In my last post I started a series of writings about sketches and their role in architectural design.

Today I looked into how an idea resulting from a necessarily exploratory sketch process is constructively materialized. I present a series of case studies which compare, for some projects, a sketch that was crucial in the initial phase with what was actually built. This process allows us to evaluate, for each case, what remained of the original idea and, what seems most important, what were the essential concepts underlying it and how they evolved in relation to the constructive needs.

In some cases it's easy to see clear links between the two. In others the project development took different paths, but it's nevertheless perceived as the main idea suggested by the sketch.

The comments to the images are not meant to be exhaustive. They point out a few paths and eventually clues to discussion. Feel free to comment it or share your opinion or criticism!

The conception of the auditorium and museum in Vila Nova de Paiva pointed two directions embodied in the placement and relationship between two box-shaped volumes with different heights and in coatings that made up its outer skin. Much of what you see in the sketch was reflected in what has been built, although the volumetry have been a little larger than was initially expected and the glazed surfaces have been pulled out, accentuating its expressiveness.

The main entrance of the Penedono Swimming Pools Complex appears in a mismatch between a long granite wall, which structures the whole complex and the main volume of the pools. The metal cylinder which holds the ventilation systems emerged later in the process, but joined the concept without prejudice, on the contrary.

In the same building, the Northwest side houses the administrative offices and staff changing rooms. The large stone frame is still there, but the glazing have become different as a result of refining the internal partitions.

At the swimming pools in Porto de Mos, the long brick wall, almost blind except for the large glass that provides natural lighting to rooms that need it, held the strength and features that the conceptual sketch enabled to guess.

The Cultural Center in Vila Velha de Rodão is composed of two separate buildings, the House of Arts and the City Library, articulated by a public square. From the first sketches that defined the volumes to the completed construction and despite the simplification process made​​, there are obvious venues.

This example refers to a house in Reguengos de Monsaraz and is the only one presented that is not yet built. But the realism provided by the 3D allows to foresee with a reasonable approximation how will its constructive embodiment be like. The concept of two regular solids of different heights, intersected in an asymmetrical way, was proposed very early in the process and followed until the end.

All designs can be visualized in greater detail in the portfolio section of this website. The links are highlighted in each paragraph.

From now on is also available a gallery of architectural sketches, visible here.

And now what do you think of all this?

I'm an ardent user of the computer and its possibilities, but even in those projects in which computer is used from the start, I always go back to the good old paper for the quick and expressive exploratory sketch. Yes, because, contrary to what may be the widespread belief, the architects still use paper.

I still have, as I imagine that many of my colleagues do, huge blocks of sketch-books, of all sizes and shapes, from luxurious Moleskines to ordinary greasy paperbacks. Many are incomplete and I go back to them at intervals of years (decades in some cases). They are full of drawings, notes and thoughts. But much of the work I do is mental. In other words, it is not easy to turn off at the end of day, I continue to think about the problems I have to solve, especially in the conceptual stages of projects. That is why in many of my works, the main sketch, that, to me, is the turning point of the project, turns out to be performed elsewhere. Sometimes it isn’t easy to find it later, for one simple reason: It could have been done on a restaurant tablecloth, a paper napkin, the back of a sheet where I took notes in a meeting, or eventually on the first piece of paper that I find.

Most of the main sketches I knew were quite abstract for all but for the author and eventually the members of his team, if in tune. In addition, they are often small doubtful looking scribbles.

They are sometimes hesitant and exploratory, others made at once, with the certainty from who believes, or knows, that has had a good idea. Some are simple, succinct and elegant, others are dirty, confusing and unfathomable, as if the author was lost in a dense jungle with a machete, trying desperately to find his way through the bush that surrounds him. There are sketches that convey calm and security, others reflect moments of anger or despair.

There are sketches that convey calm and security, others reflect moments of anger or despair.

Some are followed until the end, others do not withstand a critical eye and are replaced by a better idea. They cease to be "the sketch."

What makes them tick is being the key of the project, untying the knot of problems or graphically solving the equation in which we work. They establish the rule, the logic of what we explore and often contain the essentials of geometry that we will use.

They can be volumetric and explain the relationship and shape of the volumes that will materialize our idea but may also be only composed of a tangle of lines that makes perfect sense for us. They may result of what we felt when we went to the place where the building is to be located, but also from a long rational reflection or simply from an expressive and seemingly irrational moment. And even from an inspiration of the most unusual sources.

Basically, when it comes to issues of imagination, the sky is the limit. Or maybe the limit heads, in the wise words of Buzz Lightyear (*) "to infinity … and beyond!"

*) A character in Pixar’s "Toy Story" saga, Buzz is an astronaut, or rather, a "Space Ranger", which faces the unknown with a smile and great confidence in his abilities.

As architects, in addition to producing unattainable scribbles are sometimes drawing addicts, I've accumulated, over the years, numerous sketches of the most diverse types. In the coming weeks I will write in this blog a number of texts on these "sketches". I will also inaugurate, on my site, some galleries of sketches that I will disclosed in due time.

Architects are addicted. Addicted to draw. Addicted to watch things they conceived to be built. It's an indescribable feeling to see appear out of nowhere and take shape a building that we designed.

Some say it "should be similar to having a son." It is not. I can safely say it since I have 3 children. The feeling of being a parent is incomparably stronger and more emotional than the relationship we have with the buildings we design. It doesn’t mean that there are no some similarities between the processes of constructing a building and of raising a child.

During the work, if things unfold as expected, we are consulted on all the doubts or at least on the most relevant. There are of course negative cases in which, for various reasons, the project is misinterpreted, and we aren’t able to avoid it. But there are also times when we managed to improve situations in which the project had been less well thought out. And throughout the enterprise we engage emotionally with our creation. We try everything to achieve the best possible outcome. We make all efforts to defend our project. We discuss, negotiate, get angry when someone makes mistakes or tampers with our ideas, and get thrilled for the small things that run really well. And we are always able to feel surprised when some detail results better than we imagined. When the work is finished and delivered to its owner we feel a mixture of pride in accomplishment and also longing for a time we know it's over. And in fact the work is no longer ours. Like a child who entered adulthood.

A few years ago a public building I designed was inaugurated with pomp and circumstance. In addition to the mayor and representatives of the region’s VIP’s, the President of the Portuguese Republic attended the ceremony, accompanied by a large entourage, and followed by most of the town’s population. After the speeches, cheers and customary musical moments, there was a dinner for everyone in the plaza in front of the building’s main entrance. Bread, regional dishes, and wine, with the President among the crowd, with a disarming simplicity, talking quietly with everyone. Democracy at its best.

For well over one year I traveled at least once a month about 600km from Lisbon to the site and back, leaving home before dawn and coming home late at night. Usually I returned tired but happy with the progress. And when the process ended, it made me lack the routine: The maturation process of the building, from a visit to another, the conversations with the diligent and skilled contractor’s engineer, who soon understood what I wanted for the building and did his best not to disappoint my expectations, the enthusiasm with which the mayor watched the building grow.

It is a very interesting experience, though somewhat strange, to walk among the crowd that appreciates and criticizes our work without having the slightest notion of who we are or the degree of involvement we have with what they observe. The immeasurable hours that we spent there, the challenges it provided and the joys and sorrows that we experienced. Ultimately that’s what architecture is all about and how an architect wants to be appreciated, by what he imagines, designs and builds.