The house that Filipino architects built

The most prevalent type of office building now emerging in our urban centers is the “call center.” These four- to five-story buildings are modernist boxes with arcades at the bottom and column-free interiors that allow flexibility in the layout of cubicles.

These buildings are usually clad in tinted glass and heavily dependent on air-conditioning to make the interior environments comfortable. They are mostly made to last only 10 to 15 years since they sit on otherwise expensive land. This is a reflection of the general thinking that the call center business may not last more than that or will otherwise change in form.

These medium-rise office buildings are not new. Ayala’s Makati in the 1960s saw a number of these speculative office buildings rise to meet the needs of an emerging central business district. The old business center in Binondo was still the place to be until the early ‘60s.

The “House of Ayala” saw it fit to build structures for its own use and so as to attract others to follow to the wide open spaces on both sides of Ayala Avenue. Their architect of choice was a young local architect named Leandro Locsin.

“‘The House” was featured in an old design magazine and images show how cutting-edge Lindy’s design was then. In fact, a lot of what he did with the five-story structure at 141 Ayala Avenue can be replicated today.

The design brief by the owners to Locsin was for him to create a rectangular building with two independent wings. He did this by putting a utility core with dual stairs, elevators and mechanical rooms at the rear. For maximum flexibility, the main office space was a clear span of 15 meters. The front and rear facades incorporated a closely spaced row of columns, which served as the main structural frame.

The front façade incorporated a large entrance canopy and a wide arcade to shelter pedestrians from the rain. Buildings on Ayala in later years eliminated this — to the detriment of office workers in the ‘70s and ‘80s who were left stranded in a downpour.

The clear span of the interior also meant that much of the space used natural lighting. The rear façade, which faced the southwest, was covered in precast brise soliel — a sunscreen that mitigated the hot afternoon sun. The front façade used the vertical pattern of the columns to reduce glare and improve the air-conditioning performance.

If one were to access the green-ness of Locsin’s building today it would pass with flying colors. Aside from the use of natural light, the sun shading and shallow depth of the spaces, the building interiors also used all-Filipino furniture. Few furnishings had to be imported. The floors were local terrazzo (now in vogue again).

The furniture was locally designed and made by the likes of Berenguer-Topacio, Carlos Aenlie and Phyllis Harvey. Many of the designs can be built today and sell well because retro-‘60s furniture is hot (tip: ask your folks if you could have those old furniture from Topacio, Calma or the Oesco firm). The cafeteria chairs in the building were fabricated by students of the new technical school nearby — Don Bosco.

The structure was in reinforced concrete that used locally made steel reinforcing bars (Philippine Blooming Mills). It also used local asphalt tiles by Raul Urra & Company.

The Ayala House on Ayala Avenue was a modern, elegant structure that lasted more than 30 years — twice the lifespan of a call center building. It was designed and built wholly with Filipino creative talent and technical know-how. Today, few buildings on Ayala are the result of an all-Filipino team. Developers have opted to import everything from architects to interior designers and landscape architects to create the skyscrapers that define our skyline.

Granted, new building design approaches and technology need to be transferred to local architects and contractors. But is this really so? Why then do thousands of Filipino design professionals manage to make a mark abroad?

The Ayalas still do turn to Locsin’s firm for much of their design requirements. I do think that much can be learned from designs from our immediate modern past. We designed more in keeping with nature then — the orientation of buildings and the efficiency of the spaces of our older modern structures were better. In furniture, the likes of Kenneth Cobonpue and Movement 8 have shown that we can contemporize classic Filipino furniture and materials to make things that the world will want. I’d like to see that happen with Filipino architecture, but we can only do so if we study our contemporary architectural history and, more importantly, if  local clients give Filipino designers a chance to show their talent.

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Feedback is welcome. Please email the writer at paulo.alcazaren@gmail.com.