Museo de Antropologia

Museo De Antropologia

The large concrete block entrance

I recently went back to Mexico for a few days to escape the Los Angeles crazy-ness. With final projects and exams coming up, I was relieved to be able to go back home and unwind. While in Mexico, my American friend Charlie hit me up and asked me to take him to some of my favorite spots. For whatever reason the first place that came to mind was El Museo de Antropologia (Anthropology Museum) in Polanco. This museum is famous in Mexico City (and the world) for its impressive collection of Aztec, Mayan, Olmec and Tarahumara artifacts. It is also located in the heart of Mexico City, in the main avenue of Reforma, right next to one of the most well-known tourist attractions: El Lago y el Castillo de Chapultepec. It’s impressive collection and central locations make it the most visited museum in the city (with 2 million visitors every year!), but as I recently discovered, there is much more to appreciate about this place. 

The semi-open courtyard with the column as a central fountain

Some of the interior artifacts and statues

When I was small, around 6 or 7 years old, I remember my mom taking me to the museum. At the time I was learning all bout the Aztecs in school, so to me the museum was eye-opening, as I learned more about their rituals, customs and lifestyle. Yet the one memory I can still remember like it was yesterday is me playing and getting wet on the large fountain at the center of the courtyard while my mom looked from far away sipping a coffee. I never understood why that moment stayed with me, but once I went back I understood. Turns out the fountain is special, and instead of all the ancient artifacts from the museum, it’s architectural monumentality stands out as the centerpiece of the museum. It's what locals call "el paraguas" or "the umbrella". 

The column's monumentality

Close up of it's detailed carvings. Here is a Mayan jaguar.

Let me explain. 

My friend Charlie in the courtyard.

      

Built in 1964 by Pedro Ramirez Vasquez, Jorge Campuzano and Rafael Mijares Alcerreca, the museum from the outside just looks like a big block hidden under trees, yet in the exterior the architecture is quite magical. As one enters into the main lobby, the presence of Mexican history is palpable as a large podium made up of volcanic rock elevates the user to read hymns and chants from past civilization engraved in the marble walls. Hymns invoking rain gods and working hands, they elevate the space to be more than just four walls, but a space that translates importance and tradition. After the lobby, everyone must head to the open courtyard, which is the masterpiece of the museum. The first thing one sees is the large cantilevered roof that rests on a single column. The heated roof is square and covers just have of the colossal courtyard, creating a sense of enclosure while still being outside. It’s geometry also allows for an amazing view of the “newer” Mexico, as high-tech buildings can be seen in the back. The juxtaposition of this skyline with he rest of the museum is meant to represent just how far the Mexican people have evolved, and how the past, present, and future can mix together. This column is carved out of stone with images from past gods, Aztec sacrifices, people playing “juego de pelota”, and an eagle sitting on cactus. All of these images are fundamentally Mexican, evoking a sense of proudness and elevating our history. The column is surrounded by hidden drains, that help evacuate the water dropping from the ceiling. The monumentality of the column is key to understand why the architecture is the masterpiece of the museum, and why it is imprinted in my memory. 

Tlaloc statue

Unlike many museum I know, the architecture of El Museo de Antropologia is an homage to the subject it showcases. It’s unassuming design elevates the architecture, and turns it into the subject itself. This humble structure is evoking the values of the old civilizations, and by doing so it stands out as the most important vessel. 

Voice - Community Architect

Over the last 4 years, I have learned to read and understand the specific lexicon and phrasings most architects use when describing a space or a building. Specific terms and comments always stand out because they lose their meaning when the person you are talking to is not familiar with. Specific words such as parti, HVAC, space, form, function, avant-garde, fenestration, balance, hierarchy, piloti, typology, charette, modular, poché, and vernacular come to mind.S ome of these words are so unique to the field of architecture that they even show up as errors on my computer despite being correctly written.  These words (and many others) are commonly used in the field, yet their intricacy loses meaning when the receiver is unfamiliar with their meaning, specially when architects stack a bunch of these words together to make up intricate phrases. 

“The location of the pilote hinders the hierarchy of the space, ultimately the balance of the parti will have to be resolved with a poché exercise during charette.” 

That was just a made up phrase to show you how absurd architecture is sometimes. Wouldn't surprise me if my studio instructor would say this to me in tomorrow's class. If you are an architect, then you understand what this means. If you are not, then you are probably thinking I'm joking. Believe me when I say I am not. 

Knowing specifics such as these terms and phrases, not only am I able to identify when an architect is writing, but their specific selection of terms helps me identify what kind of architect he is. Half of the terms I listed above are just abstract terms, related to ideas and concepts; while the rest are mostly just technical terms (fenestration is just a fancy word for window). Artsy architects like to use the abstract words, “ no non-sense” architects tend to go for the technical terms. 

With this knowledge in hand, I was surprised by the lack of architectural mannerisms employed by the author in this ( very important and polemic) architecture subject. At first I thought it might have been written by an outsider, but then I find out the author is an architect. The shock then became intrigued, mainly because I rarely come across texts that avoid these terms. Granted, his topic is about modernism as a social movement rather than an architectural style, so there is no need for some of these words. However, the writer does have a strong voice that shines through when he tries to dramatize the situation. By describing the “unfulfilled promise of Modernism”, he uses harsh phrasings such as “bleak windswept plazas”, “housing misery”, “soulless high-rises” and “cold and lacking”. This strong diction, along with certain figures of speech and punctuation (Case closed? Not so fast!, with a shout-out to Jane Jacobs!) characterize the writer’s voice as the voice your father has when he is coaching your football team on a Sunday. It is a very wise and authoritative voice that is still trying to be encouraging and entertaining at the same time. 

This voice is further present by the content of the post. As I said before, the lack of architectural terms make the post much more accessible than normal posts about this topic, and the mention of famous and well-known architects such a Frank Lloyd Wright, Le Corbusier, and Mies Van der Rohe, signal the writer wants to connect to the masses. Just like a dad want to prove his kids he is “mainstream”. 

The author’s mannerisms, phrasings, and diction all convey a sense of familiarity with the subject, which is a very helpful voice to have when writing about architecture subjects. The usual architectural jargon normally turns people away from reading about the subject, so having an authoritative but accessible voice helps audiences understand more about the topic. 

http://archplanbaltimore.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-unfulfilled-promise-of-modernism.html?view=classic

Profile Post - Modernist Architecture

Nowadays one can find anything and everything in the Internet. Videos of cats, funny pranks, and even makeup tutorials abound. Yet in the renew ending cosmos of the internet there is a little blog names Modernist Architecture that, for me and other architects, is the reason why the internet is great. This blog is basically the ramblings and thoughts of a seasoned and unknown architectural photographer. The blogger photographs buildings the are interesting to him, and through his lens and written words, evokes interest in the reader as well. The main focus of his blog are the amazing pictures he takes, yet the text helps the blog’s visitors to grasp the photographer’s passion for the subject. Such text is normally supported by common knowledge (or information commonly known by architects) and important architectural magazines such as Deezen, Details and Design Milk. His writing, at times subjective, at times professional, is captivating and authoritative, but mainly gives off the sense that the blogger is doing this for fun and personal intrigue. His angle or approach to the topic varies from post to post. He generally writes and shoots buildings that are interesting to him, and explains his personal views and thoughts about such structure, trying to express and define the elements that captured his attention. He also talks constantly about his relationship with the architecture, how he came to learn about the building, his first impression when seeing it, his experience while photographing it. The buildings he explores are then linked to other projects around the world, delving the reader further into the architectural world. 

This blog, for me personally, is one of the most exciting pages of the internet because it has a clear purpose: learn about the built environment and appreciate the architecture around us. As a blogger myself, I try to write about Mexican architecture because I am passionate about it, I want to learn more about it and I think not many people know about it. This blogger follows the same formula: find a topic you like and find interesting, explore the building and do research, post a brief story about he building and the reasons behind its importance. He manages to do this while always arousing the mind of the reader, making him wonder what is the history behind every cool building we pass by. Through a clean, simple and photo-centric layout ( what one could call modernist graphics), the blog reads easily and the pictures register the point made in the argument. Such layout also allows the reader to keep scrolling thorough its content, which, if you find architecture interesting, is a good thing because there are nearly a hundred posts, each  significant in length and information. Given he has been blogging since 2013, and frequently posts different projects every two or three weeks, the range of styles and buildings he covers is great, a testament to perseverance and passion. And as I mentioned before, he does this for himself. He likes to learn about these projects, and the added commentaries and attention are just an afterthought. Similar to my blog, given it is such a niche topic, he rarely gets too many visitors, with his post varying in comments from 3 to 10, most of which thank him for his insight and work. He never responds, because, why would he? This is by him for him, and as long as he’s proud of it, nothing else matters. 

So I’m thankful for the internet because I guess I just found a blogger role model. Someone who doesn't care about the spotlight, but about architecture and the beauty and meaning behind it. A blogger who is passionate, intrigued and invested. A blog that focuses on a meaningful topic over random videos of cats and celebrities. A blog that celebrates the architectural field. 

http://modernistarchitecture.blogspot.com/

The Dishwasher

The Dishwater

Everyone has seen or passed by a building so strange that it ought their attention. All over the world, some weird buildings try to emulate other objects, and the results can be quite fascinating. Robert Venturi’s famous idea1972  of the “duck vs. the decorated shed” raised awareness about these quirky structures. Mexico City is home of one of these, and for most of my childhood this building was imprinted in my mind. 

Venturi's "duck" building

The Dishwasher from the street

The building I am talking about is called Calakmul, but locals refer to it as the Dishwasher. Located on the fancy neighborhood of Santa Fe, in the western side of town, this building stands as a masterpiece of abstraction and technology. Yet not many people know much about it, except its nickname. I myself had no idea what the building was even called, and until I started researching it, I had no idea what the thought behind it was, nor that it is an award-winning building. 

Dishwasher's scale

When I was a child, maybe 8 or 9 years old, I remember my mother driving past this building and being completely marveled by its presence. I immediately asked her about it, and all she could tell me was that it was called the Dishwasher. I thought highly of myself because I thought about its nickname even before my mother mentioned it. I thought this building was so weird and futuristic, and its geometrical simplicity in contrast to the rest of the neighboring buildings, stood out to me. 

The building eventually faded from my memory, until this January when I passed by it again. All the sudden I was drawn back in, and I wanted to find out what this building represented. 

Santa Fe's skyline

Built in 1994 by Agustin Gonzalez Navarro, the Calakmul complex’s geometries are meant to represent the ancient Mayan notions of the earth (the square) and the sky (the circle). The abstraction of these forms and their reference to the past are critical ideas explored by Mexican architects throughout history. The dishwasher showcases how, even when architecture began using newer technologies and materials, the notion of identity and the rich cultural past of Mexico was still referenced. 

The building is also, quite shockingly, one of the first green buildings in Mexico City, setting an example for the Santa Fe area’s future structures. It is also an awards-winning building, praised for its glass application, its structural concrete shell, its incorporation to the street, and its advanced technology used for its interiors. 

Futuristic Interiors

As I learned more about this building, I began to see the hidden messages behind it, and the many references it has to previous works and historical periods. I no longer just see it as the Dishwasher, I see it as a great architectural work.

At night

 Go find your own dishwasher, and who know, maybe you’ll find something great too. 

Paplote Museo Del Niño

Everyone dreads the Los Angles traffic. And I can attest that while the traffic in LA is terrible, it is nothing like the one I experienced everyday while growing up in Mexico City. The equivalent of the 101 or the 405 freeways in Mexico City is called the Anillo Periferico. My house is located just a few minutes away from el Periferico, and so we would take it everyday to go to school. I seriously believe I spent a third of my childhood stuck in traffic in el Periferico. 

Periferico (right) and the Papalote

As you move through it, especially if you are stuck in traffic (which is nearly always), you will eventually see a blue-tiled geometric building near Chapultepec. This building is one of my favorite architectural gems in Mexico City. It is called El Papalote Museo Del Niño, and I have great memories from my childhood there. 

My most fond memory from this place laying down on a bed of nails when I was 7 years old. The experience was incredible and I could not help but feel empowered and amazed at the same time. Other activities I remember include the cool blowing bubbles machines, the earthquake simulator, and the volcano explosion. All of these are incredibly fun, and every single one of my friends remember this place because of it. That’s the magic of this museum. 

Bed of Nails

While the inside of the building is what made an impression, as I grew older I started to appreciate the building for it’s sticking design. 

A beautiful and fun place to be

Designed by Ricardo Legorreta and his son Victor, and opened in 1993, El Museo Del Niño stands a a monument to the architectural styles emerging in Mexico in the 1990s. Focused on the simple geometric shapes of the triangle, circle and square -  which in three dimensions are then translated to the pyramid, the sphere and the cube -  the museum tries to tie the ideas of light, color and technology with the persistent notion of a Mexican national identity. These are explorations that lead to a massing of simple forms with a distinct fun to their composition. In addition, the colored tiles with varying shades of blue are an homage to the Aztec and Mayan heritage of the country. The light wells and the shading tents are used to bring in nature to the museum, and interact with the surrounding Bosque de Chapultepec. 

Interior/exterior areas with shading technologies

While most Mexicans will remember this building for the fun and great memories they had inside, through my architectural lens I can now see this as both a successful building and as an architectural gem that clearly influenced the architectural discourse in Mexico in the later part of the decade. Overlooking el Periferico, el Palpate Museo Del Niño stands as a monument to Mexico’s ingenious and unique architecture going into the 21st century. It is an architecture that takes itself seriously while still maintaining a light and playful tone. An architecture that forges great memories by being functional, and that stands out by being beautiful. 

As seen from el Periferico

Bellas Artes

Living in one of Mexico City’s suburbs, if you even can call them that given the hey are now in the middle of the sprawling city, my life always revolved around nearby places and neighborhoods. Rarely did we venture into the touristy sites of the city. While people who visit tend to go to all the most recognizable areas - Polanco, El Centro Historico, Teotihuacan, Xochimilco, Chapultepec - I just remember going to these places in school trips when I was smaller. They all seemed so mundane and normal, having them in your backyard can sometimes mean you don’t appreciate what you have as much. 

Xochimilco

Castillo De Chapultepec

I imagine this happens to everyone. If you grew up next to the Great Wall of China, to you it might be just a wall that you see everyday. But for someone who travelled across the globe to see it, they might be in awe and appreciate the structure for what it is and what it stands. This its exactly the situation I was in, and so are most people around me. 

This all changed as my love and interest for architecture began to grow. I began to realize just how unique all of these places are, and how lucky I was to have them be in my backyard. I started reading more about these places and what made them so special. The more I read the more I realized how rich Mexico’s history is, and how little we know about the places we live in. 

My latest example of this lack of knowledge is one of Mexico City’s most well known buildings: El Palacio Bellas Artes. Originally called the National Theatre, this building stands in the center of the city, and if you google the city, you’ll find its picture is the first one to come up. Everyone in town knows what it looks like and where it is, but no one seemed to know the meaning and story behind it. 

National Theatre Under Construction in 1918

Palacio de Bellas Artes 2016

Turns out Bellas Artes was built in the 1910, at a moment when Mexico, under Porfirio Diaz, began to worry about it’s international image. Most civic buildings were being built in neoclassical styles, and their main purpose was to showcase how Mexico was part of the first-world countries. This of course was just a farce, as almost everything about these buildings was imported, engineers, architects and sculptures and even materials were imported, the only thing truly Mexican was for the cheap labor. 

The Neo-classical Banco de Mexico Building

Mixing neo-Barroque Classicism with organic details similar to those in the beaux-arts movement, the National Theatre was designed by Italian architect Adamo Boari, and was finished by Mexican architect Federico Marshal in 1934, after the Revolution halted construction. With its art-deco interiors and lavish facade, the National Theatre stood as a symbol of economic and artistic prosperity in Mexico. 

The importance of this building was tremendous, it showed that Mexico was able to be a top-tier country, whose artistic values were in par with those of more advanced countries such as France, England and the US. The rationale behind the construction of this structure was to show how stable our county was, given that no country in turmoil is building shrines for its artistic endeavors. Of course this wasn’t true, as the construction was halted by the Revolution, so the symbolism behind the building was just a ruse to boost Mexico’s image, with no correlation with the economic and social mayhem happening at the time. 

Alameda Central

Now a days, El Palacio de Bellas Artes stands in the east corner of the Alameda Central (the main park in the center of the city), and it is a staple of Mexican architecture and the importance of the arts in our culture. I visit it regularly, as my friends and I love to go to nearby bars and then head to the park. However, as pretty and monumental as it is, knowing its history and the fact that there is very little “Mexican” in it,has made me skeptical of it’s symbolism. I wonder how would people look at it once they know it’s barely even ours. 

Juan O’Gorman - Diego Rivera / Frida Kahlo Studios

As I have mentioned before, my house is located in the modernist (semi-) urban neighborhood of El Pedregal. While the houses in my street and around the block are mostly modernist works by the likes of Luis Barragan and Francisco Artigas, there was one structure not too far away that always caught my eye. In the nearby neighborhood of San Angel, a historical site known for it’s colonial churches and it’s stone and gravel streets, there is one “house” that looks like none other. 

The house I am talking about is Juan O’Gorman’s studio for the renowned Mexican painter Frida Kahlo and Muralist Diego Rivera.

View from the Main Avenue

Side entrance & Outdoor stair

Exterior Bridge

Located in the main avenue of the neighborhood, pedestrians and drivers alike would always look at it in wonder. It’s geometrical forms, outer bridges, oversized glass panels, outdoor terraces, industrial feel, and fence of cacti, all add up to create the most unique and distinguished building in the southern part of Mexico City. It’s presence is quite shocking. 

Inspired by the Russian Constructivists, O’Gorman’s work ties their ideals about geometry and the disruption of context with the Mexican regionalist ideals of materiality, colors, outdoor/indoor spaces. The outer facades are all painted in “Indian” red and deep blue, recalling both the tezontle (volcanic soil) traditional to Mexico City as well as the color of dried blood (symbolizing the indigenous massacre by the conquistadors). The blue was the same as the one used in Frida Kahlo’s home in the nearby neighborhood of Coyoacan. These traditional vernacular colors utilized in the exterior facades related to the architecture of the place. The exterior can be read a rational system of concrete frame and waffle slab, where walls are infilled between the frame. The glazing consisted of steel industrialized windows that formed a mosaic-like pattern. The addition of outdoor stairs, bridges and terraces further roots the house into the site, creating a circulation path that constantly interacts with the outside elements. 

Constructivist Architecture

In the inside, the architecture changed quite drastically, as yellow and parrot green were used to create a sense of warmth. The interior rooms were expressed as distinct, separate elements with mechanical and electrical systems were exposed to portray the modernist idea of the house as a machine for living. The interior was filled with Mexican traits partially because Kahlo and Riviera collected indigenous art, creating a dichotomy between a modernist house with exposed systems and industrialized materials, and the handcrafted uniqueness of the artifacts. This reflected O’Gorman’s interest in making an architecture concerned with progress, universality, technology rationalism, and abstraction, but also an architecture that utilized vernacular Mexican colors and indigenous art to create interiors.

Interior Upper Floor

This house is an example of the different architecture styles that converge in Mexico through careful integration of ideals and forms. The final product is one that not only looks for inspiration from the outside, but that manages to bring and mix Mexican motifs to create a unique style known as Mexican Functionalism. As seen in previous posts, the constant struggle to portray or create Mexican styles in architecture and to showcase the country’s identity are always affecting the architects’s final designs. Here, O’Gorman makes the case that a rich national identity and functionalist ideals can work together to create a unified whole. 

Parallels

Parallels

I am currently taking a class called The Great Houses of Los Angeles. Every week we talk and discuss about the ideologies behind the projects, and then during the weekend we go and experience the spaces ourselves. From this course I have learned that every project, every house, every design element has an intention, and it is up to the user to asses if the architecture is successful at portraying it. So as I learn about the history of Los Angeles, I began to draw correlations with Mexico City and especially the neighborhood I call home. 

Stahl House - Pierre Koenig - CSH #22

From 1945 to 1966, a residential experiment in Southern California known as the Case Study Program was trying to create a new type of efficient and inexpensive model home for the housing boom that came after the end of World War II. The Case Study Program commissioned major architects of the era - Neutra, Koenig, Saarinen, Quincy Jones, Charles and Ray Eames - and focused on building 36 projects mostly across the Los Angeles metro area. The impact the project had on the residential architecture of Los Angeles was immense, but it expanded beyond Southern California and even crossed over the border to Mexico City. 

Charles & Ray Eames House - CSH #8 

Using the Case Study Program as a template and inspiration, the architects in Mexico City began to plan a similar project in the outskirts of town. In 1946, the first of these urban projects was presented: Jardines del Pedregal de San Angel. This project was a subdivision of more than 1,200 lots covering about a square mile. It’s location was free from any historical events, and the land was just being developed due to the availability of roads and automobiles. This neighborhood also happens to be where I lived. 

Jardines del Pedregal Master Plan

I always wondered why was my neighborhood so different from the rest of the city, and why was it seen as a one-of-a-kind area. It is hard to asses the importance of the place when every building is private, so I hit the books to learn more about what lies behind the doors. Turns out there is a lot of history and symbolism behind it. 

Barragan House in El Pedregal

Artigas House in El Pedregal

Whereas the Case Study Program’s goal was to create an effective and modular residential typology, the Jardines del Pedregal complex tried to introduce modernist ideas to the city. The clear contrast of approaches between the two main architects of the project, Luis Barragan and Francisco Artigas, showcased the complex and paradoxical ideals of modernism in Mexico. Barragan’s designs were warm and serene, a more nature-focused approach. While Artigas’ houses were cold and formulaic, a more industrial and rigid approach. This dichotomy has been present in Mexican architecture ever since.  

Annotation Sample

Guillen, M. F. (2004). MODERNISM WITHOUT MODERNITY: The Rise of Modernist Architecture in Mexico, Brazil, and Argentina, 1890-1940. Latin American Research Review, 39(2), 6-34. 

In this text , Mauro Guilen compares and contrasts the rise of modernist architecture in Mexico Brazil and Argentina. The text explores each case individually, analyzing the reasons why this architectural style was able to jump across the atlantic ocean just a few years after it gained ground in Europe. These are important questions to answer, as modernism embraced futuristic ideals and materials, and these three countries at the time were considered to be relatively backwards in their developments. Guillen looks at the roots and rise of modernist architecture in Europe, and then expands his scope to these 3 Latin American countries. Through serious and scholar prose, Guillen notes the important role of the Mexican revolution and the professionalization of architects in the rise of modernist architecture in Mexico. In the years following the revolution, the new government tried to use modernist architecture to comply with their agenda to turn Mexico into a first -world country. It was with that governmental approval that the modernist style began to be adopted throughout the country, even when Mexico lacked the material resources (glass and steel) for the high demand. The architects then began to alter modernist architecture by injecting their country’s culture, sometimes completely dismissing some of the main pillars of the style. After some years, modernism in Mexico became a different style, one that was adopted to the traditions and likes of the Mexican public. 
As the author slowly answers the central question - how can countries that lack modern economies and industries adopt a progressive style of architecture in such a short time? - his tone changes from skeptical to accepting (although always staying true to his academic style). The paper is great to understand the main reasons why and how Mexico adopted a foreign architectural style to further advance its international image.

A National Identity

A National Identity

A few years ago, my architecture friends from USC asked me to give them a tour of the City. They were just there for a layover on their way to South America, so I had one day to show them as much as possible. With nearly 21 million people living in Mexico City (and suburbs), with the total area of the city being similar to LA and Orange county added together, there was no way I could show them all the great places I think are essential. So I decided to take them to the most tourist-y spots in town: el Centro Historico, la Alameda Central and Polanco. Being architects-in-the-making themselves they were stunned when they saw a fusion of different styles and ideals through the streets we walked. They mentioned they never thought Mexico had such great architecture, and such a variance of styles. To which I just replied in a joking manner, “no one ever think about us.” Yet if you stop for a second to wonder why is that Mexico has such great architecture, the answer misquote clear: architecture is concrete evidence of our national identity, and therefor it has gone through endless phases. 

Museo Soumaya - Polanco

Parque Lincoln - Polanco

The clearest example of a search for a national identity came in the 20th century, when moderns began to flourish in Mexico,  a country whose past has always been a heavy influence in its future. In the 20th century the field of architecture began to shift towards modernism, a style that tried to break away from the past and restart with no baggage or traditions. Modernism was trying to negate and dismiss the ancient classical forms and gothic styles, to create and architecture that was looking towards the future and utilizing new techniques and materials to reflect the evolution of society. These ideals of a tabula rasa came in complete collision with those of a Mexican identity based on our rich cultural past. The architects of the 20th century in Mexico had to figure out a way to fuse these two ideals together, further highlighting the discussion about what is Mexican national identity. 

The 20th century was just an addition with Mexico’s constant struggle with defining itself through architecture. As one walks around Mexico City’s historic core, the different styles of Mexican architecture showcase the era’s different needs and ideals about Mexican identity. In one street alone, you can walk through Aztec ruins, colonial houses, neoclassical structures, baroque fountains, modernist office buildings and viceroyal monuments. These contrasting styles are the basis of Mexico’s constant struggles to define and portray itself to the world. These styles also show the one constant in Mexican architecture: destruction. 

Cathedral at Centro Historico

With every new era and style that arrived or arose in Mexico, the previous one was abolished and served as the foundation. Colonial churches were erected in the sites of old ruins of Tenichtitlan, the Modernist structures took over the sites of baroque buildings, and the newer buildings of the 21st century sprawled and conquered lands considered sacred by the Aztecs. These paradox of destroying to create along with he country’s constant rise in population, have pushed the architect’s to look for new contexts and styles to find meaning behind their national identity. 

In the following posts I’ll try to showcase the different approaches by which Mexican architects tried to define their national identity. 

How It all Started

Ciudad Universitaria 

How It All Started

The first time I remember seeing a building and thinking about the history and the possibilities behind it was when my Mom took me and my sister to play frisbee to Ciudad Universitaria (CU), which is the campus of Mexico’s National University (UNAM). This was 2001, I was just seven years old, and I don’t think I ever caught the frisbee, I was too distracted. I was looking around and all the buildings seemed to tell a story. I story I was too young and confused to understand.

 Before my Mom bailed on the whole frisbee fun and drove us back home, I asked her about the buildings. Why were these structures so different and unique? The two most recognizable buildings on campus were (and still are) the Main Library, whose exterior seemed to be a canvas for a Aztec-looking mural, and the Torre de Rectoria, which seemed to be like a traditional glass and steel building except one side was just a large concrete wall and a mural sticking out of its gut. These two fascinating buildings, along with rest of the campus’ atmosphere and architecture, have been stuck in my mind ever since.

Fast-forward 15 years to today. I am now able to understand these buildings and relate to their expressions. Turns out Ciudad Universitaria is heralded as a paradigm of modernism in Mexico. This to my was a complete shock. Modernism is an architectural style that breaks away from traditions and looks for efficiency, simplicity and cleanliness. With works such as the Le Corbusier’s Villa Savoye or Mies Van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House as paradigms modernist architecture, you can understand my initial reaction. 

 However, if you look closely, you can start to see some similarities between both types of modernist styles. The Mexican architects that worked in CU’s planning, Mario Pani and Enrique del Moral, used the basic principles of European modernism and mixed them with Mexican motifs that go against the fundamentals of the style. In the Main Library, the structure is lifted by white pilots (or columns) just like in the Villa Savoye. Similarly, in the Torre de Rectoria, the use of glass and steel as materials along with a gridded system for efficient and modular construction, are reminiscing of the Farnsworth House. 

Villa Savoye

 But that’s all there is for similarities. Mexico doesn’t play by the rules. 

Farnsworth House

Once we have stablished the style the architects were adopting, we can better understand the meaning of their work. With modernism trying to break away from the past by using new materials and efficient techniques, Mexican architects saw it these advances as an opportunity to revive the past of the area. Ciudad Universitaria was built in a site close to the ancient historical town of Cuicuilco. The murals in both buildings are representative of both academia and the indigenous past. A fusion of the past and the furture. The area is also characterized for its lava layer six to eight meters thick which was deposited by the Xitle volcano 7,000 years ago. This volcanic rock can be seen utilized at the bottom of the main Library and on the side of the Torre de Rectorias. With these two precedents, Pani and del Moral used modernist motifs to bring back the area’s past and to remind everyone that in Mexico, the past is very much part of our present.  

Main Library

Torre de Rectoria