LIGA 21: Anna Juni, Enk Te Winkel, Gustavo Delonero (Vão) + Marina Canhadas (Bra). Subsolanus
Photography: Luis Gallardo
“Diadorim lifted his arm and waved. I wanted to catch up quickly, and tried to spur my horse into a half-gallop, but just then he got other ideas: he jumped and shied to the left side of the road, and I came near falling off. What had startled him was a dry flying leaf carried by the wind that was whirling around us that had lodged against his eye and ear. Swirling eddies—you know, winds fighting. When one meets another and they whirl together, it is a crazy sight. The dust rises high, in a dark cloud full of flying leaves and broken twigs, with whistling sounds, spinning and jumping like a top. Diadorim and Caçanje had stopped, waiting for me to catch up. “The dust devil!” said Caçanje, cursing. “There is a cross wind blowing from the direction of the ocean,” said Diadorím. But Caçanje would not have it that way: the whirlwind was his, the devil’s. The devil was there, he travelled inside it. I started laughing. What I thought was: “The devil in the street, in the middle of the whirlwind.” I think the most terrible time in my life is summed up in those words, which you must never repeat. But, bear with me. We’ll get to it. Even Caçanje and Diadorim laughed, too. Then we got going.”
Joao Guimaraes Rosa, The Devil to Pay in the Backlands, 1956
“Perhaps it won’t work…” was one of so many phrases said with regard to the wind that accompanied our conversations. But what exactly would “work”? Between attempts to understand what moved us—in the end it is a question of the wind, and the wind sets things in motion, as Mexicans should well know —and explanations of the mechanism under construction, I let myself be carried away.
What intrigued me from the outset was the desire to build a device to suck in the air of the prevailing winds from the roof terrace, and to channel it down to the small gallery space, which will be traversed by the winds that blow freely at the top of the building. The empty gallery will be filled by air in movement.
In order to touch the intangible aspects of the world, in this case the coming and going of the wind, it is necessary to shape what is tangible. This gives rise to one of the characteristics of the architectural profession that most interest me: by dealing with materials we deal with human landscapes and natural phenomena. Not just to determine uses or as mere shelters to protect us from the elements, but also to enjoy the variety with which people and phenomena animate our experience. In case the wind changes… as sailors know so well: for good, when it fills the sails and carries them out of the doldrums; or for ill, when it whips up the sea into tempestuous waves.
Our encounters were animated too by the presentation of graphs that showed the prevailing winds and determined the best position for the funnel mouth to be placed; by reports of technical meetings and the challenge of traversing the vertical space between ground level and the roof terrace with only two possible support points; and by the research into the most suitable material to ensure that the “tube” functions as a membrane: all matters relating to architecture as we understand it every day in the studio. When it comes down to it, technical ability is required—ingenious technical ability. There is no shortage of ingenuity here.
The more they get tied up in working out the tower that will carry the mass of air, and the more focused they are on the device’s mechanism, the more the architects seem ready to leap like the Saci, the ingenious and mischievous boy who lives in wind eddies and protects the wisdom of the wood. They work with good humor on the construction that will enable this apparent piece of mischief to be carried out with precision, so that in the end the building effort becomes more than mere utility.
They act with the spirit of good sailors who prefer to navigate the seas with the rhythm and wisdom of those who know how to catch the good winds and enjoy their territories. They remain apart from the perturbations of those who prefer to impose engines on the winds and the tides, and remote from those accustomed to the appearance of certainty. They don’t hide behind efficient simulations, but here prefer to act on the basis of the delicate balance between the possible efficiency and the uncertain poetry of someone seeking to reinvent a site with a rigorous construction. The installation will make of each day in the room a day, transforming the stable container into a restless landscape.
Anna, Enk, Gustavo, and Marina make architecture a territory of pure imagination, formed of the most arduous construction. They produce a laudable combination between knowledge and desire, turning technical achievement into poetry. The membrane of the external tower is not an end in itself, but is rather a device that serves to conduct all the variety of the wind’s humors: one day a fresh, rejuvenating breeze; the next, gusts of wind that circle and toy with each other, recalling windstorms and powerful tornadoes. Bring on the great swirling winds!
LIGA 21: Anna Juni, Enk Te Winkel, Gustavo Delonero (Vão) + Marina Canhadas (Bra)
