Architect Profile. C733 – 36 Interventions in Mexico

10 februarie 2025

Architect Profile. C733 – 36 Interventions in Mexico

INTERVIEW BY: Anda Zota WITH: José Gabriel Amozurrutia Cortés ARCHITECT PHOTOS: Luis Garvan PROJECT PHOTOS: courtesy of C733/Obel Award

Over a record time of only 36 months, and on a tight budget, the collective of architects and experts of C733 designed 36 projects in different regions of Mexico, working together with local authorities, industries and communities, and using local materials in order to revitalize these disadvantaged regions. In 2024, C733 won the Obel Award.

The Competition

Anda: Let’s start from the beginning – the competition.

José: There was a competition, which we entered as a collective, and we ended up winning. This initiative began with the new Mexican government taking office. They launched a program focused on improving urban spaces in vulnerable cities across Mexico, with a special focus on addressing migration issues. This program kicked off in 2018, and by 2019, they held an open call for the competition.

At that time, Mexico was facing significant migration challenges, as many people were moving through Mexico City on their way to the United States. Policies at the southern and northern borders changed, introducing the “third safe country” policy, where Mexico committed to holding and integrating migrants for longer periods, conducting interviews, and supporting humanitarian efforts to retain some migrants within the country.

This meant that many public spaces needed redesigning, as the government’s vision centered on improving communities heavily impacted by migration. The first competition phase involved the Ministry of Urban Development, known as SEDATU, and UNAM University. UNAM’s Faculty of Architecture had experience with public infrastructure projects, making them a natural collaborator for this initiative.

The decision was made to make this an open competition for different types of infrastructure—markets, sports centers, plazas, schools—in various towns along the northern border. However, in Mexico, political timelines mean that public construction budgets must be spent within the same year, making these competitions very fast-paced. Each team had only three weeks to develop a conceptual proposal, and the competition was anonymous, with different typologies to address.

That’s when we thought, „Okay, let’s form a team.” Gabriela Carrillo reached out to us—Carlos Fazio, Eric Valdez, Israel Espín, and myself, the five co-founders of the Colectivo. We each have our own offices, but we’re also teachers at UNAM and good friends, all graduates of UNAM. When Gabriela spotted this open call, she said, „Hey, there’s a competition with only three weeks to submit a conceptual proposal, but I believe if we team up, we can create a solid, efficient proposal.”

We built this team by considering the unique strengths each member brought to the collective. Gabriela brought extensive experience in public space design from working with Mauricio Rocha, while Carlos and I had collaborated with Rocha as well and were familiar with the demands of fast-paced competitions, including a public fair project at the Zócalo in Mexico City. Eric Valdez contributed expertise in lightweight structures, which was invaluable in the proposal’s development, and Israel Espín, the youngest in Gabriela’s team, connected with university colleagues to help bring the proposal to life. So, we decided to go for it together.

Our proposal for the „mercados” typology won. The competition guidelines required that the executive project be completed in less than three months, with construction to follow in no more than four months, so everything would be ready before December. The call opened in March, and while our market took an extra month to complete, it was still a very successful strategy. This experience was pivotal for the Colectivo, shaping our shared values and approach to architecture, construction, and public spaces in a way that could resonate with communities across Mexico.

Initially, when we heard the projects would be replicated, we felt strongly that they needed to be adaptable to each unique community. But, we also developed efficient construction strategies to meet tight deadlines. What started as a single project request grew into over 35 projects, all based on a flexible, community-oriented approach.

After that first project, the government kept coming back to us for more, expanding the initiative. Soon, we found ourselves developing additional projects that aligned with these same core values and methodologies. The government wanted us to establish a conceptual framework first, with the competition phase following later. This process reflects an ongoing discussion within Mexico’s architectural community. Ideally, public projects would originate through a design competition, but government policy often mandates competitions only for construction rather than for the project design itself.

In the program’s first year, the government worked with over 200 firms. UNAM coordinated many teams, and even though some firms later won project bids, others joined the program to address the extensive demand and allocated budget for public works. This program evolved over five years, involving various collaborative methods between firms, the government, and local municipalities, with each set of projects having its own unique contracting framework.

The Colectivo

Anda: From everything that I’ve read about you, I sense that the collective means something quite important to all of you. What is the idea of collective to you?

José: Each of these projects embodies a unique collaborative spirit. By bringing together our four offices, each with distinct experiences, backgrounds, and areas of focus, we have created a complementary way of thinking. This collective approach laid the foundation for our shared work on these new projects. For each project, depending on its program and location, we seek collaboration with local voices—whether architects, community-connected individuals, or specialists in fields like biology, social issues, or environmental science. Integrating these perspectives within our teams, we create an interdisciplinary collective.

In these processes, each project typically involves coordination with various institutions, such as educational organizations, environmental agencies, or local municipalities. Often, as architects, we step in after significant collective groundwork has already been laid. This spirit of collectivity stems from preliminary work done by teams within ministries, collaborating with local authorities and universities to conduct social studies for each community. Once we receive this information, we form our own team, and for every project, we assemble a new, unique team. Consequently, each of these 36 projects has a distinct set of collaborators. For the Obel Award speech, for example, we listed all contributors, and the sheer number was remarkable.

For each of our projects, we assemble a unique team. Sometimes the effort is concentrated in one of our offices, other times it spans across all of them. We often hold large, multi-person meetings to discuss various aspects of the architectural project, engaging in debates and collaborative problem-solving. Through it all, a strong spirit of teamwork and collaboration has been the driving force that keeps us moving forward.

07 The House of Music. With three inclined plans and eight axes oriented towards the river, the project relates to water in all its dimensions: collection, treatment, recycling and the return of clean water to the river. The project opens up the city though a public square that connects the main hall to the smaller rooms and uses materials that suit its acoustic program, such as coconut timber and local clay, supporting cross ventilation and natural lighting. Nacajuca, Tabasco (2020) Photo: Yoshihiro Kotani

I believe it’s this collective approach that enabled us to accomplish all these projects within just 36 months, often simultaneously. Naturally, their purpose is rooted in collectiveness as well. As public spaces, we envision them as flexible environments that can adapt uniquely to the needs of each community. In each of our projects, we explore ways to make a single program adaptable, allowing it to transform and serve multiple purposes. This approach fosters collective experiences in various forms. I see it as both an intentional goal and a methodology, embodying a collective spirit.

Anda: It’s incredible to see the depth of knowledge and support you’ve brought together to make this project a success, you, and your colleagues.

José: We always aim to have at least three of us present for interviews, conferences, or any occasion where we’re discussing our projects. It’s something we consistently prioritize. Right now, we’re all spread out—Gabriela and Carlos are in Peru, while Eric and Israel are busy teaching. We always try to coordinate so we can experience these moments together, whether it’s an interview, a conference, or presenting our projects. Each project is also led by a team rather than an individual; we’re committed to a collaborative approach. This teamwork fosters a more democratic spirit in the decision-making process.

10 San Juan Park: The park is connected, through its compositional axes, to the Casino, and defines through a veranda of brick and vegetation, the structure that covers the multifunctional court. Other activities, such as the bicycle park, the bowl type area and the playgrounds, intertwine with over 100 planted precious wood trees, endemic to the area, in an effort of rehabilitation following massive deforestation during the last century. Tenosique, Tabasco (2020-2021) Photo: Albers Studio

Values

Anda: But let’s go back to what initially motivated you to participate in this public call, both as individuals and as a collective. It seems like such a challenging task, especially from the beginning—it felt almost impossible, with such a short timeline for both the design and development phases and a very limited budget.

José: We believe that the opportunity to design public spaces in our country is unique. Historically, many public constructions were carried out by government-appointed architectural teams or state architects selected by the government. These architects often had significant influence on public projects. However, when the government invited universities to participate in an open call for proposals, we recognized this as a positive step forward. Despite the challenging conditions, we felt it was the right decision to encourage broader participation and innovation in public space design. This is an opportunity to promote and advocate for new architecture in our country, but in a different way. I believe it was this drive to work in public spaces that brought us here.

Anda: So, what do you think the core principles of a public space should be?

José: The principles of a Mexican public space, of course, vary depending on the region. However, our name, 733 or C733, reflects some of the values we believe are crucial and that underpin all the projects we’ve had the opportunity to work on together. The name itself is a synthesis of these ideas, and it emerged after one of those long nights when we were reflecting on our work as an office.

Sometimes we gather the partners and friends for design meetings late at night. When we were working on the first market project, we needed to come up with a code for the competition—a letter followed by three numbers. During one of these meetings, Eric Valdez brought up the ideals of the Uruguayan architect Eladio Dieste, whose work we deeply admire. Dieste believed that architecture should always be approached as a question. When asked how he influenced our work, Eric noted that Dieste argued architecture should be logical, efficient, and economical—not in a monetary sense, but in a cosmic one.

By „cosmic”, Dieste was emphasizing the importance of being connected to culture and to the aspirations of humankind in the world. It was a balance between practicality, logic, efficiency, and affordability, while also embracing the cosmic aspect of architecture. Gabriela suggested that we translate this into letters and numbers. The „L” became the seven, representing logic, and the „three” symbolized economy, while another „three” stood for efficiency. We believe this approach is particularly important in a country like ours, where there’s a lot of potential for improvement but also limited resources for executing projects. Thinking in this way has consistently influenced our projects and the set of values behind them.

13 Graciela Plaza and Belvedere Point: The belvedere point occupies a privileged spot near Usumacinta River. The original structure created a distance between the water and the adjacent square. In order to remedy this aspect, the project includes a cultural and community program elevated from the sidewalk level, permiting the extension of the river towards the public square. The latter is equipped with playgrounds, leisure spaces and exercise areas for all inhabitants. Furthermore, the upper floor of the clay tile covered structure, which also functions as a perforated sunshade, offers the inhabitants a panoramic view from above over the river. Balancán, Tabasco (2021) Photo: Albers Studio

Anda: The work you’ve done is very distilled, carefully shaped by all these influences or principles that clearly transpire in the projects in multiple ways. It’s truly fascinating.

José: I think we’re all shaped by our time in university and the collaborations we’ve had before. Gabriela and Carlos had worked together with Mauricio Rocha for over nine years, and Mauricio was also my teacher, so I had some experience working with him as well. Eric and I, along with others, had been part of a workshop on lightweight structures, and we all shared an admiration for Felix Candela.

We spoke a common architectural language, even though each of us had different experiences and approaches to architecture. We always had the same kind of references on our radar. Through architecture, we knew we had to communicate all of this in one language, which you can see reflected in the projects.

Anda: The concepts of logic, economy, and efficiency seem easier to understand compared to the cosmic aspect of your projects. I understand—it’s definitely a concept that’s a bit more abstract. When you refer to the „cosmic” aspect of our projects, you’re speaking about something beyond just the physical or functional aspects of architecture. I’d like to ask if you could explain it a bit further. I have an idea of what you mean by ‘cosmic,’ but I’m not sure I fully grasp the entire idea.

José: That’s an interesting point. We all have our own interpretations of what Eladio Dieste meant by „cosmic,” but I often think of it in a way similar to Heidegger’s philosophy, where he says that humans exist between the earth and the sky, always seeking to understand our role in life and the ground we stand on. For us, „cosmic” also refers to the cosmology of a culture or region. In Mexico, for example, we have over 36 different ethnic groups, each with their own unique vision of the cosmos, traditions, and languages. Many of our projects are located in small towns, not cities, where it’s crucial to understand local values and traditions in different ways.

15 Balancán Mercatram: Two longitudinal volumes connect pedestrians and public spaces to commercial areas and community service areas for the elderly in the neighborhood. A square volume clears its ground floor to create a flexible space, meant for various activities, as well as serving as a waiting area for multimodal public transport connections. On the upper floor, the roofs allow natural light and air to circulate, offering community services such as a lbrary and workshops for young adults and children. Balancán, Tabasco (2021) Photo: Albers Studio

In our work, we try to balance clear, universal principles like logic, efficiency, and economy with a deep understanding of the local culture and spirit. We aim to ground each project in its specific context, acknowledging its traditions and values. Collaboration with local communities varies from project to project, depending on distance and time, but we always try to maintain that connection. This approach means that sometimes the design or even the construction process evolves as we learn more about the place and its people, which might reveal aspects we hadn’t initially considered.

For us, „cosmic” also means being organic or open to new influences. While logic, economy, and efficiency come first, they are intertwined with this openness to evolving and adapting. The cosmic aspect, in that sense, feels like the counterpoint to the more immediate, practical elements, similar to how counterpoints work in music.

16 Balancán Riverside Plaza: Through a simple strategy of widening the pedestrian road, adding new vegetation and lighting, as well as a softer pavement and creating four access stations to the river, the architects created a new approach for connecting the people to the river, on several levels. The project includes public squares that also serve as sitting areas, offering places where visitors can enjoy the natural water breeze. Balancán, Tabasco (2021) Photo: Albers Studio

The word „collective” came later, when we realized that we were truly working as a collective. In a collective effort, you often give a lot without expecting anything in return, which reflects much of the spirit behind what we’ve done. It comes from a passion for sharing and understanding that having the opportunity to work on these projects is itself a great chance. So, we invested a lot of collective effort into them. That’s why we wanted to incorporate the word „colectivo” into our name. These five concepts—logic, economy, efficiency, the cosmic, and collective effort—are all essential to us.

working

Anda: These projects are spread across the country and often involve not just architectural design, but also a deep connection to local vernacular and cultural contexts. How would you describe your actual work as architects, especially considering how much you engage with local communities? It seems like your role goes beyond traditional architecture, requiring ongoing discussions with people to understand their needs and what’s best for them. This approach expands the typical definition of what it means to be an architect.

José: Yes, working in public spaces for different communities definitely expands the scope of traditional architecture. For us, it often means stepping away from the design process and engaging directly with the community. When we begin a new project, we divide ourselves into teams with rotating leadership. We all visit the site together, and before we even go, we’ve already done extensive research on the community’s needs. This research is compiled into a booklet that outlines key programs and identifies federal sites, as federal investment can only be used for federal properties.

When we visit the community, we confirm the information in the booklet with local representatives—someone from the municipality or an important community member. Depending on the project, we work with different people. For example, in Ayouxuxtla, we collaborated closely with a teacher for a school project, and in Tapachula, we worked with a restoration architect who was part of a local artist community restoring an abandoned train station. These connections help us refine the program and make decisions that ensure the building will be used appropriately once it’s completed.

Once we’ve gathered the community’s input, we return to the studio to begin the design process. The five of us collaborate closely in drawing sessions. The pandemic had a significant impact on the way we worked. From the government’s side, it was a strategy to generate jobs in small communities by creating new infrastructure projects. Locally sourced builders and labor were involved, which boosted the economy in those areas. On our side, the pandemic forced us to adapt, and many of our meetings took place via video conference.

After finalizing the design, the ministry approves it, but there’s always another key meeting where we present the proposal to the community again. Often, the community would request changes, sometimes insisting on very specific details. For example, we had one project where the community insisted the baseball field be oriented in a particular way, even though the scientific research suggested another orientation. We made those adjustments, and sometimes the projects continued to evolve even during construction as the community observed the process. It’s an ongoing dialogue, and public space by nature is always subject to debate because there are so many voices involved.

The Projects

Anda: Going back to what you mentioned earlier about Heidegger’s idea of humans being caught between the earth and the sky, it feels like your projects embody that concept. The way you design them reflects this idea, as they seem to have a common ground, both physically and conceptually. They have a structure that anchors them firmly, but they also seem to offer a space that connects to something beyond, almost as if they are bridging between the earth and something greater.

José: Yes, if you look at the sections of these buildings, we really focused on the idea you’re describing. Mexican and Mesoamerican architecture has a deep connection to the ground, often using subtle changes in topography to create platforms, courtyards, and plazas. By moving the soil just slightly, you can create spaces that serve multiple functions—places to gather, seats, or spaces for water to flow. Working with the land in this way is crucial because it allows us to address important environmental aspects.

At the same time, the structures of the buildings play a key role. The lightweight, prefabricated framework allows for fast and efficient assembly, while the layers that „dress” the building—like the local materials used for cladding—bring a sense of place and connection to the local context. These layers offer protection from rain and sun but also allow flexibility in design. In this way, the buildings reflect both the earth beneath and the shelter above, balancing function with the connection to the local environment and culture. The ceilings, in particular, embody this duality, combining practicality with an almost poetic relationship to the surroundings.

Anda: Those two aspects—topography and structure—are essential to all our 36 projects, along with the choice of materials. I’m referring to how you use different local materials to „dress” the buildings. What makes each project unique is the selection of these materials, which vary depending on the local context. What types of materials have you used, and what do they represent for each community? Could you provide some examples?

José: Certainly, in Tapachula, for example, we worked with bamboo, as it’s the second-largest bamboo producer in Mexico. We collaborated with Bambu Terra, a group of architects who work with bamboo by conducting workshops with local people to teach them how to use bamboo as a building material. For three months, the families in Tapachula helped us prepare the bamboo for our projects. As a result, all the ceilings in Tapachula feature bamboo layering.

In La Cajuca, Tabasco, we discovered a local tradition of using coconut palm wood for structural beams. A builder informed us that these thin beams, when repeated frequently, could work as a structural element. So, for the House of Music in Nacajuca, we used this local coconut wood for the ceilings, which is an important part of the local economy. The community plants these trees, and incorporating this material in the public building helped provide a sense of local identity.

As for involving the community in the construction process, yes, that was a key part of the SEDATU program. While we weren’t the builders ourselves, contractors were encouraged to hire local workers. For example, in Tapachula, we recommended that the contractor hire Bambu Terra, as they had experience working with local families and could teach them how to use bamboo on-site. In Bacalar, for the Eco Park, we worked with chico zapote, a local wood used for the docks, with labor provided entirely by people from the area.

In Ayouxuxtla, we took advantage of the local marble found in the area, which had traditionally been extracted by private developers for sale elsewhere. We facilitated an agreement between the contractor and the mine owner, ensuring the marble was used in the community. The floors of the building were tiled with this beautiful marble, allowing the people of Ayouxuxtla to connect with a material that was naturally part of their surroundings.

Anda: But what’s the larger strategy here? In other words, how do you envision these buildings being used over time?

José: As I mentioned, the spaces we design aim to be adaptable, supporting a variety of community activities. With the high ceilings and open layouts, they can host everything from morning sports classes to afternoon theater events. We also include smaller, more private rooms to accommodate intimate gatherings. In Tapachula, for example, Estación Tapachula has been particularly successful, offering about 40 private rooms that now serve various purposes, such as classrooms for NGOs working with southern border migration, libraries, and even a barbershop. The open spaces are designed to be as flexible as possible, reflecting traditional Mexican public spaces, like markets, which transform throughout the day.

Our designs encourage this kind of adaptability. In fact, many of these buildings feel like an extension of the surrounding public spaces, blending seamlessly with the city. Their porous, open structure, suited to the climate, allows the city to flow through them.

As for monitoring usage, we haven’t been able to visit Matamoros, our first project, due to its distance and because it opened during the pandemic, which delayed its full use. Markets, like the one in Tapachula, are a complex challenge. This one had over 86 vendors with 204 stalls. Originally, we planned for 100 stalls, but community needs led us to double that, working creatively within the same budget. After two and a half years, it’s now open, and we’re witnessing its transformation as vendors personalize the space, filling it with their own touches. It’s rewarding to see this evolution from a pristine new structure to a lively, bustling market—a true expression of Mexican market culture.

In Matamoros, we don’t have much documentation on how the space is currently being used. They’re opening it gradually, as it didn’t have previous vendors; instead, it was intended as a new opportunity for the local community. It seems to be slowly coming to life, and we definitely need to find a way to document its progress, though it may be challenging.

Anda: What other memorable moments do you have with these projects? I know that it might be hard to pick a favorite—each project must have its own special memories. But if you could choose, are there any particular moments that stand out? Rather than just asking for a favorite project, I’m more curious to know about your favorite experiences or moments from working on these projects.

José: One memorable example is actually from our 37th project in Tulum, which involves a master plan to protect a natural area while integrating it into the city’s growth more thoughtfully. This project, Tulum Natural Park, transformed an old airstrip—originally just a landing lane for planes—into a public green space with reforestation. Where the planes used to circle back or take off, we created a new observatory, designed both for sky-watching and landscape views.

We dug into the concrete surface, removed it, and repurposed the materials to form a natural crater of local stone, which had been hidden beneath. This observatory now provides sweeping views of the surrounding natural beauty. One memorable night, after the park was officially inaugurated by the president, we all stayed up to watch the sunrise from this new lookout. It was a beautiful moment of just being immersed in nature from this vantage we’d created. Moments like that make the work feel really special, and it’s rewarding to think of other spots in this park where people will also create memorable experiences.

30 Aduana San Blas Cultural Center: The remains of the former Customs in the port of San Blas were transformed into a new Cultural Center. The existing building was restored in order to function as an art gallery, and the remains of an old clay staircase house were preserved as a historical relic. A new contemporary intervention includes a staircase that reinterprets clay in the form of grids, along with a new workshop building, built from the same material, which complements the cultural offerings. A suspended walkway crosses the site at roof level to connect the buildings. At ground level, lush vegetation coexists with clay carpets inspired by local pre-Hispanic designs. San Blas, Nayarit (2021-2022) Photo: Rafael Gamo

Colectivo C733 is made up of the practices of architects Gabriella Carrillo (Taller Gabriela Carrillo), Carlos Facio and José Amozurrutia (TO), Eric Valdez (Labg) and Israel Espin. They work together as an architectural meta-collective in order to design and produce projects in socially and politically challenging environments, with tight budgets.

Colectivo C733 was formed in 2019. Many of its members are former or current students of the Faculty of Architecture of UNAM, Mexico. Their projects address social inequality and conflicts in Mexican cities with a high degree of vulnerability.

C733 Founders:

Gabriela Carrillo Valadez

Carlos Enrique Facio Gaxiola

José Gabriel Amozurrutia Cortés

Israel Espin Rubio

Eric Valdez Olmedo