During the 1980s and early 1990s, Medellín (Colombia) was controlled, de facto, by drug lord Pablo Escobar, head of the Medellín Cartel. By far one of the most dangerous cities in the world, it had an annual homicide rate almost 300 times higher than that of Mumbai (India). A highly fragmented physical and social landscape made residents feel unsafe throughout the city, from slums to up-market districts.
In 2003, 10 years after Escobar’s death, Sergio Fajardo was elected mayor. His political agenda had architecture at its core; along with Alejandro Echeverri, mastermind of the physical transformation, he wanted to use design as a vehicle for inclusion and integration. Innovative transportation systems like the Metro Cable and Public Escalators came hand in hand with social initiatives such as public libraries and cultural centers. Gradually the face of the city changed; it reinvented itself to become one of the leading examples of social transformation.
Medellín sought to promote affordability through community empowerment, systematically placing the best architecture in the poorest areas. The España Library, located in Santo Domingo Savio on the Northeast Commune, was one of the most iconic buildings resulting from that era. Giancarlo Mazzanti, the award-winning architect behind its design, sees it as a symbol of change and explains his views here.
After a decade of horror, Medellín tried to reinvent itself as an inclusive city. How did you conceptualize the España Library as a building for all?
The idea for the Library stems from two things: conceptualizing Medellín as a landscape and as mountain geography. We were interested in understanding that the building belonged to that idea as opposed to being an object placed on a landscape. The second thing we wanted was a building that would be visible from a distance, one that could be recognized by the people of a historically stigmatized area. We wanted to make it visible and therefore it somehow became an element of symbolic reference.
What is the relevance of the building as a symbol for the city?
There is something that I think is extremely important. As an architect you do not build a symbol. Rather, a community creates the symbol when it appropriates the building and transforms it into an element of belonging. Thinking that you can design ‘iconic or symbolic buildings’ seems naive.
Buildings are constructed, yes, but they become iconic references only when the community takes ownership of them.
The España Library makes Fajardo’s policy agenda clearly visible and I think that makes the building relevant as well. It becomes significant because it is striking in its geometry, because it promotes a sense of belonging in a community that feels it was given something no other community has. It is relevant because it triggers economic transformation in the neighborhood, and that highlights a political project that goes far beyond making three buildings. The other thing that is essential is that the Library does not operate alone; it works to intensify urban connections, relationships, public spaces, infrastructure and community and social work with local residents.
The value of the España Library transcends its design. How do you see the building as an urban destination and what is its placemaking value?
There is a deliberate contradiction between the building and the context. This juxtaposition ‘signals out’ the Library, making people feel a sense of pride. I think that by becoming an iconic building, the España Library has regenerated the neighborhood’s local economy. Physical transformation has promoted government intervention in terms of public space. The adjacent edges start to increase in value and housing improves, ultimately reinvigorating the local economy. There are several simultaneous processes taking place. There is physical and financial transformation, but the most important aspect is how people perceive themselves. People used to be ashamed of living in the Northeast Commune, but today they take pride in saying that they live where the España Library is.
That change has produced other very nice things. Foundations and NGOs have emerged, such as the one called Barro de Medellín, which promotes musical education for local inhabitants. Barro de Medellín is inspired by a teenage novel that revolves around two children in a poor neighborhood who steal bricks from a library (the España Library) under construction. As they visit the library they begin to learn how to read and feel terribly ashamed about damaging the building. It is a story for teenagers, but that produces other things. The Library transcends its original function and generates other types of situations that are now not only physical; it becomes highly visible, both physically and as an idea of social transformation.
How do you see the building as a catalyst for urban integration?
The Library becomes a benchmark, a reference point that attracts both tourists and locals. In a district that is very isolated (it was synonymous with violence), when a building generates other things, it reverts and connects the entire city with the site. It also produces something aided by the surrounding support programmes. Violence disappears around the immediate area because there is more tourism, more security, because the economy improves and there is more visibility, more public spaces. A sort of ‘safe zone’ emerges, something that is repeated in other projects we have designed, such as the Forest of Hope in Cazucá (Bogotá). When the community appropriates the building, violence tends to decrease in the immediate urban edge. The place becomes one where people can go out at night, have social gatherings and enjoy the city.
How has the building contributed to regenerate the area?
After designing this Library, I understood and learned many things. In the Library there was no prior process with the community; it was a competition and, in that case, you work on a set of guidelines. After that project, we have strived to understand how behaviors that shape collective living can allow you to think about architecture in different ways. One example is the project we are doing for Argos, in Cartagena, where we have placed the greatest value in spaces for dance and party, the basis of social life in those communities. Other activities begin to stem from these events; activities that have to do with education, with entrepreneurship. I call these elements ‘social attractors’, which, poorly stated, are like the anchor store at a mall. You go to the mall to buy one thing, but you find another set of activities that begin to activate different reactions. You can innovate when you begin to understand the conditions of each community.
Ultimately, architecture must be striking; it must be capable of defining the character of an area.
In a very poor neighborhood, where everything is made precariously, you cannot do something precarious. You have to do something that really goes a step further, something where people feel that they are receiving something valuable. It is not ‘another school’; it is the school that nobody else has. You generate pride in the people when you give the poorest neighborhoods the best buildings.
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