Mazzocchioo

An interview with Rodrigo Pérez de Arce

The following interview was recorded via ZOOM on June 28th, 2024. with the participation of Ștefan Simion, Irina Meliță and Eliza Voiculescu

SS
We’d like to start by discussing your unique situation and your experience of living within two cultures. You graduated and became an architect in Santiago in 1972, and then you had a significant career in Europe, specifically in the UK at the AA. Later, you returned to Chile. There’s also an interesting note that you visited Bucharest in 1982. Could you tell us about how you experienced architectural culture from within Chile, then from an external perspective, and then upon your return? How did this journey unfold for you?

RPdA
Well, it is a big question. I was educated at the Catholic University, Santiago, same place where Smiljan and Cecilia studied, in the mid-60s and graduated in 1972. There were only three schools of architecture at the time: the state one, which was perhaps more orthodox, more professional-oriented, and with a strong foothold in the public sector. A great number of teachers professed as liberal practitioners at our school, with their studios in the private sector. The emerging Valparaiso School, which was a distinctive avant-garde and experimental institution, was proving itself at the time. That was the scenario. The Valparaiso School set a challenge, amongst other reasons, because they were removing many assumptions, about the formation of an architect. I have written about it elsewhere. Almost leaning into anthropological methods, they promoted the practice of participatory observation. Later on, when enquiring about the situationists and their business about rambling aimlessly, the picture sort of comes into focus. But that predicament was interesting also because in the absence of great masterworks in Chile, (we neither have pre-Columbian examples of the stature of, let’s say, Machu Picchu, nor colonial examples of the quality you might find in Mexico City, Ouro Preto, Lima or Cusco or a critical mass of outstanding modern schemes as one may find in Rio de Janeiro or São Paulo), the idea was that you should learn from everything. Everything was important; we could draw valid lessons from our cities, landscapes, people and everyday life. And that, I would say, left a strong impression upon us.
Our school was small. Our teachers were mostly a committed branch of practitioners. An interesting expression of the modern movement was being articulated in Chile in the 1950s, and ‘60s, a period when the state was promoting some of the best examples of urban planning and architecture. We often looked upon our teachers as mentors. We would visit their projects; it was a close-knit community.
I moved to England by 1973. I came back in the early 1990s. And just by chance, one of the first final exams which I attended upon arrival were Smiljan’s and Cecilia’s. I didn’t know them, of course but I remember, their final presentations.

You remember their projects?

RPdA

Smiljan’s final studio was pretty much into urban design that resorted to rather orthodox parameters of urban analysis. They produced nevertheless a massive amount of work, much of it through a collective effort. His project was the accessway to an underground station, which was then under construction. I remember his well-crafted staircase model, which in my mind was loosely inspired on Miralles. It connected the station to the street. It was very sculptural. The school director was inclined to fail him and so, I recall the debate.
Cecilia’s scheme had much more to do with the Chilean cultural and political scene under dictatorship. There was a -not entirely underground- but certainly non-official theater scene, organized by a bunch of young theater makers. They would stage funny, controversial and sometimes very critical plays in certain rather precarious venues in Santiago, somewhere away from the well-to-do areas. These low-middle class districts offered interesting venues. And so, her project was about setting up a theater for such groups and embracing similar atmospheres. She was attempting to capture the energy and particular ethos of that cultural and politically charged scene.
We were persistently stimulated to sketch. That was a fundamental and very enjoyable pursuit. Our training was not at all bookish. We didn’t make much use of the library which was -in any case- very modest and low-key. In the late ‘60s long before the digital revolution, our access to the ongoing debates and developments in architecture was very limited. A bunch of black and white photos and a few drawings were all we could get as information about the most significant schemes currently built, like for example, a late Corbusier, or a James Stirling’s project. But the little information that we obtained we knew inside out. Probably you had similar experiences in Romania during Ceaușescu. When you get just a bit of information, your thirst for extracting all clues compensates for the paucity of your sources; In England, everything was available. Consequently, my classmates seemed sometimes a little laid back. They did not treasure their sources as we did, just because they could freely access them. I guess they didn’t fall into this kind of ecstatic moments of discovery we experienced sometimes.

You were at the AA during a very interesting period, weren’t you?

RPdA

I arrived there to do my postgraduate diploma by 1973. They didn’t have a Master’s program then but a Graduate school as a minor satellite. The head of our department was supposed to be Paul Oliver, a fascinating character who was into vernacular architecture and jazz, but he left just before I arrived. Roy Landau, also a very intriguing character, took charge. He was someone of a more orthodox profile, more of a scholar who was keen on the contemporary and Avant Garde scenes. It was a fascinating environment with its slightly run down premises and echoes of the ‘60s atmosphere, including some late hippie corners, and stuff like that, whilst a frantic activity was going on, all around the studios and workshops. Later on, I was invited to run a diploma studio. And at that time, of course, Archigram was prominent, not just Peter Cook, always a leading figure, but also Ron Herron who was running a studio, and Dennis Crompton who was in charge of what was called the “communications unit”. So Archigram was masterminding the pre-digital media revolution at the AA. It’s worth mentioning that all the main talks were filmed. There was a film archive, also an outstanding slide collection. The range of communications was fascinating: their drawing and painting courses had a great impact upon the early work of OMA and Zaha Hadid. The whole set up was ahead of what you could find in other schools. Interestingly the AA was a school with a keen vision upon its own history.

Instant City Airships, Visit to a Small Town, Archigram, Peter Cook, London, 1970
Photograph: Archigram

The AA printed a weekly newsletter; it was a fundamental communication tool because every activity was open to to everyone. Aside from studio work the only compulsory obligations were a technical studies report, always closely associated to studio, and a history and theory paper.
That was the time of Rem Koolhaas, Elia Zenghelis, Bernard Tschumi, Dalibor Vesely, Zaha Hadid, Ron Herron, Peter Cook, Robin Evans, Robin Middleton, Charles Jencks and a number of other people that also included some intriguing and very structured professionally-based studios. Cedric Price was around, also Gordon Pask, his cybernetic guru. The mix was important. And the studios were elective. There were 10 or 11 diploma options. A student could choose from the most extravagant to the most professional.
All studio directors converged by the end of the year at the AA library, behind closed doors. Tutors were offered a generous supply of whisky. In the absence of students, we looked at their portfolios in order to assess their marks. It was a tense session spent with our colleagues, aiming to agree on the students’ achievements across the most disparate agendas. This gathering was fundamental in sustaining a cross conversation within such a disparate institution.

Lille Masterplan,
OMA, Rem Koolhaas, 1994
Sketch: OMA

The English system contemplates RIBA external reviews at different stages: at the end of the diploma studios and after the internal markings this commission would review every student portfolio. In amongst the panel members, you could find Sverre Fehn, Richard Rogers or Jim Stirling, so it was a highly powered panel.
The mastermind of this experiment was Alvin Boyarsky, a very interesting and unusual character, who had very clear educational ideas. He was an American emigree who had taught in Chicago. In joining the AA and being aware of London’s cultural potential he organized a highly powered summer school. Soon afterwards he was chosen as chairman in a contest whose opponent was Ken Frampton.
Alvin used to draw an analogy to account for the idea of the AA – “this is like an aircraft carrier” he would say, “I want to have anyone who’s flying about and who is of any

interest alighting to spend time with us. And if they’re good, I like to hire them to do something. “ The school was run basically by him. Being also a club (the association bit of the AA) there was also an elected committee of members, which was sometimes at loggerheads with the chairman, but Boyarsky was no doubt running the show.
So, the status of the institution is the status of the club, where there is a chairman and a committee and certain procedures. Also, significantly a member’s bar, always a venue for memorable interchanges. Alvin was very free in mastering the administrative and educational agendas. He could enroll and fire tutors in more expedient ways than would be feasible in university-based schools. We only held one-year contracts. Pay was the same for everyone, so Peter Cook who was an international figure earned exactly the same I did. Of course, the chair assumed risks, for example, Zaha Hadid was appointed to run a unit when just finalizing her studies. She was very young, had no teaching experience although she was of course quite resourceful. But it was risky to do what Alvin was doing. This was my case too, of course. I mean, Alvin didn’t know anything about Chile, he knew very little about me, the odd south American at school. But he assumed the risk.

While you stayed in London, were you able to follow what happened in Chile and what the architecture and the urban discourse would become?

RPdA

Yeah, well; my arrival in London coincides with the coup d’état in Chile, also my residence there, between 1973 and 1990, coincided with dictatorship at home. I only came back home on a few occasions, otherwise exchanges were by post.
My father was a teacher at our school. So, I kept some track with what was going on there. It was a difficult period in Chile. First there was the shock of the coup d’état and its violent aftermath. There was widespread poverty aggravated by the dismantling of the welfare institutions. The university was shaken. Some of my tutors had to flee. One of them was killed. Others decided to drop out. And the school was reorganized. And though an architecture school is not in the forefront of the ideological battles, still I think there were certain repressive elements within it.

I think in Romania, things were similar during the communist regime.

RPdA

Well, as you mentioned I was once invited to Bucharest at Ceaușescu’s time, in 1982 for an important conference at the Ion Mincu Institute whilst Chile was under dictatorship; it was an intense experience. It was poignant also because in Romania I could read the other side of the story. One could sense that so many problematic things were going on in there, but it was not possible to raise those subjects: I could not talk about as much as I wanted with colleagues, less so with people on the streets, although I could sense their empathy also their anger and frustration with the regime. When leaving to the airport escorted by a school professor we were joined by a security police officer. The scene was as if from a CIA cheap propaganda film. In boding farewell, we communicated more clearly through eye contact than words. Later on, I met exiled Romanians in London and Paris.
Following the Coup, universities were intervened by the military and lots of intellectual’s artists and architects fled from the country. The cultural scene suffered. And culture, of course, was not the regime’s priority. Official culture was dismal.
But also, following an extreme neoliberal agenda the military regime either dismantled – or re-engineered, the state housing and planning bureaus. They transferred power to private entrepreneurs who were not concerned in long-term planning. Big conglomerates built massive housing schemes with the most banal agendas. Suburbia spread over the best farming fields.
Some outstanding projects were forged in the ‘50s and ‘60s through the agency of public competitions. Although the situation was not ideal, there was an open window for sponsoring good architecture through competitions. This came to an end in 1973 until the ‘90s. We have a mixed system now.
So yes, in about 17 years, I came back on three or four occasions. I tried to catch up with the situation. But of course, my visits were also very much devoted to family. So perhaps I didn’t get to see as much then of what was really going on.

During the first part of your studies in Chile, was the discourse on architecture closely connected with what was happening in Europe, including architectural cultural movements such as the situationists?

RPdA

I guess that the Valparaiso School was more in touch with the avant-gardes, particularly the French ones. In Paris I believe they came across the situationists though they didn’t subscribe to their political outlooks. At home we followed two or three towering figures, with Le Corbusier as the unquestionable master, a sort of a patron saint of our education. To a lesser degree we were aware of the other masters. It was an orthodox scene.Some great local architects, such as Emilio Duhart or Valdes-Castillo-Huidobro were also teaching at our school. Duhart did a postgraduate at Harvard; he was influenced by Walter Gropius and later spent time at Le Corbusier’s atelier. So, there were certain personal linkages with some of the significant characters and agendas, and because we didn’t have so much lectures, the studio was the place where experiences were interchanged. The set up was kind of informal, almost provincial, intense, with few external references.
As a protracted effect of the Spanish Civil War, some Spanish exiled professors joined our universities playing a significant role in broadening our views. The same reason led architectural publishing for the Spanish speaking readership to shift from Madrid, or Barcelona, to Buenos Aires. Summa was an Argentinean magazine of great impact upon our education. This may be interesting for your own editorial plans, for the impact was considerable. Summa translated the most interesting essays and architectural monographs. So, through Summa, we got to learn about Stirling, the Smithsons, Japanese Metabolism, Team 10, Archigram, Fuller, Friedman and so on.
An international Congress of Architecture that was held in Buenos Aires provided me with the first experience of a metropolis; Santiago was then comparatively small. Peter Cook, Aldo Van Eyck and Herman Hertzberger were lecturing there. It definitely was a momentous occasion. So, we could somewhat catch up with the broader agendas, but as the flip side of scarcity we developed a real and intense hunger about the relevant debates. Also, because our sources were limited, we could debate each subject endlessly.

I was curious to ask you, when you came back to Chile from the AA after the change of regime, did you get involved in the organization of the new school of architecture right away, did you teach?

RPdA

I came back as a visiting lecturer. I intended to come back for a year – my wife is Chilean – she was working in Santiago at the pre-Columbian Art Museum which was created by Sergio Larraín, Cecilia’s grandftaher, but we decided to stay.

And now Cecilia is the director of the museum, right?

RPdA

She’s now the director and I believe she assumed at a critical point following from the pandemic.
I have mentioned Larraín because he was a very important figure; he was one of the masterminds behind the modern approach to architecture. He was our school dean for many years. The modern movement came to our school through his hands together with a bunch of young tutors, many of whom were these practicing architects I was telling you about.
He was cultured and wealthy. Over time he gathered a significant modern art collection. At some point, he decided to drift from European into pre-Columbian art. He did so at the right moment, where rules and controls for the purchase of archaeological items were somewhat relaxed. So, he amassed a sizable collection. And he set up the Pre-Columbian Art museum in downtown Santiago. Also, Cecilia’s uncle Sergio Larraín, was an outstanding photographer, a Magnum syndicate member, who produced memorable albums of certain localities (the Valparaiso one is remarkable), till radically opting out of the scene, withdrawing himself to a remote place. That’s also part of Cecilia’s background, and Chile’s cultural history. It is relevant to note that the museum emphasis is upon art.

Sergio Larraín, Valparaiso Valparaiso, Chile, 1963
Photo: Sergio Larrain,
Magnum Photos

But sorry, your question was about my return to Santiago. Firstly, I was just a one-term visiting critic. Then they invited me to stay. I got involved in studio teaching, which is really what I like doing the most. Later on, I became an editorial committee member, then I was briefly in charge of the Masters’ program and following that I led the extension program with its agendas for exhibitions and lectures.

IM
I was following up on the previous question with our next one, which was: How did you meet Cecilia and Smiljan Radić? You mentioned that you first met them during their final project.

RPdA

Well, our school is a small place. As it happens, certain characters played a role in bringing the young talents into prominence. It was the case of Montserrat Palmer a very sharp tutor who spotted Smiljan at an early stage. She then became the editor of ARQ the school journal. Her consolidation of ARQ as a publishing house was really fundamental to the unfolding of things, internally, but also on the international stage. ARQ was instrumental in promoting Chilean architects, including the young ones, and it soon became the best source about the local scene.
At an early-stage Smiljan helped us on a project for the conversion of a railway station into a Cultural Center in Santiago. Monserrat, the magazine editor was one of the partners (alongside Teodoro Fernandez and Ramon Lopez) and Smiljan became our assistant.
With Cecilia – I cannot precisely remember; I have to trace memories from about 1994. But I probably met her through Smiljan.

The conversion of Mapcho Railway Station to the Cultural Center in Santiago

Zaha Hadid was coming to Buenos Aires, I persuaded her to extend her trip to Santiago. She was like a rock star; the students went crazy. At Cecilia’s place she met the younger generation. Smiljan was probably there.
Cecilia teamed up with me on a design studio for a term, so we had the chance of working together for a while. Later on, she was appointed school director in one of the local schools, and subsequently she joined ours as professor. Smiljan pursued postgraduate studies at Venice. I believe it was a very important experience for him. He has become a serious collector of architectures of the 20th avant-gardes, with a focus upon Europe, the USA and Japan.

And in this context, he created the Fundación de Arquitectura Frágil.

RPdA

Yes, he reached a point, I think, where he had the resources and the spirit to do something useful and culturally significant. I believe he didn’t want to get involved in teaching. He says he doesn’t enjoy it that much. He likes doing things. I guess he’s in a special position. He’s not running behind jobs, the way other architects do, although he is extremely thorough in those assignments that fall into his hands.
He has collected wonderful items by Constant Nieuwenhuys, Guy Debord, Lina Bo Bardi, Gordon Matta-Clark, Asger Jorn, Le Corbusier, Aldo Rossi, Archigram, Super studio, among others. Different characters, some more fringe than others. Once he staged an important exhibit in one of the main galleries in Santiago.
His own house, combines a basement studio which houses the Fundación, an open first floor, apartments in the first floor, and topping it, his own apartment with a roof terrace. A very interesting format, an urban piece, part public, part private. A small apartment building which is also a big house. An interesting and discreet setup.
Right now, he is running three seminars. Recently he held a pocket exhibition about Dittborn, a remarkable Chilean contemporary artist. So yes, he managed to create a new cultural venue.

Eugenio Dittborn Exhibition, Fundación de Arquitectura Frágil, Providencia, Chile, October 2023 – January 2024
Photograph: Jorge Brantmayer

I think it’s important to underline the fact that Smiljan and Cecilia are part of a bigger generation of great Chilean architects. And it seems to me that this generation started right after this complicated period of the dictatorship. And of course, I’m thinking now that also in Europe there are certain schools of architecture and each individual architect can be understood individually, of course, but it’s very interesting to see them in this broader context, you know,
like with Swiss school or Spanish school or the Dutch school of certain periods. So there is this fantastic group of architects, such as Cecilia Puga, Mauricio Pezo and Sofía von Ellrichshausen, Aravena, Mathias Klotz, Cristián Undurraga, Teresa Moller, just to name a few among many very good architects and theoreticians and professors. They gathered around the university, right? Can you tell us something about this new period of enthusiasm that took place in Chile? So it would be easier for us to understand and to give a context to the presence of the architectures of Smiljan and Cecilia.

RPdA

Okay, yes, you are right, like Mathias Klotz, for example, which I believe was Cecilia or Smiljan’s classmate. Many of them come from our school. The Valparaiso School was running its own show, they were immersed in their own collective work, pursuing their experimental work in Ciudad Abierta. They stepped outside the profession, at the time when Smiljan and some of his colleagues were being profiled as a special generation. One advantage of a small country is that you get to know people easily. Mauricio Pezo interviewed Smiljan; other contacts get easily established. Cecilia invited him to teach when she was head of school. It’s all very intertwined. We get to meet each other. The architectural scene is not that big.

But it gained the international visibility. I mean, the Chilean architecture has acquired international recognition and everybody knows about this important group of architects and their projects.

RPdA

Yeah, but our local scene is comparatively small. For example, Alejandro Aravena is nearly the same age of Smiljan and Cecilia and I am sure they’re aware of what each other is doing. Part of the richness of the scene, I guess, is this kind of conversation going on. Of course, now there’s a younger generation coming up, from the state school, or the smaller one in Talca, some sources have shifted and the scene is different. It’s probably not so much personal-based. It has probably got more to do with collectives, and of course there’s much greater consciousness about climate change and the whole business of the environment. And so probably the way of proceeding and the kinds of works that these people run is moving towards other scenarios; it’s probably hard to find a common denominator between Smiljan generation´s work with what’s going on now. I guess something else is brewing up in Chile, most probably so also in Romania and Europe.

I would say that much of the initial projects from Chile that came into at least our attention here in Romania have been these isolated objects in the landscape. I’ve noticed that this is a significant theme in Chilean architecture. The structures are often set within breathtaking, infinite natural surroundings, creating an idyllic environment. At the same time, there’s a strong urban element, and you’ve played a crucial role in shaping that urbanity.

RPdA

Yes, well, geographically Chile is peculiar. It’s very long. It stretches lengthwise into a distance which roughly compares to that between Finland and Northern Africa. It’s mountainous so you may find almost primeval landscapes in this grand territory of the Andes just a couple of hours away from Santiago which is now reaching 6 million inhabitants. There are absolute deserts and also the wild
emptiness of Patagonia. There are indeed some majestic settings.
As you mention, we still have the chance of building in outstanding sites. Like Pezo’s Polli house by the sea for example or Smiljan’s own house in Vilches and Cecilia’s house in Bahia Azul. Much in line to what I observe in the broader scene, consciousness about landscape as a subject in Chile is gaining traction since the ‘90s, or thereabouts.
So, you can find interesting landscape schemes, but also an increased interest of the architects towards landscape.Maybe the most interesting urban projects you find nowadays in Chile would be some public parks.

Poli House,
Pezo Von Ellrichshausen,
Coliumo, Chile, 2002 – 2005
Photograph: Cristóbal Palma

House for the Poem of the Right Angle, Smiljan Radić, Vilches, Chile, 2010-2012
Photo: Cristóbal Palma

Casa en Bahìa Azul, Cecilia Puga, Bahia Azul,

Los Villos, Chile, 2002
Photo: Cristóbal Palma

Where we have a deficit, is in the conception of our cities. Maybe the most interesting urban projects you find nowadays in Chile would be some public parks. Occasionally also, of course, certain public buildings of significance or a university campus, or stuff like that. What we do not have, I think, in a comparable level to what we had in the ‘60s is high quality housing for the middle and working classes. The average, is much like the real estate, bland stuff that you can find anywhere in the world, urbanistically very mundane and elementary. It is not stimulating, not just in visual terms. Our suburban sprawl is extremely deleterious to the environment and poses a long-term problem.
Of course, one finds exceptions. Elemental has been testing low-cost housing schemes; other agents are working with local housing associations and so on. At the urban level, Mathias Klotz, conception of a university campus in downtown Santiago, is a significant contribution with its core spread along a street, not a quadrangle. Being the school dean, he commissioned the design of university facilities to some of his fellow tutors. He also designed some in his own studio. Faculties were spread out along a street which then became a central spine. In my view it was quite a courageous undertaking. other kinds of initiatives are brewing now when we Chileans begin to uncover our ethnic richness. These will probably stimulate relevant designs. But perhaps still the best pieces of architecture in Chile are predominantly private houses.

Which are outside the city, right?

RPdA

Yes, but also in exceptional well-to-do areas within. Beautiful garden suburbs removed from the urban cores.
On the public side, Cecilia has successfully renovated a 19th century mansion in downtown Santiago. It is a powerful project for a state department. Smiljan did the same for the Pre-Columbian Museum nearby. Both are right in the middle of town. Smiljan’s dance center, topped with a big tent is another urban intervention, also his Bio-Bio theatre. So of course, there are exceptional examples, which run against what I was just saying before, but perhaps these are not sufficient to make an impact. Much of what we build in a recent period of economic growth is just very average. Furthermore, private consortia are extremely powerful. So mid-size practices, have not an easy access to big projects.

It’s the same here.

RPdA

When you bid for public commissions you are bound to confront metrics (likewise when you apply for an academic post). You have to satisfy certain goals totally unrelated to qualitative criteria, and certify yourself through indexes largely derived from quantitative performance. These expectations often exceed the amount of work accumulated by small practices. That is just to say that the professional scene has changed. I think the architects would like to be more involved, but given those constraints there’s not so much room for them to operate.

Let’s talk about certain traits of the projects of Cecilia and Smiljan. I’m thinking that there’s a certain archaic dimension in what they are doing, a somehow elemental, raw condition. Maybe there’s a certain connection with the vast territory and the distant history.

RPdA

Well, maybe I can explain some contextual issues. In certain rural areas, for example, you can hire local builders instead of a formal builder. If you choose the former, he would probably engage a form of practice much closer to inherited, basic craft. Drawings will not be so effective at some point.
Working with stone masons, for example, once they capture the essence of a particular floor pattern, they proceed to do things whilst adding a certain personal input. The landscape work of Teresa Moller in Punta Pite, for example, is also based on the availability of good stone masons in the area. Her work is also designed very much on site.

Punta pite, Teresa Moller, Chile, Santiago, 2005
Photo: Chloe Humphreys

I’m not saying that this is the procedure that Smiljan and Cecilia follow, but in relation to the archaism that you mentioned, part of it has to do with the fact that you can get massive boulders from the Andes nearby into Santiago,
for example as it happens with the Mestizo restaurant. I believe Smiljan’s wife Marcela Correa made a significant contribution in his case with her extraordinary expertise about how to handle massive stones and her sensitivity about the material. But I guess provided you have the resources it is not so difficult to directly approach the quarry. Cyclopean work is somewhat archaic.

Mestizo restaurant,
Smiljan Radić, Santiago, Chile, 2005,
Photo: Gonzalo Puga

At a broader level, even though our building regulations-largely because of earthquakes-are exceedingly strict in terms of structure, they are looser than their European counterparts as regards climate control and other preventions. So far, we don’t have to tick as many boxes as the average European architect. We’re moving in the same direction, though, I think. So that gives us a certain level of liberty. In practical terms, for example, we don’t build double walls. Single skin reinforced concrete is still predominant, like in La Tourette and the early days of modernity.

Don’t you have temperature variations, which are important?

RPdA

We do have, yes. But also, what happens perhaps is that walls can be more robust than the equivalent in your part of the world – because of earthquakes. So maybe there’s more mass. However, housing in working-class areas is definitely substandard as regards climate control.

What would be a usual thickness?

RPdA

Well, 20 to 25 cms probably. Though the norm is moving now. But Santiago’s climate is also temperate, similar to Mediterranean settings. Santiago’s area is also the most populated by far.

IM & SS

Oh, okay.

RPdA

In our region winters are short. They can be quite cold, but we forget them easily. In the context of climate change our problem right now has more to do with sunlight and heat than cold weather and rainfall.
If you examine some of Smiljan’s projects, or Cecilia’s house by the seaside, you will see that their walls are single skin reinforced concrete.
In the absence of fine craftsmanship sometimes roughness is not a problem: an interesting case is Pezo Von Elrichshausen house in Yungay. If you want to get rid of roughness, the cost is often beyond your means.
Smiljan was telling me about a timber structure in Southern Chile. As regards elaborate joinery like in certain Japanese or highly crafted European cases, it was simply not possible, neither desirable to aim for such course of action. So he moved away from that. He decided the best thing to do was to do away with joinery, allowing timber pieces to connect side by side, like in a Rietveld chair where joints are not fashioned because you simply superimpose one piece above the other. So that kind of elementary idea, I think perhaps more so than a certain spirit of archaism, is led by a pragmatic appraisal drawn from the actual conditions upon which one operates.
It would be interesting to know how he did his house in Vilches. I mean, the joinery is absolutely wonderful but the body of the house is somewhat rough and powerful. He was on site a lot and he probably checked things very strictly. I believe he produced lots of drawings, but I understand he was working closely with local people, which means unskilled labor.

SS
So a lot of time on the building site.

RPdA

Certain procedures call for very frequent building site visits. Palacio Pereira, Cecilia’s case in Santiago is a different story, similar to Smiljan‘s Pre-Columbian Museum, because these public buildings are expected to fulfill so many technical requirements. Palacio Pereira (that was co-authored with Paula Velasco and Alberto Moletto) was commissioned by the state through an open competition with the sort of contract that requires massive technical documents for tender. It’s a very inflexible format that requires a considerable production of drawings. Everything has to be predicted and financially estimated and so on. There you find a very thorough site control but I guess little leeway in terms of site adjustments.

But sometimes we operate through more flexible procedures. And sometimes this is used to the advantage of the project. The question brings to mind the architecture of the ‘50s. La Tourette is a scheme that we could have built in Chile at the period. It didn’t pose any technical challenge that we couldn’t resolve with the same level of success (provided Corbusier gently handed us his plans). Our best ‘50’s work meets similar constructional standards. It would be beyond the scope to attempt such a building in France nowadays. For whatever reasons, in Chile, we’re still closer to the possibility of doing things that way. And perhaps that evokes the archaism that you refer to. It’s still within our scope to produce stuff which is closer to those more elementary principles. Having said that, both Smiljan and Cecilia are very up-to-date in technical issues. So, it’s not that they would not know how to do things, rather they would probably take the opportunity to render things simpler whenever possible.

Convent of La Tourette, Le Corbusier, L’Arbresle, France, 1960

We definitely understand that.

I think it’s very optimistic because the two realities from Chile and Romania might be very similar, actually. There’s a lot of improvisation taking place on the small building sites and it’s the houses that Smiljan and Cecilia are doing are beautiful examples. So it would be very interesting to have their conferences here and to find out more about the Chilean architecture in general.

RPdA

My father was an architect; we used to go to sites. In his way of practicing there were so many site instructions. Site adjustments were possible at that time, even to some degree in large commissions. To make decisions on site was probably not the most usual thing to do, but it was feasible. The palette of materials was reduced, standard building practices were firmly established , overall, few details were contemplated. What I do recall is that the volume of drawings that he would produce for a large building -like for example Valparaiso´s Naval Academy -was smaller than what would be required for a similar quality building now; but perhaps also as a counterpart, the conversations on site were intense, allowing for some decisions to be made on the spot , and then perhaps transferred to drawings. Those practices have been largely abandoned now, but within some of the projects that Smiljan or Cecilia or Pezo undertake, it is probably feasible to make some changes on site without so much of an upheaval. Then of course there is also perhaps the other aspect to be taken into account is that both Pezo and Cecilia and Smiljan have built some of their schemes for themselves with the freedom associated to that. So, I would say that they have been lucky to be able to engage these commissions where they are the commissioners and the architects at the same time. And that sometimes facilitates experimental work.

We experienced this firsthand as well. We had the opportunity to build one or two things ourselves, so we understand that it’s a very fortunate situation.

RPdA

Maybe another aspect which we didn’t discuss and which is also particularly informative is the local production of theory by people like Fernando Pérez, Jose Ricardo Morales, Juan Borchers or to a certain extent Alberto Cruz who had an impact in the local scene. Alberto Sato, Alejandro Crispiani and others joined at a later stage. This theoretical-critical drive helped promoting architecture and brought forth new scenarios. It is another ingredient that belongs to the local scene and which I think is interesting to remark.

I also wanted to bring into discussion this fact that many important architects today, Smiljan included, have a simultaneous activity both in practice and in theory. They’re writing texts, giving conferences, teaching and this involvement within the architecture in the doing and in the thinking and the conceptualization of it, I think is very important for this level of architecture and for the construction of the entire discourse from a certain place.

RPdA

Just to touch upon the case of Smiljan, through Fundación Frágil, he has edited a bunch of small booklets which in my mind play up with surrealist sensibilities. He has also published his own essays. And there you certainly find plenty of entries on the subject of precariousness (if not archaism). My impression is that he will only engage debates indirectly. He brings fresh perspectives, but it is not easy to pinpoint the thread that links those things into some kind of statement. it’s more to do with provoking something, I guess, than articulating a discourse. This is of course just my personal reaction.

Rodrigo, thank you very much for everything you have told us, for your patience and for giving a certain context to the conference.

Thank you very much. It was fascinating to talk with you. You provided us with a comprehensive view of the past years, which allowed us to draw comparisons with the history of Romania. As Ștefan mentioned, there seem to be many similarities. Even when discussing the future of the architectural scene, it might be worthwhile to continue this conversation at some point. We read the interview you gave to Ana Maria Zahariade and Radu Ponta, and I particularly appreciated your focus on how we should approach architecture moving forward—likely building less and reusing more. It’s a compelling topic that perhaps we could have explored further today, but maybe another time.

RPdA

Yeah. Look, just to close up, I teach first year students now. I’ve been teaching first year students for the last six or seven years. I never did that before, and I find it wonderful to see how these school boys or girls, become young architects. But something that troubles me is what kind of world are they going to find when they get their degrees? Climate issue, which strongly hits Chile, as regards water supply and drought and stuff like that is just one big challenge. And so, my dilemma is how on the one hand, keep up the optimism, because one is promoting the students’ futures and on the other hand, picturing up what kinds of skills, or what sort of focus, may allow us to react and operate fluently to these unprecedented challenges. The question is always coming back.
The scenarios they will face might be radically different from those my generation encountered. The tools I’m providing my students with may not be the most suitable for these unprecedented challenges. But that’s a conversation for another time.

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An interview with Rodrigo Pérez de Arce