Alvaro Siza
Pritzker Architecture Prize Laureate
1992
Contents of this Page:
Thoughts on the Work of
Alvaro Siza
by
Vittorio Gregotti, Architect,
Professor of Architecture, University of Venice, Italy
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...about Alvaro Siza
1992 Laureate
"Every design," says Siza, "is a rigorous attempt at capturing a concrete
moment of a transitory image in all its nuances. The extent to which this
transitory quality is captured comes through in the designs which will
be more or less clear: the more precise they are, the more vulnerable."
While working on a sizable office building design for Porto, Siza discounted
any possibility of blending the new building by imitating its surroundings.
The area was too important since it was between the historic center of
the city and a bridge that has great significance because it was built
by Eiffel in 1866.
He explained, "We have gone beyond the stage whereby unity of language
was believed to be the universal solution for architectural problems. Recognizing
that complexity is the nature of the city, transformational movements take
on very different forms."
Siza, whose full name is Alvaro Joaquim de Meio Siza Vieira, was born on
June 25, 1933 in the small coastal town of Matosinhos in the mountainous
north of Portugal, a country where it is said that every summit has the
Atlantic Ocean as the horizon. Matosinhos is near Porto, an important seaport
built on the site of an ancient Roman settlement Portus Cole from which
the name Portugal was derived.
Siza studied at the University of Porto School of Architecture from 1949
through 1955, completing his first built work (four houses in Matosinhos)
even before ending his studies in 1954, the same year that he first opened
his private practice in Porto.
In recent years, he has received Gold Medals and other honors from numerous
Foundations and Societies in Europe, including what is considered to be
Europe's highest architectural honor from the Mies van der Rohe Foundation
and the European Economic Community. The latter award was for his 1982-86
project, the Borges & Irmao Bank in Vila do Conde, Portugal.
In the United States in 1988, the Harvard University Graduate School of
Design recognized Siza for his Malagueira Quarter Housing Project in Evora,
Portugal that began in 1977, presenting him with the Prince of Wales Prize.
The government of Evora, in 1977 following the revolution in Portugal,
commissioned Siza to plan a housing project in the rural outskirts of the
town. It was to be one of several that he would do for SAAL, the national
housing association, consisting of 1200 low-cost, single family row house
units, some one-story and some two-story units, all with courtyards.
In 1966, Siza began teaching at the University, and in 1976 was made a
Professor of Architecture. In addition to his teaching there, he has been
a visiting professor at the Graduate School of Design, Harvard University;
the University of Pennsylvania; Los Andes University of Bogota; and the
Ecole Polytechnique of Lausanne.
In addition, he has been a guest lecturer at many universities and conferences
throughout the world, from the United States, Colombia and Argentina in
the Western Hemisphere to his neighboring Spain, Germany, France, Norway,
the Netherlands, Switzerland, Austria and England in Europe.
Recently completed projects in Portugal include mass housing in Evora,
a new High School of Education in Setubal, a new School of Architecture
for Porto University, a Modern Art Museum for Porto, the rebuilding of
a burned area of Lisbon, a new Library for Aveiro University.
In Berlin, his competition winning entry for an apartment building, Schlesisches
Tor, Kreuzberg, was recently completed. He has won numerous other competitions
including the renovation of Compo di Marte in Venice, the renewal of the
Casino and Cafe Winkler, Salzburg, and the cultural centre of the Ministry
of Defense in Madrid, Spain. The Meteorological Centre for the Olympic
Village in Barcelona is also nearing completion.
The range of Siza's work is from swimming pools to mass housing developments,
with residences for individuals, banks, office buildings, restaurants,
art galleries, shops, virtually every other kind of structure in between.
Quoting from Casabella magazine, July 1986, the correspondent concludes
that Siza insists on continuous experimentation. "Precisely for this reason
his architecture can communicate to us an extraordinary sense of freedom
and freshness; in it one clearly reads the unfolding of an authentic design
adventure. In accepting the risks of such adventure, Alvaro Siza has even
been able to bring to the surface, in his architecture, what one feared
was in danger of extinction: the heroic spirit of modern architecture."
Citation from the Pritzker
Jury
The architecture of Alvaro Siza is a joy to the senses and uplifts the
spirit. Each line and curve is placed with skill and sureness.
Like the early Modernists, his shapes, molded by light, have a deceptive
simplicity about them; they are honest. They solve design problems directly.
If shade is needed, an overhanging plane is placed to provide it. If a
view is desired, a window is made. Stairs, ramps and walls all appear to
be foreordained in a Siza building. That simplicity, upon closer examination
however, is revealed as great complexity. There is a subtle mastery underlying
what appears to be natural creations. To paraphrase Siza's own words, his
is a response to a problem, a situation in transformation, in which he
participates.
If Post Modernism had not claimed the term, and distorted its meaning,
Alvaro Siza's buildings might legitimately have been called by that name.
His architecture proceeds directly from Modernist influences that dominated
the field from 1920 to 1970.
While Siza himself would reject categorization, his architecture, as an
extension of Modernist principles and aesthetic sensibility, is also an
architecture of various respects: respect for the traditions of his native
Portugal, a country of time worn materials and shapes; respect for context,
whether it is an older building or neighborhood such as the Chiada Quarter
in Lisbon, or the rocky edge of the ocean in his swimming club in Porto;
and finally, respect for the times in which today's architect practices
with all its constraints and challenges.
Siza's characteristic attention to spatial relationships and appropriateness
of form are as germane to a single family residence as they are to a much
larger social housing complex or office building. The essence and quality
of his work is not effected by scale.
Four decades of patient and innovative form-making by Siza have provided
unique and credible architectural statements, while at the same time surprising
the profession with its freshness.
Siza is a teacher, not only at the university where he obtained his education,
but also as a guest lecturer throughout the world, fanning the intense
interest his designs generate, particularly in the younger generation.
Siza maintains that architects invent nothing, rather they transform
in response to the problems they encounter. His enrichment of the world's
architectural vocabulary and inventory, over the past four decades, provides
ample justification to present him with the 1992 Pritzker Architecture
Prize, as well as the good wishes of the jury that he continue his transformations.
Thoughts on the Works
of Alvaro Siza
by
Vittorio Gregotti
Architect, Professor of Architecture, University of Venice, Italy
I have always had the impression that Alvaro Siza's architecture sprang
from archaeological foundations known to him alone—signs invisible to anyone
who has not studied the site in detail through drawings with steady, focused
concentration.
Later on, those signs come together because they convey a feeling of growing
out of something necessary, of relating, connecting, establishing and constructing,
all the while maintaining the tender uncertainty of hypothesis and discovery.
The construction is slow and intense. It is made of the discrete, if not
downright secret, signs of an attempt to start anew, based on establishing
some creative and apparently simple and explicit signs of an universal
design system.
Siza's work is characterized by just that sense of architecture as a means
of listening to the real, in that it hides at least as much as it shows.
Siza's architecture makes one see, and it reveals rather than interprets
the truth of the context.
It seems then, that he has very carefully removed parts from the design,
which is very clearly and harmoniously drawn, in order to create expectations.
All non-essentials have been removed, but even that, in turn, has left
its traces, like when pencil strokes are erased and redrawn in a drawing.
Sharp corners and sinewy curves are interwoven for an apparently mysterious
reason, something that has to do with the very history of the design. Its
thoughts, misfortunes and changes are not totally forgotten, but are transformed
in the construction of a mental site, of a context just as real as the
surrounding physical one.
Alvaro Siza Vieira is clearly considered one of today's greatest living
architects. He is an architect still able to make authentic affirmations
with his architecture, still able to surprise a culture as blase as ours
by coming on stage from unexpected quarters. The interest in his architecture
shown by younger generations in particular results from the complex mixture
of meanings that emanates from his work. His architecture is formed in
quiet and seclusion; then there is the slight but ever precise touch of
his works, which seem to emerge as clean, precious points among the contemporary
urban blight, yet at the same time making one painfully responsible for
those problems. In addition to this mixture and the tradition of poverty
and the gentle melancholy of Portugal, his native country, there is the
affection that his architecture seems to bring to the conditions of the
urban periphery. On the other hand, the micro surgical confidence of his
work, the emergence of the extreme eternity of the elementary acts of building,
the sense of natural modification of that which exists, a suspended modification
does not erase the errors of the existing nor the uncertain course of the
project, but solidifies it into a single poetic objective.
Over the years, all of that has made him become more secure in the methods
and processes of his craft without eliminating his sense of trepidation,
of attempting to have his designs express the margins of an architectural
problem, when he checks with his hands and eyes.
The quality of the tensions which he draws up and details is touching (to
use a word out of fashion like him) and derives principally, in my opinion,
from two themes: attention and uneasiness; the clear certainty which is
that the essential is always a little different from the directions chosen,
and from possible explanations.
For Siza, even detail is not an incident or a technological exhibition,
but a dimension of the accessibility of architecture, a way of verifying
by touch the feel, the uniqueness of a thing made for a particular place
with contemporary techniques, to come into contact with the everyday things
by handling them. His is a technology of detail created from unexpected
distances between the parts which introduce a spatial tension between the
smallest and most commonplace elements, for their mutual placement, superimposition
and interconnectedness.
To speak about Siza's architecture, however, one must start by admitting
that it is indescribable. This is not critical or textual indescribability
alone (in fact the latter would certainly be one of the best means for
the purpose, perhaps in story-form), but the same inability of photography
to communicate the specific sense of his work. This is also because his
design includes a unique temporal dimension, resulting not only from the
processes required for coming into contact with his structures, but also
from his ability to establish a type of autonomous memory of the design,
completely present in the final structure, built by the accumulation and
purification of successive discoveries which are constituted as data of
later structures. Nothing is planned in and of itself, but always in relation
to belonging. Above all, for Alvaro Siza, coming from northern Portugal—
stony, clear, poor and full of intimacy, where the light of the Atlantic
is long and illuminates poverty in an abstract way, reveals all the harshness
of surfaces, each change in the road around homes, every scrap, in a grandiose,
dry and bittersweet manner.
I believe that Alvaro Siza could be justifiably considered the father of
the new architectural minimalism, but a minimalism far from any abstraction
or perceptive radicalism, in which the architectural sign is incision and
superimposition. A timid, unequivocal, circumscribed assurance seems to
characterize the forms of his new minimalism. It is careful concentration,
the capacity for detailed observation and characterization. If it appears
that the use of elementary structures is most indirect, it is rather a
hidden, precise plot from which emerge by cancellation some signs suspended
between the memory of the plot's established order, and a new, stringent
logic of external and internal relations which the system renders clearer
and more evident, even in their wavering.
The first time I visited Portugal, I had met Alvaro Siza the year before
in Barcelona, a little more than twenty-five years ago. Then, the next
summer we spent a couple of days together in Oporto and went to see his
works, many still in progress: Banco do Oporto in Oliveira and the Vila
do Conde, his brother's house, the pool at the ocean and the Quinta da
Conceiçao in Matosinhos, already completed in 1965.
I remember being particularly struck by the small homes in Caxinas, a village
thirty kilometers north of Oporto and home to a few hundred fishermen.
For the past several years prior to that, these fishermen were renting
part of their own homes to people who came to the ocean for the summer
from the country's interior. Then, that modest gesture toward tourism created
the spontaneous appearance of some one-or two-story homes, often illegal.
The town asked Siza to formulate a plan to regulate development. He began
with a study of the features of the old and new existing facilities. It
is essentially a work of the imagination, attempting to create a morphological
vision from the few signs that poverty has left in the form of buildings:
colors, materials, types, dimensions and rhythms.
Then, on that basis, he set up a linear-development plan of two story homes:
a small set facing the sea. These homes were planned and built amid many
difficulties arising from the designs. One of them calls for a small square
to the north, linking the internal street with the sea; another incorporates
a cafe already existing on the ground floor; the rest was regulated through
a series of building codes which he thought would be followed almost spontaneously.
The extreme poverty of the project is put to good use with pride, taking
advantage of any sign available, stretched between surfaces of colored
plaster of the utmost simplicity, in a strong Atlantic light, with elementary
gestures: putting up a wall, placing a window, opening an empty space in
volume, coloring doors, beginning, ending. In an atmosphere that is hardly
primitive or folkloric, the resort village at the tip of Europe on the
Atlantic seems to make references to many modern European cultures.
The second time we met, resignation seemed a thing of the past. Only five
days had gone by after April 28, 1974 (the date of the revolution of the
carnations), when, without encountering guards or bailiffs, I entered the
office of the new Minister of Public Works, my friend Nuno Portas. Seated
in a pompous armchair in that grand office was Alvaro Siza. He started
explaining to me the work plan of the SAAL brigades, spontaneous cooperatives
of planning and building. The new political opportunity seemed to have
transformed his usual patience into great energy. Then, after great hopes
came disappointments.
In the meantime, however, Siza became one of the great architects of international
fame. The first great acknowledgements came: the invitations to the IBA
in Berlin, his win at the Venice competition (later disillusioned, which
is common in Italy), his work in Holland, in Portugal at Evora and Lisbon,
and in Spain at Barcelona and Malaga, where we worked together. Finally
came the award from the European Community in 1986 and then the Pritzker
in 1992. We met many times in various places, busily and excitedly discussing
trends in architecture. Yet he never gave up his discomfort and pride of
being from northern Portugal, born on the edge of Europe.
Formal
Presentation Ceremony at the
Harold Washington Library Center
Chicago, Illinois - May 14, 1992
Speeches as follows:
John B. Duff, Commissioner, Chicago Public
Library
J. Carter Brown, Chairman, Pritzker Jury
Bill Lacy, Secretary to the Pritzker Jury
Jay A. Pritzker, President,
The Hyatt Foundation
Alvaro Siza Acceptance Speech
John B. Duff
Commissioner, Chicago Public Library
I am honored to welcome Madame Ambassador Margaret Taylor, Mr. Ambassador
Francisco Knopfli, Consul General Albano Coelho, Mr. and Mrs. Jay Pritzker,
Mr. Alvaro Siza, J. Carter Brown, Bill Lacy and other distinguished guests
and dignitaries.
In his recent and important monograph on the Midwest in American Architecture,
Professor John S. Gainer of the University of Illinois, Champaign, while
conceding that no architect of the late nineteenth century could help but
be influenced by vertical trends, nonetheless emphasized the significance
of location to design.
Thus in the Midwest, the urban and rural landscapes are sharply defined.
As a region, it conveys the image of America's Heartland captured in the
poetry of Carl Sandburg and the paintings of Grant Wood.
The survey and land ordinance of 1786 and 1787 turned the Midwest into
a Cartesian grid of townships six miles square, a classical pattern beautifully
illustrated in color folio plates of the county atlases published throughout
the region in the nineteenth century.
In its fourteenth year, the Pritzker Architecture Prize, while certainly
not neglecting the trends of our own time, has clearly recognized the importance
of location. Citing tonight's Laureate for his respect for the traditions
of his native Portugal, I am proud to welcome this distinguished event
to the Harold Washington Library, in itself an important statement of the
Chicago architectural tradition.
The library extends its hospitality to all of you, and we invite you to
visit whenever you return to Chicago.
J. Carter Brown
Chairman, Pritzker Architecture Prize Jury
On behalf of our itinerant jury, we find ourselves on location in Chicago,
and I think it is very appropriate for an architecture prize. We are in
this setting of Burnham, Sullivan, Frank Lloyd Wright, and Mies van der
Rohe, and of such contemporaries as Jahn—that fantastic airport—and of
course, Tom Beebe and this wonderful building. Thank you for having us
here at your library, the Chicago Public Library, CPL. I should translate
for those out-of-towners—everyone in Chicago knows that CPL really stands
for Cindy Pritzker's Library.
It is fortuitous that we dine here in the year 1992, a Quincentennial year.
Some of you may not realize that Tom Beebe was born on Columbus day; and
Chicago has been associated with Columbus celebrations with an enormous
influence on American architecture. The great Columbian commemoration held
here— perhaps a year late in 1893—but in honor of the Quadricentennial
affected the design of American cities all over the country, and particularly
the city that I happen to live in, our capital, Washington, which captures
the flavor of the "City Beautiful" movement, as it was called as a result
of the great Chicago Fair. It is therefore doubly fitting that we celebrate
this crossing of the Atlantic and commemorate someone who learned his navigation
in Portugal. Portugal was the pioneer under Prince Henry the Navigator,
and the advances that were made in navigation were not lost on a man called
Christopher Columbus.
Pioneering is what the Pritzkers have done with this extraordinary prize.
All of us owe a debt of gratitude to Jay and Cindy Pritzker, and to The
Hyatt Foundation, for making possible a prize which has truly become the
Nobel Prize of architecture. It has exerted an enormous influence, and
we hope motivation, for the world of architecture and architectural patronage.
And so the loop is completed; we reach this year across the Atlantic to
the great port of Porto, and welcome Alvaro Siza as our Laureate, and realize
that discoveries in architecture as well as everything else still happen.
Bill Lacy
Secretary to the Jury
Tonight is a two-pronged celebration; the first is to honor this year's
deserving prize recipient, Alvaro Siza; the other is to acknowledge a milestone
in the Pritzker Architecture Prize's history—our fifteenth prize—an event
which has been given visual form through an exhibition of Laureates' work
from 1979 to 1992. We owe a debt to the hard work, talent and perseverance
of Keith Walker and Robert Jensen for bringing it to fruition.
On such occasions, it is forgivable and perhaps inevitable to take a brief
look backward. The prize was begun in 1978 at a time when little acknowledgment
in the form of monetary awards was accorded architects.
There was the National Endowment for the Arts in Washington, DC and the
Graham Foundation run by John Entenza here in Chicago. Since that time,
architects and architecture have become more and more visible in the media
and in the minds of the public. In recent years, there has been a heartening
increase in recognition to architects and their important role in society,
with other prizes joining the Pritzker Prize's lead. We welcome these additional
efforts to honor architects for their work. At the same time, we continue
to be pleased by the adjective that most often precedes the mention of
our prize, "prestigious." Just as we are honored to be regarded as the
"Nobel equivalent" in the field of architecture.
The good reputation of the prize that we have enjoyed over the years has
prompted the question of what contributes to that fact. The answer is simple.
The prize can only be as good as those doing the selecting. We have been
fortunate in having had a distinguished and dedicated jury since the Prize's
inception, down to the present, and to have had the able and enlightened
guidance all these years of our Chairman of the Jury, J. Carter Brown.
This evening's program lists the jury members who selected this year's
winner, and I would like to introduce those who are present. In addition
to Mr. Brown, whom you have met already, may I present Ada Louise Huxtable,
critic, author and preeminent authority on architecture; Toshio Nakamura,
editor of the world acclaimed A+U magazine and numerous books on architecture.
Signor Agnelli and Lord Rothschild are regrettably unable to be with us.
Senor Ricardo Legorreta has the best reason of all for his rare absence
from this ceremony. He is accepting the "Architect of America" award from
the Federation of Architects of America at the same time as our event.
There are two new members joining the jury who are present this evening
and who will assist us in maintaining our high standard for selection in
the future: Mr. Frank Gehry, 1989 Pritzker Prize Laureate and world-renowned
architect from Los Angeles, and Mr. Charles Correa with his wife Monika,
from Bombay, India. He is recipient of the 1990 Gold Medal from the Union
of International Architects and a tireless and talented spokesman for architecture
of quality in the Third World countries. He will add yet another international
dimension to our selection process.
And now it is my pleasure to introduce the man, who with his wife Cindy
by his side, and with the entire Pritzker clan at his back, established
this Prize and who will present the 1992 Pritzker Architecture Prize, Jay
A. Pritzker.
Presentation by Jay A. Pritzker
President, The Hyatt Foundation
As many of you know, these ceremonies are held at landmarks around the
world—the Temple at Nara in Japan, the Goldsmiths' Guild Hall in London,
the Palazzo Grassi in Venice, and many beautiful museums in our own country.
Tonight, we add this landmark by Tom Beebe and Bernie Babka to that illustrious
list of venues. We congratulate you gentlemen. This is a great opportunity
to introduce our new library to a wider audience.
As is often the case, we have more than one reason to celebrate on these
occasions. First and foremost, we are here to honor this year's Laureate,
Alvaro Siza from Portugal.
But tonight, for the first time we are putting on an exhibit, which I hope
most of you have seen; it's a retrospective of the works of all the Laureates.
Tonight was the first time Cindy and I had seen it, and we think the designers
and Keith Walker have done an absolutely superb job. It's wonderfully done
and we hope that it will be quite effective as it travels through the world.
We cannot review what has happened with this prize without mentioning again
our founding jury chairman, J. Carter Brown. When anyone asks us what makes
the Pritzker Prize so unique and prestigious, our answer is always: the
quality and integrity of the jury. Carter has consistently been the jury's
guiding light, and we are delighted that although he has decided to retire
from his post as Director of the National Gallery of Art, he is continuing
as Pritzker Jury Chairman.
It seems like yesterday that we were getting ready for the first presentation
to Philip Johnson at Dumbarton Oaks. He called architecture the "mother
of the arts," and yet "the most difficult of all the arts" lamenting the
fact that unlike writers or painters, an architect can't tear up his mistakes.
He also held out the hope that architecture could be the "art that saves,"
saying that we have the capability to rebuild not just our own country,
but the world, if we can just harness the will to do so.
The next year when we honored the late Luis Barragan of Mexico, it was
for architecture as a sublime act of poetic imagination. He firmly believed
that any work of architecture that did not express serenity was a mistake.
At that ceremony, J. Irwin Miller, one of our esteemed jurors spoke of
the importance of rewarding excellence in architecture with prizes, because
"first we shape our buildings and then our buildings shape us." We hope,
with this prize, to inspire those who shape our buildings to even higher
standards.
The late James Stirling, 1981 Laureate, said that the "art" of architecture
was always the priority in his own work, and historically.
Cesar Pelli, one of our jurors at that time, said that the "art of architecture
is possible only through the understanding of the limitations and possibilities
of building." The prize celebrates the transformation of "building into
art."
On a much more cautious note, 1982 Laureate Kevin Roche said that we have
the evidence of history that architecture is an art, but whether it is
art in our time we cannot judge, "we can only desire to make it so," and
urged that we not confuse art with fashion.
Ieoh Ming Pei, honored in 1983, declared that to become art, architecture
must be built on a foundation of necessity, urging that we remember Leonardo's
counsel that "strength is born of constraint and dies in freedom."
Richard Meier, 1984 Laureate said he preferred to think of himself more
as a master builder than as an artist, "for the art of architecture demands
this," saying further that his goal is presence, not illusion.
Austrian Hans Hollein spoke of his responsibilities—as an artist, only
to himself, but as an architect—to the needs of man and society.
Gottfried Boehm of Germany in 1986 did not want to overestimate the influence
of architecture on people, but he was certain that the physical alienation
of our cities contributes to our inability to live together harmoniously,
urging that new buildings fit naturally into their surroundings, both historically
and architecturally.
Leaping to the other side of the world in 1987, Laureate Kenzo Tange of
Japan accepted saying that he was still searching for the answer to what
buildings could best serve society.
In 1988, when we honored two totally diverse talents—Oscar Niemeyer of
Brazil and the late Gordon Bunshaft of this country, Niemeyer spoke of
"a concern for beauty, a zest for fantasy and surprise" bearing witness
that today's architecture is not bound by rules. Bunshaft was described
as setting the standard for corporate architecture, a standard to be judged
with acclaim.
Frank Gehry, accepting the prize in Japan in 1989, said "Architecture must
solve complex problems, using technology and facing issues of social responsibility,
even pleasing the client. But then what? Answering his own question: then
comes the selection of forms, scale, materials, color—the same choices
facing the painter and sculptor. He elaborated, "Architecture is surely
an art, and those who practice the art of architecture are surely architects."
In 1990, Kurt Forster, Director of the Getty Center in California, wrote
of Italian Laureate Aldo Rossi, "he manifests his profession, a profession
that is nothing without mastery of the crafts, but never masterly without
the arts."
Last year, the jury spoke of Robert Venturi combining two aspects of architecture
— the one being the physical elements of wood, glass, bricks, and steel—
and the other, the art form based on words, ideas and concepts.
And now the present: The 1992 Laureate's work is described as being a joy
to the senses and uplifting the spirit, with each line and curve placed
with skill and sureness. Characterized as shy and modest, Alvaro Siza maintains
that he invents nothing, rather he makes transformations.
In any case, he certainly practices the art of architecture.
On behalf of the Pritzker family and The Hyatt Foundation, we honor Alvaro
Siza for his past and wish him well for the future by presenting him with
the 1992 Pritzker Architecture Prize.
Acceptance by Alavro Siza
It is still hard for me to believe that I have been this year's recipient
of the Pritzker Prize, the prestigious award from The Hyatt Foundation
already given to some of the architects I admire most.
The aim of an architectural prize is supposed to be, above all, that of
supporting and celebrating perfection. I have yet not been able to reach
perfection.
I remember a talk which took place many years ago with my friend Fernando
Tavora, my teacher at the school of Porto. In it he mentioned his perplexity
at the imperfections of the Brunelleschi cupola when seen from a certain
angle. He expressed first a certain disappointment, which was followed
by a feeling of understanding, of discovery, of plenitude.
I am not, however, referring to the insatisfaction of an artist, which
is a feeling that is often with me. I am referring to concrete and material
imperfections: cracks on walls, a certain discomfort, irregular stuccoes,
or bent woods, in sum, the rigour that has not been attained.
On the other hand, I am referring to the lack of sensitivity which either
hampers or despises the search for beauty, be it the beauty of harmony
or contrast.
The professional life of architects is nowadays affected not only by those
imperfections, but also by difficulties or impossibilities in the making
of architecture.
I always felt professionally divided between the hard and difficult challenge
to answer the needs of the greatest number of persons on the one hand;
and the attraction for single opportunities (which are apparently closer
to the viability of architecture).
In the end both hypotheses complement each other, being indispensable to
one another.
The various circumstances that surround architectural commissions, with
their stigmas of specialization led me until recently to project above
all—in a fragmentary way—the urban tissue made of apparently banal elements
that shape the majority of the area of any city or territory.
This is far from being a modest task: it aims at re-encountering the lost
spontaneity, the joy of spontaneity and of difference; the disinhibited
and collective competence to find or model the place for exceptional urban
episodes.
I dream of the moment in which such an intimate and collective need will
not be dependent on a degree in architecture.
At the moment, and not only in my country, the need and the way to add
quality to things that are banal and repetitive—as a condition to enhance
the beauty of the city and of its monuments—is facing profound transformations,
that, perhaps at the moment, are quite painful, but which are essentially
more than promising, fascinating and creative transformation beyond apparent
frontiers:
—neither high technology nor the sound knowledge of craftsmen—the old support
to architectural creation—but an in-between situation in which we must
be involved;
—a situation of death and rebirth under a form which we nervously exploit,
questioning and dipping into the real.
I want to express that the Pritzker Prize gives my heart some serenity.
The message is clear to me: it is acknowledged that our condition is transitional,
different from environment to environment, yet universal; gradually freed
from the narrow concept of centre and periphery.
All my gratitude to the Pritzker family, who love architecture as Art,
celebrating it in that condition; who appreciate it by its integrity and
not by its lateral views.
I express my thanks to the members of the jury who—constantly and without
reserve—search for that integrity.
My thanks to my family and to my friends—colleagues, collaborators in the
studio, clients and others here present or not, to all those that honour
me with their presence in this room.
After all I dare to understand the reason this prize has been granted to
me. I feel happy and proud. Thank you very much.
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