sometimes things just speak to you. a strange meaning with roots that lie buried in your unknown innermost. often it reflects on one’s childhood or on forgotten but vivid events. my mother had some sense of knowing without trying, she introduced me to architecture with all the drama in building her first house in the seventies. she insisted it had to be moorish. and even though we lived in africa, it was thousands of miles away from anything that had anything moorish about it. so later post morocco, alhambra and catalonia, i finally got to understand what she was going for.
this is what first grew my affinity for the that neo-islamic-surreal-goth-style that is most beautifully illustrated by ricardo bofill‘s super stylish re-built cement factory in barcelona.
besides my mother’s uneducated but accurate flair for architecture, just watching her force her aesthetic on the architect over more than a few glasses of wine was convincing enough, i was furthermore also influenced by her strange depression mentality where ingenuity always won. her pragmatic ways always suggested that we remain frugal with essentials so we can have a binge party with what’s left. something in it bred my contempt for any kind of waste, obviously since there’ll be less for the party. enters m. bofill’s brilliant cement event: la fábrica. it’s clear why i have such an affinity for this without boring anyone with the history and re-appropriation of spaces since i believe the photographs speak for themselves. suffice it to say that this is a remarkable project for me, since it is just about my age and like me has evolved into a mature sophistication of it’s own. m. ricardo’s taller de arquitectura puts together so many of my passions with my past, it is an evocative introspective journey which i can sincerely connect with in so many ways.