Marcelo Rosenbaum speaks with vivacity and excitement, reflecting his undeniable passion for what he does. His approach to architecture is marked by a proactive stance, leading him to travel to the most remote interiors of Brazil, often voluntarily. There, he listens carefully to local demands and seeks to develop projects that go beyond simple buildings, becoming instruments of transformation for the local reality. One of his best-known projects is in Tocantins, the Children's Village on the Canuanã Farm, done in partnership with the Aleph Zero office, which has been recognized worldwide and won awards. On June 20, he closed the program of the AsBEA 2024 National Convention, whose theme was "Sustainable Roots," held in Florianópolis, Brazil. We had the chance to talk to him about his professional career and some of his recent work.
Eduardo Souza (ArchDaily): Can you tell us a little about your professional career and if there is a specific project or moment that you consider to be a turning point in your career?
Marcelo Rosenbaum: I believe that architecture is something that develops with maturity and the building of repertoires and knowledge. Although I didn't graduate in architecture, I studied until my final year; but I didn't complete the course because I started working too early. I'm 55 years old and I'm from ABC Paulista, a region marked by the fervor of the birth of the PT (the Brazilian Workers' Party, or Partido dos Trabalhadores in Portuguese) and the great strikes in the assembly plants led by Lula. My father was a lawyer and worked in the automakers, so my childhood was permeated by conversations about these issues. The ABC Paulista has always had an upwardly mobile middle class, made up mainly of workers in the automobile industry, many of whom became big businessmen. However, this emerging elite often didn't value or invest in education and culture, which was always a contradiction for me, as I saw a lack of information and understanding about the need for a better quality of life for everyone.
During my time at university in São Paulo, I started working in commercial architecture, especially in the context of the emergence of shopping centers in ABC Paulista. In the first year, I already had my own office and dedicated myself to designing stores, always focused on understanding the consumer's identity and translating that into commercial spaces.
My career has also included furniture design, especially at a time when the Brazilian industry began to look more closely at the domestic market. I've worked with large industrial parks that used to produce mainly for export, but with the dollar crisis, they turned to the domestic market. In this context, I collaborated with large companies to create affordable furniture for the Brazilian middle class.
My dream has always been to democratize design, making it accessible to everyone. Eventually, my path led me to television, where I continued to explore design and architecture. Television opened up new opportunities and directions in my career, allowing me to continue to develop and share my vision of democratic design.
ES: This has also made your work popular and visible to an audience with limited access to architecture and design.
MR: It's true. I spent more than a year on this television program focused on architecture and design, where we had the opportunity to discuss large-scale spaces. Although it was an entertainment program, the solutions had to be quick and efficient. We even tried to introduce sanitation alternatives, such as banana pits and evapotranspiration pits, to areas without basic sanitation. We visited houses where security and privacy were almost non-existent. Often, a cupboard separated the bedroom from the kitchen and bathroom. The program aimed to offer simple solutions that would bring a minimum of comfort and dignity. People often saw these improvements as a luxury, but they were only essential for the quality of human life. This work highlighted the importance of the architect, especially for a public that doesn't understand or have access to these services. Architecture and design are often seen as unattainable, but we know that simple renovations, such as a bathroom, can transform lives. Television allowed us to explore this idea, connecting design and cultural identity, and showing how architecture can be accessible and have a positive impact on people's lives. This project was a great exercise and laboratory, focused on listening and creating solutions to improve people's lives.
Later, together with my partner, Adriana Benguela, an architect who graduated from São Paulo State University in 1995, we created an institute called "A Gente Transforma" ("We Transform," in Portuguese). This movement addresses current issues, such as the climate crisis and cultural erasure, and seeks to value Brazil's cultural richness and diversity. Recognizing the painful past of ethnocide, we focus on reparations and act as allies in the preservation and promotion of these cultures. Our work seeks to integrate architecture and design into solutions that benefit these communities. A significant example was the project for the Bradesco Foundation, the Fazenda Canuanã School, which received the RIBA award and was voted Building of the Year. This project exemplifies how we can use our professional skills to promote positive social and environmental change.
ES: In fact, it's a remarkable project, in collaboration with the Aleph Zero office. What was it like working in cooperation with other architects and what were the biggest challenges and learnings from it?
MR: We always work with co-creation. For me, it doesn't make sense to keep knowledge; the aim is to share and expand it. It was with this mindset that I invited this office of two young graduates from Curitiba to develop the project with us from the start, presenting the entire methodology and process. When I was invited to the Bradesco Foundation project, I was deeply involved with "A Gente Transforma" and wanted to apply the same methodology of listening and co-creation, working together with the end users, especially the children. We brought in Aleph Zero to offer a different view of architecture, contrasting rural and urban issues and promoting a dialog between different architectural languages.
This approach is not just about creating spaces, but also about the process of transformation that takes place. The professionals who take part in these projects grow and evolve, just as I do. Culture as a tool for social transformation challenges us to listen, understand and respect different social contexts. The built object is important, but it's the process that really transforms everyone involved.
ES: And how does this methodology work, especially when working with the local community to understand and integrate regional knowledge? I see that this approach, of valuing and bringing in cultural and regional language, is something that is constant in your projects.
MR: Our methodology begins with listening and detailed observation of the local context. In the beginning, there are few certainties and many questions. When we started this project, we talked to the children, our "clients," to understand their needs. Imagine children living in a boarding school from the ages of 7 to 17, spending most of their lives away from home. The challenge was to change the idea that they lived at school, but rather that the Canuanã School was their home. We also wanted to rescue and value their grandparents' knowledge, such as building with clay, which is often stigmatized. We introduced new clay construction technologies to show that this material can be a comfortable and sustainable solution for the future. Of course, we've had to face many prejudices about these methods.
The Bradesco Foundation gave us carte blanche to apply our methodology. The children participated actively, designing and building their own spaces. In theatrical and measuring activities, we found that the groups independently occupied the spaces in a similar way, validating their intuitive choices. These dynamics helped create a collective and participatory school environment. The large roof we built for the dormitories, inspired by traditional indigenous structures, provided shade and protection, reflecting our research into traditional communities. This project was a radical exercise in respect and co-creation, transforming both the physical space and the children's perception of their environment. The shade brings an almost poetic silence, especially in very hot places. When you enter an indigenous hut (or oca), in addition to the darkness, which is different from the darkness associated with fear in the Anthropocene, you find an introspective space. The darkness here is not of the dark, but of the unknown, a place for introspection and connection with oneself, and this is reflected in the collective, as life there is essentially communal.
ES: And for those who are in such a large environment during the day, it's important to have this moment of introspection in a darker space.
MR: Exactly. Everything is very collective, the opposite of what we experience in today's societies, where individuality predominates. There, collectivity is the norm, in complete contrast to the way we live today.
ES: And how do you approach the research and selection of materials for your architectural projects, especially in terms of sustainability and the use of local materials? Can you share any recent examples where technological innovation and partnerships with other professionals or local communities have played a crucial role, and how you balance these innovations with the needs and traditions of the communities involved?
MR: I think we live in very confusing and complicated times. The climate crisis is real and it's happening now. We are already undergoing transformations, and I believe that even human beings will undergo physiological changes to withstand these new conditions. I returned yesterday from Acre, in the Amazon, where I've been working for 12 years, and the river is dry, something unprecedented according to the local people. This is the worst drought they have ever faced. Just imagine: the only way to get there is by river, and now we're talking about pushing a boat in about eight centimeters of water.
In terms of material research, we focus on using local resources, bringing new technologies that generate comfort and quality of life. Each project has its own particularities and needs. This 12-year project in the Amazon, for example, uses 100% forest materials. Initially, the project failed because it seemed more like my will than theirs.
However, when they got funding, they hired me and clearly defined that they wanted a building in the shape of a Y, the symbol of the Yawanawá people, rather than the traditional straw constructions. This process showed the importance of indigenous protagonism. Today, 90% of our projects are for indigenous or quilombola communities who hire us directly. This is a victory, showing mutual trust.
Communities, in general, no longer want straw buildings because of their maintenance and strength. We are working to create more durable and comfortable buildings, using local materials efficiently. I've invited Hélio Olga, a structural engineer specializing in wood, to help develop a structure that uses less wood, is easier to transport and offers more protection from the weather. We're even considering sandwich tiles, since zinc tiles are common in local buildings. It's hard to say that there is no vanity in architecture, or that it has no authorship. Architecture has these elements. But how can we bring this about by listening to needs? All the projects we are working on, which I consider to be emblematic, respond well to this question. We use native wood, extracted from the forest, respecting the local context and the needs of the communities.
Our aim is always to respect the needs and contexts of the communities, avoiding romanticism and thinking about their future. These 12 years of trying and learning have resulted in architecture that values time, respect, alliances and listening to local needs. Is this not the true essence of architecture? Could it be that the future of architecture, rather than being immediate, lies in this place of time, disputes, respect, alliances and presence?
