MENTES VOL. 3_2023

This publication explores different ways of representing the household: how do we perceive spaces, how does studying architecture interfere in our understanding of them, is it that drawing a plan is a consequence of a certain logic or of what we were taught in school? We understand space through what we observe, but also through what we hear, through our education and the experiences that mark us as infants. Drawing the home gives the expression of a baggage, of stories and experiences that differ in each instance.

On the other hand, it is worth asking ourselves what we mean by representation. Architecture, space, time are too vast, abstract and do not seem to fit in words. The form of representation we choose needs languages that complement each other; plans, cuts, facades, sketches, diagrams, photography, words. Perhaps during childhood, it seems more genuine to leave aside the duty to be, to avoid limiting architecture to a profession or the built environment, but to understand it as a way of life that comes from unlimited imagination and a way of relating to what surrounds us. A way of life, where narratives are woven and each sheet of paper is understood as a blank canvas that offers an opportunity to communicate who we are.

Prologue

December 20, 2022. 

To whom it may concern, 

I write this letter without knowing if it will ever be read by its intended recipient, or if there will ever be such a recipient. I write this letter because I awoke wishing to put my fantasies about motherhood on paper. Perhaps it is curious to write to someone who does not yet exist, who will carry a baggage inherited from her parents and will have no say in the choice of the environment in which she will grow up. It is strange to write from a position that I does not suit me yet and to imagine a responsibility that does not correspond to me. 

In case this letter is read and the “to whom it may concern” has not been updated, I apologize for not referring to you as I should, by your name. I must confess that the ignorance and fear tempt me to apologize in advance. I fear that my absence or my overprotectiveness will impact your adult life. I fear that I will fail to disentangle from the knowledge based on past experiences to then allow you to chart your own path. I hope that my tastes and interests will not intervene in the development of your own identity. On the other hand, I wonder how to find guidance so that you can experience that contrast that has given me so many answers about how to navigate this world. I suppose there will be many things that don't make sense to you at this point, maybe a little bit of my story will help you understand where all these questions and concerns come from. 

I grew up on the border of two districts, in Tacubaya, inside a colonial-era condominium called Molino de Santo Domingo. At the end of the Spanish conquest, Hernán Cortés settled in this area and took advantage of the water outlets that existed. He built mills that worked thanks to them. From here, wheat flour was exported to different parts of the city. Today, entering and leaving this space is almost like traveling back in time. Sadly, not all of the original buildings in the area were preserved; most of those that were, were abandoned and are drowned in this low-income neighborhood. The failures in the urban planning of the area have caused chaotic scenes in the means of transportation such as the metrobus and the subway. This chaos causes constant assaults and insecurity, which has sown fear throughout my life, but above all, extreme caution and awareness of this reality. My way to school took less than 30 minutes. It was like a short film, starting with a scene where people were fighting to get on public transportation and ending with people getting out of bullet-proof vans hand in hand with their body-guards. 

Over time, I began to appreciate more and more the spaces that seemed ordinary during my childhood: flower markets, fruit markets, markets of all kinds of objects. Among my favorites were the Sonora Market, the place to find the best holiday decorations; the Jamaica Market, the largest flower market you could imagine; and the San Juan Market, home of the best chicken, fish and a variety of food that we would buy and cook on the weekend to eat as a family. I remember as if it were yesterday, walking hand in hand with my grandfather to visit the shoemaker, the tailor or the stationery store. I hope your grandparents have the same energy as mine, that they take you for a walk to Xochimilco, Chapultepec, the Museum of Anthropology, the Colonia Centro, the Azteca Stadium, to so many hidden corners in this city and that you manage to embrace them, not as tourists, but as citizens proud of their culture. 

Now that I take the time to remember my childhood, I think about how it has impacted my adult life so far. It is those reflections that bring me here to you. It’s no coincidence that I ended up in a career like architecture, would you like to be an architect? I think about how different my life would have been if either of my parents had been an architect. I would have had a totally different approach to my home, my neighborhood and my city. I think that what we learn during our training as architects impacts in a different way those who have a background related to this profession, not necessarily speaking from an academic approach. I wonder how being an architect for many becomes a way of seeing life more than a profession. What is it that they sow in us that changes our perception of spaces? That perception that gives us the opportunity to pause and appreciate our surroundings in a different way and leads us to question and transform what was previously indifferent to us. 

I will conclude this letter by saying the following: life can be summarized in 4 simple moments. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and you die, but we are never really born until we feel fulfilled; we grow, yes, but not all of us mature; there are those who decide to say no to reproduction, or those who simply cannot do it; and dying is always inevitable. I hope that you end your visit to this world satisfied, knowing that the decisions you made and the legacy you have created were the consequence of your own choices. May you find your own identity and join those who were able to complement it. I hope you manage to cut the umbilical cord a little faster than I did. May our unbreakable and infinite bond, resistant to distance, time and even death, transform through the years into the most beautiful thing we could both wish for. And in difficult times, may you remember that it is all part of life itself, which is a constant school of lessons adhering to your story and your narrative, always unique and unrepeatable. 

With love, 
Mom