Search results for "Eladio Dieste"

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Tectonics of Transparency

MIT researcher aims to expand the role of glass in construction
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Architect and educator Cristina Parreño’s ongoing research project at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology is called “Tectonics of Transparency” and it's challenging the “generic-ness” of glass in construction today. The project is being realized through a unique format of prototypes divided into three formal categories: the Wall Series, Tower Series, and Shelter Series. Each type is further broken down into scales: a “model scale” of 8-cubic-feet, and an “installation scale” of inhabitable size. The format allows for experimentation with technique, and for multiple funding sources to support various components of the project. Parreño pinpoints her interest in expanding the role of glass to a 1950s patent on “float glass” by Pilkington, who developed a process for efficiently manufacturing large flat sheets of the material. “Despite its potential, modern technology didn’t fully exploit the multitude of material attributes offered by glazing, which in a flat, planar state can only be used as a non-structural infill,” Parreño told The Architect's Newspaper (AN) in an interview. “When expanded to a greater depth, glass acquires multiple properties that expand its role beyond that of a transparent or translucent infill. If we attend to some of these properties—which are not fully exploited when glass is presented in its planar state—we can begin to foresee another type of depth between the two sides of the material.” Parreño’s prototypes are primarily interested in exploiting the material’s compressive strength, along with producing new tactile and visual effects.
  • Facade Manufacturer Shouguang Jingmei Glass Product Co.,Ltd
  • Architects Cristina Parreño Architecture
  • Facade Installer Cristina Parreño Architecture with Turner Construction Special Projects Division (Tower Series assembly)
  • Facade Consultants Paul Kassabian, Simpson Gumpertz & Heger (structural engineer)
  • Location Boston, MA
  • Date of Completion 2014-15
  • System clear sheet glass with UV-cured bonding agent
  • Products Glaverbel glass by Shouguang Jingmei; UV-cured adhesive by Loctite
  • Photos John Horner, Jane Messinger (Courtesy Cristina Parreño Archtiecture)
One of the main challenges of the project has been developing new working techniques to manage the fragility of the panes during fabrication. This fragility provides only small tolerances for assembly that in turn demand a high degree of precision. Parreño’s assemblies involve bonding individual profiles of glass together using a high-performance bonding agent activated by UV light. The compound cures thin and transparent, allowing for maximum visibility between panes. Parreño says this construction system permits the glass to fully express its own visual and structural capacities, but it makes the construction process far more labor intensive. The Tectonics of Transparency prototypes are a material translation of well-known concrete and brick structures to glass, as MVRDV recently developed for their Amsterdam Chanel store project. Parreño said MVRDV’s project demonstrates similar interests to hers, and that the interest of other architects in challenging the conventional use of glass “thickens the plot for discussions.” Parreño’s Tower Series reinterprets Uruguayan brick water towers built by Eladio Dieste, while her Shelter Series reinterprets Felix Candela’s ruled Mexican concrete surface structures. Beyond explorations into the structural capacity of glass, Parreño also relates to the qualities of light inherent through assembly techniques. She cites REX’s fluted facade as a reinvented curtain wall of curved panels that “catch light in unexpected angles, throwing distorted reflections back at the viewer.” These visual effects are a key influencer of Parreño’s Tectonics of Transparency: “By exploring the ability of glass to modulate light through its enhanced translucency, variable transparency, opacity and the greater or lesser internal reflection of external light.” Parreño says her next steps are to continue to “scale up” the prototypes, experimenting with how glass can move beyond the curtain wall. “The translation of these prototypes and small pavilions to a larger and more architectural scale is something that I am definitely interested in as the next step forward.”
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Keeping It Modern

The Getty Foundation unveils this year's modern architecture grantees
As part of its international grant initiative, Keeping it Modern, the Getty Foundation has unveiled this year's recipients for funding. Now in its third iteration, the grant seeks to award a select group of 20th century modern architecture buildings with funds to aid their preservation. Based in California, which arguably has more than its fair share of modernist artifacts, the Foundation proclaims that as of now, "modern architectural heritage is at considerable risk." Here is the list of nine buildings that will share just more than $1.2 million in grants.  
Association de Gestion du Site Cap Moderne Villa E.1027 Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, France Built: 1929 Architect: Eileen Gray Funds Awarded: $200,000 Designed by architect and designer Eileen Gray, this dwelling is southern France has a rather sombre history. Essentially vandalized by Corbusier who painted murals (famously doing so while nude) on the building without Gray's permission, the murals were later used as target practice by Italian soldiers in World War II. The modernist house was then later sold onto doctor Peter Kägi who, while grappling with morphine addiction, let the house deteriorate. With rumors of it being used as an "orgy den, with Kägi picking up local boys and offering them drugs and booze," Kägi was found murdered in the residence. Squatters and vandals later occupied the building though Corbusier's art somehow survived. The Villa is now cared for by the Association Cap Moderne, a non-profit organization that has pledged the long-term maintenance of this Monument Historique. Funding will go toward a "scientific study of the original color scheme, climate control research, a furniture study, and a special scientific analysis of the Le Corbusier murals to inform their future restoration."
Highland Green Foundation Inc. First Presbyterian Church Stamford, Connecticut, U.S. Built: 1958 Architect: Wallace Harrison Funds Awarded: $130,000 Boasting a dazzling interior (seen here in AN's previous coverage of the building) the church is composed of prefabricated triangular panels of precast concrete. The interior is illuminated by an array of more than 20,000 shards of amber, emerald, ruby, amethyst and sapphire stained glass. This colorful method of illumination is part of Harrison's use of dalle de verre windows—a cost-effective technique that allows the glass and concrete to work in unison. Now maintained by the Highland Green Foundation, funds will be used to "survey, document, and study the site, drawing on the input of engineering consultants and material scientists." Instituto Lina Bo e P.M. Bardi Casa de Vidro São Paulo, Brazil Built: 1952 Architect: Lina Bo Bardi Funds Awarded: $195,000 The appropriately named Casa de Vidro (Glass House) residency was built for Bo Bardi and her husband as a private dwelling. The building demonstrates Bo Bardi's ability to execute European modernist styles across the Atlantic and in a drastically different, tropical environment. The building is now in the hands of the Instituto Lina Bo e B.M. Bardi, an organization founded by the architect and her husband to publicize Brazilian culture and arts. According to the Getty Foundation, the grant will allow an "international team of conservation architects, landscape conservation specialists, cultural heritage experts, and civil and structural engineers to develop a conservation management plan for the property. The project will also include a 3D topographic survey of the site that allows engineers to identify potentially harmful structural deformations at the smallest scale, not perceivable to the naked eye." Comisión del Patrimonio Cultural de la Nación Cristo Obrero Church Atlántida, Uruguay Built: 1960 Architect: Eladio Dieste Funds Awarded: $150,000 By its full name, the Cristo Obrero y Nuestra Señora de Lourdes church was the first independent commission for revered Uruguayan architect and engineer Eladio Dieste. With an undulating wave-like brick facade running lengthways on either side of the building, Dieste's subtle articulation of light stems from a series of well-placed windows and bricks that contain colored glass. Dieste's engineering prowess is also showcased inside through a bell tower that features perforated walls and a free-standing minimalist spiral staircase bereft of support column and a handrail. Though under the care of the local community, the Getty's funding will facilitate the supply of a "team of national and international experts" that will carry out a "rigorous study of the church and bell tower" as part of a "comprehensive engineering study and a conservation management plan." ArchiAfrika Accra Children's Library Accra, Ghana Built: 1966 Architects: Nickson and Borys Funds Awarded: $140,000 After Ghana escaped the clutches of colonialism in 1957, Accra quickly became the focal point of West African Modernism, symbolizing the country's liberation. The Children's Library in the Ghanaian capital followed suit. With a brise soleil that acts as a simple but effective shading device, while also allowing natural ventilation of the building, Nickson and Borys' design epitomized a radical political change for the country. Though currently in good shape under the stewardship of the Accra Metropolitan Assembly and the Ghana Library Board, the $140,000 will be used to "ensure that the building is preserved to the highest standards." Here, a team of specialists will "collaboratively research the library complex and develop a conservation plan." The Writers' Union of Armenia Sevan Writers' Resort Lake Sevan, Armenia Built: 1935 & 1965 Architects: Gevorg Kochar & Mikael Mazmanyan Funds Awarded: $130,000 Embodying the utopian ideals of the early Soviet Union, Gevorg Kochar & Mikael Mazmanyan strived to create a functional and egalitarian space derived from abstract forms. Only two years after their writers' retreat's construction, however, the architects fell out of favor with the Stalinist government with both being arrested and exiled to Siberia for 15 years. Returning in the early 1960s, Kochar added a new lounge and rebuilt the existing guest house. Now, the building is still used by native writers as a retreat, though the Getty has acknowledged that many modernist Soviet structures in post-USSR member states are now in danger. The grant will "support the methodical and scientific analysis of the Sevan resort" and aims to "set a precedent for valuing modernist heritage not only in Armenia, but also in other post-Soviet and post-socialist countries." Liverpool Roman Catholic Archdiocesan Trust Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral Liverpool, United Kingdom Built: 1967 Architect: Sir Frederick Gibberd Funds Awarded: $138,000 Working alongside a group of artists, Sir Frederick Gibberd was able to design one of Liverpool's most dominant architectural icons. A soaring lantern tower illuminates the interior through its dalle de verre stained glass, creating a sharp contrast in both tone and vibrancy with the raw white concrete of the exterior. Saddled with internal leaking and defects to the mosaic cladding of the concrete buttresses, repair work began in the 1990s. Funding from the Getty will support an ongoing study into the failure of the dalle de verre in the building's Lantern. It will also be used to "develop and test a conservation repair methodology for the dalle de verre glazed Lantern, which is currently the cause of significant water ingress." Nirmala Bakubhai Foundation Gautam Sarabhai Workshop Building Ahmedabad, India Built: 1977 Architect: Gautam Sarabhai Funds Awarded: $90,000 Drawing inspiration from German engineer and architect Frei Otto, the Gautam Sarabhai Workshop Building employs a steel grid frame coated by a thin-shell Ferro cement roof. This allows the interior—which stretches across 134 feet—to be free from any interfering structural columns. Thanks to the building's light-weight structure, it was able to survive the 7.7 richter-scale earthquake in 2001. To ensure this structural performance is maintained, its owners plan on researching and creating a "comprehensive conservation plan." This will include the development of a Building Information Model (BIM) used to monitor and track the structure's condition, of which the Getty's grant will support. Kosovo's Architecture Foundation National Library of Kosovo Prishtina, Kosovo Built: 1981 Architect: Andrija Mutnjakovic Funds Awarded: $89,000 With the intention of establishing an "authentic national architectural expression," Croatian architect, Andrija Mutnjakovic used translucent acrylic rooftop domes, in-situ cast concrete, marble floors, and white plastered walls to create a distinctly modern library. Featuring forms from the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires to reflect the areas history, materiality was also used in symbolic fashion with an aluminum lattice skin contrived by some as acknowledging the area's two predominant religions. Though the interior was subject to damage during the Kosovo war in 1998-99, the library's exterior remained remarkably unscathed. Now, however, the hallmarks of age such as leaks have begun to settle in. The grant from the Getty will go toward furthering conservation specialists' understanding of the building, where "every aspect" will be studied while consulting Mutnjakovic himself.
The Getty Foundation created Keeping It Modern to complement the Getty Conservation Institute's Conserving Modern Architecture Initiative (CMAI).
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Latin Kings
Eladio Dieste, Iglesia de Cristo Obrero, Atlantida, Uruguay, 1958.
Luis E. Carranza/Courtesy University of Texas Press

Modern Architecture in Latin America: Art, Technology, and Utopia
Luis E. Carranza and Fernando Luiz Lara; foreword by Jorge Francisco Liernur
University of Texas Press, $90

Luis E. Carranza and Fernando Luiz Lara’s book, Modern Architecture in Latin America: Art, Technology, and Utopia, published by the University of Texas, is an ambitious survey covering buildings (and to a lesser extent, the visual arts) across a vast geographic area during the century between 1903 and 2002. Formatted as a textbook with a preference for words over images, this book will likely appeal to the scholar or student rather than to the casual reader. Published at the same time as the Museum of Modern Art’s more graphically appealing exhibition catalogue, Latin America in Construction: Architecture 1955–1980, which seems almost breezy in comparison, it provides an interesting and much more nuanced point of view.

In his thought-provoking foreword, the Argentine historian Jorge Francisco Liernur sets the reader up for the literary, postmodern positions of the authors when he calls into question the very notion of a “Latin American architecture,” stating that the book is rather a pioneering “compendium” (with all the randomness and critical neutrality associated with that concept) of projects that happen to be located in a selected group of 13 countries across North and South America that either speak Spanish or Portuguese. According to him, “the emergence of geographic (or regional) constructions is contradictory to the very notion of modernity within which the idea of universality is implicit.” Liernur’s hope seems to be that the quality of the work will stand on its own and at some point become fully absorbed into the canon of modern architecture, which up to now has only included a scant handful of works in Latin America, usually put down as derivative due to the “North Atlantic hegemony…over the global phenomenon of modernization.”

Left: Luis Barragán, Luis Barragán House, interior, Mexico City, 1947-1948. Right: Ricardo Legorreta, interior courtyard of Hotel Camino Real, Mexico City, 1968.

Carranza and Lara, however, take a position that is not quite as radical as Liernur’s. To them, the region is still important. In their “(Notes Toward an) Introduction,” they discuss a notion of development in the specific way that Latin American countries felt inferior when compared to the USA and Europe in the 20th century. They tried to catch up by attempting to replicate, often through direct importation, their northern neighbor’s methods of modernization, including that of art and architecture. As an alternative to passive copying, Carranza and Lara introduce the provocative term antropofagia (cannibalism), first used by the Brazilian critic Oswald de Andrade in 1928 to describe a dialectical process of ingesting and then regurgitating new ideas with local inflections. They continue by privileging the resulting “hybrid” or “incomplete” works as more radical than they might appear. In these works, received ideas are actively changed and adapted to local circumstances, so much so that eventually they become entirely original and no longer dependent on the parent. This desire to encourage new interpretations lies behind their decision to organize the book chronologically rather than geographically, as opposed to the Museum of Modern Art’s exhibition catalog. According to Carranza and Lara, “the book becomes more ‘genealogical’ and dismantles traditional devices that construct a comprehensive, linear, and coherent view of history…we have acknowledged and accepted the condition of discontinuity of history as a central part of our proposal…the book allows the reader to simultaneously see the development of multiple and parallel historical strands, and, at times, their interconnections and overlaps—to see, in short, the existing pluralities and that the history being presented within is provisional and interminable.”

Candido Portinari, ceramic tile mural, Capela da Pampulha, Belo Horizonte, 1942.
Fernando Lara/Courtesy University of Texas Press

The projects presented are fascinating, and many are not well known in the USA. They demonstrate a richness and depth that goes far beyond such stereotypical works as the Ministry of Education and Brasilia. Despite their rhetorical neutrality, the selections and written descriptions suggest a certain point of view. They generally privilege public works over private, communal housing over commercial projects, abstract over literal, modern and neo-modern over postmodern, and structurally expressive over scenographic. Among the projects that stood out to me were the luxurious, almost-Loosian villa that Julio Vilmajó designed for himself in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1930, and the austere functionalist school buildings designed by Juan O’Gorman in Mexico City in the early 1930s for the Mexican postrevolutionary government. Still others included the regrettably never completed Helicoide in Caracas, Venezuela, begun in 1955, a radical project where a spiral ramp for cars wound around the exterior of a mountain-shaped shopping center, and a group of nearly unknown postmodern buildings, particularly those from Brazil in the early 1980s when the country was still isolated under a military dictatorship.

The book is broken into 108 short chapters arranged by year. Some years have no chapters and some have multiple chapters, which are labeled alphabetically. While some of the chapters discuss one of three named concepts—art, technology, or utopia—others, printed on grayed-out paper, focus on one building or architect. The art, technology, and utopia chapters are further marked by an abbreviation for which country they mostly pertain (AR-Argentina, BR-Brazil, and so on). Most of them conclude with a list of suggestions for further reading. These chapters frequently move on to discussions of events and projects that happen before or after their specific year and in different countries as well. This complicated system of labeling and color coding combined with a discursive text seem better suited to a website where one could more easily navigate, for example, to all the entries for one country or one of the themes.

This analog version, which requires a lot of flipping back and forth and the barrage of not-always-related information, makes things hard for the reader, especially one unfamiliar with the region and the works discussed. This is distracting and takes away from what the authors have to say. One of the benefits of a printed book in the age of websites is the fact that its narrative can be fixed. Unlike a screen of hyperlinks, the bound pages are permanently ordered. The authors would have done well to take advantage of this to provide a more coherent experience for the reader. However, these faults should perhaps be excused on the grounds they are really more akin to the technical glitches and bugs common in the first versions of things. This book is a very good step in deepening academic discussion on the subject of Latin American modernism, but by no means a final word.

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Poetics of Architectureal Developmentalism
Eladio Dieste. Church in Atlantida, Uruguay, 1958.
Leonardo Finotti / Courtesy MoMA

Latin America in Construction: Architecture 1955–1980
Museum of Modern Art
11 West 53rd Street, New York, New York
Through July 2015

Modernity [can] be measured neither exclusively nor principally by the number of industries or machines… what counts is the development of the intellectual and political critique.” —Octavio Paz, 1983

The exhibition is intended to challenge the notion of Latin America as a testing ground for ideas and methods devised in Europe and the United States. It brings to light the radical originality of architecture and urban planning in the vast region during a complex quarter century.” —Barry Bergdoll, Patricio del Real, Carlos Comas, and Pancho Liernur

This opening statement by the curators is a radical statement of advocacy for a new history of modernity. After the quarter-century defined here as “The Age of Developmentalism” we are rapidly changing our views about the automobile and the city and are speculating on the future of the sprawling network of urbanization both in North and South America. The exhibition is laid out in the form of a modern space without a single axial view that can instantly give us the entire picture. Instead, we encounter the instruments of architecture: drawings, models, photographs, and film. All are seen through the lens of development by way of more than 500 works gathered from Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, Peru, Colombia, Venezuela, Mexico, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, and Puerto Rico.

To paraphrase the four curators, a complex historical process was taking place within the varied geographies, nation states, and political ideologies of this vast region. The opening and closing rooms of the exhibition elegantly frame this historical process. In the opening room, we see President Kennedy in Caracas inaugurating with active diplomacy the U.S.’s “Good Neighbor Policy.” The Cold War achieved the re-establishment of democratic rule in Venezuela and at the same time the establishment of dictatorial rule in Cuba. Also greeting us on these introductory screens we see works of the first generation of architects that pre-date the timeframe of the show. Among the highlights are the exquisite construction documents of Amancio Williams House over a Stream; the sketches and perspective views of Juan O’ Gorman’s School of Industrias Tecnicas of 1932, published in Architectural Record’s special 1937 issue on Mexico; and Luis Barragan’s colorful sketch of an Islamic influenced fountain.

Juan Sordo Madaleno. Edificio Palmas 555, Mexico City, Mexico, 1975.
Guillermo Zamora / Courtesy MoMA

The exhibition goes beyond the normal clichés of “paymasters in Washington and Moscow” and argues for the role of architecture in modernizing all the nations of the Americas. In all fairness, I must disclose that I was a member of the large advisory committee for the exhibition. Our first visit to Caracas included a zealous guard threatening to arrest us on spying charges while we were looking at the beautiful wood models of Tomas Sanabria’s Banco Central de Venezuela (1962–75). This extraordinary building was probably omitted from the show because of the difficulty in dealing with Venezuela and Cuba at the moment.

And so, after a long hiatus, MoMA has produced a show of fundamental interest both to artists and architects who believe in the discipline of architecture as an intellectual and artistic pursuit fundamentally engaged with the notion of improving society at large. To tell this complex story, approximately 500 original works are on display, some of which are being exhibited for the first time anywhere. I was delighted with the vicarious pleasure of seeing original documents, such as Lucio Costa’s faded, typewritten sheets of 8½-by-11 paper, illustrated by incisive miniature hand drawings. This was the competition entry that won and thus created—in a few years—the most famous new capital city of the 20th century. Very few cities of the age were planned and built from scratch, and diplomats and pundits alike immediately declared the capital city of Brasilia a failure. Peter Mattheissen wrote in The Cloud Forest: A Chronicle of the South American Wilderness (1961) that when he arrived at the construction site of the unfinished Brasilia in 1960, notwithstanding his naturalist bias against all cities, “Brasilia is less inspired than pretentious, a brave new city cunningly disguised as a World’s Fair.”

The focus on the urban legacy of Latin America is brought to life in the synchronized film clips of six rapidly growing cities: Havana, Caracas, Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paolo, Buenos Aires, and Mexico City. Among my favorite destinations in the exhibition is the wonderful mise en scene of the architect in his house: Henry Klumb standing before his home in Puerto Rico, and Jimmy Alcock posing in front of his pyramidal concrete and steel “tree-house” overlooking Caracas. The CVG building by Jesús Tenreiro Degwitz is a beautiful and innovative use of steel and brick that reminds us of how this particular building aspired to be the foundation for a new society in the last of the large-scale urban experiments of the 20th century: Ciudad Guayana on the Orinoco River in Venezuela.

The exhibition is not organized chronologically, by nation, or by building type and does not deify any stylistic classification of the “experimental architecture” of Latin America. Instead we find new paradigms of public space, new institutions, and a new cityscape mostly built by public works of governments who believed in architecture as a means to solve urgent problems of infrastructure or housing, and who recognized the propagandistic value of a radical architecture in establishing the identity of a new national ideal. Anchored to a place and time of origin, the original documents provide another layer of aesthetic pleasure that tells us a history including multiple sub-plots framed by the central idea of “Desarrollismo.”

To experience an exhibition framed in this way, we are stimulated to make multiple and sometimes contradictory readings. To experience a mix of projects from different countries that are exhibited adjacent to each other offers a cross-reading that allows us to see each project differently. If Modernity was a European invention that some historians claim began in the 18th century, then this period of post-war ideas about development in Latin America provides for a critical reading of the construction of modernity as a whole—as an emancipatory project that was doomed to fail. In the last room, entitled “Utopias,” we see drawings that begin a systematic critique of “modern” architecture from the point of view of the inhabitant rather than the state sponsored architect. In 1980 we came to the end of the optimism inherent in the idea of progress—a moment when a systematic critique arose about the validity of governance reliant on a state-sponsored ideology of “developmentalism.”

That post-war period, which was characterized by a belief in progress, is today confronted with a very different world-view. The chimera of “sustainable development,” supposedly in harmonious interaction with nature, is a deceptive one when viewed from the point of view of “under-developed” nations. Could this ideology be replaced with a new strategy to shrink humanity’s footprint by using nature and urban centers more efficiently?

The magnitude of the problems ahead is only hinted at in the Utopias room. For those of us who believe in the redemptive value of the architecture of the city, this extraordinary anthology of architecture should be seen as a springboard toward the renewed relevance of a socially committed architecture.

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Latin America in Construction
Lucio Costa and Oscar Niemeyer, Plaza of the Three Powers, Brasilia, Brazil.
Courtesy MoMA

An exhibition at MoMA, Latin America in Construction: Architecture 1955–1980, closing on July 19, looks at the period when the euphoria and utopianism associated with the modern movement gave way to a more critical view of architecture’s promises and limitations in this rapidly urbanizing region.

Rogelio Salmona and Hernan Vieco, Social Housing Complex, Bogota, Columbia (left). Alfonso Eduardo Reidy, Museum of Modern Art of Rio de Janeiro (right).

Moving beyond the tabula rasa approach of Brasilia and Oscar Niemeyer’s spectacular individualistic expressions, architects in the period began to offer alternatives, including “those who subtly resisted the demands of a dictatorship” or “those who found modernism could marry handiwork with new technologies, even in traditional materials,” according to co-curator Barry Bergdoll’s catalogue essay.

Emilio Duhart, The United Nations Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean, Santiago, Chile.

The topic might sound dry, but thankfully the architecture is thrilling, and reflects a growing interest and reexamination of the region (especially the recent focus on the Sao Paulo–based school, including Lina Bo Bardi and Paulo Mendes da Rocha).

Eladio Dieste, Church in Atlantida, Uruguay (left). Clorindo Testa, Bank of London and South America, Buenos Aires, Argentina (right).

The exhibition also examines the tension between the persistence of the International Style in the region along with the growing influence of Brutalism and more deeply rooted architectural forms.

Though the exhibition covers a 25-year period ending more than 30 years ago, its thoughtful emphasis on architecture as an urban form-maker, as a process, as struggle, as identity “in construction,” makes it a must-see this spring.