The architects reclaiming public space

What happens when architects become not-for-profit builders? When they become interested in addressing society's most basic needs, trading in the blueprints for construction sites? A specter is haunting Spain, the specter of a kind of architecture made up of the leftovers nobody else wants, and made possible through temporary concessions by landowners, business donations, the goodwill of various city councils and the poorly paid (or unpaid) work of scores of young people. Groups such as recetasurbanas.net from Seville and estonoesunsolar.com from Zaragoza are creating an optimistic new architecture that is changing the rules of the game.

Vacant lots, temporary constructions, public participation, employment plans and a new logic are all part and parcel of Park-a-Part, a building made out of three freight containers that the collective Straddle3 erected in Arbúcies, Girona. The space works as a social center, a dance school and an architecture studio. Park-a-Part was made entirely from recycled material that others had discarded, and its price was 169 euros per square meter. A local resident, Fran Casadesús, allowed Straddle3 temporary use of the land.

"Instead of seeking clients, the architect must seek situations of social urgency"

"We tried to apply the concepts of ecology and open-source systems to architecture and city zoning. We want to renew the concept of public space on public land," said a spokesperson for the group.

These approximately 50 groups do more than design buildings (more often than not there is no time for technical drawings, anyway) and take charge of the actual construction. But what they do is becoming increasingly visible through projects like Alg-a-lab in Barrocas, Vigo (where space goes for 107.70 euros per square meter rather than the average 700 euros per square meter for subsidized housing), or Niu, a branch-covered construction at the Contemporary Art Center of Bòlit, in Girona (308.35 euros per square meter).

The sense of commitment is clear when you learn how these architects make a living. "From teaching, from small fund allocations for culture, from professional jobs... Each group juggles several options," says Santiago Cirugeda of Recetas Urbanas. "We're always looking out for resources, and often share the projects we are offered, in order to also share the budget, and of course the responsibility, the authorship and the beers."

And the beer reference hints at the fact that good vibes are as crucial as ideology for these collective projects. It was 15 years ago that Cirugeda began his personal battle to change the face of cities, starting with Seville. He studied the zoning legislation and found out how to use the loopholes to make way for a different type of architecture. There were precedents for this. In the late 1960s, the British architect Cedric Price - whose ideas influenced Rogers and Piano's design for the Pompidou center in Paris - replaced blueprints with on-site work. He also felt that users should participate creatively in architecture. But things had never gone this far. The internet was the medium that got the ball rolling and brought together the experience, knowledge and the ideas of all the various groups working along similar lines. They call it open-source architecture because they do not charge intellectual copyright fees.

"Instead of seeking clients, the architect must seek situations of social urgency," explains the designer José María Galán Conde.

Paula V. Álvarez, author of Camiones, contenedores, colectivos (or, Trucks, containers, collectives), has been documenting this work in what she describes as "a handbook for open-source architecture."

When Cirugeda heard, following a conference in Zaragoza, that a Gypsy shantytown was going to be torn down (its dwellers were moved to subsidized housing), he did the necessary paperwork to be able to offer some of the containers to cultural associations. The book explains what those containers turned into and illustrates an entire process whose ideals are as lofty as those of the hippies in the 1970s.

There are more and more stories like this across Spain. A municipal employment plan turned 20 vacant lots in Zaragoza into parks, community gardens and sports courts in under two years. The architects Patrizia di Monte and Ignacio Grávalos, from Estonoesunsolar, submitted the winning project. The idea was to change the appearance of fenced, vacant lots that its owners have an obligation to keep clean. Patrizia led a team of 50 jobless people and turned these spaces into leisure spots for the local residents. She hired workers, organized talks with neighborhood associations, supervised the work and designed "with no plans."

In 2009, her team inaugurated some 10 parks in the historical area of Zaragoza on a budget of a million euros (of which ¤700,000 went to pay the salaries of the formerly unemployed team members). In early March, Mayor Juan Alberto Belloch inaugurated the beach-park Vadorrey, on the banks of the River Ebro.

Cirugeda is convinced that the future lies in international aid projects, "although it requires more attention than local [projects], because there is a lot of mistrust in some countries." Both Recetas Urbanas and Straddle3 erected cultural centers in Saltillo, Mexico, while Todo por la Praxis, La Creactiva and Club de Alterne inaugurated sports courts in Bogotá.

The architects of the modern era were committed to making accessible housing. Today's collective architect groups seem intent on taking space back for the citizens. These groups are neither trying to stay on the fringes of the system, nor to be an accomplice to the same. They merely ask themselves whether their work can confront the system from within. They are living proof that it is possible to protest without being destructive. The overarching goal is to fix what doesn't work, and to rethink architecture from the viewpoint of people's real, everyday needs.