You can sense it in their voice, in their gaze, at the table tasting food, and in the smile with which they observe everything: they find themselves again; they want to share with others what they do abroad. “A large diversity, from the macro scale to the building. What interests us is thinking about how the building, or that circumstance – it could be the urban fabric – gains new life, and continues to tell the stories that existed there. We’ll show many examples in which the old merges with the new; a symbiosis that creates a new entity,” summarizes Cristina Veríssimo. They bring examples of their work in Portugal, London, Angola, Mozambique, the United States, and Canada. Diogo Burnay explains that “when the heritage is more consolidated, more ancient, it’s obvious that recognizing the authenticity of what was there is important.” But in other interventions, in buildings that have already been altered over time, “we want the history to be told, but also to frame new values; to search for the soul of what is there and understand the current programmatic needs.”
The preservation of old neighborhoods is a key issue in Macau today, supported by the future Chief Executive, Sam Hou Fai. Diogo Burnay identifies areas such as “the Macau Peninsula, Taipa Village, Coloane Village.” He focuses on the Peninsula, “a city within which there are multiple cities.” If we understand that historic neighborhoods “are precisely neighborhoods,” resilient among various city models, “there is a neighborhood structure: narrow streets, smells shared among neighbors, which are worth preserving. Not out of nostalgia, but because they are part of the atmosphere, the dense and rich intensity of the place.” He is reminded of Wong Kar-wai, in whose films “we feel the humidity and the smells of the places portrayed.” In other words, “there is non-physical, environmental heritage; a ‘software’ that I think is fundamental to preserve; the living memory and the way people live in this space.”
When looking at Cotai, Diogo Burnay sees how it “celebrates and accommodates new ways of making a city.” These projects, linked to tourism and the gaming economy, “relieve the pressure on the old city, which can be reconstructed without direct confrontation, respecting different origins and spirits.” Cristina Veríssimo reflects on the reunion: “It’s what it’s always been, the wonderful city it was; hybrid, half European, half Chinese; you understand both and live this duality.” When the reconstruction of the old neighborhoods happens, “it will be very interesting to see how a new pulse understands these two cultures and brings a new genre, connecting the two. Much more interesting than bringing new models that impose another rule.” Above all, she emphasizes, “maintaining enough identity so you can come here and say: This is Macau, a Portuguese city in China. The citizens here cannot lose that memory which allows them to say: this is my city. I am delighted because this pulse is still here. We just have to make sure it doesn’t die.” Diogo Burnay echoes this feeling: “It’s here, in an incredible way. We walk through Leal Senado, Porto Interior, Rua da Felicidade… recovery is much more possible now, because there are other alternatives that help relieve the pressure on these urban fabrics.”
Hybrid in Soul and Drawing Board
“We feel part of Macau in us every day.” Diogo Burnay, who has written about architecture and colonialism, admits he has been shaped by “the clash of values, things mixing. We had exposure to worlds that intertwine.” Cristina Veríssimo reflects on memory, on a life that “has been hybrid.” She grew up, “maybe even reborn,” in several places. But Macau is unique: “I loved that experience, which in another place would have taken twice as long.” The theme of hybridity fascinates them. Diogo Burnay describes this central theme in their professional journey: “You always perceive a confluence of things that, although not necessarily antagonistic, coexist well, being different from each other. All of our works have moments where we do not seek purity, in the sense of presence or ways of being. The potential of things is explored when they are questioned, confronted with their differences, mixed with other things and completely different themes.”
When asked about being heirs to a “Macau school,” Cristina Veríssimo contrasts it with other “very strong” experiences, such as in London with Zaha Hadid: “We are influenced by the experiences we have. I don’t know if I was consciously influenced here, or if I was even aware of the school that was here. But there was a certain freedom; being away from the centers, we had the possibility of doing things that didn’t tie us to big images or languages.” She studied in Porto and Lisbon; she grew up in various places… “I’m already hybrid by nature, and here I managed to understand it. With Hadid, I became even more hybrid.”
Diogo Burnay worked with Manuel Vicente, a “unique” figure who “marked several generations of architects in Macau.” But then he joined Bruno Soares and Irene Ó, “a younger generation and a very different way of being. Manuel has a very distinctive school, but I don’t think it is the only one in Macau. What I think is strong, let’s say, in Manuel’s school, is that many others emerged from that seed. He had the generosity to let us think we had space to build our own paths. My experience with Irene and Bruno Soares was “very dedicated to architecture, to the discipline, with a very particular understanding of the context. Irene mastered the Chinese language; with that, we achieved a quality of project and architecture that was unique.”
The language in architecture changes, adapts. “What we did 20 years ago is not the same thing,” acknowledges Cristina Veríssimo. “And the local culture is fundamental. We always look at both sides, we adapt, we question people. The hybrid happens.” It’s not so much a language, but “the themes, the values,” Diogo Burnay details: “We mostly do public works, and we always pay attention to how the project, the work, can bring people together, unite a community.” Regarding architecture in general, “what we observe is that firms operating on a global scale have universal formulas, applicable to many places; but there is also a need to adapt to local environments, economies, and technologies.” On the other hand, “people are becoming more aware of the planet, of sustainability; there is less willingness to build in Malaysia and have materials come from Switzerland. When building in Asia, even if the firm is based in New York, if there is a local socio-economic benefit, the project is better realized,” concludes Diogo Burnay. In their most recent experience in Mozambique, they did “extensive research on suppliers, more linked to the South than the North, looking at the crossovers of the region rather than resources or materials that came from, for example, Portugal. We all win when the local economy wins.”
Canada Knows How to Tolerate
Reflecting on the biggest lesson they’ve learned in Canada, where they’ve lived for over a decade, Cristina Veríssimo highlights “the complementarity between construction and nature, two worlds that intertwine. Singapore is the extreme example; suddenly, we see a garden on the fifth floor. Canada doesn’t have the density that Singapore does; and bringing that idea here is difficult, but feeling that the natural must be maintained is a lesson.” Diogo Burnay prefers another kind of symbiosis: “There’s an incredible confluence of cultures; attention to history, to the other; a huge tolerance for what appears to be different; space for finding common ground.” Applying this thinking to Macau, “continuously colonized by the Portuguese, the Chinese, and now by the international community – let’s say Americans – it’s important to understand how, in the confluence of these values, a place is built where people with these differences can live together; and everyone feels that it’s theirs.”
