In the heart of Palermo, a large iron and glass structure houses species whose origins date back to distant eras predating the dinosaurs. This is the main greenhouse of the Carlos Thays Botanical Garden in Buenos Aires.

The State Property Administration Agency, in collaboration with the Government of the City of Buenos Aires, has launched a new competition aimed at optimizing urban space and enhancing heritage value.

The competition, titled "National Ideas Competition for the Centenary Pavilion and its Surroundings," is organized by the Central Society of Architects.

As part of Montevideo's urban housing management framework, the local government, together with the Ministry of Housing, Spatial Planning, and Environment, launched a national public ideas competition to develop a housing and public space program on the site formerly occupied by the Raincoop company in the La Unión neighborhood.

The objective was for contestants to design, on a nearly 3-hectare plot, a housing development within a public space that promotes the integration of compatible activities and services, thereby ensuring mixed-use land and inclusion. Learn more about the winning projects in the words of their authors.

As the Egyptians, Aztecs, Greeks, and Incas well knew, nature holds within itself the answers to life's great mysteries. We only need to observe it closely to decipher the enigma. Often, we move heaven and earth searching for what has been right in front of our eyes all along. Immersed in our cell phones and concrete cities, when was the last time we walked on the grass or gazed at the stars?

Ancient civilizations did so constantly. By studying the path of the sun, the seasons, and the rain, they left a legacy of structures that have survived for millennia and still stand today. Without Google or computers, they acquired knowledge through the observation and study of their surroundings: nature.

As part of the heritage preservation program of the municipality of Rosario, the provincial authorities of Santa Fe held the national preliminary design competition for the new building of the Provincial School of Visual Arts No. 3031 "General Manuel Belgrano". The selected plot contained the former railway workshops of the Central Argentino line, where contestants had to adapt the structures to the needs of the school and the community while preserving their historical value. Discover the winning project below.

The galleries of the National Museum of Fine Arts in Buenos Aires are currently showcasing the creativity of Clorindo Testa. Curated by María José Herrera and Mariana Marchesi, the new exhibition “Esta es mi casa” (This Is My House) offers a closer look at the architect-artist: What did he think about before going to bed? What did he see from his window? What was his house like?

The Dr. Gutiérrez Hospital and the Specialty Outpatient Medical Center of Santa Fe (CEMAFE) recognize the work of Mario Corea and his team, having received the ex–aequo Award from the Central Society of Architects of Argentina, the First Prize ARQ FADEA 2018, and the ORO Gran Premio Nacional.

Utilizing a new typological system, the projects accommodate potential future transformations without altering the buildings' intrinsic characteristics, such as circulation and structure. Flexibility, sustainability, the rational use of resources, and environmental impact assessments are among the core design premises of these evolutionary hospitals.

Learn more about the projects in the authors' own words.

The spire of the San Lucas Parish rises serenely over an expansive green canopy of blooming jacarandas and tipu trees. Behind it, the massive School of Medicine of the University of Buenos Aires and a dense cluster of gray buildings contrast with this permeable green lung. A paved plaza climbs from the street, navigating the site's topography with winding paths, underground connections, parking, and a cultural center: this is the new project for Plaza Houssay, currently under construction.

Walking through the classrooms of the University of Buenos Aires' School of Engineering is like stepping into a time machine: fine wooden desks, rosettes, pointed ogival arches. Green chalkboards with theorems and equations waiting to be solved. Here, the foundations of knowledge are laid for the young minds who will later calculate bridges and dams, and optimize plants and processes. 

As you walk up to the terraced workshops, the wood groans and creaks—a sound that signals the passage of time.

“Close your eyes and walk through the School of Architecture. Explore it, listen to the sounds, feel the textures, and try to mentally reconstruct the space.” I walked several yards blindfolded, and I still remember how my hearing sharpened, picking up the murmur of the people around me.

Although I knew the building's layout like my own home, I must confess those were perhaps the longest and most unsettling steps I have ever taken.

Jorge and Andrés Kálnay began a journey back in 1920. By that time, Argentina had already built most of its public buildings, Alejandro Bustillo was traveling through Europe, Mario Palanti was erecting his colossal Barolo Palace, and Le Corbusier would have to wait nine years before setting foot in Buenos Aires.

Little did the architect brothers imagine, when they boarded a ship bound for the United States, that they would end up in the waters of the Río de la Plata, shaping part of Buenos Aires's current architectural memory. 

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.”