CLAUDIO STANDARD
Claudio chair is available in four colors shown in the pictures above (green, yellow, white and red).

CLAUDIO NUMBERED SERIES
Series no.1, colosseum

We’re proud to introduce you the first numbered series of 43 Claudio chairs; Colosseum series. Besides the regular colors,  we offer in this series 43 unique colors that make a full circle:

You can choose your desired color in the color chart you’ll find below. The colors with a cross mean that are already sold. 

Each chair is marked with a serial number:

For more information or orders call us at +34932520755, send us an email to info@arquitectura-g.com, or use our PayPal account.

The ’Colosseum Series’ orders are only avaible via email.

For shippings outside Europe please send us an email.

Colours

1 Green Claudio + Spain€245,00 EUR 1 Green Claudio + Europe€329,00 EUR 1 Yellow Claudio + Spain€245,00 EUR 1 Yellow Claudio + Europe€329,00 EUR 1 White Claudio + Spain€245,00 EUR 1 White Claudio + Europe€329,00 EUR 1 Red Claudio + Spain€245,00 EUR 1 Red Claudio + Europe€329,00 EUR

 
INDOORS es una sección del estudio de arquitectura barcelonés ARQUITECTURA-G centrada en la reformulación y reorganización interior de la vivienda urbana adaptándola a la cultura contemporánea del habitar.

Con esta iniciativa INDOORS ofrece a sus clientes propuestas de reforma y rehabilitación más sencillas, más económicas y de fácil adaptación a distintos requerimientos de uso. Con la misma filosofía, INDOORS también produce mobiliario propio, cuyo diseño ambiguo persigue potenciar usos inesperados por parte del habitante. 

Desde INDOORS creemos que en la actualidad la vivienda debe ser un sistema abierto y adaptable con economía de medios, que contemple la evolución de necesidades a lo largo de los años; debe presentar ausencia de jerarquías marcadas, flexibilidad mediante equivalencia de tamaño de estancias y participación dinámica de los espacios de baño y cocina en el día a día para vivir la casa en su totalidad. La casa debe adaptarse al usuario, debe dar la bienvenida a la apropiación por parte del habitante adaptándose a sus pautas, a su arte de habitar.

Porqué INDOORS?

Cuando el interiorismo y la decoración intervienen en la remodelación de una vivienda, establecen el marco perfecto para que el habitante quede degradado a lo mediocre y pierda la libertad de apropiarse del espacio a su antojo. Interioristas y decoradores maquillan y disfrazan las viviendas convirtiéndolas en piezas especializadas, codificadas y jerarquizadas, que no admiten cambios de forma sencilla, y que pierden rápidamente su vigencia por estar concebidas desde las modas y las tendencias.

INDOORS, en cambio,  plantea propuestas abiertas, que contemplan la flexibilidad y que dan margen  para que el habitante se apropie de los espacios según sus necesidades, aficiones o gustos, con gran economía de medios.

Presentamos INDOORS a través de un texto de Adolf Loos:

 
En el texto “De un pobre hombre rico” se nos presenta la situación límite de lo determinado, de la codificación de un espacio. Es la situación límite de la Planificación y ejemplifica de forma exagerada y caricaturesca la mala práctica de aquel que ha pre-determinado los usos de un espacio, aquel que ha prescrito las posibilidades de habitar un espacio, de hacer un uso libre de él. Pero esta figura del proyectista-déspota se desmorona, primero porque su fracaso está inscrito en la propia lógica del habitar, ya que al habitar le es inherente rebasar los límites y las condiciones de uso del espacio habitable; y segundo, porque en la sociedad actual la flexibilidad no es excepcional sino regla.

 
“De un pobre hombre rico”

Von einem armen, reichen Mann
Neues Wiener Tablatt, Viena, 26 de Abril de 1900.
Adolf Loos

Quiero hablaros acerca de un pobre hombre rico. Tenía dinero y
bienes, una mujer fiel que, con un beso en la frente, le liberaba de las
preocupaciones que traían los negocios, un corro de hijos que hubiera
provocado la envidia del más pobre de sus trabajadores. Sus amigos
le querían, pues todo lo que emprendía prosperaba. Pero hoy la situación
es muy, muy distinta. Y así ocurrió:

Un día ese hombre se dijo: «Tienes dinero y bienes, una mujer fiel e
hijos, por los que te envidiaría el trabajador más pobre. Pero ¿eres
feliz? Date cuenta que hay personas que carecen de todo por lo que se
te envidia. Pero sus preocupaciones las ahuyenta un gran mago, el
arte. ¿y qué es para ti el arte? No lo conoces ni siquiera de nombre.
Cualquier advenedizo puede entregarle su tarjeta de visita y tu criado
le abrirá de par en par. Pero al arte todavía no lo has recibido en tu
casa. Yo sé bien que no vendrá. Pero iré en su búsqueda. Debe instalarse
y habitar en mi casa como un rey».

Era un hombre de mucha fortaleza, lo que asía era resuelto con energía.
Era lo acostumbrado en sus negocios. Así, acudió ese mismo
día a un famoso arquitecto y le dijo: «Tráigame usted arte, arte entre
mis cuatro paredes. El gasto no importa».

El arquitecto no dejó que se lo dijeran dos veces. Fue a casa del
hombre rico, echó fuera todos sus muebles, hizo venir un ejército de
colocadores de parquet, estucadores, barnizadores, albañiles, pintores
de paredes, ebanistas, fontaneros, fumistas, tapiceros, pintores y escultores
y ¡zas!, sin darse cuenta se había atrapado, empaquetado, bien
guardado el arte entre las cuatro paredes del hombre rico.

El hombre rico era más que feliz. Más que feliz paseaba por las nuevas
habitaciones. Donde quiera que mirara había arte, arte en todo y
por todo. Agarraba arte cuando agarraba un picaporte, se sentaba
sobre arte cuando tomaba asiento en un sillón, apoyaba su cabeza en
arte cuando cansado la apoyaba en las almohadas, su pie se hundía en
arte cuando andaba sobre las alfombras. Se deleitaba en arte con
enorme fervor. Desde que su plato también había sido decorado con
motivos artísticos, cortaba su boeuf à l’oignon con doble energía.

Se le alababa, se le envidiaba. Las revistas de arte glorificaban su
nombre como uno de los primeros en el reino de los mecenas, sus
habitaciones fueron retratadas, comentadas y explicadas para servir
como modelo a las reproducciones.

Pero lo merecían. Cada estancia constituía una determinada sinfonía
de colores. Pared, muebles y telas estaban combinados de la manera
más refinada. Cada objeto tenía su lugar idóneo y estaba ligado a
los demás en unas combinaciones maravillosas.

El arquitecto no había olvidado nada, absolutamente nada. Ceniceros,
cubiertos, interruptores, todo, todo había sido combinado por él.
y no se trataba de las artes arquitectónicas vulgares, no, en cada ornamento,
en cada forma, en cada clavo estaba expresada la individualidad del propietario.
(Una labor psicológica cuya dificultad reconocerá cualquiera.)

El arquitecto, sin embargo, rechazaba todos los elogios modestamente.
Porque, decía él, estas habitaciones no son mías. Allá en frente,
en el rincón, hay una estatua de Charpentier. Y, al igual que yo le
reprocharía a cualquiera que afirmara haber diseñado una habitación
aunque hubiese usado tan sólo uno de mis picaportes, del mismo
modo yo no puedo decir que estas habitaciones han sido concebidas
por mí. Esto eran palabras nobles y consecuentes. Cierto ebanista, que
quizás empapeló su habitación con papel pintado de Walter Crane y
que, a pesar de todo, se atribuía los muebles que ahí se encontraban
por haberlos proyectado y ejecutado él mismo, se avergonzaba hasta
lo más profundo de su negra alma al enterarse de estas palabras.

Volvamos tras esta divagación a nuestro hombre rico. Ya he dicho lo
feliz que era. Una gran parte de su tiempo la dedicó a partir de entonces
sólo al estudio de su vivienda. Pronto se dio cuenta de que debía
estudiarla. Había mucho que memorizar. Cada objeto tenía su lugar
concreto. El arquitecto se había portado bien con él. Había pensado
en todo con antelación. Para la cajita más pequeña había un lugar
concreto, hecho intencionadamente para ella.

La vivienda era cómoda pero, para la cabeza, muy fatigante. Por
ello, durante las primeras semanas, el arquitecto vigiló en qué forma
se desenvolvían para que no incurrieran en ningún error. El hombre
rico se esforzaba. Pero ocurrió que, distraídamente, dejó un libro que
sostenía en la mano en el cajón destinado a los periódicos. O que
depositó la ceniza de su cigarro en aquel hueco de la mesa destinado
al candelabro. Cuando se había cogido un objeto, adivinar y buscar el
antiguo lugar que le correspondía no tenía fin, y en alguna ocasión
tuvo el arquitecto que consultar los planos de detalle para volver a
encontrar el lugar que le correspondía a una caja de cerillas.

Donde el arte aplicado había conseguido tales triunfos, no podía
quedarse atrás la música aplicada. Esta idea tenía muy preocupado al
hombre rico. Hizo una solicitud a la compañía de tranvías con la
cual intentaba que en sus vehículos utilizaran el motivo de campanas
de Parsifal en lugar de sonidos sin sentido. En la compañía no le
hicieron caso. Todavía no daban suficiente acogida a ideas modernas.
A cambio, se le permitió que pavimentara, a su cargo, la zona frente
a su casa, de modo que cada vehículo estuviera obligado a pasar por
delante al ritmo de la marcha de Radetzky. También los timbres eléctricos
de sus salones fueron provistos con motivos de Wagner y Beethoven y todos
los profesionales de la crítica de arte alababan en gran manera al hombre
que había abierto un nuevo dominio “al arte en los artículos de uso”.

Como puede imaginarse, todas estas mejoras hicieron al hombre aún más feliz.

Pero no puede callarse que procuraba estar el menor tiempo posible en casa.
Y es que, de vez en cuando, se desea descansar un
poco de tanto arte. ¿O podría usted vivir en una galería de cuadros?
¿O estar sentado meses enteros en «Tristán e Isolda»? En fin, ¿quién
le iba a reprochar que recurriera de nuevo al café, al restaurante o a
los amigos y conocidos para reunir fuerzas para estar en su casa? Se lo
había imaginado distinto. Pero el arte requiere sacrificios. Ya había
llevado a cabo tantos. Los ojos se le humedecían. Pensaba en muchas
cosas viejas a las que había tenido tanto cariño ya las que, de vez en
cuando, echaba de menos. ¡El gran butacón! Su padre siempre había
hecho la siesta en él. ¡El viejo reloj! ¡Y los cuadros! ¡Pero el arte lo exige!
¡Ante todo, no aflojar!

Ocurrió que una vez celebraba su cumpleaños. La mujer y los hijos
le habían colmado de regalos. Las cosas le agradaron sobremanera y
le produjeron cordial alegría. Poco después llegó el arquitecto para
comprobar que todo estaba en orden y dar respuesta a cuestiones difíciles.

Entró en la habitación. El dueño le salió contento al encuentro pues
tenía muchas preguntas que formular. Pero el arquitecto no advirtió
la alegría del dueño. Había descubierto algo muy distinto y palideció:

«Pero, ¡qué zapatillas lleva usted puestas!», exclamó con voz penosa.

El dueño miró su calzado bordado. Pero respiró aliviado. Esta vez se
sentía totalmente inocente. Las zapatillas habían sido confeccionadas
fielmente de acuerdo con el diseño original del arquitecto. Por ello
replicó con aire de superioridad:

«¡Pero, señor arquitecto, ¿lo ha olvidado? Las zapatillas las ha diseñado
usted mismo!»

«¡Ciertamente!, tronó el arquitecto, pero para el dormitorio. Usted
está estropeando todo el ambiente con esas dos horribles manchas de
color. ¿No se da usted cuenta?»

El dueño de la casa lo vio inmediatamente. Se quitó rápidamente las
zapatillas y se alegró tremendamente de que el arquitecto no encontrara
imposibles también sus calcetines. Se dirigieron al dormitorio
donde el hombre rico pudo volverse a calzar las zapatillas.

«Ayer, empezó tímidamente, celebré mi cumpleaños. Los míos me
colmaron de regalos. Le he hecho llamar, querido señor arquitecto
para que nos aconseje sobre cuál es la mejor manera de colocar los
objetos.»

La cara del arquitecto se alargaba visiblemente. Entonces estalló:

«¡Cómo se le ocurre dejarse regalar algo! ¿No se lo he diseñado yo
todo? ¿No lo he tenido ya todo en cuenta? Usted no necesita nada
más. Está usted completo.»

«Pero, se permitió replicar el dueño de la casa,
¡todavía podré comprarme algo!»

«¡No, no puede usted! ¡Nunca más y nada más! Sólo me faltaba esto.
Cosas que no hayan sido diseñadas por mí. ¿No he hecho suficiente
permitiéndole el Charpentier? ¡La estatua que me roba toda la fama
de mi trabajo! ¡No, no puede comprarse usted nada más!»

«¿Y si mi nieto me regala un trabajo del jardín de infancia?»

«¡Pues no puede usted aceptarlo!»

El dueño de la casa estaba anonadado. Pero aún no había perdido.

«¡Una idea, ya la tengo, una idea!: ¿y si quisiera comprarme un
cuadro de la Sezession?» preguntó triunfante.

«Intente colgarlo en algún sitio. ¿No ve usted que ya no queda sitio
para nada más? ¿No ve usted que para cada cuadro que le he colgado
le he compuesto un marco en la pared, en el muro? No puede desplazar
ni un solo cuadro. Intente usted colocar un nuevo cuadro.»

Entonces se produjo un cambio en el hombre rico. El hombre feliz
se sintió de repente profunda, profundamente desdichado. Vio su
vida futura. Nadie podía proporcionarle alegría. Debería pasar sin
deseos frente a las tiendas de la ciudad. Para él ya no se creaba nada
más. Ninguno de los suyos le podía regalar su retrato, para él ya no
existían más pintores, más artistas, más oficios manuales. Estaba cortado
del futuro vivir y aspirar, devenir y desear. Sentía: ahora debo
aprender a vagar con mi propio cadáver.
Cierto: ¡Está completo!,¡Está acabado!

Adrià Cañameras realiza un reportaje fotográfico de la vivienda que ARQUITECTURA-G reformó para Omar Sosa en 2010.

Se trata de la primera serie de fotografías que distintos artistas realizarán para mostrar cómo los usuarios se han apropiado de las viviendas reformadas por ARQUITECTURA-G.

Más Información

Vivienda de 34 m2 y 4,5m de altura, dividida por un muro de carga en dos estancias de tamaños parecidos, ubicada en el Born, en Barcelona.

Asumiendo esta separación, el proyecto divide la vivienda en dos zonas:

La primera está compuesta por la cocina y un mueble móvil, que funciona a modo de barra, mesa auxiliar de cocina, y mesa de comedor. Se trata de una zona de carácter social vinculada a la entrada a la casa, donde se mejora la instalación eléctrica y de televisión para que su uso se extienda más allá del mero hecho de cocinar y comer.

La segunda estancia, en cambio, responde a necesidades de un grado de intimidad mayor. Es por ello que el espacio se fragmenta en diferentes bandejas que albergan el programa en altura, proporcionando un gradiente de intimidad sin perder la conexión visual entre las mismas. Así, la primera bandeja, que ocupa la mitad de la superficie de esta estancia, se entiende como un espacio ambiguo de vestidor y zona de estudio. La segunda, más alta y de un cuarto de superficie de la planta, contiene el espacio para una cama de matrimonio. Para la resolución de este esquema en altura, los muebles cobran especial importancia, adaptándose a los diferentes espacios, resolviendo la imperiosa necesidad de almacenaje, y la conexión y relación entre niveles.

Desatendiendo a las normativas vigentes de habitabilidad y edificación, se confiere a cada zona la escala necesaria para su uso y a cada elemento las características oportunas. Los espacios se conforman según el volumen y la intimidad que requieren, y la riqueza viene dada por las relaciones que se generan entre estos. Por esta razón,  más que hablar de espacios “encima de” o “debajo de”, también podemos hablar de “espacios entre”, “espacios al lado de” o “espacios en”.

Obra: Reforma de una Vivienda en el Born, Barcelona
Arquitectos: ARQUITECTURA-G (Jonathan Arnabat, Jordi Ayala-Bril, Aitor Fuentes, Igor Urdampilleta)
Colaborador: David Fernández Taboada
Promotor: Sra. Santarelli
Ubicación: Barcelona (España)
Superficie reformada: 34 m²
Año proyecto: 2010
Año de construcción: 2011
Presupuesto: Bajo
Fotografías: ©José Hevia

Proyecto publicado en Dezeen

Proyecto publicado en Archdaily

Proyecto publicado en Co.Design

Proyecto en aproximacions “joves arquitectes catalans”

Proyecto publicado en Plataforma Arquitectura

 Published at Apartamento Magazine #2

INTRO (ARQUITECTURA-G)

Apartamento Magazine speaks about the appropria­tion of the space by the inhabitant, about the reflec­tion of his/her personality at home. In short, about dwelling and its consequences. In this issue we deal with the fact of dwelling from the whole architectural process; From the project at its drawing board stages, until it is inhabited, passing through it’s construction. The Wall House by FAR Frohn & Rojas is really suit­able to discuss this topic. It is a magnificient suburban residence in Santiago de Chile. As they say in their website, “opposed to the general notion that our living environments can be properly described and designed “on plan”, this project is a design investigation into how the qualitative aspects of the wall, as a complex membrane, structure our social interactions and climatic relationships to enable specific ecologies to develop. The project breaks down the “traditional” walls of a house into a series of four delaminated layers in between which the different spaces of the house slip.

FAR (Marc Frohn & Mario Rojas Toledo) are a Cologne, Los Angeles and Santiago de Chile based networked architectural practice. This time is Marc Frohn who joins our via mail discussion along with Ekhi Lopetegi, philosopher and musician.

We present the topic of debate with an extract from a Martin Heiddeger text, “Building, Dwelling, Thinking”.

ARQUITECTURA-G

We have considered wall house to be very appropriate to talk about the ethics of dwelling, because as far as we are concerned this house speaks clearly of it and it is open to be analyzed over and above its formal or merely tendentious aspects. So, the way we see this house is as an example of unity in architecture practice, resolving structure, shape and habitable areas in its construction. That is, we are not talking about a house made by the addition of independent units which are assembled together to give shape to the dwelling, but a habitable framework, and it shows it with no shame at all. There’s no limit in-between but every piece can be understood at once. The architectural elements are corrupted turning the structure into a divider filter or shelves, and at the same time every component is bare with its raw materials talking about this ethics. If people have to learn how to dwell (speaking in a Heideggeresque sense), constructing is in itself dwell­ing, therefore the way we build is the way we dwell, is the way we are men. Can a house have a didactic function? Can a house help mankind to be men? Can it link us to the earth?

MARC FROHN

I have a rather hard time imagining architecture as a didactic device. If – for example – the Wall House was such, it would – according to Merriam Webster – be “in­tended and designed to teach”. Thus the prime objec­tive of the house would be to convey ONE agenda of inhabitation that could more or less unmistakably be read by the occupant. Instead I personally find your short description of the Wall House as a “habitable framework” very pro­ductive to touch upon some of the key aspects of the project beyond the obvious formal aspects. By defini­tion a framework leaves room to be filled out and I think that exactly this is one of the challenging aspects of the project as to me it marks – both in the process of designing and building as well as in its occupation – an exploration into the environments of living: It allows to renegotiate boundaries both amongst the occupants and in relationship to the surrounding. It is in this sense unconventional in the truest sense of the word: By un­conventional I don’t mean “having a surprising form”, but instead excluding some of our dearest assumptions of suburban living (that’s what the house is) of privacy, personal space and relationship to the environment.

EKHI LOPETEGI

My approach to the problem may seem theoretical but I don’t intend to displace the conversation to non-architectural grounds. The way I see it, the core problem here is the relationship between the ‘habitable framework’ and the ‘surrounding’ or ‘enviroment’. The concept of ‘relationship’ itself (between framework and enviroment) seems to be the main issue in a way I shall explain. Let me explain this.

When Heidegger reminds us that we have to learn how to dwell , he’s never inviting us to search for a certain content we should assimilate the same way we comprehend a mathematical theorem. On the contrary, he’s inviting us to deal with things in a proper way. Basically, dealing with things is being related to things in such and such a way; so we can either relate to things properly or unproperly. Being related to things in a proper way already means dealing with things according with the essence of dwelling. What kind of dealing with things is that of dwelling?

Far from the activity of occupying a certain space dwelling unfolds as cultivating and erecting buildings. Cultivating is taking care of things the way they essentially are, letting them be what they truly are; that is to say, we don’t ask or pretend things to be the way we want them to be, rather we only take care of their growing keeping it save from any danger so that the growing can take place according with its true essence.

On the other hand, building is arranging spaces in the way of producing locations for men and women, and all this according with the essence of dwelling. Those locations make the proper relationship to The Fourfold take place: we take earth as earth; we take sky as sky; we take death as death; we take divinities as divinities. That is, we take them the way they already are, we take them in a way we let them be what they are.

Heidegger’s exotic argot should not hide the main problem concerning dwelling. For the problem is ecopolitcal. From Heidegger’s perspective, we could state that a culture anxiously searching for a way to avoid maturity through multiple make up strategies is not taking death as death. Builiding up a ‘beach’ where no beach has ever been naturally produced could easily be taken as forcing earth to be a certain way rather than taking earth as it actually is. And still, dwelling is not be taken as being according with ‘nature’ in a superficial way. MF wrote that the Wall-house “allows to renegotiate boundaries both amongst the occupants and in relationship to the surrounding”. We could therefore ask wether there’s a concious ethico-political approach to architecture in the Wall-house; and if yes, what’s the role of the ‘bioclimatical’ or the ‘ecopolitical’ in the architectural practices today.

ARQUITECTURA-G

Talking about “renegotiation of boundaries” you both mentioned we might say that any house, as dwelling unit, has at least two general levels of limit:

1 The boundary among inner house and the outside

2 The inner boundaries between spaces

In the wall house, and in any suburban/garden house the outer limit gives more chance to think about than in an urban house. We consider that your choice, when approaching the matter, it’s been to blur the edge. The same reading is valid for the (almost non-existent) limits between interior spaces.

When crossing the house from its rigid core up to the surrounding area, we observe that as the spaces have a minor requirement of intimacy the house becomes more permeable up to getting blurred to open to the garden. In order to do it, aside from the materials hardness gradient, the geometry of the layers becomes more complex in a scheme that we could qualify as radial; ((((concrete cave) stacked shelving) milky shell) soft skin). The resulting interstices are themselves a classic in-and-out space of modern architecture. However, the interstices speak to us of an ethics in the place positioning, as much from the functional point of view as from the formal one, and from the ecopolitical approach that Ekhi mentioned.

We notice that the aim or will of the wall house is not to indoctrinate –in the sense of dictate- how to live, but it is unavoidably a device that moderately determinates how to dwell as it configures a scenario. It is the soft thing, the smoothness of the boundaries which speaks to us of a new ethics of how to dwell, in which the negotiation between individuals or inhabitants supposes a greater shock of the one that exists in traditional houses made by cell addition.

MARC FROHN

Absolutely (Ekhi), there is an ethico political approach in architecture of the Wall House as it integrates the environment to become an inseparable part of its inhabitation. Obviously certain aspects of that approach are neither new nor unique to that project.

An important shift in the understanding of buildings in relationship to the environment has taken place over the last 20 or so years: Up until then architectural technology was used to achieve a complete separation of inside and outside. The air conditioning unit (actually called “weather maker” by its inventor Carrier) brought with it an isolationist and homogenizing attitude within architecture that lost any regional specificity and orientation as climate became a technically generated commodity. Since the early 80s this machine-like understanding of architecture has bit by bit been replaced by an understanding of architecture as an organism that mediates between the interior condition and the outside environment. Through that a certain understanding of “climate concept” developed for buildings. But what is important to me in the context of the Wall House is that this project relates to the environment in a way that goes beyond what is generally considered a “climate concept”. It formulates a multitude of possible connections that can be drawn between climate, environment, technology/material and inhabitation: Climate or Energy becomes a resource in the architectural vocabulary, a building material of sorts as spatial differentiation is achieved through the careful play with it. What that implies as a result is that the architect gives up his or her position of full control in the process of establishing architectural space as the elements that define it on a daily basis are out of his or her reach: In the Wall House one inhabits climate zones more than spaces in the traditional sense. What the different material layers of the house do then is what I described before as a process of negotiation: the amount of light, heat, the depth of the view inside or out as well as the use of these spaces by the clients, all of those are within the range of this negotiation.

I find it important, that the eco political dimension of architecture does not just lead to an “accelerating arms race” in the material and technological battle for rising energy efficiency. As important as this is, it is too one dimensional. Sometimes it seems as if little thought is put into the question of how a new awareness of climate shapes our ways of relating to or inhabiting environment. To me the Wall House seeks to exactly do that: find possible relationships that go beyond a technological “solution” to the “problem” with our climate.

ARQUITECTURA-G

We do believe that the abuse of air conditioning which Marc was speaking about is already overcome. It exemplifies the context of a badly understood bioclimatic policy or energy efficiency. It is clear that we are at a point where it is possible to obtain a totally efficient architecture without being subordinated to ultracomplex technological systems, popular psychosis or business of the climate change. We can face a project attending to all inputs obtaining an efficient final score, that’s why it seems more interesting to emphasize the limits. Some time ago Ekhi told us he considered that nowadays architecture is the architecture of limits.

This is exactly what we are interested in when we focus on the Wall House project. On the one hand, one of the principles of the house is considering the hedges that surround to the plot as the first layer (limit) of the project. In this case, in spite of the covers of the house are getting blurred and becoming lighter radially from interior to exterior, the diamond-like formal aspect of the housing is so powerful and fits so well to what it is (to its construction), we understand that ultimately it turns out to be an object that is closed on itself, without taking in consideration the immediate surrounding. On the other hand, once first membrane is crossed we enter the game of the habitable framework we were speaking about.

At the Perception Restrained MOMA exhibition by Herzog and DeMeuron, Herzog said that the imaginaryof what a house is has an incorruptible strength for them, where a room is a room, a kitchen a kitchen, and a sitting room a sitting room. Just like that, what could be different between the nowadays images and the ones from a Hammershoi picture would be limits. The bridge wich Heidegger talks about is not a static element as far as we are concern, but an element of connection. It actually works as an opening, as a flow. The Wall House works just the same way in its interior. The other day a friend asked for our opinion about how to reform his flat in the city centre, in Barcelona. We opened up his mind about what a partition means, and that it doesn’t have to be a boundary by itself. It is not about emptying or using transparent materials, but it is about configuring autonomous not clearly-defined spaces yet still a sitting room, a bedroom or a kitchen, as Herzog referred to them.

That’ s why we are interested in knowing what were you Ekhi saying in that conversation where you talked about today’s architecture as the architecture of boundaries and how you see the Wall House in that context. Also we would like to know your opinion, Marc.

EKHI LOPETEGI

So far, two discussion topics can be distinguished from our mailing: one concerning architectural or aesthetical problems inner to the discipline itself (the in/out problem); another one linked to the problem we called eco-political that frames the architecture in a wider context. Obviously, both cross over and we can only make such a distinction as far as it is useful to our discussion purposes.

Let’s face the first topic. It can be stated that the in/out problem has crossed architectural practices all the way from modernism to contemporary architecture. Although limiting is never to be taken as its only feature, architecture is necessarily based on establishing certain limits out of which ‘places’ emerge. Taken this way architecture could be understood as the art of shaping places through coordinating certain limits and working on their co-relationships. Nevertheless the practice of co-relating limits seems to be over-determined by a binary relationship between the inside and the outside, dwelling unit and environment, in and out. Although this is not always to be taken as ‘a problem to be solved’, it seems like architecture has always been concerned with the purpose of overcoming this dialectical opposition. So, it can be said that the Wall house seems to follow the path modernists walked. Some remarks can be done on this, though. The way modernists dealt with the in/out problem can be exemplified with early works such as the Bauhaus building in Dessau (of course, I’m aware of the simplification here): the reconciliation between the inside and the outside is mainly achieved with the curtain wall. A visual relationship between the inside and the outside is established. However, a transparent wall is still a wall containing certain isolated indoor environmental conditions. I therefore agree with MF when he suggests that there’s an isolationist attitude in the machine-image based architecture. No categories as permeability or softness can be applied to the traditional curtain walled architecture. Climate or Energy based architecture’s starting point is completely different. It’s not about transparency but energetical permeability between layers. The radial geometry of the Wall house is based on degree differences between a ‘hard’ core and a ‘soft’ surface. Obviously these categories are relative for ‘soft’ always stands for ‘softer than’ the way ‘hard’ does, and this conceptual remark is not a simple trick. Actually, it’s an essential feature of the rather energetical than visual reconciliation of the inside and the outside searched or negotiated in the Wall house.

One last remark concerning the second topic. I find absolutely necessary being aware “that the ecopolitical dimension of architecture does not just lead to an ‘accelerating arms race’ in the material and technological battle for rising energy efficiency” as MF writes. For if we meditate enough on the main issue concerning the ecopolitical approach to architecture we’ll notice that it’s not about solving bioclimatical problems within a bioclimaticaly blind framework, but about founding the architectural practice itself on a bioclimatically aware framework. That is, changing the whole paradigm depending on wich our approach to architecture is defined. Indeed, this is what Heidegger’s text is about: the proper way of dwelling is that in wich our approach to things is proper too. As I already wrote, that would mean dealing with things according with their essence.

MARC FROHN

I think that it is quite productive to bring the discussion back to the issue of boundary as it will actually help us to tie the two strains of the discussion that E characterized together once more: I want to step back for a moment to see how we characterize boundary as I think it will help us relating the two trajectories. To some degree it builds on an issue that A-G brought up, when referring to the “flow” and “opening” of the Wall House. I think that in the context of both describing this house, but also in seeing architecture in general in relationship to a larger eco-political context it becomes crucial to overcome the notion of boundary as object, as fixt element of separation. Instead I would follow Michelle Addington in her argument that “perceptual environments – those that determine what we feel, hear and see – are all thermodynamic in that they are fundamentally about the motion of energy”. Thus their boundaries, too, should be thought of in that vain, as they don’t interest me as static elements of separation, but more as behaviours and interaction. Thus the boundary becomes a zone of exchange between two environments. From here I think it is a small step only to get to A-G’s point of the “element of connection”. At the same time it constitutes for me one of the aspects of a “bioclimatically aware framework” (EL).

EKHI LOPETEGI

When we first started the discussion I wasn’t really aware of how the boundary concept has changed once the bioclimatical issues interfere the formal and geometrical problems. When we talk about the bioclimatical we already talk about the energetical and therefore about the thesmodynamical. The sentence quoted by Marc explains it clearly. The environment is not only a geometrical complex of formal volumes; it deals now with formally ambiguous substances such as heat, noise, light and on. Is not that we found new substances to care about determining architectural results; it’s more than even old and classical variables such as light or heat will be treaten in a different way once we adopt a ‘bioclimatically aware’ perspective. This perspective is one in which architectural substances or matters affect each other; they’re not contained in formal geometries but rather they already correlate in a diffuse way. Thus, from an energetical framework the ‘boundary’ is just the zone in which the substances meet, interact and affect each other (“zone of exchange”); the ‘boundary’ between a built unit and its environment will thus be a co-affective one too. The difference between the inside and the outside will therefore be a degree difference. The new space is built upon a general principle of affection derived from the energetical or thermodynamical viewpoint.

ARQUITECTURA-G

We like the idea of house’s fragility, the sensuality of the boundaries that goes beyond the material. A house that on the one hand exposes itself unsteadily, but on the other hand combines welcoming, warm and human inner spaces. As we said before, the house works radially, and it is true that it radiates in a temperature slope. This approach to understanding the boundary is nice and contemporary, owing to the fact that the temperature is (as in Joseph Beuys’ work) in a certain way what makes you feel you are at home, and the temperature is as a result of the geometry, construction and architecture. This way to understanding the limit, is the way the house is.

Published at Apartamento Magazine #3 

INTRO (ARQUITECTURA-G)

Our studio has recently been commissioned to transform a 16th-century traditional Basque house into two dwellings. When you face a project of this kind, more factors than usual come into play. You rarely deal with a tabula rasa, and sometimes the context is the background; however, in cases like this, its presence is so powerful it becomes the co-star.
When approaching an existent being which has worked in a certain way, you have the mission of making it yours without making it disappear. You get into the game of appropriation of the space by removing, adding or plainly transforming. This game requires sometimes subtle acts, but occasionally the action can be drastic.
This is what Apartamento is about; no matter if it’s a flat, a penthouse or a garage. You paint a wall or you demolish it, transforming a space with a previous identity into something new, completely yours.
The Spiral House project by Powerhouse Company fits really well in this subject. It sets out a complex matter in a simple and clear way: a typical burgundy farmhouse, for example, set on a large terrain needs extension that will just about double the house.
We invited them to have a conversation alongside Ekhi Lopetegi, philosopher and musician, and Charles Bessard (office partner, along with Nanne de Ru) who joins us in this discussion.
This time we have decided to tackle our discussion with the film ‘Groundhog Day’. We see a relation between the movie and the space Spiral House creates. We could state that Bill Murray drives a loop, which takes place in the town and modifies the space by manipulating elements in a repeating time…

ARQUITECTURA-G

We agreed in the previous conversations that architecture is something that mostly belongs to “time”. Not only in its generative process but in the time for being understood, modified, assimilated, lived and demolished. In that way, Bill Murray prompts situations that change the space in a way that suits his tastes once he understands his new world, and, as a last resort, changes himself by self-improving.

Being the Spiral House a suggestive act, neither a parasitic nor futile extension, it provokes a new understanding of the existing fabric; we don’t have only a house or a spiral, nor strictly the addition of the two, but something new, different.

We would like you to explain the physical and functional connection between the two bodies, as your website drafts don’t show it at all. Furthermore, we would like to know if, in your opinion, an extension can provoke in an immediate and aggressive form, a new way of understanding the space, or if it’s something gradual, with two bodies converging over the time.

POWERHOUSE COMPANY

The Spiral House is a house extension that creates a link between the ground floor and the loft floor of an existing farmhouse. The existing building was organised according to a traditional 19th-century lifestyle with a strong spatial segregation between the two levels: the dining and hosting parts on the ground floor and the more intimate family area including the bedrooms and a study on the upper level, with a tight separation between the two. This reflects the rising bourgeoisie lifestyle of the 19th-century where the representational rooms like the living room and the dining room were completely separated from the daily rooms like the bedrooms and the kitchen. This polarisation of the domestic functions resulted in the familial life never meeting the social and representational life of the family.

By restricting the guest area to only a small part of the house it gave the guests the vague impression remaining in the antechamber of the house without really entering the family’s life. For this young family of winemakers who decided to live in a small typical burgundy village, inviting guests implied in most of cases an overnight stay and required more area.

The Spiral House extends the program of the existing house with a large living room joined with a study and a cigar/home-cinema corner, two guest rooms, a children guest room / play zone and an additional kid room. While the existing house dedicated 80% of the area to the daily familial life and only 20% to the social life, the extension was to be the opposite with 80% for the guests and 20% for the family.

From an architectural point of view, it meant that we had to understand the extension as complementary yet opposite element to the existing house. While the architecture of the original house was “closed” and exhibited discrete banality, the architecture of the extension had to be more open and extraverted.

But opposition doesn’t necessarily mean segregation, and we designed the extension as a continuous space spiraling from the ground floor to the roof level. It departs from the existing dining room and has been extended with the new living room /study/ cigar corner, and it ends in the roof connecting the new kid’s room and play room with the old common children room. In the ascending part one finds two guest rooms connecting visually with the ground floor with the upper level, and becoming the link between the social and the intimate sides of the house. The existing house is incorporated as a part of a continuous circulation from old to new, from ground to roof and from intimacy to openness. The Spiral House embraces a part of the garden to form a patio between the extension and the existing house creating a visual link between all the rooms and the two levels while maintaining a nuanced level of intimacy.

The extension and then existing house have an ambivalent relationship. They have more or less the same area and therefore cohabit without any clear hierarchy. Sometimes the extension steps back and leave the foreground to the existing house and sometimes it decisively takes over the old structure depending from where it is observed. Together they form a “Siamese” body made of two opposite yet complementary parts. They form a diptych. They are two chapters of a story about the sudden change of destination of use the old farmhouse and its land into an urbanite’s mansion. The brutal appearance of the extension precipitates the whole on a new and unexpected course, like the storm in the plot of the Groundhog’s Day. In this case the extension is not conceived as a continuation of the existing one, but as an unexpected and external event changing the course of the “plot”. In that sense the two bodies are not converging in time, but are precipitated together in a new situation like Phil and Rita in the initial script; where instead of being back to normal, they were kept irreversibly captive of the time loop and are forced to explore together the possibilities of this new situation.

EKHI LOPETEGI

I wouldn’t like to reduce the complexities of the Spiral House to its most obvious and eye catching feature, but the encounter between the extension and the farmhouse at the roof level deserves some remarks. As Charles (POWERHOUSE) wrote, the extension’s appearance is ‘brutal’ and in my opinion the more brutal it appears the more interesting it gets. Instead of a Siamese body, I would say it’s more like a prosthesis, for every prosthesis entails a formal and functional aggression and strongly makes reference to the difference between the bodies connected. The visual relationship between the two bodies as volumes is not transitional or continuous, even though there is a functional transition and continuity in pragmatic terms that makes the two bodies work efficiently. Above all, the strangeness of the new body is highlighted and so it is the violence the prosthesis does to the old ‘maison’.

Two subjects come to mind at this point. In terms of memory, by explicitly showing the present burst into the past, the Spiral House implies a discontinuous or non-linear historical approach. And this is achieved not by some fancy futuristic trick (that would probably entail a rather linear approach), but by the sober but radical presence of the new body. What we see is not the 19th-century lifestyle friendly meet the 21st-century forms of life. What we see is two historical situations collide.

So, the way I see it, the historical encounter is understood as a confrontation. The whole historical timeline is broken and the gap in between is uncovered violently.

Related to this temporal feature, in terms of space, the confrontation is even more dramatic. The whole idealistic idea of the ‘maison’ as a whole, complete and finished object is destroyed. The visual image of this farmhouse, this childish ‘triangle + cube’ image of a house, is perverted by a simple gesture of coupling two bodies in a visually arbitrary point. In my opinion there’s an underlying principle concerning any architectural interventions that could be expressed as follows: any object or volume can be cut off in any of its points. Which doesn’t mean the cut off is arbitrary, for the functional coherence and efficiency will always be a measure and a value. But it clearly shows the house is partially taken in consideration, not as a whole ideal unit.

Gordon Matta Clark showed us this in other terms by cutting off building size volumes as if they were hand size sculptures, and this way he broke the idea of how those objects should look in our mind’s eye, opening a new field for volumetric experimentation. As far as the Spiral House is a dwelling unit and not a plain body, we should maybe quote Deleuze and Guattari’s first principle for a definition of a rhizome, which encloses this pragmatic feature:

“1 and 2. Principles of connection and heterogeneity: any point of a rhizome can be connected to anything other, and must be… semiotic chains of every nature are connected to very diverse modes of coding (biological, political, economic, etc.) that bring into play not only different regimes of signs but also states of things of differing status. “

Obviously, architecture can also be understood as a bunch of ‘modes of coding’ space, with their particular set of rules and syntax. The Spiral House connects two heterogeneous architectural regimes (the 19th century farm house and its extension); the connection is understood as fragmentary (both units connect in a partial and arbitrary point, the roof level), and not as the complete harmonisation of different dwelling units or codes; therefore, the Spiral House provokes the rupture of the farm house coherence in favour of a new functional and spacial relationship that opens the house to knew dwelling possibilities.

ARQUITECTURA-G

We find interesting to invert the proportion 80% public / 20% private, because it complements the house in a yin-yang-like way, with the background idea of making the house more open. Thinking about the Spiral House as an opening to itself though, it looks even more interesting to us; to understand the farm like a closed and finished being that generates something open to new possibilities when breaking (like Ekhi pointed mentioning Matta-Clark). “Two bodies kept irreversibly captive of the time loop and forced to explore together the possibilities of this new situation”, but Matta-Clark showed us the entrails and then his action was over. His aim wasn’t to create a place to live in, although it could be a space to live.

The farm is broken and it loses its closed unity, its iconic identity fades out, it’s opened up. Then, in contraposition program is added and related with the existing one and what we get is the Spiral House. Is this opening something for closing it back? Could a house be an open box, or is the program too rigid (due to its finite possibilities) and therefore requires us to a closed outcome?

We prefer the definition of “two Siamese bodies” for the whole rather than the Ballardian prosthesis one for the new piece. Prostheses are artifices subordinated to a body that brings them life, and in this case the dialogue is from equal to equal. One could usually live without prosthesis, but in this case, and for this program, they are two bodies that die when separated.

It’s evident but important to see that we have two bodies, the 19th-century one and the 21st-century one. It is this last one, the spiral, which achieves that, although they are two bodies that work continuously as a single one. The new body is a programmatic gradient that gives continuity to the two existing trays that had premeditated and polarized functions. Thus, the Spiral House considers a contemporary way of living more than giving a formal answer to what a XXI century house should be. It looks for a new way of dwelling.

POWERHOUSE COMPANY

Brutality is often referred as a negative word, because it is most often associated with the idea of the “brute”, a being with a cruel or aggressive behavior. But brutality can also mean something “brut”, raw and un-mitigated like in the case of Jean Dubuffet’s “art brut”. In that sense the brutality of the Spiral House is in our eyes directed at the site and not directed at the old house. The two volumes share the same an unmitigated relationship to the site. This is the only thing they have in common and that is also what unites them.

When looking at the site plan, the old house appears as if it was “dropped” randomly on the site – it makes no attempt to insert itself in the context.

When we visited the first time we immediately noticed it, the old house was sitting on the site in the same way as a forgotten and isolated object would, as something left behind. But somehow its isolation and its brutal juxtaposition on the site had a positive aspect: it almost gave to the old house the status of a sculpture displayed in a park. On the other hand the banality of the volume prevented the house to really achieve its potential sculptural presence and inhabit the site as such.

Though the extension was to double the size of the house it was clear that it would not be insufficient to occupy or inhabit the park. At the very beginning we tried to design it as a landscape architecture where the extension would become a “hill” attached to the old house attempting to anchor it on the site. But it never worked, the sculptural potential of the old house was getting weaker and the new landscape element was simply too small and too anecdotal compared to the overwhelming size of the site.

It became clear that we had to find a third approach.

To reinforce the sculptural aspect of the old house and to reinforce the presence of both inhabitations in the site, we designed the extension as a new sculptural volume dropped next to the old one. In this way the contrast between the two strengthened their identity, as well as helped each other to claim their sculptural presence in the park.

We do not think the relationship between the buildings as brutal since there is no cruelty in it. We see it more as an abrupt but playful encounter where the two volumes engage vigorously with each other. Let’s say it’s like is an intercourse without foreplay… not necessarily unpleasant if there is no victim.

Arquitectura-G mentioned that the Spiral House “considers a contemporary way of living more than a formal answer to what a XXI-st century house should be”. We agree very much with this statement and that is the way we’ve approach the design of this house. In this regard, it is interesting to compare the two volumes because they testify the changes in the understanding of a house. The 19th-century houses are organized with a very clear separation between “leisure rooms” like the salon, and “utilitarian rooms” like the kitchen, bedrooms etc. In the case of a farm the exterior is also the result of utilitarian approach to materials and structure. At the opposite, the Spiral House is fully designed as a pleasurable experience that offers a diversity of an internal as well as external situation. The old house becomes a part of this diversity of spaces and is not perceived anymore as a conventional straightjacket.

By understanding the two houses as an array of spatial experiences, it opens unlimited possibilities to extend it beyond its pure functional program.

In that respect the Spiral House did open up the old house to a new understanding shifting from a utilitarian to a qualitative interpretation.

We had the opportunity recently, with a project in Russia, to experiment with a similar situation but with more radicalism. We had to design a 2500m2 penthouse 300m above ground, and that was also for a single family with young kids. Designing for example a 500m2 living room is very unusual, and certainly cannot be approached from a functional and programmatic point of view – imagine how many sofas one would need to furnish it. This radical situation allowed us to illustrate clearly what the focus of our architecture is about.

EKHI LOPETEGUI

I should maybe clarify what I meant by ‘brutal’. I maybe put a special emphasis on its aggressiveness, but I don’t really think of it in a negative way, no victims or unpleasant feelings are presupposed here. What I actually meant is what Arquitectura-G explained in a more concise way as the losing of the iconic identity of the house. This, too, can seem ambiguous though, for the iconic identity of the house is also highlighted with the intervention, as far as it shows the bodies as clearly limited individual units. So, the gesture of coupling the volumes somehow reinforces both the identity and the losing of it. The conceptual play of the difference and the identity is shown in its fullest here by bringing it up as an unsolved subject that architecture faces as such.

Of course, the coming together of the dwelling units has to be seen as a ‘playful encounter’ rather than as a ‘problematic crash’. It is playful because we gain new dwelling possibilities, and not only in terms of program. As explained in the Russian project, the design of a 500m2 living room cannot be achieved in utilitarian terms so the aproach must include some other experiential criteria. It can be guessed that this shift is entailed in the Spiral House too, as far as it’s “fully designed as a pleasurable experience”, exceeding thus the utilitarian point of view. This is maybe how the ‘qualitative interpretation’ mentioned can be understood. The inclusion of such a wide concept as experience reframes the whole architecture perspective and uncovers a series of new problems, both theoretical and practical. We could ask how ‘experience’ is understood in the Spiral House, even though I know the answer to such a concept can be hard to figure out. At least, we could state that the farm house as an utilitarian complex wasn’t meant to be experienced but to be used, while the Spiral House seems to seek being a place for ‘having experiences’ of any type. We should never misunderstand this though, because being designed for having some sort of ‘experience’ won’t ever erase the functional needs, but it will necessarily include ‘experience’ as a variable to be taken as part of the program itself.

Therefore (apart from the gap separating the building and the site) because it’s linked to ‘experience’, it makes sense considering the farmhouse and the extension in its ‘sculptural potential’. Sculpturally taken, the Spiral House falls under some sort of aesthetical treatment or point of view. I don’t mean that the house is now treated more artistically; I simply mean that it’s supposed to be a source of certain ‘sensations’ (the ‘pleasurable experience’), and not only supposed to be a functional facility. In the end the word ‘aesthetic’ etymologically means nothing but ‘perceiving’ or ‘having sensations’. Now I should ask Charles, is this conceptual link between experience and architecture also considered while facing a project?

POWERHOUSE COMPANY

About the conceptual link between experience and architecture:

I understand your question from two points of views.

Does it mean that we design spaces independently of the functionality of spaces?

No, in the sense that we take the functions of the house as a departure point and make sure that the spaces we design do not become unpractical.

But yes indeed, in the sense that we do not limit the experience of living in the house (because that’s what it is all about) to pure questions of efficiency and spatial economy and therefore have to seek qualities such as: intimacy, openness, exposure, mirroring. For example the Spiral House is both intimate and both exposed; intimate because it is rolling around itself and exposed in the sense that it is possible to the house from the house at any point of the Spiral House.

The Spiral House is very abstract for a house, it doesn’t look like a house, and it is a bit of an alien in the landscape of the village. It has no formal reference and its form results of its sequence of experiences, like going under the house to enter it, entering it from its heart, looking at the house from the house, the traveling on the landscape, the progressive decrease in ceiling height, etc. Those experiences were much more important for this project than the final form of the house. The abruptness and abstraction of the form prompts the visitor to experience it, otherwise it is difficult to understand it. It is sculptural but it is not Gehry-like and it is abstract but it is not a functionalist house. It is also not photogenic but it is very nice space to inhabit. The owners are planning to use it as the main house and use the old house as the extension; we can’t really resist bragging about it.

The second way we understand your question regards the way we produce a project and eventually a building. Architecture in this respect is always very frustrating because we can’t fully experience a project until it is finished and occupied. In this regard we are very envious of graphic designers or artists who work at a 1:1 scale. It is not really feasible with architecture so we try to compensate that with a lot of physical models at very different scale. This still remains for us the best way to design a house. Strangely enough, a cardboard model still looks and feels more “real” than any super-realistic rendering.

ARQUITECTURA-G

We don’t avoid talking about the “sculptural object”, but we plainly believe that it doesn’t describe this house, and probably neither the architecture. At the same time, we don’t think it’s an abstract house. It’s a construction that responds directly to a problem or will. It’s a house that can be experienced and lived without requiring any intellectual effort or architectural knowledge, and that’s a victory.

In this case we can’t state if the shape is nice or not, photogenic or not, in fact it doesn’t matter. It (the shape) tells us how the house is lived and how this addition lets someone experience the whole in a new way; we could say that the Spiral House is functionally transparent.

The addition responds to the request in a physical way, that’s why the aggression over the original, pure and canonical object is rude, vigorous, and even sexual. This relation seems very attractive to us and provides the strength of the project.

Talking about the subject of anchoring to the place in such vast plot with a house “dropped” on, we don’t think the Spiral House is a landscape architecture solution as an object in a scenic context and linked to it, we think it’s a project that is understood from its core to outside.

The house is somehow something not related to the surroundings, and the appropriation of the plot is seen from the inner living experience. For instance, the patio or the spiral sets out when touching the farm in the ground floor, where a small piece of plot defines a summer dining room.

Those generative gestures are which make these constructions not sculptural, are new realities of architectural experience.

The gradual ascent surrounding the patio lets us experience the original body like something new viewing it from a historically unusual point of view. In the same way we understand the program itself like something new; a smoking room is quite different from a bedroom, but it’s not so far from a children playing room or a study. Like we said in previous conversations, approaching subjects as the flexibility in this way is very contemporary and sets out where are the nowadays inhabitant’s limits.

Besides this, we are talking in terms of two houses; while we would like to see it as a whole, a single one, where some time ago there was one and the time and requirements brought us another different one. That’s why we can’t help having a little disappointment when you say that the owners are thinking of using the new part as first home. In the same way that the Russian penthouse of 500m2 living room requires a different dwelling experience from having 50 sofas in it, the Spiral House should be inhabited like a new experience of the whole, without the barrier of time or material difference.

We would like to know your opinion on it (Ekhi and Charles) and also (Charles) if this distinction is a program input.

EKHI LOPETEGI

So far it seems like the discussion has opened many fields concerning different features of the Spiral House. I’d like to make one last and brief remark on the issue of the connection between the two bodies and the experience of the Spiral House as a whole.

Arquitectura-G seems to be focused on the fact that the experience of the Spiral House is the experience of a complete and unified dwelling unit. We should make some distinctions here. It happens to be true that in terms of inhabiting the house, living everyday live, the extension shouldn’t really have to be taken as a separate body. That is why the two bodies work together. As far as they do work together they generate a new field for the functional experience of the house. Sculpturally taken, though it doesn’t really seem that the two bodies can form a unique one, they don’t and can’t come together as one.

We should therefore separate the inner and outer experiences of the house. One is pragmatic and the other is visual and voluminous. The border between both can be blurry sometimes, but it seems like the functional use of the inner space and the outer impression of the bodies connecting are somehow heterogeneous; it also seems like the outside/inside opposition shows up clearly in the Spiral House as an essential feature of it. There is an sculptural experience of the house based on the relationship between the bodies and the relationship between the bodies and the surrounding landscape, as well as there’s a pragmatic one based on its inner functional use. Iconically taken, there is no communion between the bodies; functionally taken there’s a “pretend” one based on programmatic efficiency and harmony.

I’ll end with a couple of questions that don’t really seek to underestimate the building, for the Spiral House gets more interesting with the more the questions it generates.

Could it be true that the utilitarian efficiency of the Spiral House is at stake with the fact that the owners plan to move to the extension of the old house? Is it possible that, despite the beauty and power of the Spiral House, the gap between the two buildings could be impossible to overcome?

POWERHOUSE COMPANY

It is not a programmatic input and they always conceived the Spiral House as only an extension until it was finished. When they mentioned switching houses they, in fact, only mentioned shifting their own bedroom.

Though I totally agree with Arquitectura-G that the house should be experienced as one house and not as two, to a large extend I hope they will turn their bedroom towards the new one and turn their actual understanding upside down.

The Spiral House and the old farm are proposing two opposite architectural regimes, one that was designed from a utilitarian point of view and the other from a hedonist and sensuous viewpoint. I think it is very amusing and intriguing to see how they are going to use it. They commissioned us to design the extension because they wanted to change their lifestyle, so I am curious to hear from them what will become their dearest room, the old or the new regime? Utilitarian or hedonist?

Because the Spiral House and the farm do not seek any compromise in their relationship and there is no indoor space in-between at any moment, one has to choose where to be: where to sit or sleep or sip a glass of wine? Practicality verses hedonism. It is a luxurious dilemma, but I am interested in the output.

If they move their bedroom it would really be a statement for them of a clear shift in their approach to life. The clients are a very busy people, their professional mobiles are always on and in every holiday travel hides a business appointment here or there. They live in the countryside but they have a hectic life with long working hours and a lot of travelling, obviously much more than what they wish. When they decided about the extension we strongly sensed that it was out of a desire to change their life and formalize it and we took this seriously. In the old house, even if they could still live there comfortably, its utilitarian architecture seemed to recall the burden of daily contingencies, whether it was theirs or those of the former farmer. The spaces of the Spiral House suggest a totally different attitude to the user; more distant and deliberate, where one can walk around with no purpose, sip a glass of wine, crash in the sofa and stare at the ceiling and feel good about it.

Architecture is an instrument that makes those fundamental changes possible and tangible. That is what fascinates us in architecture, especially when it is about housing. Cheap or expensive, it doesn’t matter.

We will have to wait to see the finished product, because at the moment there are some functional obstructions due to the young age of the children and the necessity of proximity between their bedrooms.

Let’s make an appointment in ten years and see what has happened.

Proyecto publicado en el libro BCN:inside. Se trata de una publicación centrada en mostrar las viviendas y modos de habitar de distintos creativos establecidos en Barcelona. Una pequeña entrevista en la que cuentan cómo viven, cómo trabajan y la relación que hay entre ambas cosas acompaña a las fotografías. En el libro se incluyen dos apartamentos que ARQUITECTURA-G reformó para Albert Folch y Omar Sosa.

Título: BCN:inside, Barcelonas Kreative:ihre Wohnungen, Lofts, Studios
Autor: Katleen Arthen
Fotografía: Ralph Baiker
Nº páginas: 240
Formato: 23×29,7cm
ISBN: 978-3-421-03827-2

INTRO (ARQUITECTURA-G)

Interior design magazines tend to be the perfect setting for degrading architecture into something mediocre. In the name of decorators and interior designers, architecture is painted up and disguised to become just another piece in a vulgar game. Architecture is everything. In other words, it is understood as a whole, as a process involving many factors, one of which is time. Time in which the architect gives way to habitation, time in which the house ages, deteriorates, and lends itself to future changes. With that, contemporary architecture has by no means found a problem but rather one of its greatest virtues. When Arquitectura-G was asked to contribute to the magazine (which we offer a warm welcome to), we were pleased to see the point of view it expressed, where the paramount element was the way the people appropriate spaces, while staying away from the ridiculous focusing on mountains as seen in cheap design magazines and vases framed in uninspired, substandard photos. To discuss these topics, we begin a conversation with the budding Madrid-based studio Nolaster Architects, with the centerpiece being Casa OS, a creation of theirs in Loredo, Cantabria (Spain). A single-family dwelling built in a privileged location on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Bay of Biscay. A house of undeniable quality that brings new approaches and with them, spaces for disagreement and discussion. A house that allows us to talk about architecture, time and habitation. We know that words are not the stuff of architects; we use images and communicate through those. That is why we felt it was necessary to bring in someone from outside the world of architecture, who could keep it from being a conversation for architects only and fuse all the pieces together. This is where I come in: Ekhi Lopetegui, a young man member of the rock band Delorean and PhD student at the University of Barcelona. We present the topic of debate for this issue by way of an Adolf Loos text “The Poor Rich Man” , along with the complete series of correspondence that we have exchanged.

ARQUITECTURA-G

Lifestyles today are such that flexibility—defined as functionality that is not subject to strict rules, dogmas or hindrances— is an essential condition when reflecting on the contemporary home. Adolf Loos was already onto this back in 1900. People must be free to appropriate their living space in a way that is pleasing to them. That said, the hierarchical distribution of uses enslaves the user inasmuch as it proffers but one way of inhabiting that space. Thus, a flexible space is one that accommodates any form of habitation. The order, or lack thereof, ought to come from the inhabitant (the Nemausus housing project by Jean Nouvel), and not the architecture itself (renovation of an apartment on Barcelona’s Carrer dels Mercaders by Enric Miralles). Actually, it should be the architecture that allows for disorder and not vice versa. The requirements for a variation of 2 to 30 inhabitants, as well as the uncertainty of the program for Casa OS, opened the door to reflection on flexibility. Reflecting on something and arriving at an outcome, turning thought into something material, is a way of determining that idea, and something that is determined is the opposite of flexible. That way, we could run into the setback of total, perfect flexibility, where the architect’s work is essentially nullified. Can flexibility be planned?

EKHI LOPETEGUI

Casa OS immediately lends itself to be compared, contrasted with the house of “The Poor Rich Man” described by Loos. Why? Because it is the opposite of Casa OS, which was made by taking uncertainty (the indeterminacy of space) as the backbone. This is due to the complexity of a program that requires maximum organization and exploitation of the variability factor. The zero degree of that project, then, is variability, with the “constants” (spaces whose uncertainty equals zero) being an adjacent effect, but never the underpinnings for the project. Quite the opposite of the house of the “rich man,” which exemplifies ultracodification, ultradetermination and the saturation of space. I’m saying “ultra” not to use a buzz prefix, but because in the Loos text we’re presented with the exact same limit for the determined, and the codification of a space. We could call it the Planning limit. In an exaggerated, caricaturesque manner, it exemplifies what the architect has been: meaning, the one who has predetermined the uses of a space, the one who—as if it were about some ferocious Grammar— has prescribed the possibilities for inhabiting a space, and using it freely. But this architect-Despot figure comes crumbling down: first, because his failure is inscribed in the very logic of habitation, given that upon inhabiting it is inherent to him to exceed the limits and conditions on using habitable space; and second, because in postmodern societies flexibility (uncertainty) is not the exception but in fact the rule, and it agrees with the way that precarious lifestyles are composed. “Casa OS has ended up being defined as a field of multiple- choice encounters.” My guess is that this is so because there was an understanding of what the variability of uses is all about. The rich man’s architect would have upped the level of determination in response to the complexity of the program, adding details and, if possible, further determining the space. Casa OS responds in an opposite manner: the architect withdraws in order to concede a free space. How? By contemplating the task as one of infrastructural articulation of the house, or in other words, smoothing down the space for it to be simply (within the realm of possibilities) a surface that supports the complexity of uses. In comparison with the silly postmodernism that adds complexity by creating taut spaces and glorifying spatial confusion (Loos’ architect, or Venturi), the response to complexity is understood as the conferral of a space that is indeterminate, uncertain, plain and, ultimately, free. It comes as no surprise that the organizational logic of the house be the “simple addition of basic spaces.” There is this whole consideration of emptiness here. It’s not only the space that gets emptied (of determinations), but the user profile as well: Who inhabits this space? Who has it been conferred to? To anyone, obviously. The user profile is as obsolete as the profile for spaces in a home. In a sense, the kitchen has ceased to be a space with distinguishing features and is now a space of “zero uncertainty” (this does not eliminate the need for a kitchen sink). As relates to the uncertainty (determinability of space) a relational space is organized where what is important are the differences in degree and intensity of use, not the differences in fixed ‘identities’ (determinations or fixations of the use of a space, or of its possibilities). In that sense, the empty, plain or free space supports gradual differences and variable relationships according to intensity-of-use criteria. To answer the question: flexibility is not planned; it is reducing the plan to the minimum, that is, understanding that the response to uncertainty involved amounts to the infrastructural planning of the home, which is now to be understood as a free surface that supports, meaning it should support the disorder inherent to all forms of habitation. One final note: in my opinion, architects must know that this kind of reflection is nothing more than adapting to a context that transcends them, and this idea was already looked at by Constant and Archigram from a critical perspective, and while this may be the only decent position existing today, it is a “reactive” perspective. Another final note: With respect to the withdrawal of the architect, another thing in play here is an ethical relationship with the medium of the home, and as a paradigmatic example of that, in Casa OS “no element built on the roof (chimneys, railings, etc.) goes beyond the horizon seen by a person positioned at street level.”

NOLASTER

What’s irritating about the architect of the poor rich man is not so much his desire to determine certain aspects of how the client’s house is lived. What’s irritating is that this desire is extended to the entirety of all future possibilities.

Our job is full of decisions that determine in one way or another the way the inhabitants of our buildings will experience them. And that should not make our hands tremble. At the same time, we are not interested in total flexibility. We haven’t carried out our work in pursuit of a reflection on flexibility. We were aiming for a reflection on architecture. Can we plan an architecture that does not determine the entire realm of future possibilities? But we don’t want this issue to eclipse our interest in determining, in specifying the present possibilities. In the house of the poor rich man, all of the possibilities are exhausted—all of them. But aren’t many of the possibilities also exhausted in Casa OS? We have discovered the importance of having a certain humility in our work: the user might discover richness that you are unaware of. Their form of habitation could continue the process of architectural creation that was frozen the day that construction was completed. We would like to think that Casa OS is alive.

It’s incomplete!

It’s unfinished!

ARQUITECTURA-G

An architect has to make determinations and decisions… but can these be made with resignation? The humility you were talking about could be the consequence—just like flexibility is—of a game that transcends us. So, as Ekhi paraphrased it, you are leaving Casa OS in a moment in which it is defined as a field of multiple-choice possibilities.

It’s unfinished!

It’s alive!

However, for architecture to be alive, it has to be inhabited, threshed, exploited in all of its variants, finite or infinite, and that habitation should behave like a gas, which occupies the total space and adapts to its changes. How would Casa OS be inhabited by 2 people? How can one get it to be unfinished, alive? The succession of rooms to end up in the longitudinal living room overlooking the sea, laid out linearly…are these not conducive to inhabiting only the contiguous spaces? We do believe it is possible to make architecture without determining all of the future possibilities, being aware of the architect’s “failure” in terms of the richness discovered by the inhabitant. When Nouvel kept the workers’ wall drawings in Nemausus, that was nothing more than determining, crystallizing a decision and a moment in which the architect withdraws and gives way to habitation. Failure understood as a nondefeat. At the same time, failure takes on a tragic beauty, one of material contrast with that which transcends us, just as Fitzcarraldo serenely smokes a cigar while listening to Caruso following his failure on the Pachitea. This is the grandeur associated with the contemporary architect. You say that their form of habitation could continue the process of architectural creation that was frozen the day that construction was completed. The house’s ownership could change hands and accommodate the new way of living it via mechanisms that were determined by the architect. Could these mechanisms be an aspiration toward ownership (by the architect)? Would this be fragmenting the house with one of these mechanisms?

EKHI LOPETEGUI

Hi, everyone. Well, here are my reflections: I think the best thing is for the response to come from architecture; I’m not questioning that those were your intentions, but sometimes the philosophical mumbo jumbo causes the rest to stumble on its own underpinnings. First of all, I think that in order to clarify things, we should establish degree differences between certain concepts. Architecture’s ceasing to be Determinative does not mean that architecture enters the realm of the Indeterminate. That’s why you (Nolaster) write that, “we are not interested in total flexibility.” In actuality, the idea of Total Flexibility is still fanciful, suspectible solely from a new age perspective like a “mystical bond with Nature” or something. That’s why you both (AG and Nolaster) highlight that your job is full of decisions and determinations; in the end, making architecture is “making”—intervening on a material. Intervening, which is to say determining, shaping, delimiting the material in a sense. Thus, there are decisions and there is determination because there is architecture. Nonetheless, we can consider the problem not to be one of Determination vs. Total Flexibility. In other words, we are not looking at the dilemma of being either “the rich man’s architect” or “the shapeless flow one does with the material.” What we can discuss is how is that which has been determined in each case, to what extent have the possibilities been exhausted, if the work is open and unfinished or not, what relationships are established with other non-architectural domains, etc. I think there are a number of interrelated questions here. First, I think that as far as I see Casa OS, the work you all have done could be called “infrastructural.” I don’t know if that makes sense, or if you agree. In order to get the house to be unfinished, you’ve tried to have your intervention, your decisions (which there are), delimit a space that will work more like a support for the possible forms of habitation that may or may not populate the house someday. That is why it’s unfinished, it’s incomplete; it’s a support. That work can be considered one of infrastructure (although not all infrastructure work must immediately be incomplete or open, perhaps it must with yours). And it is true that this entails also a reflection on architecture, or a reflection that covers both flexibility and architecture, what that should or should not be, etc. That Decision affects you all as architects and it also affects you from an ethical-political perspective (in the lighter sense of these terms, if you like). The question—and here is where AG’s comments intersect—is not this relative withdrawal of the architect, this position of humility, the effect of a “game that transcends the architect,” the effect of a loss of centrality with the architecture and the architect? What unfettered Economy needs is a plain surface, unfinished works that can support, be a support for its vicissitudes—today it’s storage, tomorrow a workshop or garden; likewise it needs living spaces with variable partition walls to accommodate a workforce (the inhabitants) exposed to its infinite variations, migrant workers today, families tomorrow and divorcees the day after that. In that sense, the architect—while we may not like this—is still a subordinate, a human resources manager in the era of diabolical capitalism. And this, by no means, is to say that Casa OS is solely that; “the house still to be done” will always be preferable to that of the “rich finished” one. I simply want to point out that if we are going to think or do some reflection on architecture, whether that be from the perspective of architecture itself or any other discipline, the question of the unfinished or incomplete, the open empty bucket that remains to be filled, is a bit more complex or ambivalent. In that sense, the question would be: what are the limitations of this kind of approaches, and what else could architecture be today than that mere act of conferring open spaces (which is no small contribution)? What the heck does making architecture mean (what’s the point) when both New Babylon or the Situationists and their Unitary Urbanism (coincidentally in vogue), Archigram’s engineering, and Oteiza’s empty boxes are the ideal model of that monstrous delirium that is postmodern society? What I mean to say is that there is a sort of zero degree of architecture, as its primary condition, the acceptance that something transcends the architect and that architects have to confer space to that which transcends them (habitation, Economy); but that today this may not be enough, that perhaps it only serves to corroborate, repeat, redound in a unique reality or form of having things happen, as its perfect complement. And this problem is not one that can be resolved under the cover of any tragic image.

ARQUITECTURA-G

Ekhi, you are absolutely right with respect the mumbo jumbo; in fact, it’s something we’ve discussed quite often, that we architects don’t know how to write and rarely seem to express ourselves without sounding either lyrical or lacking in words. Our medium is IMAGE and architecture is precisely that. Years ago we attended a conference where an architect was whining about how he’d returned to see this housing project a year after it was built and the inhabitants had destroyed his designs. His dismay seemed pathetic to us. When we were talking about tragic, far from an attempt at relying on lyricism, what we wanted was to express the idea of fleeing from that stance. The floor plan for Casa OS suggests a number of things to us, though not so much an open support as Ekhi mentions. For that reason, and because we understand and explain things from an architectural perspective, we would like to know what relationships you’ve looked for among the rooms.

NOLASTER

Let’s start, as you suggested, from an architectural perspective, which is what we are trying to learn.

The Casa OS floor plan was supposed to respond to some very specific needs. The rooms soon took on some very specific dimensions [herein lies the determination]. Some of the rooms responded very specifically to some of the very specific needs. Others did not. In any case, all of them were conceived within a system. In that, the very specific dimensions of the rooms and the relationship between one another were perhaps more of a determining factor than the very specific needs of some. The system was looking for the relationships between rooms to be about “use” and not “perception,” such that the very specific needs of each piece could be “contaminated” with needs that had yet to be specified [herein lies the indeterminacy]. A relationship of “use” between two rooms is established with a door. The type of door defines the nuance of that relationship. All the rooms are similar; there is a certain sensation of isotropy. The result is simple and complex all at once. Let’s conclude from a non-architectural perspective. This is something we don’t know much about, though we feel we could try to say something. We feel comfortable within that “game that transcends the architect.” We are in a peripheral discipline. Aren’t they all? This condition seems positive to us and its acceptance is part of a realism (not a cynical one) that allows us to contribute what we have, and receive what they give us. Isn’t that “enough”? “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” (Hamlet, W. Shakespeare).

EKHI LOPETEGUI

I think that technical questions can be clarified “from an architectural perspective” where with other peripheral perspectives they cannot, perhaps because they are explained differently, or perhaps a different set of nuances surrounding the same question are explained. The relationships between the rooms are about “use”; the specification of a room depends on the level of specification of needs (for use) in the context of a system of relationships. The spaces are used more or less, and establish relationships between one another depending on a question of degree and relationship: the inherent uncertainty of each room and relationship to other degrees of uncertainty of other rooms. Between rooms, the type of each transition, the doors. Personally, I would like to cover two categories of particular interest to me (which is no longer architecture, or not entirely anyway): that of degree and relationship. The house is coordinated (determined) from a non-essentialist perspective: it is not types of rooms that are drawn up (only in a secondary manner) but rather relative intensities of use (degree of uncertainty relative to the other degrees of uncertainty). You are not heard citing the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, the bathroom, although those rooms exist as such. Does that mean you are not taking them into account? Obviously not, and besides that would be to ridicule what’s in play here. But from a theoretical standpoint, that brings another question to the fore: that the kitchen be such is contingent as it depends on the intensities of use (I’m not particularly referring to the Casa OS kitchen). Let me explain: a house’s essential (in the most literal, strongest sense of the word) attribute is not its having a kitchen. In fact we can imagine lifestyles in which the kitchen disappears from the household (this is happening). In that case, the kitchen would end up having a different degree of uncertainty and another level of specification and the entire system of relationships would be reconsidered. That could not happen if one were to believe that it is impossible to design a house without a kitchen; they would believe that the kitchen is an essential attribute of anything that is a house. The kitchen would still occupy a place without being “used” (this is also happening). If we put the focus on the question of use—and that can only be measured in intensities or degrees—we can imagine a house without a kitchen because first and foremost the kitchen space is “a degree of uncertainty relative to a system of relationships” and not an essential characteristic of all houses (an exclusively typological treatment of the house). Herein lies where I see the open part, in the balance between specification and indeterminacy. Or better yet, to avoid reduction: it is about organizing (determining) that game of specification/nonspecification, all of those relationships. As Oteiza said: coincidence, chance or risk are organized, calculated; lated; they are never shapeless. I think this is how that awkward dialogue can be clarified: Casa OS could be understood from that calculation, that form of calculating. At the very least it could be understood as the aspiration to tread upon that region where the architect withdraws (without withdrawing). Sociological questions aside: “aren’t all disciplines peripheral”? Yes. It’s always been that way. What happened is nothing more than the illusion of a nonexistent centrality of the Architect, and that myth of Centrality has passed through not only architecture but an entire era that is ending now. Is it enough? At the very least, it’s realistic without being cynical. What’s worrying is that this “give and take” ends up as simply everything being “enough,” and there the richness of that first humble withdrawal will inevitably be mistaken for a kind of poverty.

ARQUITECTURA-G

Our intention was to end this conversation with a series of conclusions. However, realizing that the topic lends itself to an open conversation without conclusions defined as such, and that we agree about the essentials, we have decided to skip that part. We would like to steer the conversation toward the magazine topic to wrap things up. The indeterminate part of what we’ve been discussing, the appropriation of space by the inhabitant: is this related to interior design? What is interior design to you?

EKHI LOPETEGUI

I think that throughout these emails we’ve outlined what can initially be considered this “interior design” concept, or what’s usually called the “interior,” which is ultimately this question about what is inherent to the discipline. At the very least, we have outlined what idea of space is problematic or contemplated here. From the periphery of my discipline, which is even further from interior design than architecture, I will try to speak to this issue. Perhaps it is superfluous to point out that interior design can never be a “specialty of taste,” because starting with the first text the debate itself has been approached in contrast with that idea. If it is not a “specialty of taste” (for as subtle as that may be), what is? Although architecture determines a “surface,” that “surface” must in turn be determined by the inhabitant. And at that point “interior design” should provide assistance by developing the right instruments. But then, should it go for just gadgets or furniture? Obviously not solely. But that’s where it becomes problematic, this task of understanding “interior design” and the relationships established with architecture. Perhaps it’s that this idea of “interior design”—whether that be as a discipline or the mere act of utilizing a space or working on it for it to be inhabited—is an attempt to organize the architectural surface that has been offered, without determining once and for all every one of its possibilities for “use.” If Casa OS is organized in relation to “degrees of uncertainty” relative to the “use” of the rooms, and the intensity and variety of that “use,” will it not be the activity of working with the “interior,” the rooms, the ratio of those uses, of those certainties and uncertainties?

NOLASTER

Construction and architecture may in fact have the same relationship that decoration and interior design have. Architecture should offer the users a space that exceeds their expectations. It must handle with precision the available resources, as well as the needs and the social and physical environment being developed—that much is clear. But the product created is a result of other factors that do not impose conditions, but are in essence intentions being materialized. When intentions are brought to fruition in a satisfactory and coherent manner, a piece of architecture appears, or a redistribution is done and textures are arranged in an interior in such a way that might prove exciting to us. This provides us with situations in which a contemporary inhabitant can get situated and develop, all the while doing so inside a setting that is their own. Therefore, interior design seems something not created by the user. They can dress it up, decorate it or put different touches on it, but we’d like to think that requires more intentions than the immediate comfort that the inhabitant can self-provide. It is not an issue of one’s discipline or trade, but rather projection and engagement. Actually, there doesn’t seem to be all that much distance between what one must think about in order to do a 12-story building for a Korean systems-integration company on the outskirts of Bologna, and the adaptation of a 400-meter space so as to turn it into a restaurant that will offer meals costing 77 euros, or even designing a street bench that will be mass produced for installation throughout half of Europe.

ARQUITECTURA-G

“Thus, it is untrue that when I paint a street or a wall that they become unreal. They are still real despite being painted differently for my scene. I’m required to modify or remove the colors that I run across, in order to produce an acceptable composition. Let’s say we have a blue sky: Who knows if it’s going to work? And if I can’t use it, what am I to do with it? Then I take a grey day as a neutral backdrop where I can put in all the color elements that work for me: a tree, a house, a ship, an automobile, a telephone pole. It’s like having a blank sheet for laying out the colors.” (Michelangelo Antonioni)

MU es un mueble apilable de uso ambiguo. Es un taburete, una estantería, un mueble auxiliar de oficina, o una mesita de noche. Mide 536mmx350mmx300mm y se fabrica en madera contrachapada de abeto. Colores disponibles: blanco, negro, barnizado mate.  Pesa 6,5 Kg. Es un diseño de ARQUITECTURA-G para INDOORS.

Para más información o pedidos podéis llamarnos al +34932520755, enviarnos un email a info@arquitectura-g.com, o bien usar nuestra cuenta paypal.

Plazo de entrega: 15 días

MU is an ambiguous use stackable cabinet. It is a stool, a shelf, a cabinet office assistant, or a nightstand. It measures 536mmx350mmx300mm. It is made of fir plywood. Available colors: white, black, matte painting. Weight: 6,5 Kg. Designed by ARQUITECTURA-G for INDOORS.

For more information or orders call us at +34932520755, send us an email to info@arquitectura-g.com, or use our paypal account.

Delivery: 15 days

Colours

1 White MU + Spain €130,00 EUR 1 White MU + Europe €150,00 EUR 1 White MU + World €170,00 EUR 1 Black MU + Spain €130,00 EUR 1 Black MU + Europe €150,00 EUR 1 Black MU + World €170,00 EUR 1 Wood MU + Spain €130,00 EUR 1 Wood MU + Europe €150,00 EUR 1 Wood MU + World €170,00 EUR