Claude Monet once said, “My garden is my finest work of art”, a statement that the multi-talented César Manrique would surely agree with.
Projects with a dramatic character which, in many cases, are a formal interpretation of nature. That is why, in addition to Monet’s quote, we wish to describe Manrique by evoking the words of the first Pritzker Prize winner in history, the Mexican Luis Barragán: “In the garden, the architect invites the plant kingdom to collaborate with him.” Perhaps that is why the controversial Canarian artist never lost sight of architecture, despite abandoning his career to become a teacher of art and painting.
His multidisciplinary career as a painter and sculptor began with studies in technical architecture, a connection that would shape his artistic legacy, a legacy we aim to highlight by recalling some of his most representative projects.
An education which, combined with his understanding of architecture, gave a landscape dimension to each of his works.
It is not merely about a mural, a sculpture, or a building, but rather how each of these elements relates to the surroundings. For this reason, when we use the term ‘landscape architecture’ in relation to Manrique’s works, this designation proves to be highly fitting; his respect for the natural environment, his consistency in the choice of materials and his commitment to maintaining and enhancing the topography of each of his interventions are fine examples of how architecture can and must be integrated into its surroundings. When architecture is thus integrated, it is enhanced, and the landscape itself becomes part of a broader narrative.
During the 1960s and 1970s, whilst the Spanish coastline succumbed to the boom in development-driven urbanism and the frenzy of sun-and-beach tourism, Lanzarote was spared from destruction. The reason is none other than César Manrique’s friendship with Fernando Higueras, a partnership that led to the creation of invisible architecture.
In this case, El Mirador del Río stemmed from an idea by Higueras to excavate a series of dwellings into the Famara cliff. Although the project never came to fruition, years later Manrique drew inspiration from it to create, together with Eduardo Cáceres, a spectacular underground watchtower camouflaged with volcanic rock—a thoughtfully crafted artificial cave the strait separating Lanzarote from La Graciosa.
We remain in Lanzarote and learn that a ‘jameo’ is the Guanche word for the hole caused by the collapse of the natural vault in a volcanic tunnel. It was precisely from these natural openings that Manrique began, in 1966, one of his most renowned projects: the centre for art, culture and tourism in Haría, in the north of the island. A virtually untouched area that the Canarian artist wanted to respect as much as possible.
Thus, in the underground grotto, he created a space with minimal intervention that houses a large auditorium, a bar, exhibition spaces, and all crowned by a large garden resembling an oasis set against the dark volcanic rock. The result could not be more spectacular: it is architecture transformed into nature, or perhaps the other way round.
Manrique was awarded the World Ecology and Tourism Prize, a distinction that perfectly encapsulates his ethos. His buildings were sustainable even before the concept of sustainable architecture existed; they blended into the surroundings until they almost disappeared and, in some cases, went so far as to transform a degraded landscape, returning it to nature. Such is the case with the Cactus Garden, his final project in Lanzarote, which transformed an old aggregate quarry into a space where architecture, sculpture and nature merge to form a single whole.
And now we move to Madrid and conclude with a look at a project that stands in counterpoint to those that made him best known. A change of direction that may even seem bizarre, but which demonstrates Manrique’s true artistic vision. He was not only capable of creating architecture within nature; he could also make architecture feel natural. And that is why he was called upon to appease the residents of Madrid’s Pilar neighbourhood, who were opposed to the construction of Spain’s first shopping centre.
In fact, the essential role of the architect José Ángel Rodrigo was overshadowed by the presence and media skills of the Canarian artist. Although this building, with its brutalist touches, received very negative reviews following its opening, over time it has become a landmark for the entire neighbourhood.
Unfortunately, some of its most distinctive features, such as the exposed coffered ceiling designed by Rodrigo, or some of Manrique’s interior decorations and fountains, were lost during the last renovation in 2002.
You may find this interesting
Don’t miss our articles