The period from just beyond the mid 1800s to the early 1900s marked Argentina’s “belle époque”. At its height in the 1920s, Argentina was the seventh richest country in the world. Buenos Aires became a melting pot of wealth, cultural creativity, and innovation, which fostered a climate in which private residences and historically important buildings were commissioned with zeal.

With its strong ties to European culture and heritage, almost all of these buildings boast French patrimony and design, as their respective architects aimed to emulate and indeed embody their affluent European counterparts in an era of brisk economic expansion.

The ‘top 5’ selected below represents a cross section of opulent stately homes, architectural tributes to legendary poets, and important government buildings, all of whose architecture and patronage tell an intriguing story…

Palacio Barolo along Av de Mayo. (Photo: Julie Catarinella)

Palacio Barolo (built 1919-1923)

This imposing building on Avenida de Mayo was commissioned by Italian immigrant and cotton magnate, Luis Barolo. He was the first person to cultivate the crop thanks to the spinning machines he brought with him upon his arrival to Argentina in 1890.

Aside from this patron’s peculiar claim to fame, the building itself boasts a number of impressive accolades: it was the tallest building in Latin America up until the construction of the Kavanagh building in 1935, and was also the first building in Argentina to be built using reinforced concrete.

The aftermath of World War I brought with it a fear of aesthetic loss. Prompted by the desire to conserve distinct European styles, architect Mario Palanti incorporated a number of different types of European architecture into the building, including Neo-Gothic and Neo-Romantic. A Dante aficionado just like Barolo, Palanti envisaged the building as a safe haven and final resting place for Dante’s ashes, out of reach of war-torn Europe.

The Palacio Barolo represents the physical embodiment of the content of Dante’s Divine Comedy. The building is made up of 22 floors (plus two more underground), which sit atop a ground floor that is set out in accordance with the ‘Golden Ratio’. The 22 floors also correspond to the number of stanzas in each of the poem’s verses; each floor in turn is split into 22 offices. The building is 100m tall, which represents the 100 cantos or songs that make up the poem. The number nine, as in the Divine Comedy, is also repeated. The nine columns in the main hall represent the nine circles of hell described in the Inferno. And, on 9th July, Argentina’s Independence Day, the small spire atop the Indian-inspired cupola lines up perfectly with the Southern Cross constellation.

The building, like the comedy, is divided into three parts (in ascending order): hell, purgatory and heaven. The basement and ground floor represent hell, floors 1-14 purgatory, whilst floors 15-22 represent heaven. Thus as you ascend the staircase you are invited to metaphorically (and physically) climb your way up to redemption. The still functional lighthouse at the top (which contains 300,000 light bulbs) was intended to greet incoming ships as they entered the Rio de la Plata Estuary, in a nod to the Pillars of Hercules in the Mediterranean.

Palacio Barolo, Av de Mayo 1370, is now exclusively dedicated to office rentals. Guided tours are offered Monday to Thursday from 4pm to 7pm beginning every hour and last approximately 45 minutes. Night tours are available Wednesdays and Fridays at 8pm and Thursdays at 8:30pm. For more info, visit the website.

Museo de Arte Decorativo on Libertador. (Photo: Stephanie Halovanic)

Museo de Arte Decorativo (1911-1917)

Previously known as the Palacio Errázuriz Alvear, this opulent French style mansion was architect René Sergent’s (1865 -1927) answer to an affluent young couple’s need for somewhere to house their growing art collection.

Sergent was originally famous for his luxurious private residences executed in the neo-classical style. In the first 15 years of the 20th century Sergent worked in Paris, New York, London and Buenos Aires. Highly celebrated, he also designed and decorated landmark hotels such as the Savoy Hotel and Claridge’s in London, the Grand Hotel in Rome, as well as designing the headquarters for Rolls Royce Limited.

Sergent’s patrons were a young couple both from highly influential backgrounds: Josefina de Alvear and diplomat Matías Errázuriz Ortúzar. Both families were 18th century Spanish émigrés. The Errázuriz’s settled in Chile and their heritage includes presidents, politicians, businessmen and university professors of great prestige and influence. The Alvear’s on the other hand, settled in Argentina and became highly embroiled in the country’s politics. Josefina’s grandfather, Brigadier General Carlos María de Alvear, fought in the Independence Wars. Her uncle, Torcuato de Alvear, was the first mayor of the city of Buenos Aires in 1880, and her cousin Marcelo T de Alvear, became president of Argentina in 1922.

The couple were married in April of 1987. For a time they lived in the traditional neighbourhood of Monserrat, where their two children were born. Matías’ diplomatic work, however, meant that between 1906 and 1916 they lived in Paris, during which time works for the Palacio Errázuriz Alvear were carried out. Keen art collectors, they took advantage of their time in Europe to amass a sizeable collection of artwork and antiquities from both Europe and the Orient.

The couple returned to Buenos Aires in 1916 and, as their precious goods arrived by sea, set about decorating their new abode. On the 18th September 1918 the house was officially opened with a grand ball, and it became the centre of an intense and highly prolific social life. However, when Josefina passed away in 1935, her husband and children offered to sell the house and its collection to the state on the condition that it be kept open as a museum. It was bought on the 18th December 1937, giving birth to what is now known as the Museo Nacional de Arte Decorativo.

The building itself is an architectural feast. Barring the stonework, it was made entirely from materials imported from Europe. The panelling, marble, woodwork, mirrors, latches, and mouldings arrived in perfect working order. For some specific tasks such as the preparation of stucco (plaster), craftsmen were brought over from Europe.

Its external façade was inspired by 18th century neo-classicism, in particular the works of Louis XV’s court artist, Jacques A Gabriel. The four levels that make up the building are clearly visible from the outside. The rooms on the main floor are decorated in various French styles from the 17th and 18th century, except for the Great Hall which was inspired by the English halls from the times of the Tudors. The private apartments on the first floor reflect the tastes of King Louis XV and Louis XVI, with the exception of the Art Deco room, modelled by the Catalán artist José María Sert.

This palace-come-museum is the only French mansion open to the public. It contains an impressive permanent collection that focuses of porcelain and Eastern pieces.

From February to December, the Museo de Arte Decorativo(Av del Libertador 1902) is open Tuesday-Sunday from 2pm to 9pm. Tickets cost $10. Entrance is free on Tuesdays, and free all year round for the retired and those under 12 years old.

Palacio Duhau in Recoleta. (Photo: Stephanie Halovanic)

Palacio Duhau (1934)

It is fitting that this third palace, a provocative symbol of the old Argentine aristocracy, was restored and converted into the luxurious Park Hyatt Hotel back in 2006.

Designed by French architect Leon Dourge, his first task was to demolish another palace that already occupied the site: the Palacio de Bary. This was where the Spanish princess la Infanta Isabel de Borbón stayed during her trip to Buenos Aires to mark the country’s 100th anniversary. Having cleared the way for the Palacio Duhau, work began in earnest.

The palace was built in the style of Louis XVI, using the French Chateau de Marais as a reference point. Unlike the lush greenery that surrounds its French counterpart, the Duhau Palace was to be built in the middle of a sprawling city. Barring practical considerations, the palaces are virtually identical.

The main façade is symmetrical and is organised into three parts. The central part provides the main access point, with a portico defined by four Tuscan columns framed by three openings. Behind these modulated spaces is a semi-covered area where a staircase made up of two branches which leads up to the main floor.

Divided into four sections, the façade adheres to the classical architectural precepts of order and symmetry. The three large windows on the ground floor are repeated on the first floor or piano noble, and a traditional pediment with a dental course (the teeth-like line of moulding which outlines it) sits on top, partly obscuring the attic that lies behind.

For all its sense of propriety, its original owner, Luis Duhau, is most famously associated with his part in a bloody assassination. The then Minister for Agriculture, Duhau, was under investigation by the progressive democrat sentator Lisandro de la Torre. De la Torre attempted to charge Duhau and the minister of Finance, Federico Pinedo, with political corruption and fraud.

On the 23rd July 1935, a heated discussion about the investigation in the National Congress turned violent. In a fit of passion, Duhau started a fight among the senators. This ended calamitously with Duhau’s bodyguard who, attempting to murder De la Torre, instead killed his friend and political ally, Enzo Bordabehere. De la Torre later committed suicide in 1939.

This magnificent palace is now an award winning five star hotel. The hotel offers two distinct restaurants: the Duhau Restaurant & Vinoteca and the Giogio Restaurant and Terraces. It is also home to Los Salones del Piano Noble, which, facing the garden, is an ideal place to nibble an elegant snack or to take afternoon tea. There is also a bar called the Oak Bar.

The Palacio Duhau is at Av Alvear 1661

Palacio de la Legislatura (1926-1931)

Palacio Legislatura on Peru street. (Photo: Julie Catarinella)

Also in the neo-classical style is the stunning legislative building or, the Palacio de la Legislatura. This striking building was constructed between 1926 and 1931 for the then city council, and was designed by architect Héctor Ayerza.

Since its inauguration, the building has played host to a number of noteworthy government agencies. Former president Juan Domingo Perón established the Secretariat of Labour and Social Insurance there following his coup in 1943. Later, having gained power legitimately in the elections of 1946, he declared the building a National Historic Monument. His legendary wife and fist lady Eva Perón later used the labour bureau wing as the headquarters for her foundation (previously housed in the central post office), where it remained until Perón’s ousting in 1955.

Architecturally speaking, the building is most famous for its 26 cornice caryatids (stone carvings of a draped female figures used as a supporting columns of Greek or Greek-style buildings) and bell tower. The caryatids are allegories representing urban life and were created entirely by Argentine sculptors or naturalised foreigners. Each statue is separated by two interlocking parts. The range of subjects symbolised includes: navigation, social order, commerce, the sciences, music, history, sport, aesthetics, justice and industry to name but a few.

Another of the building’s most striking features, the clock tower, stands 95m high. Arranged around an octagonal base, it is comprised of four clock faces of Germanic origin. These clocks in turn control five bells which, for any Londoners nostalgic for the sounds of home, chime out the same melody as Big Ben. The five bells all have names: Santa Maria, La Pinta, La Niña, La Porteña, and the largest, Argentina. These clocks control the workings of 80 more clocks distributed throughout the building.

The clock tower is also home to a carillon (musical instrument) that is made up of 30 cast bronze bells brought over from Germany in 1931. Together they weigh over 27 tonnes.

The inside of this architectural delight is equally gobsmacking. The lavish Golden Salon was inspired by the Hall of Mirrors in the French Castle of Versailles. As the name suggests, there are large quantities of golden objects, adorned with gold leaf. The floors are made from the finest Slovenian marble and arranged in a checkerboard configuration. Not to be outdone is the Escalera de Honor or Staircase of Honour, situated in the main hall. Made from Boticcino marble, its design is similar to that of Paris’ Palais Royal. It is crowned with dome encased in white rosettes and topped by a stain glass window depicting the image of a bright sun.

The Palacio de la Legislatura can be found at Peru 130.

Palacio Paz on Santa Fe near Plaza San Martin. (Photo: Julie Catarinella)

Palacio Paz (1902-1914)

In the words of their website, “if Buenos Aires was once Paris, the Palacio Paz is the clearest example of this.”

A successful and ambitious character, José Camilo Paz entrusted the construction of this gargantuan private residence to the prestigious French architect Marie Henri Sortais. Paz was the founder of one of the most influential Argentine papers, La Prensa, and was Argentina’s ambassador to Paris between 1885 and 1893.

The construction of this elaborate palace took around 13 years to complete and neither Sortais, who died in 1911, nor Paz who died the following year, lived long enough to see the completed work. His family of nine plus 60 servants enjoyed the palace and embraced a life of decadence and splendour.

The building is four stories tall and comprises of approximately 12,000 square metres, 140 rooms, and seven lifts. The façade is based on loosely on the front of the Louvre that faces the river Seine, and, thanks to Paz’s fascination with French culture, it was also inspired by contemporary French châteaus, in particular the Château de Chantilly.

This Beaux Art mansion contains a mix of the French Renaissance style and the regency style of Louis XVI. The awe-inspiring circular reception room is over 21m high and contains a ceiling fresco dedicated to Louis XIV, the Sun King, topped with an equally impressive cupola.

Various historians have suggested that Paz harboured political aspirations of one day becoming president. It is likely that this grandiose desire is reflected accordingly in his choice of home, which, some say, he hoped to use as his presidential residence.

The former palace is currently home to the Military Officers Association, a social club maintained by the Argentine military, following its sale to the state for $2,750,000 in 1938. It also houses the National Military Library and the National Firearms Museum. Aside from the construction of a sporting area on the site of the old garages, the building has survived virtually intact.

Palacio Paz is at Av Santa Fe 750. For tours and more information please see the website.

It only takes walking along the streets of cities like Buenos Aires to notice the distinct features of Argentine architecture. Like the country itself, Argentina’s architectural heritage is the result of a wealth of international influences, with buildings across the city varying from imposing, Haussman-style apartment blocks to radically modern, conceptual designs.

Argentine Architects of the World on exhibit at Centro Cultural Recoleta (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

Though the county’s older architecture owes itself to Spanish colonisation and the influx of European immigrants at the beginning of the 20th century, the international element of the country’s architecture has still not been lost. And with a continual input from overseas, architecture today has retained a unique sense of diversity.

With this same element of internationality at its centre, the ‘Argentine Architects in the World’ exhibition begins with an explanation of recent architecture. Aiming to show how Argentine architecture is not solely international in its influences, the exhibition explains how, due to the recurring difficult economic situations in the 20th century, architects in Argentina have been forced to find work elsewhere. When they returned, not only did they come back with a wealth of international influences, they had also injected Argentina’s architecture into different cities around the world.

Luis J. Grossman and Daniel O. Casoy are the curators of the exhibition which is now in its ninth year and is presently showing at the Centro Cultural Recoleta for the first time. Part of a larger organisation of the same name, the architects shown at ‘Argentine Architects in the World’ have each been chosen for their unique input into architecture and what results is arguably a collection of the most important names in the contemporary architectural world.

The exhibition is split into two parts, with one room dedicated to the collections of previous years. Photos and diagrams accompany profiles of architects, and although admittedly the commentaries can sometimes be overly proud in their tone, this part of the exhibition is, nonetheless, a fascinating run-through some of Argentina’s most important architectural names.

Walking around the room is like going on a tour with an expert guide. Familiar faces of buildings such as the Catholic University of Argentina and the MALBA gallery mean that, even if architecture isn’t your speciality, this exhibition never fails to be interesting and offers a unique insight into your surroundings in Buenos Aires. Looking at Argentine architecture in cities such as Miami, Munich and Madrid, ‘Argentine Architects in the World’ also offers a point of comparison between architecture in Argentina and the rest of the world.

Floralis Generica by Eduardo Catalano (Photo: Trey Ratcliff)

This year’s version of the exhibition is, however, a cut above the efforts of past years. For the first time in the exhibition’s history, original drawings of the buildings and constructions we pass on a daily basis are on display in their very earliest stages. The inclusion of the drawings – perhaps the result of the exhibition being held in an art space for the first time – means the exhibition cannot simply be described as “architectural.” The drawings are practically art objects in their own right, exposing a sense of creativity unique to each architect. Among them are Eduardo Catalano’s highly detailed drawings of his masterpiece La Floralis Generica – the huge, mechanical, silver flower in Recoleta – offering a previously unseen element of one of the most recognisable architectural successes in Buenos Aires. Standing in contrast to more colourful pieces, or those with more mathematical calculations, this year’s collection betrays a unique sense of each architect’s personality.

Architecture may not be something you know a lot about. But even if it isn’t your thing, this exhibition is a great way to get to know the strengths of the Argentine architecture that surrounds us every day. This year’s more creative side, and the detailed insights into each architect mean that this year, architecture in Argentina just became a lot more accessible.

By the train station at Retiro, in the south of barrio Flores, flowering in the provinces in the partidos of Vincente Lopez, San Martín, and Avellaneda – everywhere, as the Argentines say – are the slums of the villa miseria, the residences stacked up precariously one above the other. The air is a mixture of dust and car exhaust; the music is a variation on the cumbia of Flor de Piedra or Amar Azul; just a few blocks from the chain stores on the main street, it’s not uncommon to see a horsecart or stray dog.

The man known as Le Corbusier (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

When in October 1929 the Swiss architect Le Corbusier visited Buenos Aires to deliver a series of lectures, his career was already well on its way in Europe. But the city captivated him, as much for its beauty as for the challenges it presented: “Buenos Aires, southern capital of the new world, gigantic aglomeration of insatiable energy, is a city in error, in paradox, a city that has not a new but an old spirit.” Such an old spirit in a relatively young city was, to him, undesirable. It meant Buenos Aires was going the way of historical European cities like Paris – not just in charm but in dirtiness, industrial sprawl, and unromantic poverty.

But Buenos Aires had in place all the natural elements to become a sleek modern city, Le Corbusier thought. Something wonderful could be carved out from its “sea and port, the magnificent vegetation of the park in Palermo, the wide blue Argentine sky”. And so he set about putting his particular architectural vision to work, attempting to design a city to his ideals of “space, light, and order”. He conceived of skyscrapers in the south of the city, a grand new highway cutting through it laterally, and the relocation of an airport, among other large changes.

None of these plans would come to fruition. The government planning commission was suspicious of a foreign architect. Even if he had garnered political support, it’s not clear that Le Corbusier’s solutions – which would entail tearing down existing buildings to erect new streets, and uprooting traditional arrangements wholesale to start afresh – were at all the right answer. They failed to address the large immigrant population, mostly Italians and Spaniards, who had crowded into Buenos Aires in the late 19th century and were now an established, albeit lower class, part of the city. Moreover, if effected, his plans would ghettoize or eliminate the villas as part of the project of revitalization.

For the modern urban Argentine architect, the themes tackled by Le Corbusier (referred to affectionately as “Lecorbu”) are still worth confronting, even if the answers differ. How should a city accommodate a massive, ever-growing populace? Is it possible to plan on a large scale the conditions for an improved quality of life, without excessive cost or stultifying uniformity? Does such a thing as “modern” architecture even exist, and, if so, what does it look like?

A site of possibility

To understand Le Corbusier’s ideas, it’s worth turning to his own theoretical writings, of which there are many. (He was a prolific self-mythologizer.) His essays read as simultaneous manifestos and justifications; in content, too, they swing wildly – veering, often within the same piece, between what are commonly thought of as “left” and “right” wing views.

Le Corbusier's vision of a "vertical city" in Marseilles, France (Photo: Dom Dada)

Le Corbusier writes in a cold, detached tone, doing little to dislodge the negative stereotype of him as the man who loved planning too much. His name can invoke endless rows of identical apartment blocks (his work inspired the Soviet constructivists); cities so precisely designed for “moral hygiene” that they inhibit individual movement and freedom; an obsession with technology and its capacities for mass reproduction. “Machines for living” Le Corbusier termed his houses; “cold and suffocating” wrote locals in one of his project evaluations. He has been accused of being both incompetent and power-hungry.

It’s true that Le Corbusier recognised the importance of high-level support for his plans, and flirted with right-wing syndicalism and central planning. But his attention to power and materials arose from an awareness of the challenges of the profession. For Le Corbusier, architecture was an undeniable art form, but also a very peculiar one. It required constant collaboration and compromise with others – with the team of sub-architects, with the builders who constructed the edifice, with the zoning officials who authorised the site, with the individuals and organisations who financed the projects. The solitary writer or painter could easily start on an avant-garde work and implement experimental ideas in practice. The architect with similar ambitions faced hurdles from the start.

But the forced social character of Le Corbusier’s work also led him in a different direction – one promoting social betterment, not necessarily hand-in-hand with authoritarian views. He embraced the possibilities of architecture as a tool for equality and social change, for architecture, more than any other art, had the power to physically transform man’s relationship with his environment.

Wishing to hear what Le Corbusier himself had to say on these matters, the Asociación Amigos del Arte – a group of Argentine intellectuals including Victoria Ocampo, María Rosa Oliver, González Garaño, Silvina Bullrich, and Susana Rinaldini – invited him to fly down to Argentina and speak.

Tension and pressure

Villa Ocampo (Photo: Beatrice Murch)

When Le Corbusier’s boat docked in Buenos Aires, Ocampo was waiting for him at the port. She had taken an interest in his work; and after the last conference, she invited him and other conference members to her house, where Azucena Maizani y Sofía Bozán sang tangos. The evening did not go well. When Ocampo asked if Le Corbusier liked the music, he replied, inexplicably: “I passionately love Turkish military marches, because from very far off one can hear the bass drum.” Ocampo had already started to see him as Eurocentric and arrogant (he had proposed to her a habitation with a splash pool for a lover, which she rejected); the strained relationship between the two now only soured further.

It wasn’t only with Ocampo – who represented the Argentine elite – that Le Corbusier began to cross swords. He also argued with other conference representatives, who found fault with his plans for the city. Le Corbusier’s goal had always been efficiency: Efficiency was what had marked his controversial ‘Plan Voisin’ for Paris four years before, which would have bulldozed miles of richly varied (though also winding, dirty, and poverty-stricken) neighbourhoods in the city centre and replaced them with linear streets and sleek buildings. And efficiency was what marked his favourite materials – glass, steel, and ferroconcrete not only enabled a more streamlined technological aesthetic than brick, but were also cheaper and easier to produce.

That’s what made a newspaper editorial written by the US writer Waldo Frank – another invitee – sting so badly. Le Corbusier’s plans were monstrous and superfluous, he wrote, “not the aesthetic realization of an ideal, but temples erected to the American gods of the age of instinct, of power.” They were, in other words, not efficient at all – were, rather, needlessly grandiose and overly infatuated with technology. The Argentine government at the time, with its significant conservative opposition (Le Corbusier arrived the month of the Wall Street Crash, and a few months before Uriburu’s military coup) stonewalled his ambitious and expensive attempts to redesign Buenos Aires. Le Corbusier left the city unhappy at the polite but distinctly chilly reception of his plans.

The architect's later, more organic work in a chapel in Ronchamp, France (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

After the conference, Le Corbusier went on to visit La Plata, San Antonio de Areco, and Mar del Plata, as well as Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo, and Asunción (the last in a plane piloted by Antoine de St. Exupéry). The Río Paraná and the vast unpeopled Argentine landscapes bordering Paraguay overwhelmed him, and influenced him to think seriously about the relationship between human construction and landscape, and the possibility of a more organic architecture.

Nor did Le Corbusier’s involvement with Argentina end there. In 1938 two Argentine architects, Juan Kurchan and Jorge Ferrari Hardoy, came to his workshop in Paris with the intention of creating a ‘Master Plan’for Buenos Aires. Working closely with Le Corbusier, they completed the plan in twelve months. A decade later, their ideas for collective housing would be implemented by the Perón government.

In the 1940 introduction to the plan, however, Le Corbusier’s mixed feelings toward Buenos Aires are still clear. “In 1929, when I visited, I called it The City Without Hopes,” he wrote. Admittedly, today it is “one of the great capitals of the world. A formidable destiny awaits it.” Still, “Buenos Aires, the destined city in South America, is sicker than ever. Precisely because it has natural health and youth, it has suffered in its lightning growth the accelerated assault of its errors.”

Legacy

Despite the time he spent in theory and travel, Le Corbusier himself supervised only one architectural work in Latin America – the Casa Curutchet in La Plata, Argentina, one hour from the capital.

Casa Curutchet in La Plata (Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

It is a small building, and a relatively minor example of his work. It was, in fact, almost an afterthought, built in 1949 to 1953 under Perón, nearly 20 years after his Buenos Aires lectures. The building faced constant challenges throughout the construction process, due to the relatively constricted space. Still, Le Corbusier was proud of it, and its architectural features – such as a brise soleil to keep out the harsh summer sun, and concrete stilts to raise the building up – are representative examples of his mature style.

Yet his importance of Le Corbusier for Latin America was much greater than a single house. Hardly a shadow figure, he makes up a real part of the Argentine historical memory. Driving through the suburb of Malvinas Argentinas, in Buenos Aires province, you’ll come across a street bearing his name. More significantly, as Carolina Muzi notes in an article for Clarín, many of Le Corbusier’s proposed changes were in fact later implemented:

“The skyscrapers that Le Corbusier proposed for the riverbank finally flourished in Puerto Madero. The Ciudad Universitaria today occupies the space he had planned for it in 1938. The proposed Avenida Norte-Sur was completed between Retiro and Constitución. A crystal tower was added to the Congreso building. A network of highways was constructed just as Le Corbusier had planned. And the relocation of the Aeroparque to the coast of Avellaneda – revived in 1995 by politicians – had already been proposed by Le Corbusier in 1929 and 1938. None of this seems like chance.”

These innovations – it is hard to overstate how radical they are – clearly bear Le Corbusier’s stamp, even if he wasn’t always explicitly invoked.

More than the architecture itself, the “spirit” of Le Corbusier, however interpreted, is still distinctly present. Students at the Facultad de Arquitectura, Diseño y Urbanismo of the Universidad de Buenos Aires, taking a cue from Le Corbusier, are currently engaged in a project to redesign the villas, opening up the space to decrease cramped and crowded conditions, and in doing so improve the quality of life. Le Corbusier continues to feature prominently on the classroom syllabus.

Le Corbusier may not have left many material traces in Argentina, and it remains ambiguous whether his plans were ideal for 1930s Buenos Aires. But in his grand desire to reinvent and improve the city, he remains, here, an important touchstone. As one of his admirers has said of him: “Good architecture cannot force people to live together in harmony. Bad architecture can certainly prevent them from doing so.”

Photo by Guillermo Blanco

Plaza San Martín is one of the city’s most popular and enjoyable spots. Some of Buenos Aires’ best architectural masterpieces line the square which was landscape-designed by the famous Charles Thays, who was also responsible for the Palermo parks and Botanical Gardens.

The square was also the setting for stories of forbidden love and revenge acted out between countries and families, and remnants of these stories are evidenced in the naming of the square, the memorials that inhabit it, and the buildings that frame it.

You will no doubt have noticed the English presence in the square. The Memorial Tower, or Torre de los Ingleses as it used to be known, stands proudly in front of Retiro station, in spite of the scrawls of graffiti at the base which claim, hopefully, that the ‘Malvinas son Argentinas’. But what you may not know is that the square was once called Plaza Britanica. In fact the English have a strong historical presence in this square – the station was also designed by a British architect and the railways which end up in Retiro were all famously built by the English.

Following a failed attempt by the Argentine army to invade the British-owned Falklands Islands in 1982, Anglo-Argentine relations became somewhat strained. The square was renamed Plaza Fuerza Aerea Argentina (Argentine Air Force square), the English Tower was to be known henceforth as the Torre Monumental, and a memorial to the fallen of the Malvinas was erected directly in front of the tower.

Photo courtesy of Eternautus

The English Tower was originally built as a monument to celebrate the centenary of the 1810 revolution and the contribution that the English had made to the new country. Monuments were similarly donated by Spain, Germany and Italy, amongst other countries. Designed by engineer Ambrose Poynter, it was then built by Hopkins and Gardom using solely materials from England. It was constructed in the Edwardian style and decorated at the base with the English rose, the Scottish thistle, the Welsh dragon, and the Irish shamrock.

In the early decades of the 20th century Buenos Aires was the capital of one of the wealthiest cities in the world. In 1910 mayor Torcuato de Alvear decided to commission an impressive network of parks, avenues and squares, many of which were influenced by the Beaux Arts style which had been prominent in Europe since the end of the last century. 

The Beaux Arts style is based on ideas taught at the legendary École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. It is often described as being a neoclassical style, because it combines ancient Greek and Roman forms with Renaissance ideas.

Palacio Anchorena

Up the hill, in the far north-west of the square you will find the Palacio Anchorena – one of the city’s finest examples of the influence of the Beaux Arts school of architecture. 

Photo courtesy of Eternautus

Mercedes Castellanos de Anchorena commissioned Alejandro Christophersen to design this palace, which was built between 1905 and 1909. During this period of wealth in Argentina, many architects were commissioned to build extravagant private residences, and this is one of the finest and most extravagant examples. Mercedes epitomised the image of a millionaire in Buenos Aires and so the phrase ‘more money than an Anchorena’ came about.

One of the most famous architects of his time in Argentina, Christophersen began his training at the Academia de Bellas Artes in Amberes, and completed it in the prestigious Atelier Pascal de la Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris.

The 120-room palace occupies a whole block and was home to Mercedes, three of her sons and their wives. Each son lived in one of the three residencies designed around the courtyard, which make up the palace.

As is typical of this style of architecture, the building is also split into three horizontally, each floor with a specific function: the ground floor is for the male servants, the first floor is the reception area where guests would be received, and the second level is the family’s living quarters with the female servants nearby to be on hand.

In 1936 the building was acquired by the state, renamed Palacio de San Martín, and now serves as the HQ for the Foreign Ministry.

The Kavanagh Building

That same year saw the construction of one of Buenos Aires’ most iconic buildings – the Kavanagh building. The design is a wonderful response to the tricky triangular site on a hill that the building occupies, and it gradually rises up 33 storeys as it reaches up towards the west of the square.

Photo by Guillermo Blanco

In the 1930s the approach to architecture in the city changes sharply from the classically influenced style to, what at the time was regarded as, Modernism or Art Deco.

Corina Kavanagh, one of Buenos Aires’ wealthiest women of her day, financed the construction of this building, and it was designed by Sanchez, Lagos & de la Torre and built in 1936. The Art Deco skyscraper is Buenos Aires’ most successful example of modernist architecture. When the building was completed it was the highest reinforced concrete structure in the world, and was South America’s tallest building for many years.

The Art Deco style thrived during the 1920s and 1930s and has many diverse influences – cubism (with zigzags and geometrical shapes), Ancient Egypt (following the recent discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamun in 1922) and Aztec and Mayan art of Central America and México. Innovations of the age such as plastics, chrome and aluminium were utilised and the designs of these buildings visually embrace the modern machine age. Many iconic buildings in Europe and the US were designed at this time and used this style, such as the New York daily news building and Battersea Power Station in London.

Legend has it that the design of the Kavanagh building was also influenced by a tale of unrequited love. One of the daughters of Corina Kavanagh fell in love with the son of the Anchorena family. The Anchorenas disapproved on the basis that she was not from an aristocratic family. Corina therefore decided to execute architectural revenge – she had the building designed so as to block the Anchorena’s view of the church which they had commissioned, which is situated on the other side of the Kavanagh building site.

Appalled at the demolition of beautiful old buildings in their neighbourhood of Recoleta, several local residents came together to form ‘Basta de Demoler’ (Stop the Demolition). The group has taken on the government in a heroic David and Goliath struggle to protect the buildings valued by the community which are not protected by law, and are being pulled down in the name of progress.

Photo by Matthew Dillon

Many historical buildings in Buenos Aires are not ‘catalogued’ by the Ministry of Culture, which, until last month, was the only way to protect them against demolition. Developers have been buying small properties, pulling them down and erecting taller buildings which they sell off at a huge profit.

Earlier this month, neighbours, friends and artists who make up Basta de Demoler were celebrating their recent success; a new law has been approved, thanks in part to the hard work of the group, called the Law of Heritage Protection which it is hoped will go some way towards preserving the architectural heritage of the city. Finally architecture is on the political agenda of the city.

It all began with a letter to local newspaper, ‘El Fantasma’, in Recoleta. Expressing his rage at the demolition of historic buildings in the area, author of the letter, Santiago Pusso, invited like-minded readers to express their support by sending him an email. The response was such that a group was formed with a mission to fight for the conservation of the architectural heritage of Buenos Aires – something which the group believes is in danger of extinction. Pusso, a quietly spoken man who never raises his voice – an unlikely crusader – described what triggered him to take this first step: “At the beginning it was a feeling of powerlessness and indignation, and a need to do something urgently about these incessant demolitions.”

The reason for the demolition is of course money. Developers are buying charming, magnificently designed old petit hotels – bourgeois urban houses from 18th and 19th centuries – tearing them down, and often replacing them with, what Basta de Demoler believes to be, eye-sore monstrosities of glass which they will sell as apartment blocks or offices. Petit hotels are an easy target – usually there is only one owner to buy out, then the plot is yours to do as you wish, so long as the government planning doesn’t object, something which is a rare occurrence. Journalist and group member Sergio Kiernan describes the root of the problem being ‘the placid indifference of the government and an industry that doesn’t know how to make money without destroying and replacing with something bigger but worse’.

There have been cases in the past where a building has successfully resisted the bulldozers. Designed in 1912 by French architect Paul Pater, El Palacio Oritz Basulado (the French Embassy) is an exceptional example of the Beaux Arts style which influenced so many buildings of the late 19^th and early 20^th century in Buenos Aires. Towards the end of the 1970s this building was on the verge of being destroyed to make way for the Avenida 9 de Julio. However, refusal by the French government to submit the building for demolition, and protests by local preservationists, saved this architectural masterpiece from the fate which met many other buildings which stood in the way. The widest road in the world was forced to detour around the mansion.

Photo by Matthew Dillon

French Embassy

Unfortunately most buildings do not have the power of a foreign government to protect them, but luckily groups such as Basta de Demoler have sprung up across the city and have begun a campaign for buildings of patrimonial value to be protected by a robust law.

Over the past year the group has made its presence felt both physically and visually across the city. Keep a look out as you wander the streets of Recoleta, and you will see how the group has made its mark; graffiti on boarded up buildings condemned to demolition spell out the group’s name and mission.

After half a year of campaigning hard, Basta de Demoler found sympathetic ears in the city government  and had made contact with other groups fighting for similar causes around the city. Some members of Basta de Demoler believed in the cause, but were pessimistic that anything good would come out of it. Battles were being fought and lost, however everything would change with the campaign to save Montevideo 1250.

After a long struggle, the group finally triumphed with the successful court appeal against the demolition of the Bemberg palacio at Montevideo 1250, to make room for the construction of a tower of glass. The original building was designed by architectural studio Acevedo, Becú y Moreno, and home to the Becú family. These architects were also responsible for many remarkable buildings throughout the city, such as the San Isidro racecourse and the Saudi Arabian Embassy.

The property is a wonderful example of transitional architecture – the different floors of the residency were used for different purposes but were all interconnected. One floor was usually to entertain guests, another for the sole use of the family, and a third floor for the servants.

The case sent a shockwave through the local government and the consequence has been the establishment of a landmark law of heritage protection which was passed on 18th November. The law states that:

·  for one year no demolition will be permitted of buildings that have either been awarded the municipal architectural prize, or that are listed as ‘edificios representativos’ – buildings which will go before a body which judges whether they are to be ‘catalogued’ and thereby protected by law from demolition.

·  all properties built before 31st December 1941 will be protected from demolition within a wide area of the city called the polígano, stretching from La Boca northwards to Núñez.

Photo by Matthew Dillon

Bemberg palacio at Montevideo 1250

·  for the first time residents are being given the opportunity to nominate buildings in this area to be classified as ‘edificios representativos’.

However developers will be given the opportunity to make a special appeal to demolish an edificio representativo to the Advisor on Heritage Matters (CAAP). They will decide the fate of that building within 30 days based on it is ‘patrimonial’ value.

Nevertheless the group are pleased with the outcome, and group co-founder, Laura Navarro, said, “this law, driven by Basta de Demoler, is a step in the right direction towards the protection of architecture, but it is not the solution. But it is important – before nobody even spoke about this subject. We need a more far-reaching way to protect the city from the indiscriminate demolitions.”

Although it is not clear what will happen after this one year, the issue has finally created a political climate which takes heritage protection seriously, and welcomes the views of its citizens. And with the national press coverage of this issue, the pressure is on the government to take affirmative action. As one of the group members commented: “Buenos Aires used to be known as the Paris of the South. In 15 years it will be the Las Vegas of the south.”