Articles

Today, we launch a series of publications showcasing open-access theses and dissertations that address issues relevant to Architecture and Urbanism. We recognized the need to share the remarkable academic output of our universities—which often goes unrecognized—with the widest possible audience.

In this first edition, we present the work of architect Jorge Isaac Perén Montero and his master's thesis entitled "Natural Ventilation and Lighting in the Work of João Filgueiras Lima, Lelé: Studies of the Sarah Kubitschek Network Hospitals in Fortaleza and Rio de Janeiro," advised by Professor Rosana Maria Caram at the São Carlos School of Engineering - EESC/USP.

Participating in architecture competitions can be a great opportunity to boost a firm, or to step away from the routine by developing ideas that wouldn't normally pass a client's scrutiny. However, to catch the jury's attention among hundreds of entries, the project's graphic presentation plays a key role. Beyond presenting relevant ideas in response to the brief's questions and debates, an organized board is essential as a synthesis of the process. In trying to compile these ideas graphically, a series of questions arises regarding the presentation style and how it will help convey the project's core concepts clearly to the jury.

Plans, sections, elevations, collages, renderings, diagrams, texts, and graphic elements. Board dimensions never seem large enough to hold so much information. With this in mind, we have compiled a series of essential tips for developing your boards in architecture competitions. Check them out below:

The modernization of Bogotá between 1940 and 1970, captured in urban and architectural photo essays, was documented in various books, magazines, and photobooks of the era, as well as in images from public and private archives across the city. These images reveal an intentional, and even critical, approach to how modern architecture reconfigured city centers, placing new buildings and urban spaces in relation to the existing cityscape.

In analyzing the impact of photojournalism, the work of Sady González, Manuel H. and Daniel Rodríguez is essential. Architecture and the city serve as the backdrop for scenes of urban life, characters, events, and daily activities. Their photographs offer an indispensable visual testament for understanding the city's transformation and its historical context.

In this edition of Bogotá in the Eyes of 10 Photographers we explore the legacy of Sady González:

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How many architecture students sit down to listen to a community's needs and transform them into a project to be built during the academic term? Few. While there are several participatory courses in universities, they often remain as proposals—brilliant ones, by the way—without ever materializing; though, of course, they leave us inspired. Meanwhile, other projects that do get built do not necessarily involve an exhaustive dialogue with the residents of the site. In recent years, students at Peru's architecture schools are increasingly engaging with reality, recognizing that the country is an experimental laboratory still under construction. And the project presented here is the first of such complexity to be built within a university workshop.

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As we contemplated the vestibule of the Laurentian Library, I distinctly remember paraphrasing Giorgio Vasari: I thank God for being born in the time when Álvaro Siza is alive and for being worthy of having him as a master on such friendly terms. A much more eloquent version was dedicated to the "divine" Michelangelo Buonarroti in the original Lives of the Most Excellent Painters, Sculptors, and Architects (1568), yet it rang just as true in the presence of the "mystic" Siza – an epithet bestowed by Eduardo Souto de Moura. At that moment in Florence, the architect of sculpture and the sculptor of architecture met metaphysically face to face in the form of a staircase, whose silhouette would outlive time, transformed by the Baroque and reinterpreted by many authors – from Charles Garnier to Alvar Aalto – yet perhaps by none with more enthusiasm than Álvaro Siza himself. 

Javier Reverte once said that "the adventure of travel consists of being able to experience the daily lives of other people in places far from your home as an extraordinary event." It is precisely within those extraordinary events that, upon arriving in a new country, we undergo an adaptation process that transforms the extraordinary into the everyday. Whether you share a language with your host country or face an unfamiliar tongue, the first few months are a crash course in absorbing countless new concepts—from discovering you can buy cigarettes at pharmacies to distinguishing the distinct calls of trucks selling tacos, tamales, or sweet potatoes. We learn new terms to define daily life, while simultaneously relearning familiar words that take on entirely new meanings.

The term ‘right to the city’ was on the lips of participants in the June 2013 protests, which were sparked by public transit fare hikes across several Brazilian states. It was also emblazoned on banners hanging from occupied vacant towers and abandoned buildings by the Ocupe Estelita movement, which has fought since 2008 to preserve the José Estelita Pier in Recife. Abroad, the phrase was splashed across Turkish signs when trees were felled in Istanbul’s Gezi Park to make way for a shopping mall.

But what, after all, does the right to the city actually mean—an expression vehemently invoked by social movements in recent years and one that, in Brazil, gained territoriality following the 2013 mobilizations?

This month, Mayor of London Sadiq Khan released the draft of the new plan for the city which, according to him, marks a clean break from previous strategies. And he is not exaggerating, given that the targets to be pursued by 2029 include a near-total ban on new parking spaces and the construction of 650,000 new homes. While the plan is still in its initial draft, the British capital's efforts to curb air pollution are pushing forward the pedestrianization of one of its main central thoroughfares, Oxford Street, and even betting on biofuel derived from coffee to power buses across the country.

Architect Francisco Javier Sáenz de Oiza is undoubtedly a pivotal figure in 20th-century Spanish architecture. Designer of iconic works like Torres Blancas and the current Castellana 81, Sáenz de Oiza was twice awarded the National Architecture Award (1946 and 1954), served as Director of the Madrid School of Architecture (1981–1983), and was a figure whose work and theoretical reflections shaped the course of the Modern Movement in Spain.

This year marks the centenary of his birth in the town of Cáseda (Navarra). To celebrate this milestone, the 15th Architecture Week will pay tribute to him with a major exhibition charting his entire career. Titled Centenario Sáenz de Oiza. 1918-2018 (Sáenz de Oiza Centenary. 1918-2018), the exhibition is organized by the COAM Architecture Foundation in partnership with the Directorate-General for Architecture of the Ministry of Development, and curated by his children, architects Vicente, Javier, and Marisa Sáenz Guerra.

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The 1970s and 1980s witnessed a new urban image in the Ecuadorian capital. Rafael Vélez Calisto graduated in 1970, going on to become one of its most prominent and prolific architects. He expressed his architecture for a thriving country and capital that offered unique opportunities to professionals, driven by oil exploitation, the growth of the public and private sectors, and rapid urban expansion.

The capital shifted the profile of its main corridors, gradually shaping itself as a vertical city. Along Quito's Avenida Amazonas, the dominant presence of large, still-functional estates gradually disappeared, replaced by high-rise buildings (1)—an urban landscape that continued to spread along new arteries toward the north.

In these areas, several of his notable, contemporary, and cosmopolitan buildings stand out.

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Originally published in Metropolis Magazine as El Equipo Mazzanti Heals a Gash in Bogotá’s Urban Fabric. With a Patchwork of Verdant Gardens, Anna Fixsen writes about Bicentennial Park in Bogotá. "Once a lightning rod for controversy, the innovative park now reconnects two areas at the heart of the city's historic center," she writes.

It is impossible to experience Bogotá without encountering the aura of Rogelio Salmona. Perhaps more than any other architect, Salmona shaped the urban identity of this Andean city through civic and poetic buildings. From a small balcony in his last office—located at the top of a tower he designed himself—a tableau of Salmona's legacy unfolds: directly ahead, the massive volumes of the Torres del Parque, a three-tower residential complex completed in 1970; and to the south, MAMBO, the Museum of Modern Art of Bogotá.

As we welcome the new year, don't miss ArchDaily's selection of the best architecture documentaries to watch this year!

Describing the work of an architect is sometimes an arduous task. Categorizing a production based on the various criteria to which a body of work is tied often subjects it to the constraints of its historical context. Eduardo Longo, however, represents a clear exception, as his work actively rejected the prevailing principles of his time in pursuit of continuous experimentation. Entering the School of Architecture and Urbanism at Universidade Presbiteriana Mackenzie in São Paulo in 1961, he encountered a unique moment in Brazilian architecture: the formation of the so-called “Escola Paulista” (São Paulo School) alongside national political instability, marked by the onset of the military dictatorship and the construction of the new federal capital, Brasília.

As a student, he distanced himself from the canons of the Escola Paulista, seeking instead to experiment and foster new architectural discourse. Against this backdrop, during his fourth year of university, Longo designed the Mar Casado beach house. Intended for his aunt and uncle, the project was heavily criticized by both faculty and peers due to its “independent way of interpreting architecture” [1] and its structural configuration—which featured a non-orthogonal design with acute and obtuse angles beneath a multifaceted roof—openly defying Paulista Brutalism. Despite the backlash, the house was built and eventually gained recognition: art critic Pietro Maria Bardi praised its relevance in 1967, followed by a feature in *Domus* magazine in 1968 and its inclusion in Yves Bruand’s seminal 1981 book [2].

Writing for the Fundación Arquia Blog, architect Enrique Parra outlines the main questions asked by first-year architecture students in Spain, where, despite the ongoing crisis in the profession, it remains one of the most sought-after degrees. This article offers a chance to compare these expectations with the realities and aspirations of students in different countries.

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The First Industrial Revolution took place in the United Kingdom in the late 18th century with the mechanization of the textile industry. Over the following decades, instead of making things solely by hand, the use of machines spread across the globe.

The Second Industrial Revolution began in the United States in the early 20th century with the assembly line, ushering in the so-called Era of Mass Production.

Today, we are living through a new industrial revolution, driven by digital culture and technology, with 3D printers serving as one of its key catalysts. And believe it or not, you will eventually own one. As they become increasingly affordable, these machines are capable of printing three-dimensional objects. The most common technique involves depositing and bonding, layer by layer, minute particles of materials such as plastic, ceramic, glass, or metal.

Happy New Year! Champagne, hugs, phone calls, and new goals. A few days pass, and it feels like this year you really will achieve everything you want. It's a great attitude, but not everyone is so clear on what those goals are or where to direct their career. In this day and age, anything seems possible. If a friend is traveling the world, you want to do it too. If another joined the gym, you want to do it too. If former classmates are pursuing a master's degree, you want that too—but we know we can't do everything at the same time.

On this occasion, the Arquia Foundation Blog, alongside architect Sabrina Gaudino Di Meo, presents an article on the urban antipathy of our cities—which has unfortunately become a daily experience, a naturalized condition, and a fixture of the collective imagination. Faced with this situation, who is responsible? Where are urban planning and social policies when it comes to making our cities friendlier?

Researchers recently announced the discovery of the world's largest termite mound complex, located in northeastern Brazil. The total volume of excavated soil is estimated to equal 4,000 Pyramids of Giza, with the complex itself averaging 4,000 years of age and covering an estimated area of 230,000 square kilometers—equivalent to the size of Great Britain.