Articles Recognitions

Architecture and theater

Miguel Martins Santos met Pepe Rapazote at the Faculty of Architecture, where they both experimented with theater together. Eventually, Miguel followed one path and Pepe another. In 2019, Pepe challenged Fragmentos to design what he would like to be his "final residence." Designing for a close client is always an emotional process, and it becomes even more intense when that client is a friend—and, more than that, a friend who is also an architect!

Miguel Martins Santos sat down with Pepe Rapazote to talk about their long-standing friendship, the similarities and differences between designing and acting, and Pepe's new house, a Fragmentos project that can be considered a co-authorship, where the actor had the chance to once again become an architect.

 

Our friendship spans several decades. We first connected through architecture, where we met at the Lisbon School of Fine Arts—you came from Porto to finish your final year here. How was that transition from Porto to Lisbon? (Miguel Martins Santos)

I’ve given many interviews where I’ve criticized the school in Porto, but it’s not about criticizing the school itself, which is one of the best in the world, but about the politics. Partisan politics dominated the Faculty of Architecture at the University of Porto, influencing decisions made by the administration and faculty. In fact, there was a year when several professors decided to take a sabbatical, leaving us without enough teaching staff. The university's response was to propose four years of study followed by a two-year internship, after which we would return to the “little school” for the fifth year. At that point, I decided to leave and head to Lisbon. Aside from these political issues, the architecture school in Porto is very much a school—it’s scholastic and teaches you how to think. We often start thinking it’s a school of language, but it’s much more than that. Yes, there’s a language, a style of drawing, but all of that stems from the scholastic approach, from thought. There was always a saying in Porto, and it still persists: "I want you to justify what you’ve done; saying it’s beautiful isn’t an answer." This is something I took with me to Lisbon and into life. (Pepe Rapazote)

It’s funny how quickly we became friends and then decided to take a theater course together, encouraged by a mutual friend. From that course, we ended up at the Sociedade de Instrução Guilherme Cossoul, where we founded the Altacena theater group. I’d say it was around this time that you switched to acting. I remember you doing a play by Francisco Nicholson—O Lixo—and that he saw the performance and ended up inviting you to television. That was a turning point. But during that time, you were still working in an architectural studio and designing projects. How long did you juggle both architecture and theater? (Miguel Martins Santos)

At that time, I had already done a play where I paid for my own tickets, but it was really when Francisco Nicholson invited me that I started to stray away from architecture and fully embraced acting. I started working in an architectural studio in 1994, and I’d say I definitively left architecture, laying down my last pencil, in 2005. I’m a perfectionist—they say Virgos are like that—and both in architecture and theater, when someone reaches a conclusion too quickly, I’m like “wow,” and I have a huge admiration for that. It’s easy for me to get caught up in details, to want to understand the origins of things, and to take everything to the last degree, which architecture doesn’t always allow—especially if you don’t want to incur a loss! Faced with increasingly tight deadlines, there’s a tendency to develop formulas, which I believe should be avoided. In college, we’d do exercises like: “Your plot is the Sahara Desert, a plane that’s just sand as far as the eye can see. Do whatever you want.” This is one of the most demanding things you can ask of an architect because there’s no room for formulas. (Pepe Rapazote)

You’re absolutely right. I vividly remember attending a conference by Siza Vieira when we were at university, regarding the reconstruction of Chiado. Someone in the audience asked something like, “Do you feel prepared for what will likely be the greatest challenge of your career so far?” to which Siza replied, “This might actually be one of the easiest projects I’ve had. The constraints are so numerous, the conditions so clear, that the circle is almost closed.” (Miguel Martins Santos)

That was essentially it; I made a choice that allows me to be creative in a different way. Despite choosing another path, I remain passionate about architecture. I still practice architecture, just in another form, on a different scale, in my own way. (Pepe Rapazote)

In an architectural project, the client has two essential roles: first, the desire to create, and second, to help clearly define the basic program. The closer this relationship is, the easier it becomes. We were already friends, but it was also important not to ruin that relationship, which sometimes happens! It’s often said that architects avoid designing their own homes. In your case, with the architect inside you still very much alive, you ended up doing a lot of the designing yourself. This is clearly a partnership, a co-authorship. Every day you look at it and think, “Today, I’d do it differently”…or not? (Miguel Martins Santos)

You know, surprisingly, I didn’t think much about that (ruining the friendship)—sometimes I’m a bit reckless. But despite that, it worked out! Friendship allows us to be more honest, to stop and say, “Hold on, let’s do it this way, let’s do it that way.” You got involved in the process very early on, even before I bought the land. I called you to see what you thought of the plot, which wasn’t an obvious choice, but it held some value for me. Architects have that ability to look at plots or houses needing rehabilitation and see the final product. Anyone standing where we are now would likely say, “No way, I’m looking for another plot.” And here, it was solved with architecture, indeed. And you’re right, I still have an architect very much alive inside me who used this house as an experimental box, a place where I tried two or three things I wasn’t sure would work, but I just had to test. The design of the house, the choice of finishes, the goal is for these to be lived-in spaces. So no, I wouldn’t change a thing; it’s delightful, extraordinary. I think the house is super eclectic and has elements that mean a lot to me. Some are 400 years old, others 300, others 100, some none at all, and some are from Ikea. The family is still getting used to it because there was a significant increase in scale—we were used to being all together in the same room, and now there’s space, there’s an echo, and voices don’t travel as well from one room to another. Designing a house and living in it is a process, a learning experience, without an instruction manual. And that’s a good thing. (Pepe Rapazote)

Architecture, and this is one of its similarities with theater, is obviously a group effort, a team project. You can’t put on a great play if you’re the only fabulous actor and the others are mediocre or bad. (Miguel Martins Santos)

Besides the Fragmentos team, who were tireless, I also want to mention a third party—engineer Fernando Domingos from Socifago—who has become a lifelong friend. Fernando brought a lot to the project and also learned a lot from it. For example, we have elements like the polished concrete floor that could have gone terribly wrong but ended up turning out beautifully, and I believe it will be repeated. Architects and non-architects alike know the importance of a good contractor, one who listens, is flexible, and respects the design. As a pre-teen, I remember thinking, “Well, I think that man is doing this wrong, but who am I? I’m 13, I have no experience, and this man has been doing this for years.” Later, I realized he was indeed doing it wrong…and he was 75. So, when we hear, “I’ve been doing this for 50 years,” I think, well, maybe you’ve been doing it wrong for 50 years. Longevity doesn’t necessarily mean competence; if anything, it can mean incompetence and an inability to recognize mistakes and improve. Recognizing this, whether you’re a contractor or an architect, is crucial to a good project. Doing projects alone is unthinkable. Here, I was always very present in the various phases, often less as a client and more as part of this team. (Pepe Rapazote)

Ultimately, just as a project is never really finished, a play is never sufficiently rehearsed because there’s always something… After it’s inhabited, after your friends and family come over, and you see how people move through and use the space, that’s when we can say the project is complete. (Miguel Martins Santos)

There’s a huge boost with the premiere and a huge boost with the construction, and of course, with inhabiting it. The house comes alive with the family and evolves with it. For example, when someone is in a foul mood, the house takes the hit. The house and the project’s authors. If you feel your ears burning at eleven at night, you know what it is! (Pepe Rapazote)

Miguel Martins Santos met Pepe Rapazote at the Faculty of Architecture, where they both experimented with theater together. Eventually, Miguel followed one path and Pepe another. In 2019, Pepe challenged Fragmentos to design what he would like to be his "final residence." Designing for a close client is always an emotional process, and it becomes even more intense when that client is a friend—and, more than that, a friend who is also an architect!

Miguel Martins Santos sat down with Pepe Rapazote to talk about their long-standing friendship, the similarities and differences between designing and acting, and Pepe's new house, a Fragmentos project that can be considered a co-authorship, where the actor had the chance to once again become an architect.

 

Our friendship spans several decades. We first connected through architecture, where we met at the Lisbon School of Fine Arts—you came from Porto to finish your final year here. How was that transition from Porto to Lisbon? (Miguel Martins Santos)

I’ve given many interviews where I’ve criticized the school in Porto, but it’s not about criticizing the school itself, which is one of the best in the world, but about the politics. Partisan politics dominated the Faculty of Architecture at the University of Porto, influencing decisions made by the administration and faculty. In fact, there was a year when several professors decided to take a sabbatical, leaving us without enough teaching staff. The university's response was to propose four years of study followed by a two-year internship, after which we would return to the “little school” for the fifth year. At that point, I decided to leave and head to Lisbon. Aside from these political issues, the architecture school in Porto is very much a school—it’s scholastic and teaches you how to think. We often start thinking it’s a school of language, but it’s much more than that. Yes, there’s a language, a style of drawing, but all of that stems from the scholastic approach, from thought. There was always a saying in Porto, and it still persists: "I want you to justify what you’ve done; saying it’s beautiful isn’t an answer." This is something I took with me to Lisbon and into life. (Pepe Rapazote)

It’s funny how quickly we became friends and then decided to take a theater course together, encouraged by a mutual friend. From that course, we ended up at the Sociedade de Instrução Guilherme Cossoul, where we founded the Altacena theater group. I’d say it was around this time that you switched to acting. I remember you doing a play by Francisco Nicholson—O Lixo—and that he saw the performance and ended up inviting you to television. That was a turning point. But during that time, you were still working in an architectural studio and designing projects. How long did you juggle both architecture and theater? (Miguel Martins Santos)

At that time, I had already done a play where I paid for my own tickets, but it was really when Francisco Nicholson invited me that I started to stray away from architecture and fully embraced acting. I started working in an architectural studio in 1994, and I’d say I definitively left architecture, laying down my last pencil, in 2005. I’m a perfectionist—they say Virgos are like that—and both in architecture and theater, when someone reaches a conclusion too quickly, I’m like “wow,” and I have a huge admiration for that. It’s easy for me to get caught up in details, to want to understand the origins of things, and to take everything to the last degree, which architecture doesn’t always allow—especially if you don’t want to incur a loss! Faced with increasingly tight deadlines, there’s a tendency to develop formulas, which I believe should be avoided. In college, we’d do exercises like: “Your plot is the Sahara Desert, a plane that’s just sand as far as the eye can see. Do whatever you want.” This is one of the most demanding things you can ask of an architect because there’s no room for formulas. (Pepe Rapazote)

You’re absolutely right. I vividly remember attending a conference by Siza Vieira when we were at university, regarding the reconstruction of Chiado. Someone in the audience asked something like, “Do you feel prepared for what will likely be the greatest challenge of your career so far?” to which Siza replied, “This might actually be one of the easiest projects I’ve had. The constraints are so numerous, the conditions so clear, that the circle is almost closed.” (Miguel Martins Santos)

That was essentially it; I made a choice that allows me to be creative in a different way. Despite choosing another path, I remain passionate about architecture. I still practice architecture, just in another form, on a different scale, in my own way. (Pepe Rapazote)

In an architectural project, the client has two essential roles: first, the desire to create, and second, to help clearly define the basic program. The closer this relationship is, the easier it becomes. We were already friends, but it was also important not to ruin that relationship, which sometimes happens! It’s often said that architects avoid designing their own homes. In your case, with the architect inside you still very much alive, you ended up doing a lot of the designing yourself. This is clearly a partnership, a co-authorship. Every day you look at it and think, “Today, I’d do it differently”…or not? (Miguel Martins Santos)

You know, surprisingly, I didn’t think much about that (ruining the friendship)—sometimes I’m a bit reckless. But despite that, it worked out! Friendship allows us to be more honest, to stop and say, “Hold on, let’s do it this way, let’s do it that way.” You got involved in the process very early on, even before I bought the land. I called you to see what you thought of the plot, which wasn’t an obvious choice, but it held some value for me. Architects have that ability to look at plots or houses needing rehabilitation and see the final product. Anyone standing where we are now would likely say, “No way, I’m looking for another plot.” And here, it was solved with architecture, indeed. And you’re right, I still have an architect very much alive inside me who used this house as an experimental box, a place where I tried two or three things I wasn’t sure would work, but I just had to test. The design of the house, the choice of finishes, the goal is for these to be lived-in spaces. So no, I wouldn’t change a thing; it’s delightful, extraordinary. I think the house is super eclectic and has elements that mean a lot to me. Some are 400 years old, others 300, others 100, some none at all, and some are from Ikea. The family is still getting used to it because there was a significant increase in scale—we were used to being all together in the same room, and now there’s space, there’s an echo, and voices don’t travel as well from one room to another. Designing a house and living in it is a process, a learning experience, without an instruction manual. And that’s a good thing. (Pepe Rapazote)

Architecture, and this is one of its similarities with theater, is obviously a group effort, a team project. You can’t put on a great play if you’re the only fabulous actor and the others are mediocre or bad. (Miguel Martins Santos)

Besides the Fragmentos team, who were tireless, I also want to mention a third party—engineer Fernando Domingos from Socifago—who has become a lifelong friend. Fernando brought a lot to the project and also learned a lot from it. For example, we have elements like the polished concrete floor that could have gone terribly wrong but ended up turning out beautifully, and I believe it will be repeated. Architects and non-architects alike know the importance of a good contractor, one who listens, is flexible, and respects the design. As a pre-teen, I remember thinking, “Well, I think that man is doing this wrong, but who am I? I’m 13, I have no experience, and this man has been doing this for years.” Later, I realized he was indeed doing it wrong…and he was 75. So, when we hear, “I’ve been doing this for 50 years,” I think, well, maybe you’ve been doing it wrong for 50 years. Longevity doesn’t necessarily mean competence; if anything, it can mean incompetence and an inability to recognize mistakes and improve. Recognizing this, whether you’re a contractor or an architect, is crucial to a good project. Doing projects alone is unthinkable. Here, I was always very present in the various phases, often less as a client and more as part of this team. (Pepe Rapazote)

Ultimately, just as a project is never really finished, a play is never sufficiently rehearsed because there’s always something… After it’s inhabited, after your friends and family come over, and you see how people move through and use the space, that’s when we can say the project is complete. (Miguel Martins Santos)

There’s a huge boost with the premiere and a huge boost with the construction, and of course, with inhabiting it. The house comes alive with the family and evolves with it. For example, when someone is in a foul mood, the house takes the hit. The house and the project’s authors. If you feel your ears burning at eleven at night, you know what it is! (Pepe Rapazote)

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