\nPues bien: No tuve vivencias personales con \u00e9l. No lo conoc\u00ed.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/veredes.es\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/08\/sota.jpg\" "\\"sota\\"")
<\/a>Alejandro de la Sota fue profesor de la Escuela de Madrid durante un breve per\u00edodo, que termin\u00f3 en 1971 (si no estoy mal informado), y yo empec\u00e9 la carrera en septiembre de 1977.<\/p>\n
Es cierto que fue m\u00e1s de una vez a la escuela, llamado por alg\u00fan profesor amigo, a dar alguna charla, pero la mayor\u00eda de estudiantes \u00e9ramos tan bobos que no ve\u00edamos m\u00e1s all\u00e1 de nuestras narices. Est\u00e1bamos tan agobiados con nuestras asignaturas que si una figura de esas no iba a tu clase, llamado por tu profesor, para que t\u00fa hicieras alg\u00fan ejercicio sobre lo que contara, no te afectaba. No era cosa tuya y no ten\u00eda nada que ver contigo.<\/p>\n
Por ejemplo, una tarde Miguel Fisac<\/strong> vino a mi clase de An\u00e1lisis II, y le escuchamos unos veinte alumnos. Nada m\u00e1s. Tuve la suerte de que me toc\u00f3, y nunca olvidar\u00e9 lo que nos cont\u00f3 (ya lo he escrito en parte en este blog, y lo seguir\u00e9 contando porque soy muy repetitivo). Pero los de la clase de al lado (y de todas las dem\u00e1s) se lo perdieron, como me lo habr\u00eda perdido yo si \u00e9l hubiera ido a hablar a la clase de al lado (o a cualquier otra).<\/p>\n A otra clase, la de un amigo m\u00edo, vino Pablo Palazuelo<\/a><\/strong>, que les cont\u00f3 que hab\u00eda empezado a estudiar arquitectura, pero que lo dej\u00f3. Lo dijo t\u00edmidamente; s\u00f3lo le falt\u00f3 a\u00f1adir:<\/p>\n \u00abYo no soy tan inteligente como ustedes\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n Y les habl\u00f3 de cuestiones que \u00e9l ten\u00eda muy presentes en su pintura, y c\u00f3mo entend\u00eda la escultura. Y, por lo visto, con esa seriedad que ten\u00eda y esa mirada tan acerada, fue muy amable y muy cari\u00f1oso con todos ellos. Los alumnos de esa clase ten\u00edan que hacer un trabajo sobre las esculturas de Palazuelo que se estaban exponiendo entonces en Madrid. Como yo no era de ese grupo y no ten\u00eda que hacer ese trabajo, pues no fui a la charla. Me la ahorr\u00e9. (Dios, qu\u00e9 listo era).<\/p>\n Muchos a\u00f1os despu\u00e9s (tambi\u00e9n lo he contado ya), en el curso en que fui profesor, Jos\u00e9 Antonio Corrales<\/a><\/strong> tuvo la amabilidad y la generosidad de venir a clase para explicar el Pabell\u00f3n de Bruselas. Le escucharon mis alumnos, y no todos. Tampoco hubo una afluencia masiva de otras clases. (Creo recordar que vino un alumno que no era del grupo. Lo mismo fueron dos).<\/p>\n El compa\u00f1ero de Corrales y coautor del citado pabell\u00f3n, Molez\u00fan<\/a><\/strong>, fue tambi\u00e9n profesor de la escuela de Madrid, y tampoco asist\u00ed a ninguna de sus clases (aunque afortunadamente s\u00ed le escuch\u00e9 en el Johnny<\/strong>). Ah\u00ed no tengo excusa: Fue profesor en los a\u00f1os en los que yo estudiaba all\u00ed. \u00c9l iba por la ma\u00f1ana, yo por la tarde… Excusas imperdonables.<\/p>\n Repito: Est\u00e1bamos demasiado agobiados con nuestras clases como para ir a otras, sobre todo en los primeros cursos. Ahora lo recuerdo con rabia: Tantas ocasiones perdidas; tantos hombres de talento pasando a mi lado, y yo sin darme cuenta.<\/p>\n En parte, no me daba cuenta porque ellos no parec\u00edan personajes importantes. No iban por la vida como \u00abpersonajes\u00bb. Yo apenas sab\u00eda nada de arquitectura, pero cuando o\u00eda hablar de alguna obra maestra (el Gimnasio Maravillas, Bankuni\u00f3n, la iglesia de los dominicos…) me dec\u00eda:<\/p>\n \u00abAh, \u00bfpero esta obra es de ese se\u00f1or que vi hace unos meses en el pasillo?\u00bb No lo parec\u00eda. No iba de \u00abgenio\u00bb. Parec\u00eda tan \u00abnormal\u00bb…<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n A este respecto, Fullaondo<\/strong> nos cont\u00f3 una an\u00e9cdota del profesor Molez\u00fan, para hacernos ver la paciencia infinita y la humildad de aquel gigante:<\/p>\n Estaba corrigi\u00e9ndole unos croquis a un alumno, sugiri\u00e9ndole que cambiara alguna cosa (imaginaos a uno de los mejores arquitectos de Europa analiz\u00e1ndoos un croquis y sugiri\u00e9ndoos alg\u00fan cambio), y el alumno porfiaba y porfiaba, discut\u00eda y discut\u00eda, se negaba y se negaba.<\/p>\n (Comentario: Una teor\u00eda muy extendida en la escuela era que no se deb\u00eda asentir con mansedumbre a cualquier indicaci\u00f3n que te hiciera el profesor. Hab\u00eda que mostrar car\u00e1cter, defender las propias ideas y no dar el brazo a torcer. Con esta t\u00e9cnica, unida a un cansinismo inagotable, muchos alumnos consegu\u00edan agotar a su profesor. A veces funcionaba).<\/p>\n El caso es que Molez\u00fan le indicaba que la entrada podr\u00eda ser m\u00e1s amplia, o estar algo m\u00e1s protegida si la planta hiciera un ligero quiebro, o que el espacio a doble altura del vest\u00edbulo era demasiado angosto y si se ensanchara un poco podr\u00eda recibir m\u00e1s luz… o lo que fuera. Y el alumno, muy en plan artista, que no y que no, que si \u00abyo, lo que pretendo…\u00bb, que si \u00abyo quiero enfatizar…\u00bb, que si yo, yo, yo, me imagino con qu\u00e9 nivel y con qu\u00e9 maestr\u00eda ante aquel aficionadillo de profesor.<\/p>\n Molez\u00fan tomaba el l\u00e1piz, le dibujaba variantes (seguramente mucho peores), le indicaba ejemplos se\u00f1eros… y el alumno que no y que no y que no.<\/p>\n Al final el profesor dej\u00f3 el portaminas sobre la mesa, mir\u00f3 al alumno y le dijo:<\/p>\n \u00abBueno; de acuerdo. Si usted lo ve as\u00ed…\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n Con una actitud de humildad, de \u00abqui\u00e9n soy yo para indicarle nada, si el proyecto es suyo\u00bb.<\/p>\n A\u00f1os despu\u00e9s me di cuenta de que me hab\u00eda rozado (incluso f\u00edsicamente) con toda esa pl\u00e9yade de grandes talentos (y m\u00e1s que no he mencionado), a los que hab\u00eda despreciado sistem\u00e1ticamente porque ten\u00eda que estudiar \u00e1lgebra o hacer una pr\u00e1ctica de instalaciones, porque los \u00e1rboles no me dejaban ver el bosque y porque mi miserable punto de vista estaba a la altura del pasto que ten\u00eda que rumiar.<\/p>\n Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Hern\u00e1ndez Correa <\/p>\n Last month, the companion\u00a0Joan Carles S\u00e1nchez<\/a>,\u00a0as consequence of a few comments that we did in twitter on the humility and the simplicity of treatment of the big teachers, suggested me to dedicate an entry of this blog to Alejandro de la Sota<\/a><\/strong>; not so much to expose an academic speech as to count my personal experiences with the genius. So well: I did not have personal experiences with him. I did not know it.<\/p>\n Alejandro de la Sota was a teacher of the School of Madrid during a brief period, which ended in 1971 (if I am not bad informed), and I began the career in September, 1977.<\/p>\n It is true that went of to the school, called by some teacher friend, to give once more some chat, but the majority of students we were so stupid that we did not see beyond our noses. We were so overwhelmed by our subjects that if a figure of this was not going to your class, called by your teacher, in order that you were doing any exercise on what it was counting, it was not affecting you. It was not a your thing and did not have anything to see with you.<\/p>\n For example, one evening \u00a0Miguel Fisac<\/strong> came to my class of Analysis the IInd, and we listen to him approximately twenty pupils. Nothing more. I was lucky of that I touched, and I will never forget what told us (already I have written it partly in this blog, and I will continue counting it because I am very repetitive). But those of the class of to the side (and of all other) got lost it, since I would have got lost it if he had been going to speak to the class of to the side (or to any other one).<\/p>\n To another class, that of a friend of mine, there came Pablo Palazuelo<\/a><\/strong>, who told them that it had started studying architecture, but that left it. He said it shyly; only it was necessary to him to add:<\/p>\n \u00abI am not so intelligent as you\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n And he spoke to them about questions that he had very present in his painting, and how he understood the sculpture. And, apparently, with this seriousness that had and this so steely look, it was very nice and very affectionate with all of them. The pupils of this class had to do a work on Palazuelo’s sculptures that were exposed then in Madrid. Since I was not of this group and did not have to do this work, since I did not go to the chat. I saved myself. (God, what I list it was).<\/p>\n Many years later (also I have counted it already), in the course in which I was a teacher,\u00a0Jos\u00e9 Antonio Corrales<\/a><\/strong> had the amiability and the generosity of coming to class to explain the Pavilion of Brussels. My pupils listened to him, and not all. Neither was a massive abundance of other classes. (I am thinking about remembering that there came a pupil who was not of the group. The same thing they were two).<\/p>\n The companion of Corrals and co-author of the mentioned pavilion,\u00a0Molez\u00fan<\/a><\/strong>, was also a teacher of the school of Madrid, and I did not also attend any of his classes (though lucky yes I listened to him in the Johnny<\/strong>). There I do not have excuse: He was a teacher in the years in which I was studying there. He was going for the morning, me in the evening… Inexcusable Excuses.<\/p>\n I repeat: We were too much overwhelmed by our classes as to go to others, especially in the first courses. Now I remember it with anger: So many lost occasions; so many men of talent going on to my side, and I without realizing.<\/p>\n Partly, I was not realizing because they were not looking like important prominent figures. They were not going for the life as \u00abprominent figures\u00bb. I scarcely knew nothing of architecture, but when I heard speaking about some masterpiece (the Gymnasium You Astonish, Bankuni\u00f3n, the church of the Dominicans …) he was saying to myself:<\/p>\n \u00abAh, but does this work belong to this gentleman that I saw a few months ago in the corridor? \u00bb It it did not seem. It was not going of \u00abgenius\u00bb. It seemed to be \u00abso \u00abnormal\u00bb…<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n In this regard,\u00a0Fullaondo<\/strong> told us an anecdote of the teacher Molez\u00fan, to make ourselves to see the infinite patience and the humility of that giant:<\/p>\n He him was correcting a few sketches to a pupil, suggesting him to change some thing (you imagine to one of the best architects of Europa you analyzing a sketch and suggesting some change to you), and the pupil was insisting and insisting, was discussing and discussing, was refusing and was refusing.<\/p>\n (Comment: A theory very extended in the school was that it did not have to agree with meekness to any indication that the teacher was doing to you. It was necessary to show character, defend the own ideas and not give the arm to turn. With this technology joined an inexhaustible cansinismo, many pupils were managing to exhaust his teacher. Sometimes it was working).<\/p>\n The case is that Molez\u00fan was indicating him that the entry might be more wide, or to be slightly more protected if the plant was doing the light one I fail, or that the space to double height of the foyer was too narrow and if it was expanding a bit it might receive more light … or what was. And the pupil, very in plan artist, that not and that not, that if \u00abI, which I claim…\u00bb, that if \u00abI want to emphasize…\u00bb, that if I, I, I, imagine with what level and with what mastery before that teacher’s aficionadillo.<\/p>\n Molez\u00fan was taking the pencil, it him was drawing variants (surely much worse), was indicating solitary examples to him … and the pupil that not and that not and that not.<\/p>\n Ultimately the teacher left the automatic pencil on the table, looked at the pupil and said to him:<\/p>\n \u00abGood; in agreement. If you see it like that…\u00bb<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n With an attitude of humility, of \u00abwhom I am I to indicate nothing to him, if the project is his\u00bb.<\/p>\n Some years later I realized that I had rubbed shoulders (even physically) with all this pleiad of big talents (and more that I have not mentioned), which he had despised systematicly because it had to study algebra or do a practice of facilities, because the trees were not leaving me to see the forest and because my wretched point of view was at a height of the pasture that had to ruminate.<\/p>\n Jos\u00e9 Ram\u00f3n Hern\u00e1ndez Correa \u00a0<\/p>\n O mes pasado, o compa\u00f1eiro\u00a0Joan Carles S\u00e1nchez<\/a>,\u00a0como consecuencia duns comentarios que fixemos en twitter sobre a humildad e a sencillez de trato dos grandes mestres, suxeriume que lle dedicase unha entrada deste blog a Alejandro de la Sota<\/a><\/strong>; non tanto para expo\u00f1er un discurso acad\u00e9mico como para contar os meus vivencias persoais co xenio.<\/p>\n Pois ben: Non tiven vivencias persoais con el. Non o co\u00f1ec\u00edn.<\/p>\n Alejandro da Sota foi profesor da Escola de Madrid durante un breve per\u00edodo, que terminou en 1971 (si non estou mal informado), e eu empecei a carreira en setembro de 1977.<\/p>\n \u00c9 certo que foi m\u00e1is dunha vez \u00e1 escola, chamado por alg\u00fan profesor amigo, a dar algunha charla, pero a maior\u00eda de estudantes eramos tan bobo que non viamos m\u00e1is al\u00f3 dos nosos narices. Estabamos tan angustiados coas nosas asignaturas que si unha figura desas non \u00eda \u00e1 t\u00faa clase, chamado polo teu profesor, para que ti fixeses alg\u00fan exercicio sobre o que contase, non che afectaba. Non era cousa t\u00faa e non ti\u00f1a nada que ver contigo.<\/p>\n Por exemplo, unha tarde\u00a0Miguel Fisac<\/strong> veu \u00e1 mi\u00f1a clase de An\u00e1lise II, e escoit\u00e1moslle uns vinte alumnos. Nada m\u00e1is. Tiven a sorte de que me tocou, e nunca esquecerei o que nos contou (xa o escrib\u00edn en parte neste blog, e seguireino contando porque son moi repetitivo). Pero os da clase de \u00e1 beira (e de todas as demais) perd\u00e9ronllo, como mo perdeu eu si el houbese ir a falar \u00e1 clase de \u00e1 beira (ou a calquera outra).<\/p>\n A outra clase, a dun amigo meu, veu\u00a0Pablo Palazuelo<\/a><\/strong>, que lles contou que empezara a estudar arquitectura, pero que o deixou. D\u00edxoo t\u00edmidamente; s\u00f3 lle faltou engadir:<\/p>\n \u00abEu non son tan intelixente como vostedes\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n E faloulles de cuesti\u00f3ns que el ti\u00f1a moi presentes na s\u00faa pintura, e como entend\u00eda a escultura. E, polo visto, con esa seriedade que ti\u00f1a e esa mirada tan aceirada, foi moi amable e moi cari\u00f1oso con todos eles. Os alumnos desa clase ti\u00f1an que facer un traballo sobre as esculturas de Palazuelo que se estaban a expo\u00f1er ent\u00f3n en Madrid. Como eu non era dese grupo e non ti\u00f1a que facer ese traballo, pois non fun \u00e1 charla. Aforreina. (Deus, que listo era).<\/p>\n Moitos anos despois (tam\u00e9n o contei xa), no curso en que fun profesor,\u00a0Jos\u00e9 Antonio Corrales<\/a><\/strong> tivo a amabilidade e a xenerosidade de vir a clase para explicar o Pavill\u00f3n de Bruxelas. Escoit\u00e1rono os meus alumnos, e non todos. Tampouco houbo unha afluencia masiva doutras clases. (Creo recordar que veu un alumno que non era do grupo. O mesmo foron dous).<\/p>\n\n
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\nDoctor Arquitecto y autor de Arquitectamos locos?<\/em>
\nToledo \u00b7 agosto 2013<\/p>\n<\/a>\n
\nDoctor Architect and author of Arquitectamos locos?<\/em>
\nToledo \u00b7 august 2013<\/p>\n<\/a>\n