The ‘III Arquia Social Grant Call’, an initiative promoted by Arquia Banca and managed by the Arquia Foundation, closes on March 1st. This marks the end of the application period for one of the 50 tuition grants available to students enrolled in university programs leading to an architecture degree. Applications will be reviewed and ranked based on a priority coefficient determined by the candidate’s economic, academic, and personal circumstances.
When designing a building, a recurring thought is often how long it will endure. Once construction is complete and the building opens its doors to users, its lifespan begins, and it gradually establishes its legacy. This raises the question of how it will be remembered, of what imprint the building will leave on our minds: architectural memory. And like human memory, architectural memory is fickle. Buildings are forgotten just as memories fade.
Madrid's architecture makes excellent use of memory. Styles characteristic of its historic heritage remain standing today, fully functional. The Neo-Mudéjar style, for example, took root at the end of the 19th century; today, numerous surviving examples remain vital urban hubs, housing uses such as hospitals, universities, schools, care homes, cultural centers, and museums.
The renowned Spanish architect Sáenz de Oiza [1918 - 2000] was a devoted cyclist. As he himself confessed, his life changed completely after moving from Navarre to Madrid with his family to begin his studies at the Escuela Técnica Superior de Arquitectura de Madrid [E.T.S.A.M.]—a move set against the backdrop of a Spain in political and social turmoil following the outbreak of the Civil War in 1936. In 1938, his father passed away, leaving him to take on, to some extent, the responsibility of supporting his family. These memories of emotional and financial hardship during his early years meant that, following his subsequent success as an architect, he spent a portion of his accumulated wealth on material indulgences he had been deprived of in his youth: high-end cars and bicycles, which he loved to collect.
Another memorable anecdote of his dates back to a spontaneous race against a stranger on the ride back from La Granja to Madrid. Near Puerta de Hierro, the stranger turned to him and asked, “Hey... what team do you ride for?” It turned out his unknown opponent was none other than Federico Ezquerra, a legendary Basque cyclist. That moment must have brought him great joy.
The controversial "sun tax," a measure implemented several years ago by the Spanish government, has been eliminated thanks to the new Royal Decree-Law 15/2018 on energy transition. Approved by the Council of Ministers, this measure comes at a time when Spain remains far from meeting the targets set by the European Union in this area.
Among other measures, the Royal Decree establishes the right to self-consume electricity free of charge; recognizes the right to shared self-consumption (multiple users sharing a single installation); simplifies administrative procedures; limits electricity bill prices; and introduces measures to promote electric vehicles.
Like any other discipline or science, urban planning is dedicated to the empirical study of planning and organizing cities and territories. It faces not only the challenges of designing agile mobility, planning accessible residential fabric, allocating land for economic activities, and efficiently managing environmental and energy impacts, but also the ultimate goal of making the resulting cities as livable as possible.
Named after Arturo Soria, Arturo is an algorithm trained by citizens and designed to determine which urban variables make our cities more livable. Much like Arturo Soria himself—whose commitment to livability was evident in projects like the Ciudad Lineal—the algorithm aims to turn livability into a measurable parameter, into objective data. To achieve this, it relies on the input of thousands of citizens to build an accurate picture of what makes a city livable.
The Catalan archipelago is shaped, across almost its entire length, by a small mountain range running along it, rising from the coastline tangent to the sea to form cliffs, and extending barely a dozen kilometers at its greatest extent.
The architecture native to this coastal strip of land is repeatedly categorized as Catalan architecture, thereby overlooking and overshadowing the architecture of the inland—dark, somber, heavy, and intensely material. An architecture—that of the interior—of slow digestion, backlights, and still air, carrying a different scent.
To the northeast, we find a region where beech trees stand still, growing at a lower altitude than anywhere else in the country. Where the light is softer, more diffused; where shadows are both fainter and deeper. Where it rains differently. Where people speak differently. Where the masias are different. There they live. There they work. We are speaking of Olot. We are speaking of RCR.
When discussing cities like Amsterdam, we inevitably recall its network of canals and streets interwoven with water. Yet water is also one of the most pressing challenges the city faces. With 60% of its territory below sea level, climate change—and the rising sea and river levels that come with it—is a matter of survival not only for Amsterdam, but for the entire country.
Even as a child, the Venetian architect Carlo Scarpa was very aware of the fundamental element that would describe and underpin his work many years later: water. When he played and ran around the maze of streets and canals, Scarpa listened to everything around him, especially the richness of stimuli that his hometown offered him. A sensitive reader of places, he found his great text in Venice. This culture, subtle and almost academic, except for that devotion to scenography and the esoteric, is built over time; art, space, history, all compiled in his readings, trips to knowledge, and in his contact with artists and writers.
Scarpa would base his evolution as an architect on his extraordinary visual culture and his respect for tradition and the way of doing things in past eras; taking up the baton of that time and converting his reality into architectural space where all the pieces are independent units, dialoguing with each other or, as he liked to say, singing. He positions himself before what exists, whether it be an artistic piece or architectural space, from knowledge and sensitivity. He will apprehend the history and place in which it occurs and accentuate the existing beauty in things, showing the prominence of the new as a precious element.
With José Antonio Corrales and Ramón Vázquez Molezún, a situation quite common in Spanish architecture post-1950 is repeated: the lack of international projection of talented architects, largely due to the absence of theory. Apart from that, an intrinsically mysterious and enigmatic character pervades their work, deeply reinforced by the attitude of these architects towards it. They never stopped to explain it. They were never interested in providing it with a theoretical foundation. All this makes it extraordinarily difficult to understand their architecture, leaving many questions unanswered, open only to the interpretation of those who pause to reflect on them.
Corrales and Molezún have collaborated together on numerous projects sine 1952. They were very different people. José Antonio used to define himself as a "more rigorous person", while Ramón was closer to the "gaie", with a lighter, almost romantic touch. Their duo could be incarnated, respectively, as the two lobes of the brain: the left hemisphere, visual, verbal, linear, controlled, dominant, quantitative, etc. in Corrales; while the right, spatial, acoustic, holistic, contemplative, emotional, intuitive ... perhaps more accurately represents Molezún. One more couple to the long history of creation: Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, ...
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.
The Barcelona City Council, the Architects' Association of Catalonia (COAC), and the Mies van der Rohe Foundation, in collaboration with Barcelona Building Construmat and ArquinFAD, are organizing Architecture Week 2019, a public-facing initiative taking place at various venues across Barcelona from May 9 to 19.
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.
Iconoclast, painter, musician, photographer, visionary, genius… and architect. Fernando Higueras [Madrid, 1930-2008] left his mark on the history of Spanish architecture in an emotional way, showcasing architecture in its most essential quality.
Born in Madrid on November 26, 1930, Fernando Higueras was, like many others, a key exponent of late architectural modernism in 1960s Spain. Far from being merely novel or exceptional, his approach reiterated the timeless lesson of the creative process: talent and grace were not enough; they had to be accompanied by immense perseverance and, above all, passion.
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.”
How can we reactivate the Plaza de la Vaguada within an environment where we can connect in a different way? How can we emphasize the nature of coexistence to generate new fields of complicity and empathy between residents and their surrounding environment? ‘Acciones ExtraOrdinarias’ is a public art project developed in the Parque de La Vaguada since June 2018, within the framework of the ‘Imagina Madrid’ program. In it, the artistic team—composed of Estelle Julian, Paula Valero, and C+Arquitectos, with the collaboration of Leonor Martín—aims to fill the plaza with actions ranging from performance to spatial intervention, articulating new bonds between the district's diverse communities and restoring conviviality, desire, and joy to this previously abandoned space.
FINSA, a pioneer in the manufacturing of particleboard and MDF on the Iberian Peninsula, has chosen to collaborate with two leading Spanish studios in their respective fields, ENORME Studio and Vitamin-arte, to create a new installation recently exhibited at Milan Design Week 2019. Both studios are precursors in elevating the ephemeral—a reflection of the new trends emerging in these times of social and identity-related uncertainty. They are dedicated to developing innovative strategies that manifest as unique, interactive spatial experiences.
Column [Noun, from Lat. columna] A vertical and elongated support element, generally circular in section, used to decorate and support other structural elements.
Fernando Higueras (1930-2008), a leading figure of late-modern Spanish architecture in the 1960s, was, like many others of his generation, an Icarus-like youth obsessed with reaching the sun. Far from conforming to the rigid standards of his time, his architecture rose above the earthly plane with a single goal: to conquer the unknown. Even then, he concluded that modern architecture was misguided, that none of it made sense. Looking at contemporaries like Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe—with their flat roofs and obstinate obsession with lightness—nothing added up for him. His undeniably reactionary attitude drove him, from an early age, to boldly rebel against the hypocrisy of the triumphant establishment.