Brutalisim is an architectural movement that emerged in Europe in the 1960s and became one of the most controversial yet popular styles worldwide. This was due to various factors, including its use of raw concrete and, more broadly, its ideals focused on public service through monumental works. Furthermore, it became a new medium for expressing contemporary political stances through functional public spaces.
Mixed-use buildings are urban devices characterized by a diversity of uses. Sharing an existence fraught with obstacles and setbacks, those that manage to get built endure as true survivors of a vigorous species that thrives in areas of opportunity, carving a path through real estate speculation.
Continuous trial and error. Architects draw and redraw lines, shapes, objects, and images on napkins, tracing paper, or black CAD backgrounds. Discarding, restarting, and repeating the cycle. The path between the initial idea and the final project is long and arduous. The challenge lies at the core of design: an endless decision-making process where a single change impacts countless other elements, turning the exercise into a series of trade-offs and concessions. These choices range widely, from determining how much site coverage minimizes environmental impact, to maximizing desk capacity in an office while maintaining fluid circulation. Every decision requires extensive research or calculation to yield an optimal solution. For example, a window placement that looks elegant on the facade might leave no room for a bed inside, or inadvertently spike the building's energy consumption.
In any project, pressing deadlines and tight budgets mean clients are often in a rush, leaving little time to explore every possible combination or calculate the exact impact of each decision. It is at this juncture that the concept of generative design is increasingly coming to the fore in architecture.
Mapas Sonoros is a project by the Usted no está aquí Archive that documents Latin American cities and towns in a non-traditional way. Functioning as a “map of maps,” the website compiles more than 40 independent sites with sound archives from countries such as Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, and Uruguay, creating a comprehensive log of georeferenced audio documents that offer an alternative way to map and understand Latin America.
Spending significant time at home has made us realize that the interior spaces of conventional commercial housing are ill-suited to accommodate work, domestic life, and leisure. This situation is further exacerbated in peripheral areas far from urban centers. On Cascajal Island in Buenaventura, Colombia, the relationship between coastal housing and the sea is essential for local cultural and economic development.
While some works serve as monuments to the egos of those who practice this profession, other architectural approaches propose the exact opposite. These practices deliver projects that—almost poetically—harmonize built elements with the surrounding natural environment. There are also designs that adapt to the morphological order of nature, resulting in an organic language that generates highly unique and singular interior spaces.
The crisis brought about by the pandemic and the resulting new global order compel us to review and adjust all Land-Use Plans—or their local equivalents—across Latin American cities.
Driven by a personal quest to explore heritage and preserve Mexican traditions, architect Ana Ibañez has created a collection titled “Barraganescas,” featuring jewelry pieces inspired by the houses designed by architect Luis Barragán in the city of Guadalajara.
Chuchín is that endearing figure whom you always remember despite the passage of time, whether you are a student, architect, professor, staff member, or fellow worker. Felipe de Jesús Cortés Guevara—or Chuchín, as he is commonly known—seems to go nowhere else; he is always watching over what he considers his second home, the UNAM School of Architecture.
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In the early hours of January 11, 1967, a polar air mass swept into the country, bringing snow to Mexico City and blanketing the entire capital under a soft, pristine white layer. One day, more than 50 years ago, our urban sprawl woke up covered in white. It was not smog, nor the pollution of an unrelenting beltway; it was pure snow. The last time it snowed in Mexico City was January 11, 1967. That day, schools closed, people went outside to build snowmen and throw snowballs, and emergency services were overwhelmed by the beautiful catastrophe of so much snow.
Charlas de Terraza is an initiative hosted at the office of OPUS in Medellín. It features conversations that extend beyond architecture and, adapting to the COVID-19 lockdowns, is currently being held virtually. Alongside these talks, there is another initiative dedicated to sketching called Club de Dibujo (Drawing Club). In this session, both formats merged as the Medellín-based practice, along with Alejandro Enriquez from Bogotá, discussed the sketch and its process.
This article is part of our new Opinion section, a format for argument-driven essays on critical questions shaping our field.
Before architecture students become authors of space, they are subjected to one. For years, they work inside a building that teaches without announcing itself as a teacher. It organizes their exhaustion, their ambition, their visibility, their solitude, their friendships, their sense of scale, and their relationship to judgment. Long before a student can articulate a position on architecture, the school has already offered one in its implicit built environment.
This is not to suggest that buildings determine architects. The influence is slower and less complete than that. A school building operates more like a hidden curriculum: a spatial discipline that works alongside faculty, syllabi, institutional culture, and student life. It teaches through access and obstruction, program adjacencies, daylight exposures, and scale. It produces habits of attention before it produces explicit beliefs.
This week on the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia speaks with Chilean sociologist and Universidad San Sebastián academic Ricardo Greene, editor of the landmark book "Ciudad Fritanga," published by Editorial Bifurcaciones in 2014.
"Ciudad Fritanga" compiles 34 chronicles of non-metropolitan Chilean cities like Arica, Talca, and Punta Arenas through the lens of poets, artists, and writers such as Lina Meruane, Jorge Baradit, Marcelo Mellado, and María José Navia.
"When people write about cities, they write about London, Berlin, and New York. That is the urban chronicle. However, non-metropolitan cities are also cities," Greene comments in this interview.
This week on the TERRAZA podcast, Nicolás Valencia speaks with Argentine-Spanish architect Zaida Muxí, author of the book “Mujeres, casas y ciudades” (Women, Houses, and Cities), published by dpr-Barcelona in 2018.
In “Mujeres, casas y ciudades”, Muxí proposes rewriting the history of architecture and urbanism by incorporating the contributions of the many women who have been silenced in mainstream historical accounts.
“If we want to play by market rules, housing will never be a right,” Muxí posits in this interview.
The rise of sustainability and the circular economy is transforming the construction industry, driving a growing demand for new specialized roles. Positions such as sustainability managers or circular economy consultants are becoming increasingly common in contemporary projects.
In 2024, the evolution of porcelain tiles has elevated the tactile experience to a new level, transforming them into true works of art. Produced with mineral texture printing technology, the collections feature striking reliefs in dimensions of 120 x 120 cm, 100 x 200 cm, 120 x 250 cm, 160 x 160 cm, and 160 x 320 cm, designed to awaken all the senses. Behind this advancement is Roca Brasil Cerámica, part of the Mexican LAMOSA Group, leading the Roca Cerâmica and Incepa brands.
"Drinking Caracu is drinking health." This is what read on the massive blank wall of a building in downtown São Paulo on the morning of May 1, 2018. Hidden for decades, the advertisement for the famous beer brand now loomed before a massive heap of concrete, twisted metal, and shattered glass. This was the rubble to which the iconic Wilton Paes de Almeida Building had been reduced—a modernist landmark designed by architect Roger Zmekhol and the subject of the documentary Skin of Glass, directed by his daughter, Denise Zmekhol.
The film transcends traditional architectural documentation by blending a personal narrative with the political complexities of contemporary Brazil, a country shaped by deep inequalities and erased memories. At the heart of the story is the building itself, considered a landmark of Brazilian modern architecture, which collapsed in 2018 after a tragic fire.
This Wednesday, October 9, the 19th edition of the Buenos Aires International Architecture Biennale will open to the public. The event, held once again at the Faena Art Center, will run until Sunday, October 13. Over the course of five days, the city will serve as a stage for reflections on sustainability, the environment, and new technologies applied to architecture and design. Alongside the central exhibition, the program will feature international lectures, workshops, and various installations distributed across key locations throughout Buenos Aires.
.jpg?1599578151 "Casa González Luna. Image © Limon Rojas")
