{"id":8631,"date":"2015-06-19T06:30:41","date_gmt":"2015-06-19T04:30:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/veredes.es\/blog\/?p=8631"},"modified":"2023-09-22T18:18:58","modified_gmt":"2023-09-22T16:18:58","slug":"el-arquitecto-de-la-soledad-sergio-de-miguel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/veredes.es\/blog\/el-arquitecto-de-la-soledad-sergio-de-miguel\/","title":{"rendered":"El arquitecto de la soledad | Sergio de MiguelO arquitecto da soidade | Sergio de MiguelThe architect of the solitude | Sergio de Miguel"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>
Formentera | Sergio de Miguel<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/p>\n

Supe de \u00e9l por casualidad.
\nArquitecto de Par\u00eds, hab\u00eda tenido la oportunidad de trabajar en sus a\u00f1os de formaci\u00f3n con Le Corbusier, all\u00e1 por los primeros cincuenta. En la \u00e9poca de la Unidad de Habitaci\u00f3n de Marsella o la Capilla de Ronchamp. Ahora se le encuentra en una isla del Mediterr\u00e1neo, en una casa hecha por \u00e9l hace ya veinte a\u00f1os. Una casa, me dijeron, auto suficiente.
\nEra verano, estaba cerca y fui a visitarle.<\/p>\n

La isla tiene un clima extremo y est\u00e1 geogr\u00e1ficamente aislada. A\u00fan hoy s\u00f3lo es accesible por mar. Conserva por ello cierto car\u00e1cter at\u00e1vico, primitivo. Su arquitectura es pura y funcional, a menudo exquisita.<\/p>\n

El franc\u00e9s, a\u00f1os atr\u00e1s, antes de construirse la suya propia, vivi\u00f3 durante largo tiempo en una antigua y robusta casa que hab\u00eda sobrevivido nada menos que trescientos a\u00f1os bajo los rigores de aquella isla. La hab\u00eda sabido y querido comprender, aprendiendo cada reacci\u00f3n frente al medio como si de un marino y su nave se tratara. Aquellos a\u00f1os en aquella casa perenne le proporcionar\u00edan un conocimiento magn\u00edfico a la hora de construirse su casa definitiva. Iba a saber estar.<\/p>\n

Estaba bien dirigido, pero me cost\u00f3 mucho encontrar su casa. Me hab\u00edan dicho que buscara, entre la silueta de prismas blancos diseminados y los macizos de pinos, un molino. Esa era la clave. Despu\u00e9s de mucho deambular, un poco desesperado, me fije en una especie de antena sobre un m\u00e1stil atirantado, casi invisible. Confieso que la imagen mental que ten\u00eda de un \u201cmolino\u201d no se parec\u00eda de ning\u00fan modo a aquello, pero era lo \u00fanico que pod\u00eda asemejarse en aquel paraje. Al acercarme, comprob\u00e9 que aquel m\u00e1stil estaba sensiblemente retirado de la edificaci\u00f3n m\u00e1s pr\u00f3xima, aislado en un prado cercano, y que su remate superior, pese a su rid\u00edculo tama\u00f1o y su forma de lib\u00e9lula, era efectivamente un molino de viento, muy similar al que llevan algunos barcos para cargar sus bater\u00edas durante las largas traves\u00edas.<\/p>\n

Traqueteando ruidosamente por entre los laber\u00ednticos caminos llenos de guijarros pude por fin encontrarla. Era ciertamente mim\u00e9tica pero, a\u00fan as\u00ed, nada m\u00e1s verla supe que aquella, entre tantas que hab\u00eda visto al pasar, era la casa que buscaba. Era distinta.<\/p>\n

Me reconfort\u00f3 el inmenso silencio. La estela de polvo que me hab\u00eda venido persiguiendo por fin me sobrepas\u00f3 y, al despejar la mirada, pude comprobar que era realmente un buen lugar. Bien elegido. Horizontal, despejado, rodeado de peque\u00f1as y diagonales tapias infinitas. Aparentando ser el centro de un geom\u00e9trico y gigante dibujo. All\u00ed estaba, inundada de la suave brisa del cercano mar.<\/p>\n

Desde el camino se mostraba como un conjunto de vol\u00famenes prism\u00e1ticos maclados, ligeramente apiramidados y de aristas suavemente redondeadas. Hollando el pedregoso terreno, aparec\u00eda ciega, fuerte y pesada. Del color de la arena. Algo as\u00ed c\u00f3mo un compuesto escalonado, pl\u00e1stico y exacto a la vez, del que emerg\u00edan tan s\u00f3lo algunas chimeneas.<\/p>\n

El cuerpo m\u00e1s pr\u00f3ximo, sin duda el garaje por las dimensiones de su cierre, sobresal\u00eda ligeramente. Esquiv\u00e1ndolo hall\u00e9 la entrada. Un hueco en quiebro, tangente. Traspasado el umbral llegu\u00e9 a un zagu\u00e1n recoleto y amable, enriquecido por el verde de un m\u00ednimo patio ajardinado. El \u201cpatio de invierno\u201d, pude saber despu\u00e9s. En un lateral, un gran port\u00f3n de madera, abatido sobre uno de los muros, descubr\u00eda la gran mampara acristalada del acceso principal. Desde ella se ve\u00eda un interior con pocos muebles, di\u00e1fano y luminoso, de paredes blancas y de suelos y techos cer\u00e1micos muy rojos, con b\u00f3vedas vah\u00eddas. Aquel interior transportaba sin remedio hacia las espl\u00e9ndidas \u201cvillas mediterr\u00e1neas\u201d de Le Corbusier (Weekend, Jaoul, Sarabhai…).<\/p>\n

Llam\u00e9 varias veces pero nadie me oy\u00f3. Permanec\u00ed un largo rato con las manos abiertas entre las sienes y los cristales. Intentando percibir alg\u00fan movimiento o ruido. Sorprendido por el espl\u00e9ndido eco de aquel interior. Ya me iba a ir cuando descubr\u00ed una peque\u00f1a libreta y un l\u00e1piz atado a un cordel fijado en un lateral. Le llegu\u00e9 a escribir una t\u00edmida nota con mi tel\u00e9fono, pero pens\u00e9 que no me pod\u00eda ir as\u00ed. Mi curiosidad me empuj\u00f3 entonces a dar una vuelta completa alrededor de la casa. Y al hacerlo, no sin cierto sigilo, le vi. Estaba c\u00f3modamente tumbado a la sombra. En una hamaca de la amplia terraza delantera. De verano. Aparentemente dormido y acompa\u00f1ado por las ronroneantes voces en franc\u00e9s de una peque\u00f1a radio, enfrentado a los amarillos y el azul. Solo.<\/p>\n

Al verle me qued\u00e9 inm\u00f3vil. \u00c9l se dio cuenta de mi aparici\u00f3n y se incorpor\u00f3 muy despacio. Vino a mi encuentro con elegante parsimonia. Tras las breves presentaciones, desapareci\u00f3 unos instantes para regresar descorchando una botella de buen vino, tinto, sin etiqueta.<\/p>\n

Nos sentamos con los vasos en aquella viva terraza con muebles bajos de madera.<\/p>\n

Sencillos, nada inmediatos y muy c\u00f3modos. Las vistas eran ciertamente espectaculares, hipnotizantes. Y comenzamos a charlar. Tuvimos una conversaci\u00f3n de esas en las que es m\u00e1s importante lo que no se dice que lo que se dice en realidad. Hablaba cavilando, con ojos inteligentes y cansados, en un perfecto castellano lleno de cultismos. Al rato, como hab\u00eda sucedido con el vino, sigilosamente, se levant\u00f3 y sac\u00f3 unos platos con excelentes quesos. Comimos. Tras una larga disertaci\u00f3n debi\u00f3 percatarse de que mi curiosidad por ver la casa aumentaba. Tuvo que darse cuenta de que mi mirada se distra\u00eda en exceso tras la cortina blanca de la puerta entreabierta, que se hinchaba espor\u00e1dicamente forzada por el viento. Me invit\u00f3 entonces a pasar dentro con un leve gesto y una sonrisa.<\/p>\n

Al entrar a lo que parec\u00eda ser el centro de la casa, el espacio de mayor altura desde el que se distribu\u00edan todas las estancias que hab\u00eda podido entrever anteriormente desde el acceso, me fij\u00e9 en una pintura de Le Corbusier que colgando del pretil de un altillo dominaba la habitaci\u00f3n. \u00c9l exclam\u00f3 con cierto desd\u00e9n:<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abme lo regal\u00f3 \u00e9l\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

La casa era grande, disfrutaba de numerosas habitaciones, todas abovedadas y encaladas, arracimadas en torno a ese generoso espacio central. Todas las estancias se caracterizaban por su gran austeridad y sencilla confortabilidad. Las puertas, de madera, sin cercos ni tapajuntas, estaban encajadas con toda naturalidad en un sencillo rebaje de la pared, el techo y el suelo, de apenas un cent\u00edmetro. Los almacenamientos, horadados en la tabiquer\u00eda, estaban formados por escuetas baldas y barras de colgar sin puerta alguna, con la ropa multicolor graciosamente a la vista. Los ba\u00f1os, amplios y bien dispuestos, estaban cubiertos por exagerados lucernarios por los que se filtraba una fuerte luz cenital, pareciendo lugares al aire libre, sin techo, lo que proporcionaba un extra\u00f1amiento agradable. Las ventanas y contraventanas, tambi\u00e9n de madera y de excelente calidad, estaban s\u00f3lidamente recibidas a las jambas levemente abocinadas. Evidenciando el generoso grosor de los muros, y procurando una fuerte sensaci\u00f3n de aislamiento y protecci\u00f3n. Los escasos muebles estaban hechos y colocados con toda coherencia. Firmes y resueltos. No hab\u00eda en general demasiados objetos. Nada sobraba en aquellos espacios.<\/p>\n

Enseguida me llev\u00f3 a la cocina. Pieza de completo amueblamiento en la que, protagonizando uno de sus lados, destacaba una extra\u00f1a nevera. Un enorme ba\u00fal erguido, fabricado en madera oscura, probablemente teka, con el frente de las puertas melaminado en blanco sobre bastidor visto de la misma madera y herrajes industriales de acero inoxidable. Ciertamente sorprendente y muy bien hecha. Al ver mis ojos interrogativos acert\u00f3 a decir, lac\u00f3nico, – yo mismo la hice, cuatrocientos litros, aprovecha las frigor\u00edas del dep\u00f3sito enterrado de agua, con un intercambiador -. Y lo dijo sin dar opciones a abrirla, o a tocarla, que es lo que en realidad me hubiera gustado hacer. Considerando obvio que el que hace una casa debe dise\u00f1ar y hacer tambi\u00e9n la nevera.<\/p>\n

Reaccion\u00f3 con cierta perplejidad cuando le pregunt\u00e9 por los exquisitos muebles de la casa. Todos de maderas oscuras y lustrosas, de virtuosa factura. Por supuesto que tambi\u00e9n hab\u00eda sido \u00e9l quien los hab\u00eda hecho, con sus manos.<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abHe hecho muchos m\u00e1s en mi vida\u00bb<\/em>,<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

se despach\u00f3 divertido.<\/p>\n

Poco a poco empezaron a no caber demasiadas preguntas sobre la supuesta auto suficiencia de la casa. Parec\u00eda obvio que no hab\u00eda sido ese su objetivo primordial, ni siquiera que se lo hubiera planteado como algo verdaderamente importante, sino que era una consecuencia directa de su modo de entender el problema, de su rotunda l\u00f3gica y personalidad. La casa hab\u00eda sido hecha, enteramente, por \u00e9l y para \u00e9l. All\u00ed y, por tanto, para no depender pr\u00e1cticamente de nada ni de nadie. Durante la obra, me explic\u00f3, tan s\u00f3lo le hab\u00edan ayudado algunos alba\u00f1iles expertos. En el d\u00eda a d\u00eda \u00fanicamente necesitaba, acert\u00f3 a comentar brevemente, que un cami\u00f3n cisterna le rellenara sus dep\u00f3sitos de agua una vez al a\u00f1o. All\u00ed no llov\u00eda apenas. El agua de lluvia que recog\u00eda no era suficiente. Por lo dem\u00e1s, le bastaba con que el molino de viento y unas c\u00e9lulas fotovoltaicas alimentaran las bater\u00edas que le proporcionaban la electricidad necesaria. Distribuida mediante un peque\u00f1o ordenador que contabilizaba los distintos aportes y consumos de energ\u00eda. El dise\u00f1o constructivo de la casa se encargaba del resto.<\/p>\n

Todo esto podr\u00eda haber sido muy aparatoso, ejemplos hay, pero la realidad es que, excepto el molino alejado unos metros de la casa pareciendo, como ya dije, una antena, o un poste de la luz, el resto de los sistemas t\u00e9cnicos se encontraban de tal modo integrados en la totalidad que era imposible identificarlos.<\/p>\n

Ese hombre viv\u00eda en la maravilla. Pod\u00eda encerrarse en aquella hermosa casa durante meses sin contar con nada ni nadie. Rodeado de belleza y bienestar. De hecho coment\u00f3 un tanto nost\u00e1lgico:<\/p>\n

\n

\u201c lo que m\u00e1s me gusta es el invierno, pueden pasar muchos d\u00edas sin ver un alma\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Hablamos, como no, del modo en el que la casa se hab\u00eda construido. De la composici\u00f3n de aquellos gruesos muros, de la dosificaci\u00f3n del fino revoco exterior, de la problem\u00e1tica de las b\u00f3vedas. Del agua. Y sus explicaciones fueron siempre n\u00edtidas. Al final pude sacar la conclusi\u00f3n de que en esa casa, por encima de sus aspectos puramente t\u00e9cnicos, lo que hab\u00eda pretendido es conseguir pertenecer al lugar ateni\u00e9ndose a sus limitadas y estrictas reglas, jugar a ser consecuente con un medio en el que no existen, por sus caracter\u00edsticas, muchas posibilidades. Estaba ideada como una perfecta madriguera donde permanecer, durar. Aislada e integrada. Porque en definitiva, era evidente, la casa no hab\u00eda pretendido ser un alarde bioclim\u00e1tico, ni una exhibici\u00f3n de tecnolog\u00eda, ni salir publicada en las revistas (me confes\u00f3 que las aborrec\u00eda), ni siquiera protagonizar su cuidado entorno. Creo que simplemente actu\u00f3 con toda honestidad y un profundo conocimiento, sustent\u00e1ndose, eso s\u00ed, en su dilatada formaci\u00f3n est\u00e9tica. Haci\u00e9ndose la mejor morada en ese preciso emplazamiento. Me cont\u00f3 que estudi\u00f3 con detenimiento el recorrido del sol la incidencia del viento, las soluciones \u00f3ptimas frente al clima, las estaciones. En suma, la manera de no depender m\u00e1s que de s\u00ed mismo. Y lo hizo de tal modo que el conjunto construido aparec\u00eda sin tiempo, inmerso milagrosa y sabiamente en ese espacio natural.<\/p>\n

Encontr\u00e9 en \u00e9l una actitud muy interesante aunque s\u00f3lo sea porque probablemente est\u00e9 en v\u00edas de extinci\u00f3n. Era una mezcla de artesano, ejecutor polifac\u00e9tico y artista. Adem\u00e1s de sensible arquitecto y experto en tecnolog\u00edas, tanto antiguas como actuales.<\/p>\n

Me pareci\u00f3 que lo que estaba viendo s\u00f3lo pod\u00eda partir de una consciente y viva b\u00fasqueda del anonimato, de la profunda necesidad de intimidad y de un concienzudo saber acumulado durante muchos a\u00f1os, sin ninguna intenci\u00f3n de ser divulgado o transmitido. Aunque ciertamente vanidoso le sent\u00ed muy celoso de lo que all\u00ed hab\u00eda sucedido. De su tesoro, de su secreto.<\/p>\n

Pens\u00e9 entonces que el mundo debe de estar lleno de personajes como \u00e9ste. De casas, de edificios incre\u00edbles que muy pocos conocen. Y que, por desventura, s\u00f3lo transcienden a la colectividad, a trav\u00e9s de los escasos medios que divulgan la arquitectura, los ejemplos sesgados, delimitados y repetitivos. Que no nos llegan noticias de los arquitectos an\u00f3nimos. De aquellos que buscan exclusivamente el conocimiento y no tanto el reconocimiento, aunque sea en la m\u00e1s estricta soledad. Esos h\u00e9roes del saber que progresan inteligentemente en lugares inh\u00f3spitos. Conscientes y sufridores de sus limitaciones y que no esperan aplausos por cuanto hacen. Orgullosos y capaces.<\/p>\n

Efectivamente, existe una arquitectura bioclim\u00e1tica interesante: la que es auto suficiente por verdadera necesidad. Basada no tanto en los \u00faltimos avances tecnol\u00f3gicos si no en saber aplicar, y reconsiderar, las soluciones que se han perpetuado en cada lugar. Que, sin tener que renunciar a la cuidada presencia, a la belleza, se construye exclusivamente para satisfacer con eficacia la eventual necesidad del aislamiento. Sin demasiados alardes, sin mostrar excesivo esfuerzo. Y que, gracias a ella, hay quien hace posible el sue\u00f1o de sentirse felizmente solo. Y libre.<\/p>\n

Sergio de Miguel, arquitecto
\nMadrid, enero 2010<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Formentera | Sergio de Miguel<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/p>\n

I knew of him by chance.<\/p>\n

Architect of Paris, had had the opportunity to work in his years of training with Him Corbusier, there by the first fifty. In the period of the Unit of Room of Marseilles or the Chapel of Ronchamp. Now it finds him\u00a0 in an island of the Mediterranean, in a house done by him does already twenty years. A house, said me, sufficient car. It was summer, was near and went to visit him.<\/p>\n

The island has an extreme climate and is geographically isolated. Still today only it is accessible by sea. Preserve thus some character at\u00e1vico, primitive. His architecture is pure and functional, often exquisite.<\/p>\n

The French, years backwards, before building\u00a0 his own, lived during long time in an ancient and robust house that had survived at all less than three hundred years under the rigours of that island. It had known it and wanted to comprise, learning each reaction in front of the half as if of a marine and his ship treated. Those years in that house perenne would provide him a glorious knowledge to the hour to build\u00a0 his definite house. It went to know be.<\/p>\n

It was very directed, but cost me a lot find his house. They had said me that it looked for, between the silhouette of white prisms disseminated and the macizos of pines, a mill. That was the key. After a lot stroll, a bit desperate, fix me in a species of antenna on a topmast atirantado, almost invisible. I confess that the mental image that had of a \u201cmill\u201d did not seem\u00a0 of any way to that, but was the only that could asemejarse in that place. When approaching me, checked that that topmast was noticeably withdrawn of the edificaci\u00f3n more next, isolated in a near meadow, and that his finish upper, in spite of his ridiculous size and his form of dragonfly, was sure enough a mill of wind, very similar to the that carry some ships to load his batteries during the long traves\u00edas.<\/p>\n

Crackling noisily for between the labyrinthine ways full of pebbles I could find her finally. It was certainly mimetic but, nonetheless, nothing any more to see her I knew that that one, between so many people that it had seen on having happened, was the house that was searching. It was different.<\/p>\n

It encouraged the immense silence. The stela of powder that me had come chasing finally it exceeded me and, on having cleared the look, I could verify that it was really a good place. Chosen good. Horizontal, clear, surrounded of small and diagonal infinite walls. Showing off to be the center of a geometric and giant drawing. There it was, flooded with the soft breeze of the nearby sea.<\/p>\n

From the way maclados was appearing as a set of prismatic volumes, lightly apiramidados and of softly rounded edges. Treading the stony area, it was turning out to be blind, strong and heavy. Of the color of the sand. Something like that how a staggered, plastic and exact compound simultaneously, of that they were emerging only some chimneys.<\/p>\n

The most next body, undoubtedly the garage for the dimensions of his closing, was standing out lightly. Avoiding it I found the entry. A hollow in I fail, tangent. Penetrated the threshold I came to a peaceful and nice vestibule enriched by the green one of a minimal landscaped court. The \u00abwinter court\u00bb, I could know later. In a wings, a great inner door of wood, swooped down on one of the walls, was discovering the great glazed screen of the principal access. From her one saw an interior with few furniture, diaphanous and luminously, of white walls and of soils and ceramic very red ceilings, with vaults vah\u00eddas. That interior was transporting without remedy towards the splendid \u00abMediterranean villas\u00bb of Le Corbusier (Weekend, Jaoul, Sarabhai …).<\/p>\n

I called several times but nobody heard me. I remained a long moment with the hands opened between the temples and the crystals. Trying to perceive some movement or noise. Surprised by the splendid echo of that interior. Already I was going away to going when I discovered a small passbook and a pencil tied to a cord concentrated on a wings. I managed to him to write a shy note with my telephone, but I thought that I could not go away this way. My curiosity pushed me then to give a complete return about the house. And on having made it, not without certain seal, I saw him. It was comfortably knocked down to the shade. In a hammock of the wide front terrace. Of summer. Seemingly slept and accompanied by the ronroneantes voices in Frenchman of a small radio, faced the yellow ones and the blue. Only.<\/p>\n

Having seen him remained immobile. He realized my appearance and joined very slow. It came to my meeting with elegant parsimony. After the brief presentations, it eliminated a few instants to return uncorking a bottle of good wine, red wine, without label.<\/p>\n

We sit down with the glasses in that alive terrace with low furniture of wood.<\/p>\n

Simple, not immediate at all and very comfortable. The sights were certainly spectacular, hipnotizantes. And we begin to chat. We had a conversation of this in that it is more important than he does not say that what is said actually. He was speaking pondering, with intelligent and tired eyes, in a perfect full Castilian of cultismos. To the moment, since it had happened with the wine, secretly, it got up and extracted a few plates with excellent cheeses. We ate. After a long dissertation it should have noticed that my curiosity for seeing the house was increasing. It had to realize that my look was relaxing in excess after the white curtain of the half-open door, which was swelling up itself sporadically forced by the wind. It invited me then to happen inside with a slight gesture and a smile.<\/p>\n

On having entered to what was seeming to be the center of the house, the space of major height from which there were distributed all the stays that it could have guessed previously from the access, I concentrated on a painting of Le Corbusier that hanging of the railing of a hillock it was dominating the room. He exclaimed with certain disdain:<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abHe gave it to me\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The house was big, was enjoying numerous rooms, all domed and whitewashed, clustered concerning this generous central space. All the stays were characterized by his great austerity and simple confortabilidad. The doors, of wood, without fences not tapajuntas, were fitted by all naturalness into the simple one reduce of the wall, the ceiling and the soil, of scarcely a centimeter. The storages perforated in the tabiquer\u00eda, were formed for succinct you disable and bars of hanging without any door, with the multicolored clothes gracefully at sight. The baths, wide and ready well, were covered for exaggerated lucernarios through that a strong zenithal light was filtering, looking like places outdoors, without ceiling, which was providing an agreeable wonder. The windows and shutters, also of wood and of excellent quality, were solidly received to the slightly widened jambs. Demonstrating the generous thickness of the walls, and trying a strong sensation of isolation and protection. The scanty furniture were done and placed by all coherence. Firm and decisive. There were no in general too many objects. Nothing was exceeding in those spaces.<\/p>\n

Immediately it took me to the kitchen. Piece of I complete amueblamiento in that, leading one of his sides, a strange icebox was standing out. An enormous trunk raised, made of dark wood, probably teka, with the front of the doors melaminado in white on frame I dress of the same wood and industrial iron-works of stainless steel. Certainly surprising and very well made. On having seen my interrogative eyes it happened to say, tersely, – I itself did it, four hundred liters, he takes advantage of the frigor\u00edas of the warehouse buried of water, with an interchanger-. And he said it without giving options to open her, or to touching it, that is what actually I had liked to do. Considering to be obvious that the one that does a house it must design and do also the icebox.<\/p>\n

It reacted with certain perplexity when I asked him about the exquisite furniture of the house. All of dark and glossy wood, of virtuous invoice. Certainly that also had been he who had done them, with his hands.<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abI have done many more in my life\u00bb<\/em>,<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

it finished off entertained.<\/p>\n

Little by little too many questions started not fitting on supposed car sufficiency of the house. It seemed to be obvious that it had not been this his basic aim, not even that had appeared it as anything really important, but it was a direct consequence of his way of understanding the problem, of his logical rotunda and personality. The house had been done, entirely, by him and for him. There and, therefore, to depend practically neither on anything nor of anybody. During the work, it explained to me, only some expert bricklayers had helped him. In day after day only it was necessary, it happened to comment brief, that a tanker him should refill his water tanks once a year. There it was not raining scarcely. The water of rain that he was gathering was not sufficient. For the rest, it was enough to him that the windmill and a few photovoltaic cells were feeding the batteries that were providing the necessary electricity to him. Distributed by means of a small computer that was assessing the different contributions and energy consumptions. The constructive design of the house was taking charge of the rest.<\/p>\n

All that might have been very showy, examples it is, but the reality is that, except the remote mill a few meters of the house looking like, as already charm, an antenna, or a post of the light, the rest of the technical systems were of such a way integrated the totality that was impossible to identify them.<\/p>\n

This man was living in the marvel. It could shut in in that beautiful house for months without possessing neither anything or anybody. Surrounded with beauty and well-being. In fact it commented rather nostalgically:<\/p>\n

\n

\u201c what more I like is the winter, they can happen many days without seeing a soul\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

We speak, since not, about the way in which the house had been constructed. Of the composition of those thick walls, of the dosing of the thin one I revoke exterior, of the problematics of the vaults. Of the water. And his explanations were always clear. Ultimately I could extract the conclusion of which in this house, over his purely technical aspects, which he had claimed is to manage to belong to the place being abided by his limited and strict rules, to play at being consistent with a way in which many possibilities do not exist, for his characteristics. It was designed as a perfect burrow where to remain, to last. Isolated and integrated. Because definitively, it was evident, the house had tried neither be an ostentation bioclim\u00e1tico, not an exhibition of technology, nor to work out published in the magazines (he confessed to me that he was detesting them), at least to lead his elegant environment. I think that simply it acted with all honesty and a deep knowledge, being sustained, it yes, in his extensive aesthetic formation. The best mansion being done in this precise emplacement. It told me that the tour of the Sun studied thoroughly the incident of the wind, the ideal solutions opposite to the climate, the stations. In sum, the way of not depending any more than of yes same. And it did it in such a way that the constructed set was appearing without time, immersed miraculously and wisely in this natural space.<\/p>\n

I found in him a very interesting attitude though only it is because probably it is endangered. It was a mixture of craftsman, versatile executor and artist. Besides sensitive architect and expert in technologies, both ancient and current.<\/p>\n

It seemed to me that what it saw only it could depart from a conscious and alive search of the anonymity, from the deep need of intimacy and from the conscientious one know accumulated for many years, without any intention of being spread or transmitted. Though certainly conceited I felt him very jealous of what there had happened. Of his exchequer, of his secret.<\/p>\n

I thought then that the world must be full of prominent figures as this one. Of houses, of incredible buildings that very few ones know. And that, for misfortune, only transcienden to the collectivity, across the scanty means that spread the architecture, the slanted, delimited and repetitive examples. That do not come to us news of the anonymous architects. Of those that look exclusively for the knowledge and not so much the recognition, though it is in the most strict loneliness. These heroes of to know that they progress intelligently in inhospitable places. Conscious and suffering of his limitations and that do not wait for plaudits since they do. Proud and capable.<\/p>\n

Really, an architecture exists bioclim\u00e1tica interesting: the one that is a sufficient car for real need. Stocks not so much in the last technological advances if not in being able to apply, and reconsider, the solutions that have been perpetuated in every place. That, without having to resign the elegant presence, the beauty, is constructed exclusively to satisfy with efficiency the eventual need of the isolation. Without too many ostentations, without showing excessive effort. And that, thanks to her, exists the one who makes possible the dream of feeling happily alone. And free.<\/p>\n

Sergio de Miguel, architect
\nMadrid, january 2010<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
Formentera | Sergio de Miguel<\/span><\/figcaption><\/figure><\/p>\n

Souben del por casualidade.
\nArquitecto de Par\u00eds, tivera a oportunidade de traballar nos seus anos de formaci\u00f3n con Le Corbusier, al\u00e1 polo primeiros cincuenta. Na \u00e9poca da Unidade de Habitaci\u00f3n de Marsella ou a Capela de Ronchamp. Agora at\u00f3paselle nunha illa do Mediterr\u00e1neo, nunha casa feita por el fai xa vinte anos. Unha casa, dix\u00e9ronme, auto suficiente.
\nEra ver\u00e1n, estaba preto e fun visitarlle.<\/p>\n

A illa ten un clima extremo e est\u00e1 xeograficamente illada. A\u00ednda hoxe s\u00f3 \u00e9 accesible por mar. Conserva por iso certo car\u00e1cter at\u00e1vico, primitivo. A s\u00faa arquitectura \u00e9 pura e funcional, a mi\u00fado exquisita.<\/p>\n

O franc\u00e9s, anos atr\u00e1s, antes de constru\u00edrse a s\u00faa propia, viviu durante longo tempo nunha antiga e robusta casa que sobrevivira nada menos que trescentos anos baixo os rigores daquela illa. Soub\u00e9raa e querido comprender, aprendendo cada reacci\u00f3n fronte ao medio coma se dun mari\u00f1o e a s\u00faa nave trat\u00e1sese. Aqueles anos naquela casa perenne proporcionar\u00edanlle un co\u00f1ecemento magn\u00edfico \u00e1 hora de constru\u00edrse a s\u00faa casa definitiva. \u00cda saber estar.<\/p>\n

Estaba ben dirixido, pero custoume moito atopar a s\u00faa casa. Dix\u00e9ranme que buscase, entre a silueta de prismas brancos diseminados e os macizos de pi\u00f1eiros, un mu\u00ed\u00f1o. Esa era a clave. Despois de moito deambular, un pouco desesperado, f\u00edxeme nunha especie de antena sobre un mastro atirantado, case invisible. Confeso que a imaxe mental que ti\u00f1a dun \u201cmu\u00ed\u00f1o\u201d non se parec\u00eda de ning\u00fan modo a aquilo, pero era o \u00fanico que pod\u00eda asemellarse naquela paraxe. Ao achegarme, comprobei que aquel mastro estaba sensiblemente retirado da edificaci\u00f3n m\u00e1is pr\u00f3xima, illado nun prado pr\u00f3ximo, e que o seu remate superior, a pesar do seu rid\u00edculo tama\u00f1o e a s\u00faa forma de lib\u00e9lula, era efectivamente un mu\u00ed\u00f1o de vento, moi similar ao que levan alg\u00fans barcos para cargar as s\u00faas bater\u00edas durante as longas traves\u00edas.<\/p>\n

Traqueteando ruidosamente por entre os labir\u00ednticos cami\u00f1os cheos de seixos puiden por fin encontrala. Era certamente mim\u00e9tica pero, a\u00ednda as\u00ed, nada m\u00e1is vela souben que aquela, entre tantas que vira ao pasar, era a casa que buscaba. Era distinta.<\/p>\n

Reconfortoume o inmenso silencio. O ronsel de po que me vi\u00f1era perseguindo por fin superoume e, ao despexar a mirada, puiden comprobar que era realmente un bo lugar. Ben elixido. Horizontal, despexado, rodeado de pequenos e diagonais valos infinitos. Aparentando ser o centro dun xeom\u00e9trico e xigante debuxo. Al\u00ed estaba, inundada da suave brisa do pr\u00f3ximo mar.<\/p>\n

Dende o cami\u00f1o mostr\u00e1base como un conxunto de volumes prism\u00e1ticos maclados, lixeiramente apiramidados e de arestas suavemente redondeadas. Hollando o pedregoso terreo, aparec\u00eda cega, forte e pesada. Da cor da area. Algo as\u00ed como un composto graduado, pl\u00e1stico e exacto \u00e1 vez, do que emerx\u00edan tan s\u00f3 algunhas chemineas.<\/p>\n

O corpo m\u00e1is pr\u00f3ximo, sen d\u00fabida o garaxe polas dimensi\u00f3ns do seu peche, sobresa\u00eda lixeiramente. Esquiv\u00e1ndoo achei a entrada. Un oco en caneo, tanxente. Traspasado o albor cheguei a un zagu\u00e1n recoleto e amable, enriquecido polo verde dun m\u00ednimo patio axardinado. O \u00abpatio de inverno\u00bb, puiden saber despois. Nun lateral, un gran port\u00f3n de madeira, abatido sobre un dos muros, descubr\u00eda o gran biombo acritalar do acceso principal. Dende ela v\u00edase un interior con poucos mobles, di\u00e1fano e luminoso, de paredes brancas e de chans e teitos cer\u00e1micos moi vermellos, con b\u00f3vedas vah\u00eddas. Aquel interior transportaba sen remedio cara \u00e1s espl\u00e9ndidas \u00abvilas mediterr\u00e1neas\u00bb de Le Corbusier (Weekend, Jaoul, Sarabhai…).<\/p>\n

Chamei varias veces pero ningu\u00e9n me o\u00edu. Permanec\u00edn un longo anaco coas mans abertas entre as tempas e os cristais. Intentando percibir alg\u00fan movemento ou ru\u00eddo. Sorprendido polo espl\u00e9ndido eco daquel interior. Xa me \u00eda ir cando descubr\u00edn unha pequena libreta e un lapis atado a un cordel fixado nun lateral. Chegueille a escribir unha t\u00edmida nota co meu tel\u00e9fono, pero pensei que non me pod\u00eda ir as\u00ed. A mi\u00f1a curiosidade empurroume ent\u00f3n a dar unha volta completa arredor da casa. E ao facelo, non sen certo sixilo, vino. Estaba comodamente tombado \u00e1 sombra. Nunha hamaca da ampla terraza dianteira. De ver\u00e1n. Aparentemente durmido e acompa\u00f1ado polas ronroneantes voces en franc\u00e9s dunha pequena raio, enfrontado aos amarelos e o azul. S\u00f3.<\/p>\n

Ao velo quedei inm\u00f3bil. El decatouse da mi\u00f1a aparici\u00f3n e incorporouse moi devagar. Vi\u00f1o ao meu encontro con elegante parsimonia. Tras as breves presentaci\u00f3ns, desapareceu uns instantes para regresar destapando unha botella de bo vi\u00f1o, tinto, sen etiqueta.<\/p>\n

Sent\u00e1monos cos vasos naquela viva terraza con mobles baixos de madeira.<\/p>\n

Sinxelos, nada inmediatos e moi c\u00f3modos. As vistas eran certamente espectaculares, hipnotizantes. E comezamos a charlar. Tivemos unha conversaci\u00f3n desas nas que \u00e9 m\u00e1is importante o que non se di que o que se di en realidade. Falaba cavilando, con ollos intelixentes e cansos, nun perfecto castel\u00e1n cheo de cultismos. Ao anaco, como sucedera co vi\u00f1o, sixilosamente, levantouse e sacou uns pratos con excelentes queixos. Comemos. Tras unha longa disertaci\u00f3n debeu decatarse de que a mi\u00f1a curiosidade por ver a casa aumentaba. Tivo que decatarse en exceso tras a cortina branca da porta entreaberta, que se inchaba esporadicamente forzada polo vento, de que a mi\u00f1a mirada se distra\u00eda. Invitoume ent\u00f3n a pasar dentro cun leve xesto e un sorriso.<\/p>\n

Ao entrar ao que parec\u00eda ser o centro da casa, o espazo de maior altura dende o que se distribu\u00edan todas as estanzas que puidera entrever anteriormente dende o acceso, fixeime nunha pintura de Le Corbusier que colgando do peitoril dun alzadeiro dominaba o cuarto. El exclamou con certo desd\u00e9n:<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abregaloumo el\u00bb.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

A casa era grande, gozaba de numerosos cuartos, todas abovedadas e encaladas, arremui\u00f1adas en torno a ese xeneroso espazo central. Todas as estanzas se caracterizaban pola s\u00faa grande austeridade e sinxela confortabilidad. As portas, de madeira, sen cercos nin tapaxuntas, estaban encaixadas con toda naturalidade nun sinxelo rebaixe da parede, o teito e o chan, de apenas un cent\u00edmetro. Os almacenamentos, horadados na tabiquer\u00eda, estaban formados por concisos andeis e barras de colgar sen porta ningunha, coa roupa multicolor graciosamente \u00e1 vista. Os ba\u00f1os, amplos e ben dispostos, estaban cubertos por esaxerados lucernarios polos que se filtraba unha forte luz cenital, parecendo lugares ao aire libre, sen fogar, o que proporcionaba un estra\u00f1amento agradable. As vent\u00e1s e contras, tam\u00e9n de madeira e de excelente calidade, estaban solidamente recibidas \u00e1s xambas levemente abucinadas. Evidenciando o xeneroso grosor dos muros, e procurando unha forte sensaci\u00f3n de illamento e protecci\u00f3n. Os escasos mobles estaban feitos e colocados con toda coherencia. Firmes e resoltos. Non hab\u00eda en xeral demasiados obxectos. Nada sobraba naqueles espazos.<\/p>\n

Deseguida me levou \u00e1 coci\u00f1a. Peza de completo amoblamento na que, protagonizando un dos seus lados, destacaba unha estra\u00f1a neveira. Un enorme ba\u00fal ergueito, fabricado en madeira escura, probablemente teka, coa fronte das portas melaminado en branco sobre bastidor visto da mesma madeira e ferraxes industriais de aceiro inoxidable. Certamente sorprendente e moi ben feita. Ao ver os meus ollos interrogativos acertou a dicir, lac\u00f3nico – eu mesmo f\u00edxena, catrocentos litros, aproveita as frigor\u00edas do dep\u00f3sito enterrado de auga, cun intercambiador -. E d\u00edxoo sen dar opci\u00f3ns a abrila, ou a tocala, que \u00e9 o que en realidade me tivese gustado facer. Considerando obvio que o que fai unha casa debe dese\u00f1ar e facer tam\u00e9n a neveira.<\/p>\n

Reaccionou con certa perplexidade cando lle preguntei polos exquisitos mobles da casa. Todos de madeiras escuras e lustrosas, de virtuosa factura. Por suposto que tam\u00e9n fora el quen os fixera, coas s\u00faas mans.<\/p>\n

\n

\u00abFixen moitos m\u00e1is na mi\u00f1a vida\u00bb<\/em>,<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

despachouse divertido.<\/p>\n

Pouco a pouco empezaron a non caber demasiadas preguntas sobre a suposta auto suficiencia da casa. Parec\u00eda obvio que non fora ese o seu obxectivo primordial, nin sequera que llo tivese formulado como algo verdadeiramente importante, sen\u00f3n que era unha consecuencia directa do seu modo de entender o problema, da s\u00faa rotunda l\u00f3xica e personalidade. A casa fora feita, enteiramente, por el e para el. Al\u00ed e, polo tanto, para non depender practicamente de nada nin de ningu\u00e9n. Durante a obra, explicoume, tan s\u00f3 o axudaran alg\u00fans albaneis expertos. No d\u00eda a d\u00eda unicamente necesitaba, acertou a comentar brevemente, que un cami\u00f3n cisterna lle enchese os seus dep\u00f3sitos de auga unha vez ao ano. Al\u00ed non chov\u00eda apenas. A auga de chuvia que recoll\u00eda non era suficiente. Polo demais, abond\u00e1balle con que o mu\u00ed\u00f1o de vento e unhas c\u00e9lulas fotovoltaicas alimentasen as bater\u00edas que lle proporcionaban a electricidade necesaria. Distribu\u00edda mediante un pequeno ordenador que contabilizaba as distintas achegas e consumos de enerx\u00eda. O dese\u00f1o construtivo da casa encarg\u00e1base do resto.<\/p>\n

Todo isto poder\u00eda ter sido moi aparatoso, exemplos hai, pero a realidade \u00e9 que, ag\u00e1s o mu\u00ed\u00f1o afastado uns metros da casa parecendo, como xa dixen, unha antena, ou un poste da luz, o resto dos sistemas t\u00e9cnicos se encontraban de tal modo integrados na totalidade que era imposible identificalos.<\/p>\n

Ese home viv\u00eda na marabilla. Pod\u00eda encerrarse naquela fermosa casa durante meses sen contar con nada nin ningu\u00e9n. Rodeado de beleza e benestar. De feito comentou un tanto nost\u00e1lxico:<\/p>\n

\n

\u201co que m\u00e1is me gusta \u00e9 o inverno, poden pasar moitos d\u00edas sen ver unha alma\u201d.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Falamos, como non, do modo no que a casa se constru\u00edra. Da composici\u00f3n daqueles grosos muros, da dosificaci\u00f3n da fina revocadura exterior, da problem\u00e1tica das b\u00f3vedas. Da auga. E as s\u00faas explicaci\u00f3ns foron sempre n\u00edtidas. Ao final puiden sacar a conclusi\u00f3n de que nesa casa, por enriba dos seus aspectos puramente t\u00e9cnicos, o que pretendera \u00e9 conseguir pertencer ao lugar at\u00e9ndose \u00e1s s\u00faas limitadas e estritas regras, xogar a ser consecuente cun medio no que non existen, polas s\u00faas caracter\u00edsticas, moitas posibilidades. Estaba ideada como un perfecto tobo onde permanecer, durar. Illada e integrada. Porque en definitiva, era evidente, a casa non pretendera ser un alarde bioclim\u00e1tico, nin unha exhibici\u00f3n de tecnolox\u00eda, nin sa\u00edr publicada nas revistas (confesoume que as aborrec\u00eda), nin sequera protagonizar o seu coidado \u00e1mbito. Creo que simplemente actuou con toda honestidade e un profundo co\u00f1ecemento, sustent\u00e1ndose, iso si, na s\u00faa dilatada formaci\u00f3n est\u00e9tica. Fac\u00e9ndose a mellor morada nesa precisa localizaci\u00f3n. Contoume que estudou con detemento o percorrido do sol a incidencia do vento, as soluci\u00f3ns \u00f3ptimas fronte ao clima, as estaci\u00f3ns. En suma, o xeito de non depender m\u00e1is que de si mesmo. E f\u00edxoo de modo que o conxunto constru\u00eddo aparec\u00eda sen tempo, inmerso milagrosa e sabiamente nese espazo natural.<\/p>\n

Encontrei nel unha actitude moi interesante a\u00ednda que s\u00f3 sexa porque probablemente estea en v\u00edas de extinci\u00f3n. Era unha mestura de artes\u00e1n, executor polifac\u00e9tico e artista. Ademais de sensible arquitecto e experto en tecnolox\u00edas, tanto antigas coma actuais.<\/p>\n

Pareceume que o que estaba a ver s\u00f3 pod\u00eda partir dunha consciente e viva busca do anonimato, da profunda necesidade de intimidade e dun concienciudo saber acumulado durante moitos anos, sen ningunha intenci\u00f3n de ser divulgado ou transmitido. A\u00ednda Que certamente vaidoso sentinlle moi celoso do que al\u00ed sucedera. Do seu tesouro, do seu segredo.<\/p>\n

Pensei ent\u00f3n que o mundo debe de estar cheo de personaxes como este. De casas, de edificios incribles que moi poucos co\u00f1ecen. E que, por desventura, s\u00f3 transcienden \u00e1 colectividade, a trav\u00e9s dos escasos medios que divulgan a arquitectura, os exemplos nesgados, delimitados e repetitivos. Que non nos chegan noticias dos arquitectos an\u00f3nimos. Daqueles que buscan exclusivamente o co\u00f1ecemento e non tanto o reco\u00f1ecemento, a\u00ednda que sexa na m\u00e1is estrita soidade. Eses heroes de saber que progresan intelixentemente en lugares inh\u00f3spitos. Conscientes e sufridores das s\u00faas limitaci\u00f3ns e que non esperan aplausos por canto fan. Orgullosos e capaces.<\/p>\n

Efectivamente, existe unha arquitectura bioclim\u00e1tica interesante: a que \u00e9 auto abondo por verdadeira necesidade. Baseada non tanto nos \u00faltimos avances tecnol\u00f3xicos se non en saber aplicar, e reconsiderar, as soluci\u00f3ns que se perpetuaron en cada lugar. Que, sen ter que renunciar \u00e1 coidada presenza, \u00e1 beleza, se constr\u00fae exclusivamente para satisfacer con eficacia a eventual necesidade do illamento. Sen demasiados alardes, sen mostrar excesivo esforzo. E que, grazas a ela, hai quen fai posible o sono de sentirse felizmente s\u00f3. E libre.<\/p>\n

Sergio de Miguel, arquitecto
\nMadrid, xaneiro 2010<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Supe de \u00e9l por casualidad. Arquitecto de Par\u00eds, hab\u00eda tenido la oportunidad de trabajar en sus a\u00f1os de formaci\u00f3n con Le Corbusier, all\u00e1 por los primeros cincuenta. En la \u00e9poca de la Unidad de Habitaci\u00f3n de Marsella o la Capilla de Ronchamp. Ahora se le encuentra en una isla del Mediterr\u00e1neo, en una casa hecha […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":24,"featured_media":53833,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[568,5951],"tags":[7414,7137,150,365,424,785,977,5945,1286],"class_list":["post-8631","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-faro","category-slider-principal","tag-arquitectura-bioclimatica","tag-arquitectura-popular","tag-arquitectura-tradicional","tag-construccion","tag-dibujo","tag-le-corbusier","tag-paisaje","tag-sergio-de-miguel","tag-territorio"],"yoast_head":"\nEl arquitecto de la soledad | Sergio de Miguel<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"El arquitecto de la soledad\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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