. But when you design a project, you don't go around thinking it will be memorable and last forever. Works of this nature have owners, and owners change their minds. People and society also change: what was valid twenty years ago is no longer valid today. It is inevitable. Personally, it doesn't bother me in the least if they demolish a work of mine; I don't design things to last forever. You make things to function when they are commissioned, and they last as long as they need to. The Casa Di Tella was built for Di Tella, and Di Tella died. In a sense, it is no longer his house... It became part of an institute that bought it. Therefore, the functions it needs are different.” [1]
Testa's words reveal a remarkable humility that seems rare in the DNA of architects who yearn for the eternity of their work. Indeed, this desire for permanence was imposed on us almost as a mandate, a necessity. Palladio knew this well when referencing Vitruvius: “utility, perpetuity, and beauty.”





























