On the outskirts of some of the world’s largest cities exists an informal way of life. It’s unlike any other. To most, these spaces are defined as slums, shantytowns, or favelas. The list of stigmatized words associated with these settlements is never ending. Regardless of their delineation, the sheer mention of their existence conjures up an endless sea of negative associations—rampant crime, dismal infrastructure, impoverished communities, filth, and a severe lack of education. Yet the reality is not as simple as all that. While our assumptions are not wholly dishonest, they are wildly deceptive.

Heliopolis, the largest favela in Sao Paulo, grew out of a need for proximity to the amenities that the city had to offer. When this informal settlement was first established in the 1940s, the demand for it was low, thus the population was much smaller and much more spread out than it is today. Over time, as Sao Paulo expanded so did the desire to be situated within its reach. But housing within the urban area was not affordable to a large number of low-income residents. So they settled down on un-owned and non-delineated land areas, like Heliopolis. Today, the densely lined streets of this three-quarter square-mile favela, is home to roughly 100,000 inhabitants.

When we first see Heliopolis, all of the stereotypes we could imagine about an informal settlement are at play—the tin roofs are rusting, the streets are sprawling and unorganized, brick buildings are crumbling, and crime is rampant. There is no denying that these characteristics are a reality. What surprises us, however, is that an average home within the perimeter of Heliopolis costs $100,000 USD. As a matter of fact, one of the most prestigious hospitals in Sao Paulo sits along the edge of Heliopolis. Read more…

Mineirao sketch by Bruno Campos

Superbowl might attract North America’s largest TV audience, but the biggest sporting event is still World Cup Soccer. Like the Olympics, they happen only every four years, and involve massive logistics. What does this mean to the hosting countries? There’s no time to waste in getting the venues ready. This is just what’s happening in Brazil, the country hosting the 2014 World Cup. An exhibit in New York,  “Brazil + 2014: Sustainable Stadiums,” shows that Brazilians are hard at work to build spectacular buildings that are also sustainable.

Brazil and soccer are inextricably linked. The country can boast of being the home to legendary players and winning an unparalleled five championships. Now it will, once more, try to make history by making 2014 the greenest, most sustainable World Cup ever. To that end, the architects of the stadiums are putting forth their best creative efforts to make their buildings as functional and iconic as they will be eco-friendly.

Mineirao field and bleechers view, rendering courtesy BCMF Arquietos

Scattered throughout the country, in 12 cities, the stadiums are a mixture of new structures and comprehensive renovations of existing ones. One thing connects them all: the push to make sustainability taken to its highest standard, from traffic logistics to the smart use of water. All strive to deliver buildings that are in keeping with the country’s strong architecture heritage. Incidentally, among the well-known projects in the show, the Mineirao Stadium, is a renovation of a stadium adjacent to Oscar Niemeyer’s  early seminal project, the Pampulha Complex in the city of Belo Horizonte.

Mineirao birds-eye view rendering, courtesy BCMF Arquietos

The Mineirao, as it’s known, is a Brutalist structure designed in 1945 by Eduardo Mendes Guimaraes. The building is now protected as a historic landmark, thus its main shell cannot be altered. How, then, to make the massive concrete structure useful beyond the sporting events?

Mineirao plaza rendering, courtesy BCMF Arquietos

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The Campana brothers, Fernando and Humberto, are without a doubt two of the most prominent Brazilian designers out there. Until February 24^th, much of their work will be on display in North America as part of the traveling exhibition Antibodies: The Works of Fernando and Humberto Campana, at the Palm Springs Art Museum in southern California. The career-spanning show (provided by the Vitra Design Museum in Weil am Rhein, Germany) includes many of the brothers’ best known pieces, along with prototypes, artwork, interviews and other related material.

The Campanas’ Favela Chair, inspired by the favelas of their native Sao Paulo. Courtesy Edra.

The brothers have spent thirty years experimenting with designs that embody the colorful character of their home country. Their style of creating is best exemplified by their trademark use of found materials, which deliberately focuses on the possibilities of each material, only considering form and function secondarily.

The Sushi Chair. Courtesy Edra.

The 2010 book Campana Brothers: Complete Works (So Far) is another career-spanning collection of their work, and provides in one volume the most comprehensive look at this eccentric body of work available. Both collections prove that the most striking examples of the Campanas’ design were created through an improvisational approach to design. This has allowed them to experiment with and reinterpret the use of materials during the construction of each project. One notable creation, the sushi chair, began as an exploration of the use of upholstery. It is made out of discarded scraps of fabric, foam and carpet, which have been bundled together to form a seat, the beauty of the design originating in the chaos of its provenience.

Campana Brothers: Complete Works (So Far) book cover. Courtesy betterworldbooks.com. Read more…

Parking structure, Roosevelt Island, New York

Do you ever wonder how another person does what you love doing? As a photographer, trained in architecture, I do. So when I get a chance to talk to a person who’s as turned on by cities, structures, and details, I grab the first chance I get a conversation going.  Meeting fellow photographer Heike Buelau, known for expressing herself through capturing the poetic aspect of our constructed environment, was like meeting a kindred spirit. As I was to find out, we share some aesthetic sensibilities, but how she arrives at her vision is completely her own.

Jean Nouvel, Chelsea condo tower, New York

With training in classical operatic singing, the German born Heike brings a sound/musical sensibility to her photography, framing every shot she takes, brining to the appreciation of the city and buildings a special flair. Used to the language of rhythmic tempo, the pauses, the piano forte, the crescendos, Buelau visually re-interprets the city as if composing a piece for chamber music: gentle, subtle, every note essential, regardless of how simple.

In a temporary hiatus from the U.S., with her a new show opening in Torino, Italy—as she was preparing the imagery she created while exploring new horizons, sights, cityscapes in the Far East, from Dubai to Abu Dabi and Kuwait—I caught up with Heike and asked her to elaborate on her views on architecture, art, and the Dubai urbanscape.

Smith Gill Architects, Burj Khalifa Tower, Dubai

Paul Clemence: What catches your eyes as you navigate the city?

Heike Buelau: Detail, small, hidden, largely undetected detail.

PC: You talk about silence a lot, how you value it….Amidst the urban chaos, how do you find it?

HB: This question ties beautifully into the first. To me a moment of silence is a moment in which I get to experience a pause from the constant influx of imagery and information in daily life, which generally sets off a never ending and unwanted noise in my mind. I have come to find that pause, that silence more and more in the detail of things and structures. The more I close in on the finest feature of a particular building, for example, the more I get drawn into its absolute beauty. Subsequently this results in that magical moment of silence. A moment of having discovered something in which all else gets shut out. All that exists to me at that point is the creative genius of the architect and my very own response to it.

Asymptote ,  project, Yas Hotel Abu Dhabi

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Like any megalopolis, Sao Paulo is a plethora of experiences at once fascinating and dizzying. Take a simple walk or drive and the city comes at you at a frantic pace, synched to an ever-growing volume of traffic and speed. The contrasts are closely juxtaposed, like an impossible surrealistic collage. From humble to ostentatious, jammed streets, popular dwellings next t neo-kitsch condo towers, favelas and Niemeyer, a Calatrava-esque cable bridge over one of the most polluted rivers, a constantly hovering helicopter flotilla, Mendes da Rocha classics here and there, and graffiti art everywhere. And so it goes in a city that never ends.

If you are there with an agenda, the city absorbs you even more as the time pressure is added to finding routes to get to your appointed destination. Anything can happen.

That was the case for me this past summer while I was installing my solo show for BoomSPdesign, covering the conference, and simultaneously attending DesignWeekend, even as I was looking for new subjects to photograph. I was all over the place, crisscrossing the city non-stop, going in every direction, literally. By the fourth day I was ready hide and sleep in. But the opportunity to go on a DesignWeekend tour of private interiors by the Campana Brothers seemed like a must.

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As an architecture student at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro, I was a bit put off by the cult of Oscar Niemeyer in Brazil. While I knew how talented and what a visionary he was, I found it upsetting that every new project of any significance was automatically assigned to the “living legend”. There was at the time, and still is, a practice by politicians that goes like this: whenever a public project is in need of exposure or dealing with a controversial proposal, they would attach Niemeyer’s name to, in order to avoid debate and discord. Who could, after all, argue with a “genius” creation? Without a doubt, most often than not, the Niemeyer creations were, indeed, genius. But what about the abundance talented architects prevented from even proposing their own visions?

It took some time for me to separate the circumstances in which Niemeyer’s talents where applied from his designs, career, and humanity and thus fully appreciate what he was all about. Like my fellow student, now architect and entrepreneur Henrique Thoni, said to me when discussing Niemeyer’s legacy, “Many can question his design, his social, and political beliefs. But drawing a curve is a challenge that only a few dare to face. He chose this path. Moreover, he did it when the straight line was the rule.” Read more…

Though this post was originally set to address the exterior enclosures of mid-century modern buildings, we thought it important, instead, to reflect on the recent death of modernist master Oscar Niemeyer and what might have been.

Niemeyer’s passing serves as yet another benchmark in the passing of the mid-century modern movement into our distant memory. Generally speaking, North American architects are not very familiar with the Brazilian architect’s work. Many would be unable to conjure up mental imagery of it, beyond his government buildings at Brasilia, United Nations collaboration, and perhaps a residence or two. During Niemeyer’s prime, these architects were, as they largely remain today, primarily Eurocentric in their focus.

In mid-century America, Le Corbusier, Walter Gropius, and Mies van der Rohe were chiefly regarded as the “true” masters of the modern movement. Even in more recent history, we’ve paid little attention to the legacy of Niemeyer and his colleagues to the south such as Alfonso Reidy and Lina Bo Bardi in Brasil, Carlos Raúl Villanueva in Venezuela, and the Mexican masters Juan O’Gorman, Luis Barragan, and Felix Candela. We seem to know of them, but not much about them. All of this this might have been very different if Harvard GSD had followed through with its intention to select Niemeyer as its dean when it had the chance.

Carlos Raul Villanueva. Covered plaza, University of Caracas, 1952-1953. Photographer unknown. Printed in do.co.mo.mo, Journal 42 – Summer 2010.

Alfonso Eduardo Reidy. Primary school and gymnasium, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 1948-1950. Printed in Latin American Architecture Since 1945, Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1955.

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Photos by Paul Clemence.

From Phoenician caryatids to Richard Serra’s assemblies, architecture and sculpture share a single, twined history. Now, British artist Antony Gormley — winner of the 1994 Turner Prize — has created a series of urban installations that throw an unnerving and beautiful light on a long and complicated relationship. Called “Event Horizon,” the series has migrated from London (2007) and Manhattan (2010) to Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo (2012) and now on to Brasilia (through January, 2013).  Along the way, it has stunned tens of thousands of city dwellers into more acute and conscious contact with their built environments.

“‘Event Horizon’ hopes to activate the skyline in order to encourage people to look around,” Gormley himself has written. “In this process of looking and finding, or looking and seeking, one perhaps re-assesses one’s own position in the world and becomes aware of one’s status of embedment.”

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Concrete, edited by William Hall with an essay by Leonard Karen, $49.95 US/CAN, Phaidon March 2013, www.phaidon.com

When I encounter a book dust jacket that’s textured to the touch I usually assume that it’s a willful distraction from the contents within; not so with Phaidon’s Concrete. Its striated cover perfectly evokes its complex subject.  Concrete, despite its historical roles from the Roman Pantheon to Fallingwater,  is a much-unloved material, rough to the touch and to the popular imagination.  Both the volume’s introduction and essay make immediate acknowledgement of its unpopularity. William Hall writes:

“Despite its range and ubiquity, many people associate concrete with rain-stained social housing, or banal industrial buildings,” writes William Hall. “Detractors of concrete cite such tired monoliths, and point out the failure of the material. Its economy and speed of production have inevitably led to its use on buildings of poor quality – frequently compounded by substandard design and inadequate maintenance. But concrete cannot be held responsible for all the failures of concrete buildings. For too long negative associations have dominated the public perception of concrete.”

A turn to the first photo in volume can do wonders to allay this perception, with a gently undulating concrete bridge complementing a rocky Austrian river view. Concrete need not be forbidding! And look, there’s the Guggenheim on the next page. Who doesn’t like that?

Concrete is something of a constructive wonder. This slurry of mineral and water is adaptable into almost any number of shapes and frames. The fact that most of these shapes haven’t been particularly imaginative is no fault of concrete itself; no more than wheat is to blame for Wonder Bread.

“Iron in combination with concrete, reinforced concrete, is the building material of the new will to form,” wrote Erich Mendelsohn in 1914. “Its structural strength capable of being loaded almost equally with stress and compression will give rise to a new, specific logic in the laws of statics, logic of form, of harmony, of implicitness.”

Subsequent failures are of imagination, not of material.

Niterói Contemporary Art Museum, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 1996, Oscar Niemeyer, page 123, photo courtesy of Leonardo Finotti
This 50 m (164 ft) wide flying saucer, perched on the edge of a cliff, was designed when Niemeyer was 89 years old. A wide winding slope connects visitors to the entrance 10 m (33 ft) above the ground.

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Boomspdesign Q&A/debate session with ( left to right): Mekal’s Chritian Kadow, architects Rodrigo Loeb and Rodrigo Ohtake, Luminaire’s principal Nasir Kassamali, architect Marcelo Faisal and event’s organizer Beto Cocenza.

The everyday practice of design can be an isolated activity, with most communication limited to the parties involved in the projects we work on. And these days most of this communication tends to be via some bland electronic means. So, in order to keep design current and relevant, we need to stay tuned to what’s going on outside our immediate circle, personal or electronic. We find these learning opportunities in conversations, such as the real time dialogs I experienced recently in Sao Paulo.

Love & Art Children’s Foundation sculpture “Reach” ( by Dror Benshetrit) at the grounds of Museu Brasileiro da Escultura ( Brazilian Museum of Sculpture)

Each year the creative forum, BoomSPdesign 2012, brings together a diverse cast of multi-disciplinary guests, speakers, and attendees in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Throughout three full days and with a packed schedule (that usually extended to late nights) the event reminded me of a summer camp, with participants seeing each other often and having plenty of opportunities to talk shop. At lectures, coffee breaks, luncheons, we engaged in casual, yet insightful, dialogues with one another. For instance, Andy Klemmer from Paratus Group spoke of his role in the construction of the Guggeneheim Bilbao, Cyril  Zammit held forth on his DesignDubai fair genesis and development and then afterwards  exchanged ideas over “cafezinhos” (Brazilian version of espresso) on the challenges of showcasing design and art. Read more…