"y que" means. . . "what else you got cabron?"


just the highlights. . . travel, architecture, and fashion.  
Please ask if you want a complete press list



Los Angeles Times Magazine
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Here is the text -

ALL THAT GLITTERS- Robert Stone conjures a golden mirage in the high-desert landscape of Joshua Tree
by Mayer Rus

Forget midcentury modern. Forget deconstructivism, expressionism and all the other convenient "isms" that have traditionally been applied to the discussion of architecture. Robert Stone is far more interested in the stories buildings tell, the personal and cultural iconography they manifest and, yes, even the feelings they evoke. "I'm proposing something a little more demanding than a new aesthetic. I'm not saying, 'This shape is cool' or 'Stacked boxes are in, and slanty walls are out.' I'm asking people to think about how architecture works and what makes it meaningful," says the LA-based Stone.

Acido Dorado is a trippy place. With its gold-mirrored ceiling and walls, heart-shape concrete-block cutout and gilded cage of twisted metal rods strung with wrought-iron flowers, the house seems an alien-albeit strangely congruous-presence in the parched high-desert panorama of Joshua Tree. Think Guns N' Roses and Lost in Space...or 2001: A Cocaine Odyssey...or Zeus visiting desert Danae in a shower of gold. Think golden showers.

In fact, think whatever comes to mind. Stone eschews fixed meanings and revels in multiple interpretations and gut reactions. "Architecture should support what people bring to it," he insists. "My work asks viewers to look inward. I'm telling people that they already get it-they just need to be open to it." Acido Dorado-"golden acid" in Spanish-is Stone's second rental house in the Coachella Valley, a short distance from Rosa Muerta, his black-shrouded groovy-Gucci-goth fantasy. The architect gave these seriously alluring follies Spanish names both as an earnest nod to the pervasive Latino culture of Southern California and a tongue-in-cheek riff on the common practice among developers of using foreign names to ennoble their often shabby properties with a gloss of romance and mystery.

When pressed to describe the physical form of Acido Dorado and the materials he employed, Stone instead weaves a tapestry of personal inspirations: military hardware, burned-out houses, Mies van der Rohe's Barcelona Pavilion, preppy, BMX, Versace fall 2009, Gordon Matta-Clark, Ed Ruscha, Hedi Slimane, lowriders, sandstorms, macrame, drugs, roadside death shrines, classic desert modernism, evil corporate modernism, Robert Smithson's Mirror Displacements, Robert Morris' brutal minimalism and empty pools.

"Everyone has their own obsessions. I admit mine and try to incorporate them into my architecture rather than dressing them up in abstract language," Stone says.

While many architects disparage fashion as a frivolous discipline lacking the gravitas of the heroic builder, Stone celebrates couture without apology. "I think that capturing a moment in time and transforming it into something profound is the hardest thing to do. Fashion designers talk about their work as a personal response to the world around them. Down the road, we see some of the things they create as era-defining," he avers. "Architecture is a person's life-a lens that opens up new possibilities. And yet architects aren't trained to trust their gut."

If Stone sounds skeptical about traditional architectural education and discourse, it's because he is. Rather than taking the established path of internship and enslavement in a professional office, followed by the opening of an independent practice and the requisite hat-in-hand courting of clients to build a portfolio, he decided simply to go to the desert and make architecture-with his own two hands. "I appreciate the directness of building by hand," he says, "whether it be digging ditches or fashioning metal roses. The DIY thing raises the stakes. If I'm going to take three years and put in my own money, then I have to ask myself, What is it going to be?'

This, of course, begs the question, Exactly what is it? Manifesto? Pleasure dome? Provocation? Stone believes it's all of these things, plus whatever anybody else decides to bring to the glossy, mirror-topped table.



Acido Dorado x Mert & Marcus 
Mert & Marcus shot Mariacarla Boscono, Heidi Klum, and Angela Lindval at Acido Dorado for a book they are working on for Roberto Cavalli. . . Here is one of Mariacarla.



 

Interior Design Magazine on Acido Dorado
Here is the cover- scan of article soon





Abitare Magazine on Acido Dorado
The online post includes Sex Pistols and Tarantino clips that I think really enhance the read, see it here-
http://www.abitare.it/highlights/robert-stone-design/

Here is the text by Fabrizio Gallanti

At first sight deserts look empty, pure and intact. But the freedom they enjoy from the stricter controls imposed on cities and “colonized” places really means that they are areas where the remnants of our civilization accumulate, the weirdest of social and cultural experiments are carried out, and widely differing images and imagery clash and interbreed in the glaring sunlight.
America’s deserts in particular are ones where this untidy otherness is most evident – the most extreme military experiments, introverted communities of obsessive fanatics. These deserts are places that many people escape to and then isolate themselves in. They are also places where relics of modernity accumulate, lime-encrusted surfaces where the weirdest mirages settle over time.

Not long ago Enzo Mari, Giovanna Silva and Gianluigi Recuperati travelled through California, Nevada and Arizona searching for relics of modernity dumped among the rocks, sand and dust. In “Scenes in America Deserta”, Reyner Banham’s vision was more naturalistic and sublime, though punctuated by encounters with human architecture and activity (Frank Lloyd Wright, Paolo Soleri). The desert’s visual richness and infinitude has appealed most of all to filmmakers – the Coen brothers, Wim Wenders, Michelangelo Antonioni, David Lynch and others, not to mention hundreds of westerns. Though technically in Mexico, the “Titty Twister” strip club in Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino’s “From Dusk till Dawn” typifies the hallucinatory character of the American desert.

This is why Robert Stone’s designs epitomize the kind of aesthetic fusion made possible precisely because there are no traditional and contextual constraints. Stone is building a set of week-end houses called Pretty Vacant Properties a short distance from the Joshua Tree national park in California. Commercially speaking, the development is similar to the house in Vals: you rent an “extreme” landscape along with visually unusual house fitted with all mod cons (in Vals the landscape is more normal and the house more original; in the desert it’s the other way round). To date Stone has completed two houses: “Rosa Muerta”, a dark-punk apparition under a scorching sun, and “Acido Dorado”, a golden dream perhaps inspired by the LSD that folks quaffed by the gallon in the psychedelic years. The story so far seems to be born out by Stone’s brief account of why this precise spot was chosen.

"Joshua Tree also has a storied history as a rock and roll retreat and spiritual tabula rasa. If you are tuned in you will also see glimpses of a d.i.y. cultural utopia that is a hotbed of electronic folk music, rock and roll rebirth, new age naivete, military-industrial complexities, burnouts, high art, low art, and everything in-between. Whatever you find out here, whether it is amazingly good or so wrong it’s right . . .  it was at least somebody’s godhead at some point in time."

“Rosa Muerta” has been widely reviewed (most recently in ArchDaily). “Acido Dorado” has been used for fashion shoots (in the Russian edition of Glamour Magazine) but also deserves to be assessed as architecture.

The house blends the layout of Californian 1950-60s modernist houses with sensitive use of rough-and-ready DIY-type materials – the concrete blocks in the yard are similar to those used for all low-cost building in California and Mexico. The house is designed to be thrown wide open – sliding walls eliminate all distinctions between inside and outside – and a number of small indoor atriums planted with ocotillos further accentuate the “geographical” ethos. Decoratively speaking, the use of colour and floral wrought-ironwork evokes Mexican imagery, tattoos and rock culture. There is also a heart set in the façade (how many architects would have the courage to do that?). The slick interiors and furnishings draw on the ideals of modernist comfort and withdrawal from the world sometimes associated with sophisticated bachelordom. All in all it’s an intriguing house, part abandoned bunker and part Palm Springs villa. “Pretty Vacant” is also the title of a Sex Pistols song.




Mark Architecture Magazine on Acido Dorado

 

Here is the text by Katya Tylevich-

Just east of Joshua Tree National Park is the location for not one, but two of architect Robert Stone's latest historical reincarnations of modernist pavilions. Last May, I visited the first completed pavilion - Rosa Muerta (Mark =#=21) - a “stripped down” black structure barely dressed in hearts, wrought-iron, roses and rope, sandwiched between a mirrored ceiling and as many chrome columns as Stone's wild fantasy marriage of references (Mies meets Mongoose BMX bikes) could accommodate. While at Rosa Muerta, I took an “off-the-record” tour of Stone's neighbouring project - the Acido Dorado. At the time, this gold pavilion's furnishing still consisted of Stone's sleeping bag (evidence of his hyper hands-on method), but its spatial signals were already triggering an immediate physiological response in me. The front steps, for example - 46 cm deep in one direction, 61 cm in the other - physically slow a person down. “Acido Dorado really engages your body”, says Stone. It also screws with your mind. “It will confuse people who like Rosa Muerta”, Stone continued as he was standing against a backdrop of gold-coloured twisted wrought iron dividing him from the hot, naked desert context. The Dorado project, however, is an improvement over the Muerta project in terms of having more navigational cues; like where to sit and where to eat.

When we talk again in November, Stone discusses some of the details of Acido Dorado. For instance, the abundance of gold. “The ultimate symbol of luxury”, Stone says. “But, the house: it's just gold paint! It contains its own undermining principle.” The other detail he explains are the mirror tinted windows: “Corporate office towers”, “Slick American Psycho avarice”, “Surveillant stare through mirrored sunglasses”, Stone says: “I feel I'm going behind the giant architecture machine, picking up trash it throws out its windows, and holding it up to say "Check this out", He insists comparing Muerta and Dorado is “like comparing your children”: unfair. Stone designed Dorado before Muerta, and built the two simultaneously, but I tell Stone, Dorado will be received as the second child anyway. “I'm completely fucking ready for the scrutiny”, the architect responds. “I believe this house can stand up to anything anybody throws at it." 



Neiman Marcus published a story about RSd in one of thier books but I can't seem to get a copy. . .
They also sent out Paul Cruz to shoot these beautiful photos

















Architectural Digest  France on Acido Dorado












The UK Guardian on Rosa Muerta - top ten travel destinations



No surprise that this chic, gothic "pavillion" has attracted fashion photographers, but it’s also open to anyone who wants a suitably dramatic bolthole for exploring the astonishing landscapes of Joshua Tree National Park. At the end of a dirt track, 10 minutes from the park enrtance, Rosa Muerta features intricate black wrought-ironwork with hearts and roses, a plunge pool, fire pit, and no walls, just the desert breeze to cool you.




Wallpaper Magazine article on Rosa Muerta
This format allows you to walk through the house and see it from viewpoints marked on the plan.
Go here to walk through http://www.wallpaper.com/architecture/interactive-floorplan-rosa-muerta-house/3443



Here is the article text-

Few modern houses can claim to be the result of a truly personal manifesto. Even fewer can be attributed solely to a single person, from detail drawing through to concrete pouring, brick laying and plumbing. But the Rosa Muerta House, located on the fringes of Joshua Tree in Eastern California, is all of these things. Robert Stone is a singular architect, a man concerned not with following the architectural herd, but with infusing his work with a sense of theatricality, atmosphere and craftsmanship.

Rosa Muerta is a one bedroom house, a low pavilion that makes visual references to everything from Mies van der Rohe to Robert Smithson. 'My aesthetic basically started from nothing. Just an honest search for a way to make architecture that is more subtle and meaningful to me,' Stone says. As interested in sub-cultural design expressions like low-riding, ceiling-mounted mirrors and fancy ironwork as he is in minimal art, the house is a collision of craft and culture, entirely hand built by Stone himself.

As a result, the Los Angeles-based architect prefers to exist at the periphery of the modern art world. Stone embraces the complexities and contradictions of contemporary architectural design, creating forms and concepts that occasionally jar or conflict. For Stone, the more juxtapositions the better. 'Ultimately, my work is very much for others to experience and create meaning with,' he says, 'but it begins with personal references simply because that is the only way I know how to work with real subtlety and understanding.'

The plan exploits the arid desert location, focused around an outdoor living room with spa and fire pit, partly open to the sky and surrounded only by the combination of intricate metalwork mesh and black-stained concrete blocks. Above, the canopy roof initially appears to be a direct quote of the Case Study aesthetic, yet is actually carefully mirrored on the underside, reflecting the desert soil and scrub that runs right up to the building line. To be inside is to be outside.

By contrast, the solitary bedroom is a dark, mysterious cave with the bed flanked by planters and a small kitchen, utility area and bathroom located alongside them. There are no definitive reference points, no concessions to fashion and no desire to promote a hollow futurism. Stone seems genuinely aghast at the world of 'high class luxury aesthetics', and Rosa Muerta derives its sense of drama and place through a self-conscious theatricality and spatial games. The low culture references are reverential without being patronizing, the 'trash' aesthetic of hearts, flowers and mirrors quoted and reappropriated without irony. A truly personal space, embedded in its landscape and set apart from the rat race of modern design.




Mark Magazine article about Rosa Muerta
















Here is the article text-

Architect Robert Stone and I are planning my visit to Rosa Muerta, a textured and reflective black mirage, which materializes just east of Joshua Tree in Southern California. In our initial correspondence, Stone tries to illustrate what I’m in for: “The house sits out in the middle of the open desert, overgrown with weeds and grasses like an exquisite burned-out Barcelona Pavilion from another, much sexier universe.”

Several days later, my car thermometer climbs 17 degrees in under three hours, ultimately perching at 40 degrees celsius. Congested Los Angeles freeways give way to dirt roads, steep grades and stretches of dry, uninhabited land. The setting is extraterrestrial, to be sure. And when I finally the integrated threshold from scorched sand to smooth black concrete, indeed I feel I’ve stepped through the looking glass in Barcelona and into Stone’s iridescent, heat-bent and handcrafted galaxy (where I experience and instant drop in temperature under the dramatic overhang).

Reflections of Mies van der Rohe bounce, distorted, from the structure’s chrome columns. They replicate again in the (outdoor) living room’s low, mirrored canopy, which reflects back at the reflecting pool (also a spa) and makes the desert floor a ceiling. But with a nod to the columns, Stone urges me to consider the chrome details of a Mongoose BMX bike as well. Later, the architect alludes to legwarmers (yes, the ‘80’s fashion staple) as he explains how the black rope around each column visually disconnects the straight line of the supporting structure, “to make it float a little more”.

“Clearly, I understand what it means to take a chrome column, and it’s the Barcelona Pavilion- but it’s coming out of the dirt,” Stone says. “It’s not sitting on a plinth; it’s in the desert. I know what the high references are for these things, but there are also ones that are just close to my heart.”

In this way, Rosa Muerta is welded of dichotomous orientation points. It simultaneously quotes from the architecture of textbooks and references the twisted wrought iron of Southern California’s barrios. It borrows heavily from the architect’s personal experiences growing up in Palm Springs. The sunken living room, for instance, is reminiscent of a pool’s shallow end, where Stone says he spent much of his young life “gabbing with friends while everybody was skating”. Stone remarks on the unique view of the world achieved while sitting with his head just above ground level, one arm up, level with the landscape.

“Think of it like language,” Stone says of his aesthetic approach. I can go to Japan and learn how to ask where the train station is, but here I can speak with a kind of poetry and understanding that is much more subtle. That’s what I am after – a way to make architecture that can work culturally in subtle and intricate ways.”

Throughout the long conversation, our voices are punctuated by birdsong, the skittering of a lizard on concrete, and the distant growl of an engine. “I hope you get the dirt bike in the background,” Stone says with a laugh. “That really is the context.” Later, the architect, who writes prolifically of his work, quotes from his notebook: “The desert is awe inspiring and serene in its emptiness. But, just as important is the detritus of modern culture, a bleached out Coors can, or a shotgun shell on the ground, that reminds you that nature and culture cannot be separated.”

I arrived at Rosa Muerta on the heels of a fashion shoot, the only evidence of which remained in thousands of footsteps still littering the desert sand. Rosa Muerta is a public space, but the fingerprints of visitors readily wash off the metal appliances and custom-cast concrete blocks. Physically, the structure does not allow for someone else’s baggage (save for some ashes in the fire pit). “There’s no parking, no garage, no storage.” The nearest neighbour is over 180m away.

And so, Rosa Muerta has seen celebrations that resonated from Joshua Tree all the way to YouTube, but it has also hosted a visitor who spent five days meditating and been the site of a marriage proposal. “There will probably be all these babies named Rosa,” the architect laughs.

Stone says the space was designed for “parties”, but he uses the word as shorthand for the disconnect a visitor might feel in a structure that offers no narrative cues. “The aesthetic being completely original to this place, you come out here and have to reinvent yourself,” Stone says. “Who am I in this little black house?”

Then, after a moment’s thought, he adds: “In America, every community that’s worth a damn has an abandoned house that all the kids know about. And that’s where they go and party. In some ways, I am building that,” he says. “An open space with no adult supervision.”

Apartment Therapy on Acido Dorado
This article is the best yet at capturing what it is like to be there

Here is the link- http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/la/house-call/acido-dorado-weekend-getaway-100703

Describing Acido Dorado can be an extremely complicated affair because at first glance it seems remarkably simple. The building is an amorphous chameleon of sorts, a minimalist pavilion whose appearance changes inside and out as the day progresses and light folds into the desert evening, reminding one of a beetle carapace: blending into the landscape one moment, then sparkling iridescent an hour later. 78% of the house can be opened entirely to the outdoors with sliding doors throughout, and every opportunity we had, we left these wide open. With mirrored walls, furnishings and ceiling everywhere, there happens a near hallucinatory experience in regards to perceived space, as everything is multiplied into infinity (making for some amusing "hide and seek" moments with Emily as I snapped photos). The 2 dimensional quality of photos only captures a tiny percentage of the light-energetic space as perceived in person, but each glance you find yourself staring at the world from a novel perspective. It's hard not to come to the conclusion the sense of the infinite reflected within is meant as an extension of the seemingly endless land and sky in the Joshua Tree desert.

But overanalyzing Acido Dorado would be a mistake, as its charm can be amazingly simple and comfortable. If one was to ask me what I liked about the home, I could only answer that it allowed me to be myself in solitude, quiet and introspection without any intrusion of "things". The possibility to do anything or nothing at all are afforded by a space that at first seems to provide the bare minimum, yet somehow proves to feel more comfortable than any luxury accommodation I've stayed at. Little touches like the choice of ornate bedroom light bulbs, welded butterfly and floral detailing on the exterior gates, and a smartly appointed fabric covered refrigerator keep the interior from slipping into the realm of austere, reflecting the minute beautiful details one often discovers while wandering the landscape around Joshua Tree.

Our favorite memory of Acido Dorado was turning off all the lights and allowing the moon to paint the room with a faint pastel glow, plugging in our iPod into the home's sound system and then drowning ourselves into the atmospheric Mysterious Skin soundtrack that echoed throughout the house with cinematic effect. There were quite a few moments listening to music and staring at ourselves in the ceiling that we couldn't decide whether we felt like we were drifting into outer space or sinking to the deepest depths of the ocean. And nary a drop of alcohol or any other recreational stimulant was involved to reach this state!

When prodded a bit about his philosophy behind building Acido Dorado, Robert shared, "My goal with the place is to let a community of people grow around it who sort of make it theirs. That really seems to be happening, and more and more people are coming out here who really appreciate the place for what it is and what they can make of their time here. Really, the place is completed by the people that stay there. Someday the hype will die down and all I will have is these people that really love the place coming back, bringing friends, and supporting it just because they are glad something like this can exist in the world.”

Surface Magazine fashion editorial shot at Rosa  Muerta
Photos of new Calvin Klein suits by Lane Coder

 









Glamour Magazine (don't worry it's the Russia edition) fashion editorial shot at Acido Dorado
Gorgeous photography by our new best friend Michele Laurita

















Cliff Watts fashion photography at Rosa Muerta








. . . and here is a link to the video of the photo shoot for your enlightenment
http://www.ninewest.com/on/demandware.store/Sites-ninewest-Site/default/SceneSeen-Site?sid=Video




Apartment Therapy article on Rosa Muerta
This weekend travelogue on Rosa Muerta was just published. The cuteness of this happy couple completely transforms the place. . . here is the link with a lot of great photos-http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/la/weekend-getaways-destinations/weekend-getaway-joshua-tree-and-rosa-muerta-los-angeles-071525


 

And the text-

Weekend Getaway - Joshua Tree and Rosa Muerta 

Invited by architect Robert Stone to stay over at his desert luxe-camping shelter, Rosa Muerta, Emily and I spent a refreshing weekend out in the outlying area of Joshua Tree where sparse development met the desert wilderness. The weather this weekend was brisk with a threat of showers, and we only had a single evening free in our busy schedule to getaway. But what a getaway it was, giving us an opportunity to escape the urban hubbub for the peace, solitude and grandeur of the desert landscape in a most unique dwelling. All in all, the two days we spent out in Joshua Tree was a refreshment to our parched souls, quenching us with an almost drowning sense of quiet and relaxation...

As I'm sitting here typing this I feel like part of me is still left in Joshua Tree wandering though canyons of gigantic boulders that seem like the forlorn ruins of an ancient gigantic race, exploring desert flora and fauna with Emily in the great expanse of the National Park, and also enjoying the relaxing solitude of the Rosa Muerta vacation rental. The home itself is part luxe accommodations and one part camping trip, as the structure is open in sections, allowing the desert air and sky to seep in. We prepared with plenty of blankets and warm wear, but being at least used to camping/hiking activities, a kitchen, a firepit, warm bed, open ceiling shower and most importantly, a jacuzzi made our stay less about "roughing it" and more about appreciating what this weekend getaway destination had to offer: tranquility.

Owner/architect Robert Stone greeted us upon arrival, and his friendly concern about the comfort of our stay was something we noted and appreciated (he was worried about the impending cloudy-cooler weather, but it only led to a more dramatic desert sky and stay). And how bad could it be when we could spend a good deal of our time soaking in a HUGE jacuzzi? The whole Rosa Muerta structure balances a sense of solitude and open exposure to the elements, something we certainly appreciated upon first glance upward into the star-laden skies (we even got to wish upon a falling star!). An outdoor firepit kept us warm for hours as we just listened to the occasional dogs barking in the distance and we shared a home cooked meal of roasted corn, onion and feta pizza.

With nearby Joshua Tree National Park just around the corner, we were torn between living it up and getting lost in nature, so we compromised and split our short time 50/50, appreciating both the creation of humankind and nature's hands offered us. The desert landscape is all about the dramatic sky, which can change in an instant from blue to black, and also the earthen pastiche of textures and colours just beneath your feet. We spied a family of adorable Antelope ground squirrels, a Loggerhead shrike, a regal looking American kestrel, a wandering coyote and the remains of one its meals (a half-eaten jackrabbit).

We had a fantastic time, thanks both to our stay at Rosa Muerta and the wondrous landscape of Joshua Tree. Rosa Muerta is an absolute steal of a rental if you reserve with a couple of other friends; the place is for all practical purposes designed with partying in mind despite our more reflective and placid time there and we're already planning to come back with a few friends during warmer climes.



Elle Decor UK on Rosa Muerta

 

Here is the text-

The stark beauty of the desert is what inspired Los Angeles architect Robert Stone to build Rosa Muerta, a unique all-black retreat on the edge of California's Joshua Tree nature reserve. A shaven-headed, tattooed, former punk rocker, he lives here part of the year with his artist wife, Amy Wheeler, and their three-year-old son, Ford; the rest of the time the house is rented out for fashion shoots or to adventurous travelers. Here, Robert explains the idea behind his extraordinary home...

What's the significance of the name?
Rosa Muerta is a cholo term for the 'black rose of death'. A lot of things in Southern California are named in Spanish to make them sound more romantic, but they're meaningless in translation if you speak Spanish - like the forgotten half of the population does. I use that pattern to a different end. It sounds romantic, 'Rosa Muerta', but it translates to a darker poetry about the inextricable nature of love and loss. The desert has this whole living/dead real/mirage dichotomy running through everything and the house admits that.

How long did the house take to complete?
Three years. I was out here by myself the whole time; so it took a while.

Was there anything on the plot before you built Rosa Muerta?
Empty desert. There's still no new landscaping outside of the house. It sits in the middle of the open desert and I am letting the desert grow right back around it

Why did you choose an all-black scheme?
It isn't black itself that interests me, but monochrome in general, as it focuses the attention on subtle variations in texture. Black also makes the house about the colors that surround it; at night it disappears and all you see are the stars. I'm currently finishing a house that's entirely metallic gold and my last design was electric blue. .  monochrome makes color either everything or nothing depending on how you are looking at it.

Why have you chosen such minimal furniture and accessories?
All the furniture is built-in - the steps, benches and countertops create a kind of terrain made of concrete. I even carefully removed all of the joints so that it feels continuous. It's really sexy- it engages your body in a very self-conscious way. People sit on the counters and steps and stand on the benches.

The property merges the indoors and out how was this achieved?
I approached the blurring of indoor/outdoor space in somewhat the opposite way from modernism. I thought I'd build Rosa Muerta like an abandoned house, open to and overgrown by the desert. Do you remember (Los Angeles artist) Sam Durant’s Abandoned Houses? I had a lot of formative experiences in the real world version of Sam Durant’s Abandoned Houses. To me, entropy, culture, and nature can’t be separated from architecture. Some people try, but it leads to boring architecture.

Why did you put mirrors on the ceiling?
I always loved Smithson’s mirror displacements for perhaps the wrong reasons; their simple material poetics. Sand is the main ingredient of glass and so putting mirrors where they reflect the desert floor is this simple and beautiful architectural conundrum. I also like to work with things that are so loaded with cultural baggage, that they defy the formalist trend that architecture has been stuck in for decades. Mirrored ceilings have this connotation of debased sexuality, there is even that Hotel California song that mentions 'mirrors on the ceiling' as a trope for some unnamed depravity. I accept all of that baggage, it’s more interesting than pretending architecture is abstract. And I try to make something new out of it.  In this case it comes out to be this sublime phenomenon that outstrips language and even sex, like looking out at the ocean.

How does the space change according to the seasons?
The weather here is really mild. It rains about once a year and it's amazing to see the effect on the surrounding plants. The sun angles were carefully considered so that the pool is in the sunlight in the winter and shaded in the summer. The house is designed to catch the breeze so that it continuously replaces the warmer air that sits below the ceiling. And it uses thermal mass to even out the temperature. 

How do people react to the property?
You don’t have to understand all of the personal and local cultural references in my work to be moved by the house. The meaning isn't located in the object anyway, but it comes out between the object, the viewer, and the culture. So all you have to do to 'get it' is to ask yourself questions and see where they lead.  Of course, speaking a little Spanish and knowing the 2002 Gucci Fall collection helps. 



The Los Angeles Times on Rosa Muerta