Architectural divide in Mexico

SP: In my view, one of the major challenges facing architectural practice is its limited reach in a vast country like ours. In a country classified as developing, such as Mexico, the opportunities for employment or accessing the services of an architect are limited. Unlike countries like Sweden or other affluent nations, where access to such services is more widespread, only a small portion of the population has such access. It's mainly accessible to the elite due to economic constraints. Mexico is predominantly a financially disadvantaged country, with around 60% of the population living on minimal wages, according to INEGI- Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Geografía (National Institute of Statistics and Geography). These people's primary concern is meeting basic needs such as security, shelter, and food. Consequently, arts, architecture, and design are privileges enjoyed by a small segment of the population. While I don't want to suggest that the government should provide these services, the reality is that cultural practices in Mexico, including architecture, are often exclusive to the elite. This democratic aspect of culture isn't adequately supported by the government, at least in the central region where I reside and have firsthand experience. It's different in tourist-centric cities like Tulum or Oaxaca, where there's a focus on showcasing the country's best to foreign visitors. In peripheral areas or provinces like San Luis Potosí, there's a lack of support for creating quality public spaces and infrastructure. Basic amenities like highways, streets, and public parks are almost non-existent. This creates a significant gap between the reality faced by most people in the country and the practice of architecture. It's crucial to address this gap and prevent it from widening further. Growing up in Mexico, it's extremely challenging to transition from an environment with limited opportunities to one where basic needs like education, healthcare, and insurance are readily available. This divide between haves and have-nots is widening, making it increasingly difficult to bridge the gap.

There are many private education options available, but public education is also quite decent and affordable. Almost everyone can access university education, but the challenge lies not in getting into university but in finding opportunities to apply one's skills afterwards. There's a huge gap between the skills graduates possess and the country's needs. While I'm not sure of the exact number of registered architects, I'm confident there are many, and there's a high demand for their skills. However, only a small proportion of the population has access to architectural services or spaces designed by architects.

From cuisine dreams to design

SP: Before I studied architecture, I had friends who were travellers. In some way, they had an impact on me and inspired some decisions I took during those years. I was unsure about my future and wanted to pursue something related to creativity because I've always been drawn to that aspect of life. I believe that science and the arts are the two things that truly elevate humanity. Through informal conversations with friends, I noticed their different perspectives on life compared to what I experienced during my childhood. Initially, I was following a religious education during my early academic days. When I entered university, I felt bored with my city and its limitations. I began considering studying gastronomy to become a chef or pursuing architecture. Eventually, I enrolled in an architectural academic institution here in San Luis. However, midway through the course, I paused my studies because I was uncertain about my career path. I left school and travelled to Europe with the intention of deciding between becoming a chef or an architect. During my time in Europe, I explored both fields extensively. Despite initial hesitation, I ultimately realised that architecture was the path I wanted to pursue in life. 

After spending two and a half years abroad, I returned to Mexico and completed my academic degree in Mexico City. Following that, I worked with an architect for a while, but I didn't feel satisfied with the work. I noticed that the city seemed stuck in repetitive architectural patterns, lacking originality and intellectual depth. Many architects in Mexico appeared to be overlooking potential innovation in their immediate surroundings. Whether in the desert or the city, decisions made by the local municipality, such as replacing trees with palms, made me feel disconnected. This dissatisfaction led me to establish my own architectural practice. I felt the need to create something that resonated with my values and beliefs, so I embarked on this journey almost out of necessity.

Solo practice, collective encouragement

Realising that I needed the freedom to express myself and make my own decisions, I decided to open my own studio. It was a matter of survival in a sense; if I wanted to truly pursue architecture, I needed to create an environment where I could thrive creatively. After working for just three or four months in another office, I realised that the same issues persisted elsewhere, and I was compelled to forge my own path. Around four months after completing my degree, I opened my own practice. I initially worked from my father's house, mainly focusing on creating drawings. Despite facing some challenges, I felt supported by my surroundings. In Mexico, there's a sense of community that makes it easier to pursue individual goals. The warmth and encouragement of the people make you feel less alone, even when working independently. Although I didn't have much work initially, I felt comfortable and encouraged by the positive response from others. People applauded my decision to strike out on my own, giving me the confidence to pursue my goals.

Evolving designs

I believe it's common to become more cautious with experience. In my earlier years, I was more experimental, especially when starting out in the field. Now, however, I find myself being more mindful of budget constraints and client expectations. Much of my work is in the private sector, where I often feel responsible for the financial well-being of my clients and their families. While I've become more precise in decision-making regarding budget and client concerns, I've also maintained a consistent approach to my design philosophy. Over the years, I've developed a strong understanding of the geographical and atmospheric contexts, particularly in the central region of Mexico, where I primarily work. This has strengthened my confidence in proposing ideas to clients, who now place more trust in my recommendations compared to five years ago. My background in art experimentation, particularly in galleries, has influenced the way I approach architectural projects. Clients often seek out my office when they're looking for more than just a standard architectural design. I've noticed that projects associated with my office tend to be diverse in both scope and client demographics. Clients of varying ages and with different requirements approach us for projects that offer something new and unique. It's like being drawn to a tree or food you've never encountered before; there's a curiosity about experiencing something unfamiliar. Similarly, our clients are often interested in trying something they haven't seen elsewhere. This diversity in projects and clientele enriches the work we do at our office.

An earthy essence with an urban interface

SP: We aim to create an experience where nature and the user's interaction with space are central. For example, consider the experience of moving from the city into nature at the city boundary. This connection between nature and urban environments is something I aim to incorporate into the design, particularly at the lot and street boundaries. It's not just about physical presence; it's about an internal connection with the earth. I'm interested in bridging the gap between human existence, science, art, and the innate feelings evoked by nature. Nature offers a sense of authenticity that can't be replicated by modern conveniences like TV or the internet. In my designs, I strive to recreate this essential feeling of being at the boundary between nature and urban life, especially within the Mexican arid desert context. This region, often overlooked, holds a richness of experience that I seek to share through my projects. It's about revealing a side of Mexico that many may not have encountered before, showcasing unique elements like nopales, scorpions, and snakes. This encapsulates my design intention.

Let me explain some of these concepts through examples. In the past few years, we have been involved in several projects, each varying in scale. One interesting example was the development of 200 apartments in Barrio Vallejo. Here, I aimed to create a neighbourhood atmosphere reminiscent of an old desert plaza. I incorporated cacti at different levels of the project to evoke a sense of being connected to the desert landscape, even when several floors above ground level. Unfortunately, this experimental approach didn't prove economically viable. Although the project was developed on paper, the construction had to be altered as the developers felt that the concept was not commercially viable for selling the apartments. This happened in 2023, and while I hope the project may be revisited in the future when there's greater acceptance of desert-inspired designs, for now, it's on hold. 

Another example was the project for a small pavilion called “Pabellon PIB”. I was asked by the University and the City Council to propose an idea for a plaza in the downtown area. I faced the challenge of addressing the absence of water, which is a common issue in San Luis Potosí. Many people from our city travel to the United States to shop for clothes or electronics or simply to explore. It's a phenomenon that's quite puzzling. There's a prevailing notion that a lush green lawn, which doesn't really fit the context of San Luis, is like a decorative feature or symbol. The pavilion was situated facing a dry fountain, a relic from the colonial period about 250 years ago when there was abundant water. In the downtown area, there's also a monument called Caja del Agua, which used to serve as a large water container, almost like a grand fountain. In the past, San Luis had ample water, but now, many fountains have been dry for years. Despite efforts to maintain these gardens as they were centuries ago, they struggle without water. So, the idea behind the pavilion was to showcase native plants and animals that thrive in this water-deprived environment. It was to demonstrate that the absence of water leads to empty fountains yet paradoxically allows these species to flourish as they've adapted to the local ecosystem's conditions. What I'm trying to propose is for people to appreciate what we have in our surroundings. Not to focus on what's in the United States or Europe, not because it's not valuable, but because it's far away and not from here. Maybe in the past, it was easier. We weren't aware of our responsibility towards our environment and our practices. Perhaps that's why when empires conquered everything, we could admire marvels from Italy and Egypt with their grand imperial movements. But now, we have our own country with its unique political and historical context, which might be why people are interested; we're trying to appreciate what we have. As more of us embrace this perspective, perhaps architectural proposals will become stronger because some people are making efforts to promote this viewpoint. I'm not trying to lecture or educate but rather to communicate and share what I find beautiful because I truly appreciate what surrounds me. I'm deeply moved by it. 

I'm captivated by this Mexican desert landscape, where many may not see the beaches, nature, sand, or pineapples, but we have this mystical atmosphere. The desert invites introspection. You feel more connected with yourself in the desert. So, these proposals aim to address the lack of water and showcase the native plants and animals.

Reviving history

There are some other projects involving a gallery in the desert. One, for instance, is a personal venture I'm working on with an artist who is my partner in the gallery and my associate. We are renovating, or rather, reconstructing an old house on the slope of a mountain in the desert. It's a gallery under construction where we're experimenting with animal bones, skins, and bee hives. I'm using natural materials, things found in the desert. When you walk in the desert, you come across many things that allow you to experiment with nature. It's a house that was built around 300 years ago, and it's in the desert. It's all in ruins, with nature's imprint everywhere. I'm making small interventions in the walls and roofs with materials, experimenting with things I find. 

I'm also designing furniture to withstand the harsh desert weather, which can be extremely windy, cold, and hot. So, I'm developing stone furniture and using natural cactus corpses, among other things. It's a personal experiment and, therefore, an ongoing process. I hope to show the results of this personal research to the public, showcasing art with a more extreme approach pushing the boundaries in discourse and speech. I imagine presenting the outcomes as a gallery where I can tangibly demonstrate this new, or rather unseen area. That's what I'm aiming for.

The desert is a constant in my work and life. I have been working on a house in the desert (Casa Catorce), located in the Altiplano region. Altiplano refers to areas above an average altitude of 2,800 meters. This house is constructed using stones, following the traditional method of construction, as it's situated in a historical town dating back about 300 years. The walls are thick, and the windows are small due to the weather conditions. This project also reflects the historical context of how homes were built to withstand the elements, providing protection against the weather. Moreover, it allows you to experience a connection with nature while indoors. You can hear the wind and see the stars at night, which reinforces the project's connection to its surroundings.

Existential echoes in gallery

SP: The place where we are based is both a gallery and our office space. The gallery functions as an extension of the office, facilitating easier communication of proposals. Art, as you might be aware, provides a simpler means of expressing emotions. This gallery specialises in contemporary art. I collaborate with an associate who serves as the curator for the artists. However, the gallery's foundational concept revolves around discussions pertaining to and inspired by the desert, approached in an abstract manner. The focus is on internalisation, or the exploration of human emotions and inner experiences, rather than purely aesthetic considerations. This approach is somewhat abstract but seeks to reflect how historical human interactions with the desert, often perceived as a place of lack, can illuminate our inner selves through contemplation. The art we display is born from such reflections. We engage in dialogues with artists who share a connection with nature. This connection isn’t limited to those from desert regions but extends to artists from various countries, including Italy, Croatia, Sudan, and South Africa, emphasising the existential rather than the physical aspect of deserts. Thus, the gallery acts as an extension of our architectural practice, allowing us to explore and exhibit artistic concepts freely and without the constraints of budget or client requirements. This project is independent and private. I choose not to collaborate with institutions or governments to ensure the purity of the discourse, free from external influences or pressures from academic movements. Being connected to such entities can sometimes sway your perspective, so it's important to me to preserve the project's integrity as much as possible. Moreover, we maintain a principle that artists are free to present whatever they wish. Our only directive is that their work should engage with the concept of the desert, not in a literal sense, but in a philosophical or existential manner. This approach may be challenging to grasp since it doesn’t seek to achieve aesthetic recognition through visual appeal.

Experiential authenticity

I'm not particularly fond of how platforms like Instagram influence artistic practice, as they seem to narrow our exposure to new ideas. Similar to Spotify's music recommendations, these platforms tend to show us more of what we already like, limiting our exposure to the unfamiliar. The clients and people I collaborate with possess a curiosity for experimentation beyond the familiar. My work does not aim for economic or media success. Instead, it focuses on the existential dialogue between myself, the client, and our shared human experience. I believe the gallery setting offers a more straightforward way to convey these ideas through various forms of art, such as painting, sculpture, and installations. It's a more effective medium for translating our discourse into the arts.

It's easier to understand, even abstractly, than through architectural terms. In practice, you'll notice many popular trends, like those seen on Instagram. However, some projects, including a few of mine, offer a deeper message. Nowadays, I have more opportunities to create architecture that aligns closely with this message than I did in my early years. This is because people are becoming more open to it and now see how it truly resonates within each of us. The connection with the earth and nature is fundamental to being human. When individuals enter these spaces and experience moments akin to being close to a fire or under the stars, they touch something profound. This is what I aim to achieve with both my architecture and the gallery, bringing people closer to these experiences.