“On Growth and Form”, written by biologist and mathematician D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson [1860-1948], is considered the greatest work of prose in twentieth-century science, highlighting the role of physics and mechanics in determining the form and structure of organisms. The book immediately became a classic for exploring natural geometries in the dynamics of growth and physical processes. Thompson reveals himself to be a great scientist, sensitive to the fascination and beauty of the natural world, writing in a style that led the specialized press to call his work “as much good literature as science; a discourse on science as if it were a matter of humanity.”
The Board of the Alhambra and Generalife announced this on its official Twitter account. According to the director of the Board, Reynaldo Fernández Manzano, the wall was built in 1915 by the architect and conservator of the Alhambra, Modesto Cendoya. The wall was constructed using poor materials that gradually deteriorated over time, and plans were already in place for its demolition and reconstruction. Following the sudden collapse, the Conservation and Protection Service will rebuild it with the original materials in a first phase before undertaking the comprehensive project.
During this time, Barcelona will become the epicenter of a wide range of activities related to architecture and the city, transcending disciplinary and territorial boundaries. Additionally, marking the centenary of the founding of the Bauhaus school of design and architecture, this year's edition will highlight the legacy of various early-20th-century architectural movements.
Sometimes, architecture presents itself as an object of responsibility—an exercise in recognizing authorship, aiming to define and delimit it. We feel an urgent need to know who its author was, to credit whoever was capable of such inventions. Just as often, however, architecture does not claim any author; hence the terms anonymous architecture or "architecture without architects"—that is, a merely vernacular architecture. In the case of Carme Pinós, what is built inevitably speaks of who built it. Her architecture offers a glimpse of the energy that emanates from her persona: a vibrant, direct, tense architecture, swept by a continuous, dominating agitation. Within it, elements are in constant motion in a completely ungrounded way, rather than by their own virtue.
On Tuesday, February 19, the book ‘Años alejandrinos’ was presented at the Ivorypress Gallery in Madrid. Luis Fernández-Galiano, the author, presented the work accompanied by two Pritzker laureates: Rafael Moneo on one side, and Norman Foster on the other. “It is very difficult to find a critic with Luis’s background,” noted Moneo, while Foster shared an anecdote about how he insists his children read the work of the Calatayud-born critic.
Juan Navarro Baldeweg liked to imagine his work within a dreamlike room, where the outlines of his buildings are silhouetted against a horizon of visual vanishing points, with the spectator positioned at their center of convergence. He aspired, moreover, for his exhibitions to be cumulative rather than retrospective—inviting the viewer to wander and trace connections between his works, linking them like elements of a single expressive medium or distinct formal gestures.
In contrast to the rigidity of classicist attitudes and the modern synthesis of artistic languages, Navarro Baldeweg—unbeknownst to many—champions the simultaneous cultivation of diverse, sometimes opposing disciplines and distinct arts. This fluid movement, free of preferences or boundaries across the broad spectrum of artistic practices, foreshadowed approaches that are widespread today, such as nomadism and the poetics of the "in-between." This nomadism does not stem from opportunism, but from a creative impulse, a restless eye, a trained gaze—in short, the work of a total artist.
Alberto Campo Baeza, one of today's most internationally renowned architects, has been selected for Honorary Fellowship in the American Institute of Architects [AIA]. Founded in 1857, the organization represents the interests of American architects, much like the CSCA (Superior Council of Colleges of Architects) does in Spain. It currently has more than 90,000 members, of whom only a select few are chosen to join the Institute's ‘College of Fellows’ with the title of FAIA.
Campo Baeza joins the exclusive roster of Honorary Fellows of the American Institute of Architects. In doing so, he joins fellow Spanish architects such as Rafael Moneo, Juan Navarro Baldeweg, Enrique Sobejano, and Fuensanta Nieto, alongside other equally renowned European architects like Álvaro Siza, Eduardo Souto de Moura, and David Chipperfield.
The family of José Antonio Coderch [1913-1984] has handed over the Catalan architect's significant archive to the Reina Sofía Museum in Madrid. With this acquisition, the renowned Madrid museum seeks to follow the path forged by other contemporary art institutions, such as the MoMA in New York or the Pompidou in Paris. Because these institutions already feature dedicated architecture departments, the Reina Sofía aims to expand its own holdings, incorporating both architectural movements and the individual professionals who shaped the art of building. This initiative has been promoted for several years under the leadership of the museum's director, Manuel Borja-Villel.
The archive, which was stored in a utility room at the home of one of Coderch's children, consists of 9,800 documents organized across 875 folders and dating from 1941 to 1978. It includes plans and sketches of his architectural projects; designs, photographs, and negatives of his works, alongside family photos; professional correspondence; invoices and receipts for each project; as well as magazines, books, publications, and scale models; portraits of the architect, several of his numerous awards, and personal belongings.
The core of Castilian modern architecture, and indeed of the 20th century, emerged from the work of Rafael Aburto [1913-2014] and his contemporaries—this forgotten generation. An interwar generation whose trenches were fought not only on the battlefield, but also within architecture. This cohort of architects had to confront both the ravages of the Spanish Civil War and a sterile traditionalism, surrounded by professionals who had read, known, and seen almost nothing. Tradition—specifically, Spanish tradition—was what sustained everything. Unsurprisingly, the Civil War itself dealt a generational setback to the profession, impacting not only Aburto's peers but also those to come.
The generational divide was defined solely by the experience of having fought in the war. Oíza was eighteen when it broke out; Sota, Cabrero, Coderch, and Aburto were called to battle, mostly fighting on the Nationalist side. Once the war ended, Spain was unrecognizable compared to its pre-war self, and architectural thought was no exception. Returning to the profession in the 1940s, architects faced an outdated, practically useless tradition, alongside a precarious modernism devoid of depth or knowledge. This is why figures like Aburto broke through—these postwar architects who took on the role of pioneers, or at least demonstrated their determination to break free from academic constraints and embrace their own modernism.
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Serpentine Gallery Pavilion 2017 / Francis Kéré. Image
The ICO Museum (Madrid) has extended Francis Kéré: Primary Elements, the first exhibition in Spain dedicated to the Burkina Faso-born, German-trained architect. Originally scheduled to close on Sunday, January 20, the museum has pushed the closing date back to Sunday, February 3.
Many pioneers are ill-timed, arriving too early. José Miguel de Prada Poole [1938-present] is no exception, occupying his place in history as one of the most unique, unconventional, and highly individualistic architects of the 20th century in Spain. A pioneer of pneumatic architecture, his approach was undoubtedly shaped by the pop trends of the era, represented by figures like Archigram, Archizoom, or Team 10. He was always peculiarly interested in the avant-garde's “mobile and deployable work,” specifically exemplified by structures capable of providing variable responses to changing uses. Ultimately, he can be considered one of the first architects to introduce concepts like "sustainability" into a purely architectural context: all of his works minimized energy consumption or were capable of generating microclimates on their own.
According to Vitruvius and Pausanias, its origin derives from the tree trunks used in primitive constructions of dwellings and religious buildings. In Egypt and Persia, they were commonly found in palaces and temples. In the Romanesque period, beyond structural necessity, they were employed for the pedagogical purpose of teaching the Holy Scriptures. During the Gothic era, they became stylized and clustered, eventually reaching a second peak during the Renaissance and Neoclassicism, evolving into a symbol of an almost nostalgic rationality. Ultimately, they were heavily and pedantly decorated during the Plateresque and Baroque periods, until all ornament was abandoned in favor of their structural and organizing capacity under the new order imposed by modernity through the free plan.
Welcome Mother Nature, diseño ganador para la reforma de la Plaza de España. Image Cortesía de Porras La Casta Arquitectos
In February of this year, construction will begin on the renovation of Plaza de España in Madrid. The project is a collaborative effort by design firms Guadiana and Porras La Casta Arquitectos, led by architects Lorenzo Fernández-Ordóñez and Fernando Porras-Isla.
The project, known as Welcome Mother Nature, seeks to create a large green area in the city center, recovering its long-lost identity as a "plaza," which had been reduced to a transit space. The proposal emphasizes the definition of a plaza as a "social place of expression, gathering, and freedom." The project's main priority is to create a space where "it is easy to build shared civic experiences," while creating a new lung for a city that constantly lives under a cloud of pollution and smog.
José Luis Fernández del Amo (1914–1995) belongs to the landscape of postwar Spanish architecture, with projects and works that stood apart from the academic aura. His works circulated like clandestine messages that opened up new paths, hinted at truths, supported collective wills, and vanished into a crowd driven by diverse interests. Like many of his generation, he had to begin his professional career trapped between the conflicts of disillusionment and a spiritual shift in his outlook on life—a disillusionment born from the searing cruelty of a civil war that provoked, in those who endured it, an internal shift in response to the drama unleashed by such conflicts.
The abandoned industrial building of the Clesa Factory, which closed its doors for good back in 2012 after nearly two years in bankruptcy proceedings, is set to become the "Matadero" of northern Madrid. The industrial site, located at 67 Avenida de Cardenal Herrera Oria, was designed in 1959 by architect Alejandro de la Sota and officially opened in 1962. The former dairy plant's 37,928 square meters are now being transferred to the Madrid City Council, which aims to convert the space into a major “cultural container.”
via Flickr user: Jean-Pierre Dalbéra Licensed under CC BY 2.0
Fifty of today's leading architects—answering the call of the Now Institute and its director, Thom Mayne—were convened to assess the architectural legacy of the last century. Their goal? To compile a definitive list of 100 buildings that represent, in their view, the 100 most remarkable architectural achievements of the 20th century. Prominent figures such as Tadao Ando, Steven Holl, Richard Rogers, Kazuyo Sejima, Toyo Ito, Rafael Moneo, Kengo Kuma, and Denise Scott Brown, among others, formed the voting panel.
Curious, inquisitive, and tenacious, Miguel Fisac [1913–2006] learned by doing. Fascinated by technology and construction, his direct on-site experience made up for everything that neither university nor books could teach or convey to him. Although his early work could be described as "academicist," within a few years the architect from Ciudad Real managed to shed this approach, turning instead to organic-patterned masonry and beams with bone-like logic. All of this was rooted in an intrinsic, personal commitment to creating a humanized architecture aligned with technical precision.
The book is simply another design tool—indispensable to many, but of limited use to others. When I speak of books, I am not referring to the common association with literature (novels, poetry, fiction, …), which are also useful within the abstract and diffuse design process. Enric Miralles, for instance, used to turn to verses by Lorca or the creative world of Queneau to anchor those early design intuitions. Yet I am not referring to this kind of reading, which is equally recommended, but rather to what is specific to our profession—to our unique and sharp gaze. Architects look for inspiration in books, but it is only when they reflect their thoughts on paper that they reveal their true, intangible nature.
Architects are fortunate to have access to a wide variety of print subgenres. These range from deep written reflections on the discipline to illustrative volumes of architectural images, construction details, plans, and drawings. We are shaped by what we see; that is undeniable. Consequently, this entire wealth of knowledge stays with us throughout the design process, surfacing unpredictably as we address the challenges that arise. Simply turning to a book can open doors along this design path, just as it can close others. We navigate by intuition, but we are always guided by parameters established from the very beginning. Looking for external references in books and magazines is a difficult exercise at first, as the siren song of countless sources can lead us astray. Knowing how to choose these references and initial guidelines will outline a clear, feasible path where the design becomes more manageable, accessible, and adaptable to future changes.