Non-Aligned Third Way: A Chrono­log­i­cal Line of Ide­o­log­i­cal Shifts

Eliana Sousa Santos

1960s Kubler and the Revolution

In the essay Arqui­tec­tura Não Alin­ha­da” (2001)—translated from the Por­tuguese as Non-Aligned Architecture”—the archi­tec­tur­al his­to­ri­an Paulo Varela Gomes sum­ma­rizes the recep­tion, and to some extent the instru­men­tal­i­sa­tion, of the book Por­tuguese Por­tuguese Plain Archi­tec­ture: Between Spices and Dia­monds, 1521–1706 (1972) by the archi­tec­tur­al field in Por­tu­gal since the 1970s until the ear­ly twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry. To Varela Gomes: the ide­o­log­i­cal aspi­ra­tion sat­is­fied by Kubler’s book was, up to a point, allow­ing us to appre­ci­ate in a pos­i­tive way (strong, full, autonomous, coher­ent and closed) some build­ings or build­ing com­pounds that could not obvi­ous­ly fit the canon­i­cal cat­e­gories of Euro­pean his­to­ri­og­ra­phy, the renais­sance, man­ner­ism, the baroque. The pover­ty’ (con­struc­tive, mate­r­i­al, dec­o­ra­tive, com­po­si­tion­al, and of façade design), that seemed to stig­ma­tize so many con­vents and church­es in Por­tu­gal, was sud­den­ly redeemed (and simul­ta­ne­ous­ly de-Euro­peanised) in a decade, the 1970s, in which Por­tu­gal was search­ing for a polit­i­cal auton­o­my of a periph­er­al nature.” (2001, 6)

Kubler’s the­sis implied that the nature of Por­tuguese archi­tec­ture built between 1600 and 1800 did not fit in any of the estab­lished cat­e­gories of art his­to­ry, since he not­ed that his main inter­est in study­ing the Por­tuguese case had to do with its dif­fi­cult cat­e­go­riza­tion fol­low­ing con­ven­tion­al sep­a­ra­tion by style and time: The var­i­ous his­to­ries of Por­tuguese archi­tec­ture, like most his­to­ries of art, all are writ­ten on the assump­tion that peri­od, place, and style are inter­change­able: at any giv­en place in any defined peri­od, it is assumed that there exists only one style. Thus, Man­ner­ism is tak­en as the style of the six­teenth cen­tu­ry in Europe; Baroque style fills the sev­en­teenth cen­tu­ry. By this ven­er­a­ble sys­tem, which is at least as old as Vit­ru­vius and Pliny, one place at one peri­od can have no more than one style.’” (Kubler 1972, 4)

Kubler defined a new cat­e­go­ry, Por­tuguese plain archi­tec­ture, and char­ac­terised it as aus­tere, sim­ple, pure, man­i­fest­ing essen­tial archi­tec­tur­al prop­er­ties. This seemed to have a causal con­nec­tion with the eco­nom­ic and polit­i­cal con­text of the time—a peri­od of cri­sis between spices and dia­monds, that is between the two moments that allowed the Por­tuguese empire to colonise a sub­stan­tial part of the world—that called for under­stat­ed build­ings, and the opti­mal use of scarce resources for great effect. More impor­tant­ly, Por­tuguese plain was a hybrid between eru­dite and pop­u­lar archi­tec­ture, since The Por­tuguese plain style is like a ver­nac­u­lar archi­tec­ture, relat­ed to liv­ing dialect tra­di­tions more than to the great authors of the remote past” (Kubler 1972, 3). Thus, In the 1970s, Kubler’s book informed retroac­tive­ly the con­text of con­tem­po­rary archi­tec­tur­al pro­duc­tion, con­nect­ing it to a longer geneal­o­gy, in which the essen­tial char­ac­ter­is­tics of archi­tec­ture were indeli­bly con­nect­ed to the Por­tuguese ter­ri­to­ry, and to some extent con­nect­ed to an idea of nation­al architecture. 

Despite being pub­lished in 1972, Kubler did most of the research work in Por­tu­gal between the end of the 1950s and the 1960s. Before this, Kubler had writ­ten a the­sis about the reli­gious archi­tec­ture of New Mex­i­co, in the Unit­ed States—later pub­lished as a book in 1940 and reed­it­ed in 1972. Thus, it is rel­e­vant to note some par­al­lels between these two places, the state of New Mex­i­co and Por­tu­gal at the time. When Kubler began the study of their archi­tec­ture, these two places were rel­a­tive­ly recent states in the midst of estab­lish­ing region­al and nation­al iden­ti­ties legit­imised by pop­u­lar art and region­al archi­tec­ture. The State of New Mex­i­co had been admit­ted to the union in 1912, and the devel­op­ment of a new image is appar­ent in the archi­tec­tur­al and artis­tic pro­duc­tions of the fol­low­ing decades—Kubler stud­ied and pho­tographed the Fran­cis­can mis­sions of the sev­en­teenth cen­tu­ry in the 1930s, a time when these build­ings were already part of twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry cul­ture and the con­struc­tion of the image of the state of New Mex­i­co close­ly con­nect­ed with the style that would become known as pueblo revival (Wil­son 1997). Sim­i­lar­ly, in Por­tu­gal, the dic­ta­to­r­i­al regime denom­i­nat­ed New State—Estado Novo, in Portuguese—was estab­lished in 1933 and even in the 1950s, when Kubler stayed in the coun­try, he wit­nessed a strong pro­pa­gan­da cam­paign invest­ed in recov­er­ing or invent­ing tra­di­tions to pro­mote the image of the coun­try through the arts. 

In both places, New Mex­i­co and Por­tu­gal, Kubler stud­ied the archi­tec­tur­al pro­duc­tion, most­ly reli­gious build­ings erect­ed in the sev­en­teenth cen­tu­ry, in which the lack of resources was used to great effect,” to con­struct build­ings that had a mod­ern char­ac­ter, and that would be analysed in the present to cre­ate a cross-cut tem­po­ral con­nec­tion between the his­tor­i­cal moment and the present. If in New Mex­i­co, Kubler could see all the pueblo revival muse­ums and hotels built in San­ta Fe that were repli­cas and iter­a­tions of the Span­ish Mis­sions. Fur­ther­more, in Por­tu­gal, Kubler com­pared the struc­tur­al sim­plic­i­ty of his­tor­i­cal build­ings with twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry build­ings: The effect at Jerón­i­mos in Belém, at Arronch­es, or at Freixo de Espa­da à Cin­ta was not unlike the mush­room columns in twen­ti­eth-cen­tu­ry rein­forced con­crete con­struc­tion as used under curved shells” (Kubler 1972, 30). 

By study­ing his­tor­i­cal objects brought from the past as the ori­gins of new tra­di­tions, Kubler’s case stud­ies allowed him to under­stand ret­ro­spec­tive­ly the fram­ing of a series of objects that were used as mod­ern revival­ist motifs. This per­spec­tive allowed him to pro­pose a new clas­si­fi­ca­tion of art his­to­ry, as the his­to­ry of all things, based on seri­ation of for­mal sequences that could com­prise dif­fer­ent dura­tions as well as map the large tapes­try of his­tor­i­cal con­nec­tions through time (Sousa San­tos 2020). This the­sis was pub­lished in the book The Shape of Time: Remarks on the His­to­ry of Things (1962), that briefly put Kubler as a cult fig­ure to a new gen­er­a­tion of artists in the 1960s such as Robert Mor­ris, Robert Smith­son and John Baldessari (Lee 2001).

Notwith­stand­ing most of Kubler’s work about Por­tuguese plain archi­tec­ture hav­ing been pro­duced essen­tial­ly in the 1950s and 1960s, the pub­li­ca­tion of his book was long delayed. This appar­ent set back allowed for its recep­tion to occur with­in a dif­fer­ent polit­i­cal con­text, after the top­pling of the long dic­ta­tor­ship by the 1974 rev­o­lu­tion, thus becom­ing asso­ci­at­ed with­in Por­tuguese art his­to­ri­og­ra­phy with the rev­o­lu­tion­ary period. 

1970s Post-Revolution

Two years after the 1974 Rev­o­lu­tion in Por­tu­gal the French mag­a­zine Archi­tec­ture d’Aujourd’hui ded­i­cat­ed an issue to the archi­tec­tur­al pro­duc­tion in Por­tu­gal. Álvaro Siza is the only archi­tect men­tioned in the cov­er, with the title La Pas­sion de Álvaro Siza”, pre­sent­ing him as one of the great archi­tects of the new Euro­pean generation 

[…] In his mod­est­ly dimen­sioned work, he makes an effort to respect the Por­tuguese pauci­ty of eco­nom­ic means, with­out abdi­cat­ing the refined cul­ture and spa­tial poet­ics that not one pho­to­graph man­ages to show”1 (Anon 1976, 42). In the same mag­a­zine, the archi­tect Gonça­lo Byrne announces that Siza is the bas­tion of a new archi­tec­ture by young peo­ple that were try­ing to clash with the inter­na­tion­al dom­i­nant cur­rents, such as the Inter­na­tion­al Style or Bru­tal­ism, through aus­tere and clean spaces (Byrne 1974, 32)2 For Byrne, that atti­tude was already present in Siza’s work, since the adop­tion of min­i­mal­ist poet­ics”, ref­er­ences to mod­ernist aes­thet­ics of the 1920s, that were at the time dis­con­nect­ed from the offi­cial archi­tec­tur­al prin­ci­ples of the regime (Byrne 1974, 32).3

In the same issue, Vit­to­rio Gre­got­ti and Ori­ol Bohi­gas write the apol­o­gy La Pas­sion d’Álvaro Siza”, a text where they both refer to col­lage as a design method, and Gre­got­ti com­pares Siza to Robert Ven­turi, say­ing that Siza, in a project for social hous­ing in Cax­i­nas, quotes and refers to the most elab­o­rate Mod­ern cul­ture: that of Mack­in­tosh and of the first nation­al­ism of Man of Aran4 (1976, 42). It is telling that Gre­got­ti refers to a prim­i­tivist eth­no-fic­tion film by Robert Fla­her­ty, Man of Aran (1934), a film that con­struct­ed fic­tion­al­ly, rather than doc­u­ment­ed, the harsh lives of a fish­ing com­mu­ni­ty in the Aran Islands in Ire­land.5 Bohi­gas fin­ish­es his state­ment by issu­ing a vote of con­fi­dence of the SAAL process—a series of archi­tec­tur­al brigades that con­tin­ued the build­ing of social hous­ing dur­ing the post-rev­o­lu­tion­ary period—as some­thing that could evolve to be inte­grat­ed with mass hous­ing pro­duc­tion and cre­ate sig­nif­i­cant urban trans­for­ma­tions (1976, 42).6

1980s The Third Way

Unfor­tu­nate­ly, Bohi­gas was far from pre­dict­ing the future. Dur­ing the 1980s and 1990s, the urgent quest for build­ing social hous­ing was trad­ed by the neces­si­ty of rep­re­sen­ta­tion, and Álvaro Siza was adopt­ed as the archi­tect who rep­re­sent­ed Portugal’s young democracy.

In 1980, Eduar­do Souto de Moura pub­lished a text, in the mag­a­zine 9H, in homage to Siza enti­tled An Amoral’ Archi­tect.” He sum­ma­rizes Siza’s prac­tice quot­ing the poet Hel­ber­to Helder and pre­sent­ing the design process as a sequence of actions: The pen­cil enclos­es a space—the site appears. […] The place is geom­e­try. The project emerges. […] The dif­fer­ence is con­flict. The work is born. We wit­ness the res­ur­rec­tion of what was dying, and dies and will die.’ Then the place is” (1980, 12). Only four years after the activism of the issue of L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hui, Souto de Moura’s text presents Siza’s work in the abstract field of works of art. 

In the same issue of 9H, Robert Maxwell writes an essay propos­ing a third way”: The ide­ol­o­gy aris­es when the wish for assur­ance exceeds the evi­dence to pro­vide it. We may sus­pect that in order to avoid errors which are essen­tial­ly those of serv­ing the pre­dom­i­nant west­ern ide­ol­o­gy of cap­i­tal­ism, we shall be offered as alter­na­tive a pre­scrip­tion which falls into oth­er errors, the errors which are pro­duced under a marx­ist or pro­le­tar­i­an ide­ol­o­gy…” (Maxwell 1980, 31). To some extent, Maxwell pre­dict­ed the con­text of the next decades. 

If Ken­neth Framp­ton did not for­mal­ly ver­balise, like Maxwell, the cor­re­spon­dence between the third way and Crit­i­cal Region­al­ism, he was very clear when he pro­posed: Archi­tec­ture can only be sus­tained today as a crit­i­cal prac­tice if it assumes an arrière-garde posi­tion, that is to say, one which dis­tances itself equal­ly from the Enlight­en­ment myth of progress and from a reac­tionary, unre­al­is­tic impulse to return to the archi­tec­ton­ic forms of the prein­dus­tri­al past” (Framp­ton 1988, 20).7

The rise of Por­tuguese archi­tec­ture inter­na­tion­al­ly occurred in par­al­lel with the expan­sion of third way pol­i­tics and neolib­er­al poli­cies, accom­pa­ny­ing the end of wel­fare and social hous­ing poli­cies in Europe. For the archi­tects of the gen­er­a­tion of Álvaro Siza, this was a dis­ap­point­ment. In the essay ded­i­cat­ed to Siza, on the occa­sion of his Pritzk­er prize award in 1992, Vit­to­rio Gre­got­ti writes about the many dis­il­lu­sions that were nonethe­less met with pro­fes­sion­al suc­cess: 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” (Gre­got­ti 1992).

1990s Kubler Returns

In Potu­gal, a coun­try where the notions of iden­ti­ty and nation­hood were ques­tioned fol­low­ing the top­pling of a decade’s long dic­ta­tor­ship, the admit­tance to the Euro­pean Eco­nom­ic Com­mu­ni­ty (lat­er to become the Euro­pean Union) in 1987 restored a kind of nation­al nos­tal­gia and the cel­e­bra­tion of Por­tuguese-ness that rever­ber­at­ed in the 1990s. This hap­pened in many fields and guis­es, in the his­to­ri­og­ra­phy of archi­tec­ture it is worth to men­tion that the edi­tion of the Por­tuguese trans­la­tion of Kubler’s Por­tuguese Plain Archi­tec­ture was only pub­lished in the late 1980s (Kubler 1988). The idea of a plain archi­tec­ture as a hybrid between ver­nac­u­lar and eru­dite mod­els, which fit­ted in the cat­e­go­ry of aus­tere, sim­ple, and, to some extent, pro­to-mod­ernist ways of build­ing merged with the prac­tices of the archi­tects con­nect­ed to the Por­to School in gen­er­al, and the work of Álvaro Siza in par­tic­u­lar, became tac­it­ly implic­it in the dis­course that rever­ber­ates up until the present day.8

In 1991, Paulo Varela Gomes was one of the cura­tors of the exhi­bi­tion Points de Repère, Archi­tec­tures du Por­tu­gal, that was part of the Por­tuguese rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Europalia arts fes­ti­val in Brus­sels. Por­tu­gal had been admit­ted to the Euro­pean Union a few years before, in 1986, and this exhi­bi­tion was part of an array of events and exhi­bi­tions that were planned to rep­re­sent the coun­try to oth­er Euro­pean nations. Varela Gomes recov­ered Kubler’s the­sis about Por­tuguese archi­tec­ture, defin­ing the spe­cif­ic char­ac­ter­is­tics in which the country’s archi­tec­ture had been built through­out the pre-mod­ern era to moder­ni­ty: Sobri­ety, pover­ty even, build­ings based on the con­cept of solid­i­ty, includ­ing deriva­tions of tra­di­tion­al mod­els,” as well as a con­nec­tion between eru­dite and ver­nac­u­lar archi­tec­ture” (Varela Gomes 1991, 21).9

The recov­ery of the idea that there was a Por­tuguese” archi­tec­ture, and that it was pos­si­ble to fit works that used the lan­guage of tra­di­tion­al forms with mod­ernist tropes as exam­ples of a con­tem­po­rary iter­a­tion of a type of archi­tec­ture that sur­vived through time, can be also read as a reac­tion to the anx­i­ety caused by the inter­na­tion­al union with oth­er Euro­pean nations. This rever­ber­at­ed in the last decades, when the dis­course of archi­tec­ture in Por­tu­gal became filled with abstract descrip­tions of a pos­si­ble Por­tuguese spa­tial form. 

Ini­tial­ly, Kubler derived the term plain archi­tec­ture from the his­to­ri­an Júlio de Castilho’s use of 16th and 17th century’s Por­tuguese word chã as applied to archi­tec­ture. The word chã, or chão, lit­er­al­ly means flat but it was used to sig­ni­fy unor­na­ment­ed and sim­ple. Castil­ho had char­ac­ter­ized the notion of plain archi­tec­ture as evi­dence of the vir­tu­ous char­ac­ter” of Por­tuguese nobil­i­ty, their taste for an archi­tec­ture that was aus­tere and simple—creating a moral aura over the con­cept of plain (Castil­ho 1954, 144).

This nar­ra­tive of noble aus­ter­i­ty that was mate­ri­al­ly man­i­fest­ed in the exte­ri­ors of the hous­es of nobil­i­ty in Lis­bon defined the aus­tere nature” of the archi­tec­ture that Kubler per­ceived as pre­cur­sor of mod­ernism. How­ev­er, if we read the whole of Castilho’s descrip­tion, we see that he refers to aus­tere façades, and that those sim­ple exte­ri­ors were a cam­ou­flage to tiled walls, fres­coes, exot­ic woods and import­ed tapes­tries (Castil­ho 1954, 144–146). The aus­tere char­ac­ter of plain archi­tec­ture, as defined by Kubler as the innate sim­plic­i­ty that pre­dat­ed mod­ernism only works if we ignore this con­tra­dic­tion: that the nar­ra­tive of sober and aus­tere taste of the building’s exte­ri­or was cam­ou­flag­ing extrav­a­gant interiors. 

Since the 1980s, the solid­i­fi­ca­tion of Álvaro Siza’s role as the ulti­mate rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Por­tuguese archi­tec­ture” occurred simul­ta­ne­ous­ly with the for­eign recog­ni­tion and the inter­na­tion­al­iza­tion of his prac­tice. Siza’s name became syn­ony­mous with the idea of a specif­i­cal­ly Por­tuguese and local way of design­ing and pro­duc­ing archi­tec­ture. This asso­ci­a­tion emerged as he grad­u­al­ly became the main fig­ure of FAUP—the Por­to School of Archi­tec­ture10—and the archi­tect who was direct­ly com­mis­sioned to design its new cam­pus in the late 1980s and ear­ly 1990s. A few years lat­er, Siza’s asso­ci­a­tion with the char­ac­ter of nation­al archi­tec­ture was strength­ened through the design of the Por­tuguese Pavil­ion at the Expo 98, the Lis­bon World Exposition. 

The path of Siza’s inter­na­tion­al recog­ni­tion was not much dif­fer­ent from oth­er Euro­pean prac­tices of the late twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry which surfed the wave neo-lib­er­al third way pol­i­tics.11 Fol­low­ing a grow­ing num­ber of projects in the con­text of an expand­ing Euro­pean Union in the 1990s, and beyond in the 2000s—inaugurated with the project for the Iberê Camar­go Foun­da­tion Muse­um (1998–2006) in Por­to Ale­gre, Brasil—Siza became one of the most well-known archi­tects work­ing today with a glob­alised pro­duc­tion and long career that has spanned dif­fer­ent his­tor­i­cal moments. In the last decades, his archi­tec­tur­al pro­duc­tion reflects the vast changes in the his­tor­i­cal con­text of Por­tu­gal, Europe and the world. Some of his projects are par­tic­u­lar­ly rel­e­vant to analyse the rela­tion­ship between archi­tec­ture with social and finan­cial forces. The Bouça neigh­bor­hood, in Por­to, ini­tial­ly designed as social hous­ing in the 1970s, was pri­va­tized in 2005; the large-scale project of the recon­struc­tion of Chi­a­do, in Lis­bon, ongo­ing since the late 1980s, trans­formed that area into one of the most cov­et­ed zones by the spec­u­la­tive mar­ket; final­ly, the high-rise project 611 West 56th Street, is one of many hous­ing tow­ers built in Man­hat­tan that are almost unin­hab­it­ed, exist­ing most­ly as cap­i­tal for invest­ment purposes.

  1. 1

    In the orig­i­nal: “… cet homme effacé est cer­taine­ment un des grands’ archi­tectes de la nou­velle généra­tion européene. Dans son oeu­vre con­fi­den­tielle de dimen­sion extrême­ment mod­este, il s’efforce de coller’ étroite­ment à la pau­vreté des moyens économiques por­tu­gais, sans jamais abdi­quer une cul­ture raf­finée et une poé­tique spar­i­ale dont acune pho­togra­phie ne peur ren­dre compte” (Anon 1976, 42).

  2. 2

    In the orig­i­nal: “…ces jeunes archi­tectes essaient de rompre avec les courants dom­i­nants d’une archi­tec­ture plus ou moins bureau­cra­tique en dénonçant l’arbitraire des codes archi­tec­turaux et des sys­témes de normes, par le biais de l’austerité et de l’épuration” (Byrne 1974, 32).

  3. 3

    In the orig­i­nal: “…cette atti­tude était déjà présente, bien que tein­tée de roman­tisme dans l’oeuvre de Siza, chez autres il s’agit d’une méfi­ance pour le pit­toresque er d’une volon­té réduc­trice inhérente à la manip­u­la­tion cri­tique du dis­cours de la com­po­si­tion. L’utilization d’une poé­tique min­i­mal­iste pré­con­isée par cer­tains archi­tectes, ren­voie à des formes de l’architecture des années 20 curieuse­ment élim­inée pen­dant la dic­tac­ture salazariste” (Byrne 1974, 32).

  4. 4

    In the orig­i­nal: Dans une atmo­sphère qui n’est jamais pop­uliste’ ou folk­lorique, il ramène à la pointe la plus arrière de l’Europe les cita­tions de la cul­ture Mod­erne la plus elaborée: celle de Mack­in­tosh et du pre­mier ratio­nal­isme de l’homme d’Aran’” (1976, 42).

  5. 5

    Some years before this apol­o­gy by Gre­got­ti, Flaherty’s method­olo­gies were chal­lenged by a doc­u­men­tary that exposed the fic­tion­al nature of the sup­pos­ed­ly doc­u­men­tal film (Mes­sen­ger 2020).

  6. 6

    In the orig­i­nal: “… è tra­vers la par­tic­i­pa­tion aux opéra­tions SAAL qui se met­tent en place au Por­tu­gal, il est pos­si­ble que Siza puisse s’intégrer à la pro­duc­tion de masse et à des trans­for­ma­tions urbaines sig­ni­fica­tives qui, le con­frontant à une autre réal­ité, engen­dreront chez lui de nou­velles posi­tions méthodologiques” (Gre­got­ti and Bohi­gas 1976, 42).

  7. 7

    The con­nec­tion between Crit­i­cal Region­al­ism, the Third Way and Álvaro Siza’s archi­tec­tur­al prac­tice is draft­ed by Nel­son Mota in the essay Between Pop­ulism and Dog­ma: Álvaro Siza’s Third Way” (2011).

  8. 8

    Pre­vi­ous­ly, I have writ­ten about the rearrange­ment of the per­cep­tion of archi­tec­tur­al prac­tices in Por­tu­gal fol­low­ing Kubler’s Por­tuguese Plain Archi­tec­ture in the essay Por­tuguese Plain Archi­tec­ture: His­to­ry Open­ing a Closed Sequence” (2012).

  9. 9

    In the orig­i­nal: La sobriété, la pau­vreté même, des con­struc­tions prin­ci­pale­ment basées sur le con­cept de solid­ité, com­pris comme déri­va­tions les mod­èles tra­di­tion­nels et comme fonc­tion­nal­ité pra­tique (…)Prox­im­ité entre l’architecture éru­dite et pop­u­laire, tant du point de vue des formes que de son enten­de­ment cul­turel” (Varela Gomes 1991, 21).

  10. 10

    In his the­sis about archi­tec­ture edu­ca­tion in Por­tu­gal, Gonça­lo Can­to Moniz (2011, 58) refers to the descrip­tion of the Por­to School” writ­ten by Manuel Mendes and pub­lished in the Dutch jour­nal Wonen Tabk. In it, Mendes, char­ac­ter­izes Siza’s teach­ing, start­ed in the 1960s, as one of the main instances of the cre­ation of an iden­ti­ty of the Por­to School.

  11. 11

    In an essay about the devel­op­ment of OMA’s inter­na­tion­al archi­tec­tur­al prac­tice, Ellen Dun­ham-Jones makes a par­al­lel between Rem Kool­haas’ career and the devel­op­ment of nov­el finan­cial instru­ments in the late 20th cen­tu­ry (2013). Although the exu­ber­ance” of prac­tices such as OMA’s or BIG’s, may be eas­i­ly asso­ci­at­ed with the ruth­less­ness of finan­cial mar­kets, oth­er prac­tices, which aes­thet­i­cal­ly may seem aus­tere, such as Siza’s or Peter Zumthor’s also thrived in this context.

This essay was co-financed by the POPH pro­gramme of the Euro­pean Social Fund and by Nation­al Funds by FCT Foun­da­tion for Sci­ence and Tech­nol­o­gy, with a con­tract with the ref­er­ence DL57/2016/CP1341/CT0014.


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