Today I know that the shapes of what we see exist in terms of light and space, and therefore, so does our concept of time. Light and space are bound to our affirmations and denials, as well as our soul, our conscience, and a great many of our moods. What we perceive in architecture is a consequence of this relationship; shapes are a good or bad result of what light and space have mandated. However, I have to accept that on more than one occasion, I let myself get carried away by form, and I’m not sure the results are quite what I expected. This was the case of works such as El Pedregal and Los Cubos, where there is a very close relationship with the exterior, the street, the urban space that showed me it was possible to start from the outside and work my way in.
What I work with has more to do with proportions than size (although the latter always helps). For me, psychological scale is fundamental. The box of light concept parted from a very small space in actual dimensions, albeit enormous scale in terms of perception, that is to say, interiority. I turned the main lobby of this cube into a black box, a cavity without light, in order to totally enclose the space and make the contiguous one into another enormous box, this time of light, a body of transparent glass that opens out onto a cliff. Claustrophobia and vertigo: two states of mind, two extremes (the near absence of space and its excess) in two sites of the same work, in a single passage.
When I was a child, I liked to adventurously explore caves or hideouts made of brush. Perhaps back then I began learning to understand the language in which different spaces speak to us and the effect they have on our souls. I’m not saying these were conscious experiences; rather, they were profound events that I was able to decipher as I went along, ones that provided me with guide lines for understanding the power a space can wield over our emotions. Whenever possible, I move into the house I am completing and inhabit it for the first time. That way I can feel it, experience it. I verify that it is sound and try to improve whatever is not performing up to my level of expectation. Then I dream up another space. Once I make it a reality, I relinquish my home to its new inhabitants and bid it farewell. So it has been on several occasions. I have moved and at the same time, transformed myself. These are always revitalizing experiences that enable me to learn from my own work. Also, this way I feel I have been able to avoid falling into a routine; the space doesn’t trap me, but rather stimulates me to work on whatever comes next.Twittear