Vocation and desert

This article was originally published in Domus México 05, February/March 2013

Being born and growing up in the world's fifth hottest city can't be easy. If architecture is an enduring discipline, in Mexicali it is practically an offering to its gods. The two-headed city of Mexicali-Calexico is not just a dual combination of the words Mexico and California, but also a fantastic story about the secret relationships between beer, desert, agriculture, industry and political division. Since it was founded 110 years ago, "the city that captured the sun" has refused to develop its own idea of architecture. Nearly all the different models of North American dwellings have graced its streets — the Californian colonial house, the suburban clapperboard house, the modernist, flat-roofed house and, since the start of the 1980s, the trademark historicist revivals imposed by the property developers who are devastating free thinking in that far-off city of the North.

Not much is known about how, and nobody knows why it was that, in 1968, a group of architects, most of them graduates of UNAM and the IPN, founded the Mexicali School of Architecture, under the auspices of the Autonomous University of Baja California. Mario Carranza, who was among the third year of architects graduating from the UABC and trained by professors who actively plied their trade beyond the confines of the lecture room, and for whom architecture was a vocation, not in the romantic sense that we tend to give it from a distance, but rather in the sense of the technical pragmatism it originated from. It was this school, far removed from the European vanguard and the architecture of the capital, that in 1977, through a group of professors and students, including Carranza, collaborated actively with Cristopher Alexander — shortly after the publication of his book A pattern language — on the construction of a social housing project for ISSSTECALI workers.

Carranza's influence during the almost 40 years in which he held the position of chair at the Mexicali School of Architecture is omnipresent and silent. He is a professor who acts quietly, a reflective character who prefers to teach by example, an excellent observer with potent common sense. As a well-educated and informed man, he is neither critical nor theoretical. He prefers to talk about music, art and cinema than architecture. The silent professor shares Glenn Murcutt's indifference towards technology and a cultivated talent for drawing — two qualities that are extremely rare on the architectural scene today. Mario is a simple man who enjoys life without having to make wild gestures, and his work is defined by its well-thought out bioclimatic considerations, effective functioning and a harmonious relationship between footprint and volume, but above all by an inherent sense of order at every level of a project. In 1993, as Carlos Salinas de Gortari signed the North America Free Trade Agreement, a young, 39-year-old architect was signing his own contract, having finally decided to invest his life savings in an unusual 15 x 15 m square plot in Cuauhtémoc Sur, a neighbourhood that is a true portrait of modern Mexicali and could be defined as a visual dictionary of self-construction, with vacant lots, wineries and single family homes.

The plans for the Carranza house remained on the drawing board for three long years before it came into being in 1997. This is a tectonic building, constructed from concrete blocks, particleboard panels, clear polycarbonate, steel and polished concrete. The most expressive gesture of this little house is its inverted roof. The architect humbly acknowledges the influence of the Stretto house, built by Steven Holl in Texas, and also openly declares his admiration for the work done by Rick Joy in Arizona. Maybe this is why the house blends in so well with its neighbourhood and looks as if it had always been there; the whole thing is based on its relationship with the desert that pulsates beneath the asphalt, the arid landscape converted into molecules of dust, the burning wind that whispers old tales of pioneers, the boiling light that leaves no space for lies, but above all a profound notion of order and landscape.

Its footprint mirrors the geometry of the plot, part of a quadrangle with 8.5 m sides, equivalent to 21 concrete blocks, the constructive unit that governs the rhythm, proportion and dimensions of the building: from the camber of the stairs to the shelves of the book cases, each detail is ordered by its rounded proportion. The entrance is highly visible from street level thanks to the fact one has to go up three steps in order to go back down once over the threshold. On the external landing before entering the house, visitors pass under a steel canopy suspended from cables made from the same material.

The composition of the façade clearly displays the geometric thoroughness of its design, with an intriguing little window in the entrance door that reveals its function when Lenon, a boxer puppy, looks through it to see who is outside. Despite being a small house, it feels large, thanks to the very simple strategy of incorporating stairs twice the height of the room. This transparency can be seen in the plywood covering of the stairs, which is deliberately separated from the wall, or the fact that the bookshelf doubles as a handrail on the upper level. The kitchen, although small, is comfortable and fits in well with daily life. The dining room table makes it possible to extend the activity of the living room, making it the heart of all domestic activity in the house.

It doesn't take long to realise that the double-height rear terrace is the most pleasant place to spend the afternoon: it's not hard to imagine conversations here going on until the wee hours, or popular Sunday roasts. To get to the private area on the upper level, you have to go up and then cross a connecting bridge that bears witness to an as-yet unbuilt but thought out extension. The room is modest and well finished, with its most striking feature being its dominant position and the row of small balconies that dominate it on one side and the rear courtyard on the other.

As any architect worth their salt knows, you can easily judge a building by the quality of its bathrooms, and the main bathroom in the Carranza house is generously-proportioned and well thought out.

Of all the works by Mario Carranza, his house is notable because he was able to decide on and implement every detail himself. Despite its limited budget, it shows that the bioclimatic principles of the Mexicali School of Architecture cannot just produce efficient buildings, but also new ways of inhabiting them. It is incredible to think that such a contemporary house was built almost 20 years ago. Even more surprising is its excellent state of preservation. The materials have responded with style and dignity, as if aware of their important job in embodying the spirit of a generation and the longings of an architect who, like so many others, demands his right to create good architecture. Ulises Omar Zúñiga García (@Taller24), architect

Mario Carranza: Carranza House, Mexicali, Mexico
Project design and management: Mario Carranza Gaxiola
Structural engineering: Mario Vargas
Works supervision: Mario Carranza
Execution of building work: Filiberto Limón
Ironwork: Evaristo Padrón
Electrical installation: José Peraza
Plumbing: Nicolás Zepeda
Carpentry: Juan Limón
Landscape design: Mario Carranza
Built area: 70 square metres
Plot: 270 square metres
Location: Av. Paraguay 198, Cuauhtémoc Sur, 21200, Mexicali BC