A sea monster, a theater or a marine refuge
year:
2023institution:
School of Architecture (ETSAM)[MArch]
profs. Federico Soriano, Pedro Urzaiz, Eduardo Castillo
program:
theater, climate refugesite:
Guimaras, PhilippinesIt’s enormous. Stranded in the bay, on the shore—whether it’s the sea or the land, it’s uncertain. You can hear it creaking when the wind blows, trying to hide among the surrounding trees or sink into the sea that lurks nearby. Built under the premises of mid-20th century international trade, it was the largest bulk sugar warehouse in Asia. Its guts were a topography of 60,000 tons of white sugar. By 1984, only the elusive grains remained, stuck to the ground, to the thick concrete walls, in the four corners of the warehouse… Meanwhile, the price of sugar plummeted, in the neighboring island tens of thousands of workers lost their jobs, a devastating famine occurred, and social tensions rose. It’s a tense memory, filled with ghosts, contained within.
It is the victim of an accelerated, premature, yet sustained deterioration, an always unfinished decomposition. What would happen if this were paused? Reversing the process is not an option; hiding its remains elsewhere would resolve little or nothing, omitting much. What should be done with that strange materiality, sometimes uncomfortable, which involves the body, repels it, and yet draws it in? What would happen inside, in that interior always dark and now exposed to the elements?
From the sea, a new roof, indifferently resting on the ruin, plays with a sense of timelessness. Inside, its guts are once again put to use, and its walls begin to bear weight again. The sea deliberately seeps beneath its foundation; wind, light, even rain are allowed to pass through… as if, at last, they had overcome the resistance imposed by the metal and concrete over decades. It is vulnerable, but potentially powerful: strategically located at the most sheltered end of the bay, immune to tsunamis or cyclones that strike the rest of the nearby coast, it is, in itself, a climate refuge. When the weather is calm, it fills with sounds that join the tides, with people, and with performances: it’s a theater. Sometimes, it sits empty, with a strange echo, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape.
