touch it." So, it can't take on new uses. If it doesn't take on new uses, or if it doesn't have the super value of being a museum, it's something that remains in a kind of limbo where it can't be renovated or take on new uses, but it can't be thrown away either. Obviously, the nice thing is that when you work with something that already exists and that really has heritage value, there are organizations dedicated to protecting it, which set the rules of the game, so you also have to take them into account. However, I prefer to approach what already exists in its physical dimension and think about how to prolong its continuity of life in terms of use, rather than in terms of protecting an object in its dimension of historical value and heritage beauty. José R How does this translate into a project when you combine the energies of the territory with those of the site, as well as the energies of the author, the clients, and the inhabitants? How does this capitalization of synergy occur? P R In a way, you have to become a snake charmer. We have clients, and most of our work is in the private sector. Often, there is a pre-existing structure, and the client thinks it needs to be demolished. So, how do you convey that, in terms of use, finance, urban planning, sustainability, and common sense, reuse is more appropriate than replacement? On the other hand, there is a working method. When you work with what already exists, you have to survey it, get to know it; you have to understand how it performs structurally, because we don't just leave what already exists as it is. Sometimes there are quite radical transformations. But it is always a case-by-case basis in relation to the pre-existing structure with which you have to work with. B R For example? P R When we work in central areas, in what we call “standard houses”—in Argentina, “chorizo houses”, which are houses that occupy an entire lot in depth, organized around a courtyard—we see that, since they have rooms that are four meters high, they often build mezzanines to gain square meters. However, in doing so, they lose cubic meters, the air that these structures offer. On the contrary, we are very careful to understand that the work is not only planimetric, but that the architecture of the past, which precedes us, was very generous in its cubic meters, and we try to be very careful with air, which is an attribute that today, with the actual regulations, is like a very scarce commodity. Consider that for housing in Uruguay, the minimum measurement is 2.40 meters. In Buenos Aires, it is 2.60 meters. B R Your projects are also characterized by their contribution to the city. Do you have any projects that clearly reflect this? P R In the Parque Rodó neighborhood of Montevideo, we were tasked with our first project, which involved radio stations, and we integrated a small restaurant and a theater with a fairly public vocation in terms of their relationship with the street. There is a space that brings the street inside the building, so it behaves like a public space, but it is private. It was a very successful operation, so much so that the developers began to buy the adjacent lots. Since it was unique, we realized that future projects would begin to emerge, and we didn't know how far they would go or how many lots they would buy. So we looked at a project that I learned about as a student, which is the Hillside Terrace in Tokyo, by Fumihiko Maki. Beyond the stylistic changes, the relationships between the different pieces, that followed one another over three decades, were what gave meaning to the entire operation. To maintain a domestic scale, we began to work with small interventions, but creating a circuit of pedestrian passageways that enter on one side and exit on the other, providing cohesion and introducing a different scale and a kind of open-air gal- lery that enters and exits. Beyond the pieces, which maintain a certain domestic scale in their differences, the project's argument is the void that organizes and gives cohesion to the pieces we build.
mansion of Don Félix Díaz in the 1940s,” enjoying an “unparalleled view of the Castro seaport”. ⁷ Unlike the Ancud project, here the strategy was urban and compact. The medium-scale building took advantage of a modification in the building code to set it back 18 meters towards the Castro Fjord. This decision allowed the urban context to be respected by presenting a limited scale towards the street and distancing itself from it, while at the same time overlooking the slope, taking advantage of the difference in level to develop the public areas. These spaces, with spectacular double heights and unobstructed views, are defined by the warmth of their materials, with wood cladding on ceilings, walls, and noble lingue floors. The main space is organized around the staircase, flanked symmetrically by two imposing fireplaces that accen- tuate the cozy character of the room and heat the bar and living room areas. The reinforced concrete structure, arranged in a regular grid pattern, concentrates the loads on the perimeter, completely freeing up the central space. This open-plan configuration allows the staircase to become the backbone connecting the public area with the three bedroom levels. Its route is framed by a large glass opening that cuts vertically through the building, offering impressive views of the city and the fjord. In the same way that the orientation of the program rotates between public and private spaces, rainwater descends the imposing gabled roof of larch shingles and is captured by two large concrete gutters that run along its lower edges, elegantly draining it into similar but perpendicular elements that finally pour it onto the ground in the form of two symmet- rical waterfalls towards the fjord. Conclusion Driven by the new era of connectivity ushered in by the Pan-American Highway and the ferry, the projects in Ancud and Castro embody a remarkable dual strategy. They do not represent a contradiction, but rather two coherent architectural responses to the same challenge: how to be modern in a specific location, now accessible to mass tourism? By expanding the Ancud Inn and concentrating on the one in Castro, Duhart not only resolves a hotel program, but also materializes the encounter between the abstraction of modernity and Chilote culture, in a profound dialogue catalyzed by the new infrastructure. More than buildings, they are the final destination of the journey, places to meet between a vision of a connected country and an ancestral landscape, a legacy that today invites us to reflect on the ability of architecture to build identity in the tension between the universal and the vernacular. !
In my academic role, I have conducted more than a little research on certain architects and moments in Uruguay that interest me. For exam- ple, I am very interested in the production of social housing complexes that took place within the framework of Uruguay's Cooperative Center (CCU) in the early 1970s because, on the one hand, there is a way of ap- proaching social housing in terms of disciplinary and political thinking. On the other hand, I find these projects wonderful from an architectural point of view. In addition, there is a perspective on the public´s role, the state, and the architect in relation to the city; a certain social commitment that implies a very strong ethical discipline. What is beautiful about the city as an artifact is that it forces us to live together in large numbers. It either integrates us or segregates us. Y R In Santiago, we have built a segregated city. P R I did my master's degree at Universidad Católica in Chile when José Rosas was dean of the school. Those were wonderful times. I remember academics would come and talk about downtown Santiago, Alameda Avenue, and historical processes... They painted a picture of a marvelous Santiago, with its island hills, among many other things. However, little was said about the people who move there and become an integral part of a city that, unfortunately, has experienced significant segregation. It is a complex issue. There is a very nice phrase that I always use: Are we citizens or are we consumers? If we are citizens, we are all citizens, regardless of our different characteristics. If we are consumers, we are evaluated in relation to our income level. They profile you and know what you can pay. You have to develop a critical eye, position yourself, see reality, and try to intervene in it. Whether in architecture, teaching, or when we have to write an essay or in a more expository setting, we always try to show a critical perspective that asks questions. Above all, from an architectural perspective, considering that we work in the city. The city is a place that we must embrace, adorn, and relate to. If that is not within the possibilities of what we are going to do as architects, we prefer not to intervene. Y R How do you handle that with the projects you have been involved in? How do you establish a dialogue with what already exists in the city? P R When you work in the city, beyond the autonomy of your project, you have to understand that you are part of a larger structure, and recognize it. The city is the theater of urban life. If I have a modest home, but I walk out my door and the sidewalk is well maintained, there is a tree-lined street, a pleasant environment, and a nice plaza, I have access to a place that is very different from if I open the door and there is a bare patch of dirt in front of my door. That framework is fundamental. So, in that relationship with what already exists, I move away from a more patrimonialist idea, beyond the fact that there are assets that have historical character or values to be protected. I am more interested in the dimension of how one relates to what already exists; the fact that there is a lot of work to be done before one is going to do it. When one builds a wall, there is energy, work that is already there. When you demolish it, while all that garbage and rubble is being creat- ed, the work previously carried out is wasted. There is a very beautiful concept that Aldo Rossi uses, which he takes from Max Planck, and mentions at the beginning of his book, Scientific Autobiography. He speaks about the principle of energy continuity; how one can provide continuity, prolong life, when working on existing structures. I think this is something very necessary. Bárbara R Do you value the history behind that structure above all else? P R It goes beyond that. When you begin to understand pre-existing elements not in terms of their heritage value or beauty, but in terms of their physical dimension, you free yourself from a certain weight of history and understand the continuity of what is in terms of life. Because often what happens with heritage is that "we must protect it. You can't
Just five minutes of conversation with renowned Uruguayan architect Pedro Livni is enough to sense his affinity for Chile, its cities, architecture, and especially its people. He has close friends in Santiago and mentions them frequently during the interview, including Rodrigo Pérez de Arce, José Rosas, and Smiljian Radic, for whom he feels not only affection but also great admiration. “I can even describe Chilean earthquakes accurately, as I was in Santiago for the one in 2010,” says this architect, known in Uruguay as the most Chilean of Uruguayan architects, with a smile. “Since it was my first earthquake, I didn’t know if it was a very strong one or not. Later, I realized it had been a catastrophe,” he says. At 51 years of age, he has had a prolific career, and his work has been recognized nationally and internationally. He graduated as an architect from the Universidad de la República in Montevideo in 2002 and formed his own firm, livni+ that same year. He then came to Chile to study for a Master's Degree in Project Design at the Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile (MARQ), obtaining his degree in 2011. Since then, he has stood out for his remarkable architectural projects, his university classes preparing next-generation architects, and for his awards, such as those received for work at the Miami International Architecture Biennial (2005), the Quito International Architecture Biennial (2006), and the Argentine Architecture Biennial (2018). Furthermore, he was selected for the Mies Crown Hall Americas Prize (MCHAP) in 2016, 2022, and 2024. Since 2021, he has created and directed the exhibition space 8 1/2. In addition, in 2012 he was selected as curator of the Uruguayan pavilion for the 13th Venice Architecture Biennale. If we were to define, in part, his hallmark as an architect, what those who have studied his work highlight most is that his projects are charac- terized by being small- and medium-scale commissions, often involving the restoration and repurposing of certain buildings. However, they always have a significant impact on their surroundings. The son of two architects, he acknowledges that “I was destined to study architecture. My father was a highly distinguished architect, a professor at the university, and president of the Heritage Commission. He also had a very important and distinguished practice in urban design, planning, and land use,” he adds. Yves R How did your father's public vocation influence your development as an architect? Pedro R My house was a place that attracted a whole generation of brilliant architects who trained in the 1960s. You soaked up all of that. I remember visiting construction sites for these mutual aid cooperatives and some social housing complexes where my father worked in the 1970s.
INTERNATIONAL INTERVIEW
Pedro Livni
“I am interested in the dimension of how one relates to what exists.”
After giving two interesting talks at Universidad Católica in April this year—“Cooperative Social Housing…” and “The city, the space between things”—we had the opportunity to speak at length with this Uruguayan architect about a wide range of topics. He placed particular emphasis on the value of cities as meeting points, the relationship between the old and the new, and the visual arts as pillars of architecture. At the time of going to press, he was about to visit Chile to present his house for the new Ochoalcubo develop- ment in José Ignacio, Uruguay. A tremendous challenge that will undoubtedly be the talk of the town.
By: Yves Besançon y José Rosas. Edited by: Bárbara Vicuña
7 Rodolfo Urbina Burgos, “Castro, Castreños y Chilotes 1960-1990”, Valparaíso: Ediciones Universitarias de Valparaíso de la Universidad Católica de Valparaíso, (1996), 143.
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