When it comes to housing typologies, the term duplex –lends itself to multiple interpretations, often leading to ambiguous applications and uses. The definition of the concept depends primarily on the country or region in which it is used, generally allowing for two main interpretations. First, a duplex can refer to a two-story housing unit with levels connected by an internal staircase. This definition usually applies to apartments and residences in countries like Spain or Canada, which are typically found in urban centers. Alternatively, a duplex can describe a specific type of project where two homes are joined side-by-side, each having its own individual entrance but sharing a central wall. Generally, the design of these houses is defined by an intentional axial symmetry, functioning as twin homes with the same features and floor plan layout. This type of duplex housing is particularly common in Argentina, Bolivia, the United Kingdom, Australia, and parts of the United States.
The city as we know it is collapsing, incapable of offering new ways of living. The virus is forcing us to confront the exhaustion of the buildings that make up the city and the systems underpinning how the entire urban landscape was conceived. Basic activities separated by miles along untraversable streets; halls and galleries acting as closed, artificially climate-controlled shells that can no longer accommodate crowds (and are therefore no longer visitable); subhuman capsules stacked atop one another in towers devoid of open spaces, common areas, or nature, with virtually no contact with the outside world—these will only become more dysfunctional as time goes on.
Shortly after the World Health Organization declared the outbreak of the novel coronavirus (COVID-19)—which began in Wuhan in December 2019—a pandemic, highlighting the disease's high rate of transmission and exposing global deficiencies in containment methods, most Latin American countries began implementing public health emergency measures to minimize spread and strengthen the response capacity of their healthcare systems.
Cities are the synthesis of thousands of years of agreements—as fragile as we are, yet wonderfully adaptable to change. As a result, they remain the ultimate ecosystem for our lives to unfold. Thanks to density, they allow us to maximize the benefits of the infrastructure, services, and public spaces we have created to sustain the well-being to which we aspire.
At first glance, all of this is in crisis today as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. However, looking back at our history reveals far more lethal epidemics that ultimately brought substantial improvements to the way we live.
Construction inside Ekôa Park, in Morretes, Paraná. The project by Sem Muros Arquitetura Integrada is based on traditional knowledge and permaculture. Photo: Tomaz Lotufo
The stigma of rudimentary architecture, combined with the idealization of high-tech technology, relegates Indigenous building knowledge to a prehistoric imaginary. This pattern, which points to a single, unequivocal direction of progress, reveals the so-called coloniality of knowledge—a concept by Peruvian sociologist Aníbal Quijano that exposes the hidden side of modernity: the creation of hierarchies among peoples, keeping Latin America, and particularly its Indigenous populations, in a subaltern position. In other words, we tend to assume that the knowledge representing the future is produced in other lands, namely the Global North.
It is 12:11 PM on November 7 (2018). An "S" on the door indicates who this bathroom is supposedly for. I am in a bathroom located in a small building designed in the 1950s by Vilanova Artigas, the Brazilian modernist architect, in the Santa Cecília neighborhood. This is my second time inside, and to me, it is still a space slowly revealing itself. At first, what really caught my attention was the almost-purple blue cast by the blacklight, which tints every tone in the room toward that color. It brings a deep sense of serenity during the day.
In Latin American countries, the most common method for distinguishing rural areas from urban spaces is based on analyzing the number of residents in a given zone, classifying as "rural" any locality with a population under 2,000. In these contexts, low density and scattered development typically allow the natural landscape to predominate over the built environment.
Originally published as "El espacio público en asentamientos de origen informal: una construcción colectiva del espacio social" in the third edition of Revista CLEA —an annual publication of the Latin American Coordinator of Architecture Students (CLEA)—, this article argues that the most important aspect of public space is the opportunity it offers to build ourselves as citizens.
The production and meaning of public space in informal settlements are driven by the people who inhabit them. Consequently, the process of forming the concept of publicness is forged from the moment of occupying a void that lacks municipal services (Hernández, 2011). This stems from the fundamental need for shelter, which shapes this void through housing as the primary objective of the individual.
One thing that unites all human beings is that during the first years of our lives, we absorb our surroundings to develop as we grow. Consequently, education plays an irreplaceably important role. In early childhood, however, learning differs from more theoretical methods, as young children assimilate knowledge through continuous experience, developing their motor skills and their sense of dimension and space in relation to their own scale and body.
Historically, stone materials have offered ancient cultures the ability to build robust structures by interlocking stones of various shapes and sizes. The simplicity of the technique and its ability to deliver efficient, durable results have sustained the transmission of this construction method over time, enabling multiple contemporary architectural variations and reinterpretations.
In the daily routine of our conventional workday, we are influenced by many distractions that affect productivity, which have already become routine. However, now that we no longer lose time commuting and are restricted to activities we can do at home, we manage our time with more holistic priorities.
The Bogotá-based firm 57Uno focuses its practice on sustainability and has now channeled its creativity toward resilience and adaptability through Arquitectura en Tránsito (Architecture in Transit). This proposal aims to address the health emergency caused by COVID-19 by repurposing decommissioned buses from one of the primary contributors to poor air quality in the Colombian capital.
This article is a contribution from the Medellín-based firm El Taller de Arquitectos, who share their experience in structuring their practice by understanding and approaching architecture competitions as commissioned projects. Read on to explore their insights.
https://www.archdaily.com/1123680/el-taller-de-arquitectos-how-to-approach-architecture-competitions-as-commissions-in-colombiaEl Taller de Arquitectos
Social housing is one of the most compelling topics for our readers, representing a systemic challenge across most of Latin America. In Colombia, this challenge is even greater when it comes to rural social housing (known as VISR in Spanish), as inadequate infrastructure hinders dignified coverage throughout the country.
Stilt settlements have existed throughout the world wherever populations sustain their lives through constant interaction with water. In Colombia, the settlements of the Ciénaga Grande de Santa Marta, in the department of Magdalena, are a local benchmark that has endured since pre-Hispanic times. Today, these are informal dwellings, unrecognized in the official land registry. The Pontificia Universidad Javeriana and AGRA have shared their research, compiled in a book that supports the documented formalization of these dwellings using architectural representation standards, specifically by identifying the typologies of Nueva Venecia.
The following article proposes rethinking architecture in social housing in Colombia. Natalia Carrero Rojas and Pablo González delve into the subject as educators and through their practice 57Uno, where they constantly balance high-quality housing with real estate viability.
https://www.archdaily.com/1123726/57uno-strategies-for-the-design-of-sustainable-social-housing-in-colombiaNatalia Carrero Rojas y Pablo González
Students from the Barcelona School of Architecture are organizing a live-streamed architecture lecture series, featuring both local and international guests, to reflect on quarantine, confinement, freedom, repression, and viruses.
Structural analysis. Image Courtesy of Oliver Krieg
When we think of architectural visualization, sketches, drawings, and 3D renderings usually come to mind. This association is natural, as "visualization" is typically equated with imagining a project before it is built—whether to validate aesthetic and functional decisions or to communicate concepts to clients unfamiliar with technical drawings. However, beyond superficial elements like materials, layouts, textures, and colors, architects must also address highly technical, invisible factors that directly impact a building's performance.
We may still have a long way to go when it comes to addressing the diversity of flora and fauna in urban habitats, yet it is incredible how fast, easy—and even fun—the architecture that makes this possible can be.
In practice, how are we promoting spaces for animals and plants in our cities?
The state of Puebla is located in the central highlands of Mexico, bordering the states of Tlaxcala, Hidalgo, Veracruz, Oaxaca, Guerrero, Morelos, and the State of Mexico. Covering an area of 34,251 km², it is one of the country's most densely populated states. Its capital is Puebla de Zaragoza, and it is one of the leading landlocked states for tourism, featuring 9 "Pueblos Mágicos" (Magical Towns) and 3 UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
Climate Care – A Curriculum for Urban Practice was a 10-day public program curated by Gilly Karjevsky and Rosario Talevi for the Floating University in Berlin. Climate Care explored the correlations between the environment, urban practices, and education, constructively addressing not only environmental climate challenges but also scrutinizing the complex social, political, and economic climates that surround us today.
Solar tiles work on the same principle as the photovoltaic panels widely used in architecture. The main difference lies in their installation: while photovoltaic panels are mounted on top of an existing roof, solar tiles are integrated into the roof structure from the very beginning, replacing conventional roof tiles.
These tiles are composed of photovoltaic cells. When they absorb sunlight, they generate an electric field that provides electricity to the building's interior. Each tile is connected by cables to a power distribution board.
The Terra Preta Cidade collective is a space created from the desire of five Black women living in Salvador, São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Belo Horizonte to bypass geographical distance in order to promote and celebrate coming together. Emmily Leandro, Gabriela Gaia, Luciana Mayrink, Malu de Barros, and Natalia Alves give shape and voice to this exercise of creating a shared virtual territory—which is as much a political statement as an aesthetic one—through the podcast Des-embranquecendo a Cidade, which reaches its fourth episode with the theme: "Boiling Territory — Permanent Steadfastness."
https://www.archdaily.com/1123679/de-whitening-the-city-number-4-territory-boils-permanent-steadfastnessTerra Preta Cidade
One of the most important factors in design is the site's specific climate. This can pose a challenge in extreme weather, where insulating materials are required to adapt to changing conditions. However, in the case of Mexico and its privileged climate, this factor works to the architects' advantage, allowing them to create microclimates and spaces that blur the transition between indoors and outdoors.
Horizontal Monuments is a participatory intervention carried out at Plaza Juárez in Guadalajara, Mexico. The project began with the construction of a 1:1 scale replica of the obelisk located in the plaza, placed on the ground and shifting its materiality, turning this monument into a malleable and accessible object. This shift sparked a central question: what should be done with it? This question triggered a series of discussions that transformed into actions; students and local community members gathered to give voice and form to the ideas emerging from the transformation of the object. The work was conceived as an educational project to imagine alternative models of monuments capable of addressing the demands and possibilities of specific sites. Its development led to a series of collective actions described below.
https://www.archdaily.com/1123752/horizontal-monuments-a-participatory-intervention-in-guadalajara-mexicoArchDaily Team