Bosco Verticale and Kilometric Bindweeds

Not long ago the images of the Bosco Verticale from Stefano Boeri at Milan went viral in every social media. A symbolic torch that surpasses the expectation of a living garden on a skyscraper. You are aware there is not any exemplar advance… the vertical garden, terraces in the air or green roofs are concepts we’ve been hearing for quite some time. The Boeri’s success was exploring to the limit, building it and achieving something unexpected… not by a viral effect, rather by the doors he opens.

Recently Dezeen shared an architectural film by the famous Liam Young. A fictional portrait of a ten billion people city made by tree-like towers melting with concrete and wooden structures. One of biggest challenges of a skyscraper is that bigger the height, farer the ground. The criticism around that dilemma is well known, why live up high when the true wealth is down below? You’ll address the point. Boeri alongside Young introduce an idea, loosing up the tied ground and move it towards verticality… even better Boeri’s achievement for being built. I couldn’t confirm if naming it vertical forest was aligned to this but denying this innovation would be a sacrilege.

Round up the thought. Naturally, our bodies ask for the ground, its odors, freshness and contrasts. The garden is the exceptional mystical place and having the theory and technology to unleash from the surface and move it up in the air, as you may imagine, opens unexpected doors. Opportunities towards form, but upmost character, of the spirit between the building and us. A brief finding waiting for more to discuss… although the game was just inaugurated.

El Errante

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The Swan Song of Architecture

Between the wonderful perks of being an architect… I’d say building your own home is the greatest. The emotion, satisfaction or mere ecstasy of letting go prejudices and going along your intuition is unrivaled. The architectural equivalent of the autobiography. They may not have the flamboyancy of a public building, but the immeasurable care you execute in your home is unique. A new architect in the repertoire of recognizable names, Manuel Cervantes, recently shared photographs of his. Alongside the publicity it obviously represents, exposing the most personal and thoughtful is a pleasure by itself, even from the plain 2D image. Relevant as it is, the only Mexican Pritzker went to Luis Barragán widely recognized by his houses, especially the one he lived in.

The big words are the following. Music, precisely the last collection from Franz Schubert. I heard clips of it in the radio, specifically in a Mexican program known as “La Corneta”. Preceded by a brief introduction, the hosts shared the concept around the “swan song” (in Spanish “canto del cisne”), a metaphorical figure that represents the last opus, the symphonies closer to the author’s death. The swan, before passing away (true or not) intones its greatest melody… a greatness acquired by experience, sincerity or ecstasy? We are withstanding before a wonder… death, aging or maturity are the crib of honesty and transcendence. I mean this, the autobiography or the architect’s home are the closest to the peak… their swan songs if you will. What an achievement whenever it happens.

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Cranny Lights

Days before I found a lamp. Somewhere deliberately lost in a road stop in the middle of a northern mexican state. A building of that typology is a tricky one; usually those places suffer the abandonment caused by the lack of clientele, but this case was exceptional. A maintained place and closely located to one of the selected towns that obtain the forename “magic” and voilá, the tourists come along. As I told you, I saw a lamp there.  

I am an architect with a furtive attitude towards curiosity and wonder. Stomp over the stone, the same a sharp eye cautiously admires. And so, the lamp appears at sight, even with the sun at it’s peak; turn the lights on and I would have taken a sit beside the firefly. The color is a mystery to me, but I’d take a guess for a warm one, orange tinted with a slight yellow shade. That combination comes to mind when I visualize myself in such a place, between centenary trees and leafy bushes.  

Above all we see the lamps, led at night, showing a blurring light through a glass I wish you could see. You’ve seen it at your grandpa’s home, or those backyards turn to cellars with thick glass bottles, I mean, you recall the infamous and exceptional mexican “caguama”. Double the thickness and cover the interior with a thin layer of a precise cracked glass, almost intentionally. A work that deserves recognition. Maybe, someday I may return just to stare at the cranny light of one of those lamps, is there a better reason?

El Errante

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