Dominic Galicia

SACRED HILL

2011-10-06T08:06:00.000+08:00

Citadel Confronts the Challenges of Time

The ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru. The walled city of Avila in Spain. The Church of Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion in Santa Maria, Ilocos Sur. What do they have in common?

They are three of the 93 sites in 47 countries that comprise the 2010 WMF Watch, a biennial list of structures that are both significant and imperiled. WMF, or World Monuments Fund, the prestigious New York-based non-profit organization, made the announcement in October last year.

The Church of Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion, or Santa Maria Church, is one of three such sites in the Philippines, aside from the Ifugao Rice Terraces and Manila’s Basilica of San Sebastian (featured in the recent Sacred Spaces issue of BluPrint).

Santa Maria Church is also one of the four “Baroque Churches of the Philippines” that comprise the 1993 UNESCO World Heritage List inscription, joining Paoay, Miag-ao, and San Agustin. Santa Maria is perhaps the least known, under the radar, even as it sits on a hill 19 meters above sea level.

The town of Santa Maria lies on a plain between the South China Sea and the mountains of Abra. It was a simple Augustinian visita, or mission outpost, in 1567. But by 1765, when construction of the church began, it had become one of the most prolific Augustinian missions in the Philippines.

Near the intersection of Col. Reyes Ave. and the Santa Maria-Burgos Road, 80 or so granite steps rise eastward. They taper from 13 meters wide at street level to 1.5 meters narrower at the top, resulting in a perspectival illusion of greater distance. They rise gently, with deep treads and low risers. Three landings allow us to catch our breath, and contemplate the upward sweep of man’s spiritual aspirations.

A staircase as the main approach to a church is not entirely unusual. The Church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli in Rome and the St. Paul ruins in Macau (BluPrint Vol. 7, 2009) are examples. Unusual in Ilocos Sur is that we approach from the side; the stairs are parallel, not perpendicular, to the façade. From this angle, the curved buttresses and the curved pediment, framed by the corner drums, come alive.

As described by Regalado Trota Jose in his 1992 book, Simbahan, the climb also presents the unique spectacle of a church separate from its convento. At Santa Maria, they confront each other, separated by a narrow entrance courtyard but connected by a one-storey brick wall at the far end, through which another staircase directs us to the ruins of the camposanto, or cemetery.

The citadel contains the church, convento, and bell tower on roughly 1.25 hectares of hill. A retaining wall 1.6 meters thick stabilizes the hill, augmented by stone buttresses at every 10 meters.

Corner drums anchor the main façade of the church. Engaged pillars divide it into three bays, and, together with the corner drums, elicit deep shadow. Across the main façade, a stringcourse extends from one corner drum to the other. The only fenestration of the façade is a trio of windows between the stringcourse and the arched opening of the main door. Above the stringcourse, curved buttresses sweep up from the corner drums towards the central bay, and meet the segmental pediment in the middle.

Decorative urns punctuate the corner drums and the engaged pillars. Together with the curved buttresses, they remind us of Italian Renaissance architect Giacomo da Vignola’s façade design for the church of Il Gesu in Rome, which served as model for several colonial churches in the Ilocos. (The Gesu that we see in Rome today carries the façade designed not by Vignola but by his successor, Giacomo della Porta.)

Beyond Vignola, the front façade suggests the inventiveness of the later master of the Baroque, Francesco Borromini. It is exuberant, and specific about its precedents. In comparison, the lateral elevations and their massive brick-clad buttresses are reticent. There is something both modern and ancient about them, reminding us of the American architect Louis Kahn and his First Unitarian Church in Rochester, New York. The notion of the “immeasurable” in architecture was central to Kahn.

Inside, the nave’s vaulted ceiling springs from nine pairs of Ionic pilasters, dividing the interior elevation into eight bays. Stillness abides here in a way that inspires prayer and worship. There is something profoundly evangelizing about daylight streaming into this vaulted space, thanks to the structure’s authenticity and integrity. The structure retains its role as the vessel of a sublime message from man’s deep past. Santa Maria Church has been blessed with stewards who have seen fit to repair and restore, and not to renovate.

According to Jose’s book Simbahan, “a church normally had two side altars or colaterales to complement the altar mayor, though of course the larger parishes could afford more. The sanctuary in Santa Maria, Ilocos Sur, has an unusual arrangement: a series of smaller altars, three on each side of the apse, flank the main altar. These were said to have been erected for the numerous priests who had been stationed there, before proceeding to proselytize among the Itnegs in the nearby Abra mountains.”

Whereas one set of exceptional qualities underlies Santa Maria’s inscription in UNESCO’s World Heritage List, other circumstances lead to inclusion in the WMF Watch.

At least a dozen serious cracks have been observed in the retaining walls, in particular the north, north-east and south-west sides. A 2003 Detailed Engineering Study, or DES, prepared by Engr. Angel Lazaro, sounded the alarm and outlined corrective measures. Unfortunately, other concerns prevailed, diverting attention from the retaining walls. When a powerful typhoon hit in August 2008, the north-east retaining wall collapsed. It was eventually repaired but at a cost greater than if repairs had been preventive. The WMF listing aims to draw attention to the critical condition of the retaining walls, which literally are holding the hill together.

On the right side elevation of the church, a bas relief depicts Mother Mary in a tree. According to legend, a Marian statue from a nearby chapel kept appearing on a guava tree on this hill, inspiring the assumption that Our Lady wanted a church to be built here.

There is an additional story, told by the site’s two cross-axes that intersect at the main door, creating a cruciform: the North-South axis consisting of convento and church, and the East-West axis of stairs and the old cemetery.

The east leads to the ruins of the old Spanish camposanto, shaped like a perfect square, sitting at the edge of a rice field. At the far side of the camposanto, the ruins of a funerary chapel protrude into the field, its façade a miniature version of the main church.

Church and convento confront each other not as antagonists but as interlocutors in a discourse between sacred and profane, partners in an event that repeated, like sunrise and sunset: the daily routine during colonial times, when the convento was the residence of friars who celebrated daily mass at the church.

In contrast to the church-convento axis, the east-west axis moves in one direction. Emerging from the South China Sea three kilometers away, bisecting the town of Santa Maria, climbing the 82 steps, pausing at the church door, walking through the courtyard gateway and down the other side, this axis ends in the cemetery, suggesting the trajectory from birth to death.

One axis speaks of the cycle of the day. The other axis speaks of the cycle of a life. It is the kind of dialogue that is at its most eloquent in places of exceptional character and authenticity, places of outstanding union of man and landscape, places like the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru, the walled city of Avila in Spain, and the Church of Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion in Santa Maria, Ilocos Sur.

(Published in BluPrint October 2010)

THE OLD MANILA HOTEL AND THE SEA

2011-10-06T07:48:00.001+08:00

The great American writer Ernest Hemingway once said "It is a good story if it's like Manila Hotel.” Next year will be the 100th anniversary of the Grand Dame. All things considered, her story has been epic.

The story of Manila Hotel begins with the American architect and urban planner Daniel Burnham, author of the 1905 City Beautiful plan for Manila. At the heart of his proposal was a government center, a broad lawn or mall that extended from a radial cluster of buildings towards a park that faced the sea. In order to strengthen the park’s connection to the sea, Burnham’s plan called for land to be reclaimed from the sea, so that nearby South Harbor would not sully views of the sunset.

Conceptually, this plan organized Intramuros, the emerging suburbs, and the crescent shaped coastline into a poetic composition that marked a city’s—and a people’s—connection to the sea.

The coastline was to be marked by a new shore road —first called Coastal, then Dewey, then Roxas—that would intersect the mall. At this juncture would stand an honor guard of two important buildings, what would become the Army Navy Club and Manila Hotel.

PARSONS

It was not an easy search, but Burnham eventually found the man to implement his plan for Manila and design its buildings, a young architect whose credentials impressed him. William E. Parsons was as well-educated as any American architect could hope to be. Yale 1895, Columbia 1898, followed by the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, Parsons then worked at the New York Office of John Galen Howard. Howard, who himself was trained at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, was supervising architect at the Berkeley campus of the University of California. It is possible that some of the California Mission Revival Style that informs Berkeley’s architecture may have also traveled to Manila Hotel via the Howard office.

The owners of Manila’s existing hotels did not sympathize with the government’s plan to help the Manila Hotel Company raise P900,000 of the hotel’s P1,000,000 construction budget. They met regularly at the Hotel Metropole near Santa Cruz Church to plot their opposition. But the Manila Hotel Company triumphed, and US Secretary of War Jacob M. Dickinson laid the cornerstone on September 1, 1910.

The original plan of Manila hotel is the classic H, as if the introverted courtyard plan that was common within the walls of Intramuros became an extrovert just outside the walls. “The 'H' configuration and the single-loaded building typology come from Parson's experience with the design of the Philippine General Hospital complex started a few years earlier,“ says Paulo Alcazaren, landscape architect and BluPrint editor-in-chief. “The 'H' became a template for tropical hospitals that Parsons would design for Panama - they were building the canal then - after his stint in the Philippines ...and the building type became the model for other hospitals in Asia and China.”

The five-story structure occupied less than a third of roughly three hectares of reclaimed land. The rest of the property was given over to landscaped gardens, enabling the building to maximize the intake of breezes from all directions.

Ventilation and protection from rain and sun were essential tenets of Parsons design. Corridors were single-loaded, so that breezes could cross from exterior windows to transoms above doors in the corridors. Broad windows with sliding capiz panels and canopies above created the horizontal banding of the exterior elevations. During construction, Parsons added a roof garden that was not part of the original design. (In democratic fashion, the same tropical design intelligence and attention to detail that Parsons employed at this swankiest of projects was also used for the 15 Gabaldon schoolhouse prototypes that he designed for the rest of the archipelago.)

The predominant material was reinforced concrete, which was new to the Philippines at the time and which Parsons championed, considering the termites, earthquakes, and cheap unskilled labor in the country.

As the prominent Chicago architect Andrew Rebori would report in Architectural Record, 1917, “In general, both the exterior and the interior of the Manila Hotel are remarkably well handled, and considering the limitations of the material employed in its construction the building is unusually imposing.“ When Parsons returned to the US in 1914, his Philippine experience—including Philippine General Hospital, Philippine Normal College, and his last project here, Paco Station—would serve him in good stead. He went on to design high-profile projects like the Federal Trade Commission building and the United States Botanical Gardens in Washington DC.

LUNA DE SAN PEDRO

In 1935, Commonwealth President Manuel Quezon, having just negotiated with General Douglas Macarthur to organize the Philippine military, consulted with one of the most prominent architects of the day, like Parsons a graduate of Ecole des Beaux-Arts. As historian Teodoro Agoncillo wrote in his 1984 book Burden of Proof, “Quezon took immediate steps to provide MacArthur with quarters fit for a king. He chose Andres Luna de San Pedro, Juan Luna’s son, to take charge of the plans for the quarters that could rival the elegance and facilities of Malakanyang. Luna looked about him and found that Manila Hotel’s top floor, if remodeled properly, would do justice to any extravagant king. He reported his findings to Quezon, who approved his plan to remodel the top floor of the Manila Hotel in such a way as to make it a sort of Malakanyang-by-the-Bay. Luna then proceeded to convert it into an elegant and beautiful penthouse. It took him one year to perform the miracle.”

1935 was also the year that saw the inauguration of the first trans-Pacific Clipper flight, with Martin seaplanes berthing at South Harbor, a stone’s throw away from Manila Hotel. It is likely then that both Macarthur and the China Clipper prompted the Manila Hotel Company’s decision to expand. Luna de San Pedro was also brought in to expand the west wing northward – creating the air-conditioned annex - and design some of the key public rooms, such as the Fiesta Pavilion.

As described in Manila Hotel’s guidebook published in 1939, just two years before Pearl Harbor, the Fiesta Pavilion was “one of the finest and most beautiful ballrooms in the world, surrounded by a wide terrace filled with dining tables. It has neither doors nor windows, only a high domed roof supported by giant columns. As you dine, you look out over the fascinating harbor…The Pavilion is open on all sides and the verdant gardens and the blue bay glimpsed thru the coconut palms, form a unique setting ...”

The air-conditioned annex was an ingenious exercise in creating a new face to the world. Entirely respectful of the Parsons original, it allowed the Parsons original to continue being the hotel’s aspect to the city and Burnham’s Luneta, while it became the hotel’s new face, greeting travelers as their Pan Am Clipper seaplanes taxied at South Harbor.

Unfortunately, none of the Luna de San Pedro intervention is apparent today. Like the rest of the hotel, it survived the war, but not the renovation that took place in the 70s, which was in all aspects superb, except for its inability to maintain the Luna de San Pedro component.

LOCSIN

In October 1974, the Bulletin Today reported that “the state-owned, five-story 265-room hotel with its distinctive white-washed walls and green roof has been going to seed in recent years, crowded out of the steadily-growing tourist trade by such new hotels as the Hilton, Hyatt and Intercontinental.” The article suggested that change was on the way, and it came in January 1975 in the form of President Ferdinand Marcos signing Presidential Decree No. 645, “AUTHORIZING THE GOVERNMENT SERVICE INSURANCE SYSTEM TO ASSIST IN THE CONSTRUCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND/OR OPERATION OF A NEW MANILA HOTEL AND DISSOLVING THE EXISTING MANILA HOTEL COMPANY.” The Preamble explained: “WHEREAS, the International Monetary Fund and the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development have selected Manila as the venue for their annual conference in September, 1976, and a large number… are expected to converge in Manila on that occasion, thus making it a matter of national priority to complete the new Manila Hotel by that time.”

The redevelopment team was led by the late National Artist for Architecture Leandro Locsin, aided by National Artist for Landscape Architecture IP Santos. On May 15, 1975, First Lady Imelda Marcos lowered the time capsule, and work began on the renovation of the old five-story wing, and the construction of the new tower.

Locsin’s orientation of the new tower – perpendicular to the old wing - was a brilliant move, an act of exceptional elegance. The tower re-established the relationship of Manila Hotel to a now much larger Metro Manila. From a distance, the tower called your attention, but receded as you approached the entrance, such that when you entered the driveway, the tower rose narrowly and practically disappeared, and the Parsons Manila Hotel reestablished its prominence.

Patricia Keller, partner in the international interior design firm of Dale Keller & Associates, worked with Locsin on the renovation. She had also collaborated with him on the Hyatt (now Midas) in 1965 and on the Philippine Plaza. For all these projects, she studied Philippine culture and crafts to generate concepts. It was an auspicious partnership, as both employed understatement in their artistry.

In 1982, Manila Hotel was ranked # 21 by “Institutional Investor” magazine, ahead of the Pierre in New York (# 28), the George V in Paris (# 29), and the Savoy in London (# 39). Ten years later, in 1992, “Institutional Investor” ranked Manila Hotel #1, the world's best hotel.

Unfortunately, two years later, an article in the Philippine Daily Inquirer would report that “the hotel has been plagued by low occupancy because of competition from newer and strategically situated Makati hotels. The worsening traffic situation exacerbated the hotel’s distance from Makati, which has displaced Manila as the country’s business capital.” The GSIS wanted to sell the hotel with the hope that the prospective buyer’s “strong marketing link overseas, plus fresh capital to fund a possible redevelopment plan, will help arrest the slide in the hotel’s occupancy rates.”

OWNERSHIP

The transfer of ownership was not without its controversy. Renong Berhad, a leading Malaysian conglomerate, won the bidding and was ready to take over, teamed up with ITT Sheraton, one of the world’s leading international hotel companies. The only rival bidder did not sympathize with the government’s plan to transfer ownership to a foreign entity, and exercised its opposition all the way to the Supreme Court.

Commonwealth President Manuel Quezon once said "I would rather have a country run like hell by Filipinos than a country run like heaven by the Americans.” The Manila Hotel of a decade ago seemed to illustrate that. In his regular column, the country’s most eminent heritage conservationist described Manila Hotel as a “Grande Dame now decked out like a floozy…tarted up with paste diamonds set in thin sheets of gold-colored brass.” Those were Augusto Villalon’s words published on June 16, 2003 in the Daily Inquirer, in an article titled Our Manila Hotel Goes Down the Drain.

Four years later, were things looking up? On Oct. 6, 2007, the Manila Bulletin editorial carried the headline: “The historic landmark Manila Hotel the Grand Dame of Hotels continues its tradition of excellence as it celebrates its 95th Anniversary October 6, 2007”.

The editorial went into detail: “To commemorate the 100th anniversary of Philippine independence proclaimed on June 12, 1898, the Manila Hotel in 1998 constructed the Centennial Hall with a 1,250 guests capacity. Then in 2000, it constructed the Millennium Hall which can accommodate 1,000 guests. These are sites for big conferences and grand receptions…For meetings and other occasions, the hotel offers eight function rooms, including the grand Fiesta Pavilion and Maynila ballrooms that can accommodate up to 2,500 and 750 guests, respectively, and others that can accommodate 150 to 300 guests, fully equipped with modern meeting and presentation facilities. By next month, the hotel will have the Manila Hotel Tent City, a new function hall with a seating capacity of 2,500.”

As it turned out, Tent City may not have been the most providential thing to happen to Manila Hotel. First is the name Tent City, which suggests refugee relocation sites. Second is the loss of the garden, considering that Manila Hotel has always been about a structure in a landscaped setting, and the hotel now had practically no garden.

PRESENT

On a recent visit, we were able to note some cause for hope. Recent renovations of the Locsin tower rooms demonstrate a willingness to invest resources. Their standard of finish reminds one of the new and glitzy Macau hotels, though not of the understatement of Locsin and Keller. It was good to see that many things from the Locsin renovation were maintained, such as the decoration of the Parsons Wing rooms and the Tap Room Bar’s Tiffany glass.

In many places, especially the lobby, the high-gloss finish of ceilings and woodwork causes light to reflect stridently. This is in contrast with the understated satin finish of wood surfaces in the photographs of Manila Hotel in Nicholas Polites’ 1977 book The Architecture of Leandro Locsin.

Some areas, particularly the path leading towards Fiesta Pavilion and Centennial, Millennium and other halls, show a predilection for cold fluorescent lighting, foil-like signage, and uncoordinated marble flooring. This again contrasts with the subtle variations in color that Patricia Keller brought to the marble flooring of the Locsin renovation.

Over-all, what is apparent is that things are no longer apparent, as far as the ground floor plan is concerned. The plan clarity that was present in the days of Parsons, Luna de San Pedro, and Locsin is not so present today. Of course, the path from entrance to Lobby remains clear, and grand, and impressive. But the path to Fiesta Pavilion et al seems like a maze. Locsin used single-loaded corridors with views of landscaped open spaces to take us to Fiesta Pavilion and Maynila. Today, those open spaces are supplanted by a spree of banquet halls, and that sense of orientation is gone.

The fresh air that brings hope to Manila Hotel can also bring with it an understanding of how the structure relates to the city. We are informed that this process of understanding is underway, and there is some hope for the eventual removal of the over-sized “Manila Hotel” signage on the entrance canopy and the tower roof. More eloquently than any headline, the removal of that signage will announce to the city that the Manila Hotel we knew is on its way back.

FUTURE

Nothing is arbitrary, and everything we do participates in a larger vision, a sapient reading of universal patterns. Great planning and architecture are not impositions but interpretations. From Burnham to Locsin, Manila Hotel has been a story of masterful interventions. Burnham read the relationship of Luneta Park to the sea and the existing city. Parsons read the relationship of the new hotel to Luneta Park. Luna de San Pedro read the relationship of his annex to the sea and to the world with the advent of the Clipper. Locsin read the relationship of his tower to the Parsons wing, and to the city. Present in all these interventions is a deep respect for context and for history, and the heavens seem pleased and reward this respect with the felicitous ability to implement.

What we do today acts as a tribute and a remembrance to those that preceded us. Individual memory becomes communal memory, which acts as a stepping stone towards future achievement. We are grateful that Manila Hotel continues to survive time and its vicissitudes, with patience and forbearance, tolerating us, as we who are her stewards today now struggle to understand her story. In 1903, Burnham gave us a hint: “I appeal for an ideal thing, for the establishment of a beauty that shall be ever present to do its pure and noble work among us forever…”

(written April 2011)

Escolta@Heart

2011-09-09T07:58:00.022+08:00

Opening Statement

delivered at

"BPO@Escolta: A Dialogue Among Stakeholders"

9:00 - 11:30 a.m., Friday, September 2, 2011

Oval Room, Manila City Hall

First of all, please permit me – on behalf of the 20^th Century Heritage Committee of the International Council on Monuments and Sites, or ICOMOS, Philippines - to thank the City of Manila for this opportunity to have this dialogue. Thank you also to the Manila Historical and Heritage Commission as well as to the Heritage Conservation Society of the Philippines. Thank you all for being here, at this meeting that was conceived very recently. Your presence here suggests that Escolta is valuable to all of us.

The 470-meter stretch of street known as Escolta, though no longer literally at the heart of metropolitan Manila, remains at or near the crossroads of major institutions. Just across the Pasig River to the south are the universities of Intramuros, such as Mapua and Lyceum. A stone’s throw away is the University Belt, which includes institutions like FEU and the University of the East. A stronger throw away is the Mendiola Consortium which includes San Beda, Centro Escolar, and Holy Spirit. Near the northeastern end of Escolta, line 1 of the LRT runs on Avenida Rizal, which meets a few hundred meters north with line 2 of the LRT on Claro M. Recto.
Escolta has been central to the history of this city for centuries. The architectural evolution of Escolta has demonstrated its importance as the country’s center of business. As a result of this, Escolta is at the heart of our country’s 20^th century architectural heritage, particularly structures from before World War 2 and immediately after.

What drew my particular attention recently was the opportunity to do research on Andres Luna de San Pedro, the architect son of the painter Juan Luna. He does not figure prominently in architectural discussions today, but he should. I am a modernist architect, but the things one can learn from an architect of his caliber are many. So the fact that two of his buildings – the Regina Building built in 1934 (with the fourth floor added later on by another Filipino architectural great, Fernando Ocampo) and the Perez Samanillo, built in 1928 - face each other across the Escolta is a happenstance that – in light of so many demolitions that ravage this city – speaks of divine intervention.

This struck me on a recent trip to Barcelona, on my first trip to Spain: to be impressed by the chamfered corners of Barcelona’s city blocks, and to enjoy them, and to somehow remember that I had witnessed such felicity somewhere else. I then remembered that I had seen this in Escolta.

I mention this to indicate that memory is an important part of the human experience. I am not just talking of the architect’s experience. I am talking about the universal interweaving of observation with thought, emotion, and memory. I am talking about the confluence of elements that makes an experience of lasting impact.

Such a confluence resides in Escolta, between Plaza Moraga and Plaza Santa Cruz, and hidden – not deeply, but still hidden – by Meralco wires and the indifference of a city.

Aside from Andres Luna de San Pedro, we also have the Syvel’s Building, owned by the Puyats and designed by the late National Artist for Architecture Leandro Locsin. To discover it is a rewarding experience, a post-war building being very contemporary but being very much informed by the proportions and harmonies of earlier Filipino architecture.

The dialogue among buildings on this street – with the exception of the Metrobank tower – is an enriching experience for the observer. Of course I speak as an architect, but we architects, as part of our profession, observe things for you and learn things for you. This dialogue among buildings of different vintages, all done by the country’s greatest architects, is the kind of dialogue we all travel to other countries for. The visual stimuli intrigue us. You may not be conscious of exactly why it is that you travel, but still you travel.

Another architectural master – Carlos Arguelles - gives us the former headquarters of Philippine National Bank. It is largely unused, and has actually been condemned. Let me just say something about condemning. It is the easiest thing in the world to do. Gossips do it all the time. But as in the case of a patient being advised to amputate his leg, it is always best to get a second opinion and a third. Science and technology today – as well as the more forward-thinking architecture – are able to stabilize the most endangered of structures. If any of you have seen the Atom Bomb Dome in Hiroshima, you will know what I am talking about.

Almost beside the Philippine National Bank is the Capitol Theater by Juan Nakpil built in 1935, an Art Deco marvel built at around the same time as the Jai Alai Building on Taft Avenue. The story of the Capitol Theater is sad because the interior – a collaboration of Juan Nakpil, Victorio Edades, and Carlos Botong Francisco – is gone, carted away in a failed attempt to convert the theater into a restaurant. Some of you may believe as I do that to the last gasp there is life. And so this building has hope.

Unlike the Jai Alai, which lost all hope when it was torn down. One of the finest Art Deco buildings in all of Asia, adaptive re-use could have transformed the Jai Alai courts into lecture halls or courtrooms. What we are doing today we do in honor of the Jai Alai.

The Capitol Theater, in spite of its gutted interior, has the marvelous potential of being transformed into a building with a light-filled courtyard, to house a call center or other Business Process Outsourcing operations.

The phenomenon that makes this possible is the Cloud. Mr. Junie Pama, Country Manager of InContact, will speak about it in detail later, but let me say that the Cloud brings hope to Escolta. The email you write is not necessarily saved in your laptop but in what is called the Cloud, literally the databanks of Yahoo or Google in Sunnyvale or Mountain View, California. Large warehouse-like office buildings are not necessary for call centers, which means that the moribund and architecturally significant structures of Escolta can be used for these new purposes.

Escolta @ Heart, the title of this talk, refers to the emotional impact that a place has on a person. At the end of the day, that is what it is about. As an architect I strive each day to create the kind of spaces and experiences that have emotional impact. This is what is remembered. This is what you are after also: this creation of experience, this replication of authenticity.

But why replicate when you can have what is real?

Escolta has the quality of being original, of being close to where things started. This is a quality that cannot be replicated.

As an architect, I would say that we do not build like we used to. It does not mean that we cannot, but just not yet, and we need Escolta to show us how.

There is this idea of the Creative City as the ideal environment for the creation of new things. Escolta is at the heart of the idea of Manila as a creative city.

We are speaking today about a vision of how BPO or Business Process Outsourcing can bring new life to the city, of how new software can bring new life to the hardware of this city. We are also expecting the transition from voice-based BPO, like call centers, to knowledge-based BPO, such as animation studios, design and engineering offices.

Heritage structures are essential to the Creative City, because they are visually rich. Especially if they tell the story of a city and its people. We run to build new cities on rice field and forest in order to tell a story. But here in our midst is the story, told perhaps with torn pages, but still the story.

The Creative City is at the heart of a creative country. If we are to remain competitive, then we must sustain what it is that enables us to be creative. Escolta has that environment: the architecture, the streets, the proximity to schools.

The creative class needs the visual stimuli of the authentic, the emotional stimuli of the noble and meaningful. Here we have a street in a district beside a river, near the point where a city was founded. There is beauty here, and depth. There is much that needs to be removed to get to that beauty. But it is there, and when we reclaim it, the country will be reborn.

New 1-Hectare School Campus in Fort Bonifacio, Proposed

2011-09-07T14:11:00.003+08:00

In Progress: Private Residence

2011-07-26T16:00:00.009+08:00

In Progress: Parish Church of Muling Pagkabuhay

2011-07-26T15:12:00.014+08:00

Click here to see YouTube video of proposed design for Muling Pagkabuhay Parish Church

In Progress: Sanctuary of Most Holy Trinity Parish Church, Sampaloc, Manila

2011-07-26T15:08:00.007+08:00

Proposed renovation of Sanctuary

Click here to see YouTube video of proposed design.

Existing condition of Sanctuary

In Progress: Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary

2011-07-26T11:38:00.009+08:00

Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary

Hinulugan Taktak, Antipolo, Rizal
Structural Engineer: Carlos M. Villaraza

Click here to see YouTube video of proposed design.

Click here to see recent construction photos on the parish's Facebook page.

House with Tall Windows

2009-12-17T13:05:00.008+08:00

View from Street

View from Main Door

Living Room

St. John Mary Vianney Parish Plaza and Annex

2009-12-16T12:18:00.011+08:00

A crowded parish in Makati needs to expand, and acquires a neighboring lot, with the intent of replacing the existing church with a larger structure. We propose instead to maintain the existing church, which is on the second floor, and provide spill-over space in the form of an open-air plaza and arcade to be built right next to the existing church.

The tall windows of the existing church will be converted into tall doors, opening out to the plaza which will also be on the second floor and which will be approached from street level by a grand flight of steps.

The plaza, aside from providing spill-over space during crowded masses, will also serve as an open, tree-planted civic space in a neighborhood that has very little of it. The traditional urban relationship between church and square will be revived here.

In the chronology of architectonic form, the rounded arches of the arcade predate the pointed, or quasi-Gothic, arches of the existing church.

The grand flight of steps will be visible from Narra Street, and will provide an inviting and celebratory processional approach to the plaza and the church.

The Ground Floor will provide 350 square meters of additional space, containing an archetypal network of columns and arches supporting the Plaza above.

Lamp

2009-01-12T15:35:00.007+08:00

The circle glows in the center of the square. It is a concavity, carved out from the plane, although it appears as a globe that floats in front of the plane. It registers in three ways: as a disc, as a cave, and as a globe.

This lamp was designed for Casa Periquet.

The Picasso Boutique Serviced Residences, Makati

2009-01-10T15:46:00.018+08:00

conversion of Blanco Center Apartment Building

into High-End Boutique Serviced Residences

(in collaboration with Periquet Galicia, Inc.)
L. P. Leviste St.,

Salcedo Village, Makati City, Metro-Manila

The Picasso seen from Paseo de Roxas

The Picasso seen from Leviste Street

The role of art is to enable us to see ordinary things in new ways. Picasso the artist helped the world to see art, and the world, anew. Cubism, the movement he founded with Georges Braque, is the deconstruction of an object into various components, and re-assembling these components in a different way.

Cubism

The idea of the façade is simple: take a simple image, divide it into equally-sized components, and reapply them to the balconies of this building. You do not see the image when you stand in front of the building. But in the course of several visits, as you walk up and down the street, you will see the various components of the image, divided over several balconies, come together as a complete picture, not so much with your eyes, but in your mind, rather like Cubism.

Found Object

In the course of several visits to the construction site, the idea of the "found object" came to light. Picasso was not only the founder of Cubism but also one of the pioneers of the use of the "found object" in collage and in sculpture. The "found object" is literally that: an object chanced upon in the streets and trash heaps of Paris during Picasso's daily perambulations: a twisted bicycle wheel here, a busted radiator there, that eventually ended up as a key element in a sculpture.

In the Main Lobby, the demolition process revealed traces of outstanding visual interest: the jagged edge of a demolished floor slab here, the texture of formwork on the underside of a floor slab there, that eventually end up as key elements of the space. Ordinary things seen in new ways become extraordinary.

UPDATE: Article on The Picasso as seen in Feb/March 2010 issue of Garage Magazine.

Apartment in Rockwell

2009-01-09T22:31:00.009+08:00

In collaboration with Periquet Galicia, Inc.

Church of St. Benedict

2009-01-08T11:12:00.012+08:00

Church of St. Benedict (Interior Design)

Ayala Westgrove Heights, Silang, Cavite

Click here to read BluPrint article on the completed Church of St. Benedict.

Proposed view of Main Altar

Proposed view of Right Side Aisle

Proposed view of Main Door from Main Altar

Listen to the light:

Design Statement for the Church of St. Benedict

The concept of the Church of St. Benedict in Westgrove Heights is centered on the first word of the Prologue of the Rule of Benedict.

"Listen".

The act of listening - of the congregation listening to the priest or to the choir or to the silence, and of Christ listening to our prayers, and of Mary and Benedict listening to our supplications – is the primary instigator of the architectonic form.

The central image is of a circle with a cross in it. The wood cross carries a life-size image of Christ. The cross extends below the circle to rest on its visual base, which is the tabernacle.

The diameter of the circle is six meters. It is the perimeter of a perfect concavity; the radius of the circle is the depth of the concavity. The intersection of the cross - the location of Christ’s ears - is at the center of the circle. The auditory phenomenon that results – that the sound that reflects from any point on a perfectly concave surface will head straight for the geometric center of that surface – will symbolize the omniscient and all-encompassing nature of Christ’s response to our prayers; he listens to all of them.

The concavity of the circle will also result in an optical phenomenon – that the concave appears as convex. The circle will have the three-dimensional impact of a globe. This will remind us of one of the most significant events in Benedict’s life – his vision of the whole world gathered in a single ray of light.

The inner surface of the concavity will be lined with capiz mosaic, resulting in a quiet shimmer. This will be a subtle visual link to the mosaics that have decorated the apses of Christian churches since the earliest times. The use of a local material found only here in the Philippines, but in the context of an apsidal mosaic reminiscent of the earliest Christian churches found in the Mediterranean area, will symbolize both the universality and the specificity of the Catholic Church in the Philippines.

Concavity will also be an exploration of the nature of sanctity. Extending left and right from the intersection of the cross and the circle, about three meters from the church floor, is a line that connects to the centers of two adjacent concavities. On the left, acting as the visual termination of the left-side aisle, is a two-meter-diameter concavity that will be centered on the head of a life-size statue of Mary. On the right, acting as the terminus of the right-side aisle, is a one-meter-diameter concavity that will be centered on the head of a life-size statue of Benedict.

These concavities will also be lined with shimmering capiz mosaic and will appear as the halos that predominate in Christian iconography. There is a flip side, however, to the glory of haloes, and that is the responsibility that comes with sanctity. Again, using the auditory qualities of a concave surface, the halos act as parabolic reflectors that will direct our supplications to the patient ears of Mary and Benedict.

The over-all plan of the Church is based on the basilica prototype that originated with the roots of Christianity in the Mediterranean. Our examination of Benedictine structures takes us not only to the beginnings of Benedictine architecture at the Monastery of Monte Cassino, but to the roots of early Christian basilica architecture that guided Monte Cassino.

The term “Mediterranean”, therefore, becomes our guide not purely for stylistic reasons, but for deeper historical reasons that will link each member of the congregation to the beginnings of Christianity.

The surfaces of the interior will be treated so as to maximize the qualities of light and sound. We picture a highly articulated space that is all in white. We will be guided by the fact that light and sound often act in similar ways, and so the variations of stepped, rhythmic and concave surfaces that we are currently exploring will be not only visually compelling, but also acoustically rich.

Proposed view of Baptistery, adjacent to Main Door

Proposed view of Confessionals, adjacent to Main Door

Concept for the Indoor Statuary at the Church of St. Benedict

The statuary will be the apotheosis of the literal, as part of the oscillation between the literal and the abstract that animates the journey towards grace. A visitor travels through layers of architectural experience that alternate from literal, to abstract, to literal, and so on.

The street outside is literal, prosaic, and brings you to the garden, which can be considered abstract (as paradise can be considered abstract), which in turn brings you to the church facade, which is literal. The visitor walks through the door, and enters an abstract world, or at least that is what we aim for with the natural light traveling over the white plaster surfaces of the nave walls.

The nave is all abstract, but not yet the apotheosis of the abstract. The concavities are.

Between the nave and the concavities is the apotheosis of the literal: life-sized carved figures of Jesus, Mary and Benedict. They are to be painted in the traditional manner, without being maudlin, the only objects in the entire interior that will be painted. Sculpted with surpassing dexterity, their quality elevates them to the level of the abstract.

Glass Fibre Reinforced Concrete

Mock-up of glass-fiber reinforced concrete column cladding at factory (2009 July 1)

Work on the glass-fiber reinforced concrete arches at the House of Precast factory (2009 July 1)

Glass-Fiber Reinforced Concrete, or GFRC, responds to the project's need for a low-maintenance material that addresses the abstract goals of the interior space, where natural light meets archetype and ritual. The material alludes to the Eucharistic, and the arches and ribs suggest the hierarchy of angels, listening to the light.

UPDATE: Photos from Thursday, March 11, 2010 site visit

Main Door

Central Nave

Main Altar

Lectern

House with Arched Windows

2009-01-06T11:30:00.008+08:00

View from Street

View from Garden

Entrance Foyer

Stair Hall

Atrium

Masters Bedroom alcove

Study

In collaboration with Periquet Galicia, Inc.

Apartment in One Serendra

2008-09-03T13:00:00.003+08:00

House in Nasugbu

2008-09-02T14:21:00.005+08:00

UPDATE:

Article on house as seen in Volume 2 2011 issue of BluPrint Magazine.

Please right-click an image to enlarge and read the text.

House in Walled Garden

2008-09-01T13:26:00.003+08:00

Magallanes Church

2007-12-15T14:00:00.008+08:00

St. Alphonsus Mary de Liguori Parish Church

Humabon St., Magallanes Village, Makati City, Philippines
Structural Engineer: Carlos M. Villaraza

Architectural Design Statement

April 16, 2005

The Parish Church of St. Alphonsus was built in 1968 and consumed by fire in September 2004. We are rebuilding the church, preserving the concrete structure that survived the fire while adding a soaring roof that increases the height from six meters to 28 meters. With a new mezzanine, seating will also increase from 300 to 900. The new structure will be a symbol of a community transforming tragedy into grace.

In 1968, Architect Leandro Locsin designed an 800-square-meter parish church that was intimate and low, with an interior that was dark. The plan was a perfect square, 28 meters each side, with a four-meter-high ceiling that was flat. The central aisle ran along the diagonal of the square. Marching along the perimeter were 28 concrete buttresses four meters tall, which were wide at the base and narrow at the top. They seemed to support a massive roof slab, which was actually a tall parapet wall that shielded the corrugated metal roof.

Thirty-five years later, it was one of the busiest churches in Metro-Manila. A 22-story college building had risen to dwarf it. Beside it, a country road had become a two-level highway. Makati had become the country's financial capital.

When fire destroyed the building, only the 28 buttresses remained. After much deliberation, the parish decided that it would be more economical and symbolically pithy to salvage the buttresses, rather than demolish them and start from scratch.

The new structure will consist of 13 roof vaults resting on new composite columns. The central roof vault, eight meters wide, will travel the longest distance, which is the diagonal of the square plan, to a height of 28 meters. Independent roof vaults, 4 1/2 meters wide, will ascend to it on either side, beginning at 11 meters from ground level, then 14 meters, 16 meters, 18 meters, 21 meters, and 25 meters, like the 12 apostles who accompanied Jesus Christ. The vaults will be thin-shell concrete membranes clad in unglazed clay tiles, which will help reduce heat gain. The vaults are separated by clear glass windows, which, in the upper reaches of the building, are also operable.

The 28 buttresses, originally designed for aesthetic effect, were hollow. They will now be filled with concrete to fulfill a new structural purpose of providing lateral support to the new composite columns that carry the roof vaults.

The goal, ostensibly, is a sustainable building that by its architecture minimizes its waste of materials and dependence on fossil fuels.

The project will also serve to sustain things other than tangible material resources: Memory and Faith. The most important thing that we are doing here is to reuse the existing structure as the springboard for our soaring roofs. The existing structure will serve as an agent of Memory, a reminder of the many events that the community celebrated in it, as well as a reminder that the community survived a tragedy together. It is as a phoenix rising that the structure will serve as an agent of Faith. The symbolism is multivalent and instructive, demonstrating tenets of the Catholic faith: the original structure speaks of mortality, suffering, death; the soaring new space speaks of paradise, grace, and resurrection.

The Altar Wall

The Altar Wall acts as the backdrop of the Sanctuary. It is about 6.8 meters tall and curved in plan, but if one were to stretch it out, it would be almost four and a half meters wide. The upper part of the wall is stained glass, and the lower part is wood-clad concrete.

The concept of the Altar Wall is inspired by the Burning Bush, and in that moment when God tells Moses “I am that I am.”

The colors of the stained glass – there are six (white, yellow, yellow orange, orange, red orange, and red) – are distributed in 50 cm by 50 cm squares of stained glass, creating the vibrant blaze of the Burning Bush. White is used only in the three strokes that comprise the Hebrew letter called the Aleph, which is the first letter of the unutterable name of God.

The sun rises directly behind the stained glass.

(For photographs of the construction process, see stalphonsusrebuilds.blogspot.com)

UPDATE:

Article on Magallanes Church as seen in April 2009 issue of BluPrint Magazine.

Please right-click an image to enlarge and read the text.

House in Dasmarinas Village

2007-09-05T14:00:00.004+08:00

House in Batangas

2007-09-04T13:55:00.003+08:00

House of an Art Collector

2007-09-03T13:40:00.002+08:00

Hilado House

2007-09-02T13:30:00.004+08:00

Featured in
25 Tropical Houses in the Philippines
by Elizabeth V. Reyes,
published in 2006
by Periplus Editions, Singapore.

House in Loyola Grand Villas

2007-09-01T13:10:00.003+08:00

Summit School

2007-03-02T17:30:00.005+08:00

A Progressive Pre-School in Fort Bonifacio

The Mondrian Residences, Alabang

2007-03-01T14:01:00.003+08:00

Conversion of Blanco Arms Apartment Building into High-End Condominium
East Asia Drive, Filinvest Corporate City, Alabang, Muntinlupa City, Metro-Manila

Archbishop's Chapel, Mt. Peace, Baguio

2007-02-20T10:00:00.002+08:00

Sanctuary of St. Anthony of Padua Parish Church, Singalong, Manila

2007-02-19T13:50:00.004+08:00

St. Anthony of Padua Parish Church,

2126 Singalong St. corner San Andres St., Malate, Manila
Structural Engineer: Ronald Santiago, MACRO

The Renovation of the Sanctuary provides fresh focus on the Eucharist and on the life of St. Anthony of Padua. We drew inspiration from the strengths of the architecture created by Architect Carlos Santos-Viola.

The Tabernacle Tower is the new focus of the building. It draws your eye as soon as you walk through the front door. In the vastness of the interior, the focus does not equivocate. It is Christ on the cross.

As you approach, the other elements of the sanctuary become more legible. The altar table is a long, white, horizontal slab that sits improbably on three slender plant-like curves. On the left, the lectern is shaped like a large book resting on a single blade of grass. On the right, the baptismal font is a white, egg-like cradle perching on three slender leaves.

These elements are physical expressions of the iconography of St. Anthony of Padua: lily, bread, book, and Infant Jesus. The white plant-like curves represent the lily. The long white horizontal slab of the altar represents the symbol of bread. The lectern represents an open book. The baptismal font is not itself the symbol, but the backdrop of the symbol: each infant that is baptized at the font represents the Infant Jesus.

The lily symbolizes St. Anthony's purity and chastity. The open book represents his scholarship and knowledge of the Bible. The Infant Jesus is a symbol of tender love. Bread symbolizes the sustenance of life. (Two portraits of St. Anthony - by El Greco and Francisco de Zurbaran - served as our guides in the renovation.)

The juxtaposition of heavy objects upon lightweight objects - the open book resting on the lily, for example - alludes to miracles. In Roman Catholic tradition, St. Anthony of Padua is known as an instrument of God in the performance of miracles.

St. Anthony, by El Greco

Before renovation

EDSA Shrine Baptistry

2007-02-18T13:20:00.005+08:00

Mary Queen of Peace Shrine (EDSA Shrine),
EDSA corner Ortigas Avenue, Quezon City

Archbishop's Chapel, Arzobispado, Intramuros, Manila

2007-02-17T13:00:00.004+08:00

Chancery, Arzobispado de Manila, 121 Arzobispo Street, Intramuros, Manila

Architectural Design Statement

January 7, 2003

We started with history, that very palpable reality - the gust of ages - that connects the energy of the present church with the stillness of the church's past. The Chapel resides in the path of that gust that sweeps between the Courtyard of the Arzobispado and the ruin of the Jesuit Church of San Ignacio.

The ruin of San Ignacio reminds us that the recent history of Intramuros is about sorrow and loss. For many of us, a visit to Intramuros, no matter for what purpose, leaves us with a sharp sadness. First, there is the memory of those who died there in World War Two, and the manner in which they died. Second, the war and its aftermath eradicated the majesty of one of the centers of Christianity, and left us with niggardly traces, ruins that we today tend to ignore.

Many of us find the loss difficult to bear and therefore choose either to ignore it, or to treat it recklessly. The Chapel of the Arzobispado can not turn its back on that loss, and should not even be numb to it.

Carillon, Magallanes Church

2007-02-16T01:02:00.007+08:00

St. Alphonsus Mary de Liguori Parish Church

Humabon Place, Magallanes Village, Makati City
Structural Engineer: Ronald Santiago, MACRO

Angels Chanted as Jesus Passed

Four steel arches of increasing height,
the tallest at 17 meters,
carry 18 bronze bells from the Netherlands.
The Carillon stands next to the entrance of the church,
and acts as the entrance gateway
to the Garden of the Way of the Cross,
designed by National Artist for Landscape Architecture
Ildefonso P. Santos.

The bells become a Greek chorus
pealing their lamentations
at the beginning of Christ’s passion.

Baptistry, Magallanes Church

2007-02-15T01:01:00.004+08:00

St. Alphonsus Mary de Liguori Parish Church,
Humabon Place, Magallanes Village, Makati City
Completed 2000
Baptismal Font design executed by Roberto Robles
Baptismal Font partially damaged, Baptistry destroyed in September 2004 fire

The Baptismal Font is carved from one solid block of white Thassos marble, the same marble used by the sculptors of ancient Greece. There are three basins at three different levels; holy water cascades from one basin to the next in a continuous recirculating flow. The lowest level permits small children to dip their fingers in the holy water. The top level is for the baptismal rite.

The three basins represent the Trinitarian nature of God; holy water recirculates to signify the oneness of this trinity. The most complete, or perfect, circle is the topmost basin, representing God the Father, followed by basins of decreasing degrees of completion, representing the Son and the Holy Spirit. The texture of the marble transforms from very rough, near the base, to a polished smoothness at the top level, to signify the spiritual purity of the human being, and how purest it is at the moment of baptism.

The Baptistry is in a corner of the church that used to be exterior space. The triangular floor, covered in random-cut araal stone, follows the plan of the canopy overhead. Although clear tempered glass panels enclose the space, outdoor plants that border the space act as the visual boundary.

Adoration Chapel, Magallanes Church

2007-02-14T01:00:00.004+08:00

St. Alphonsus Mary de Liguori Parish Church, Humabon Place, Magallanes Village, Makati City
Destroyed by fire, September 2004

"I adore Thee from the abyss of my own nothingness."
from St. Alphonsus Mary de Liguori's Prayer to Jesus Christ

New Town in Cavite, Proposed

2007-01-14T09:00:00.003+08:00

Unbuilt Master Plan Proposal
for 2.4 Hectare Multi-Use Development

Our goal was to build a collection of distinct neighborhoods, having in common the theme of tree-lined, arcaded city blocks containing landscaped courtyards within. A combination of regular and irregular shapes of city blocks results in curving streets and a highly-articulated series of vistas for the person walking on the street or driving in his car.