Architecture: Zendejas Arquitectos
Documented area: 182 m²
Description: In the Huasteca Potosina lies Xilitla, a town immersed in mountains, water, mist, and exuberant vegetation. Just a few steps from the celebrated Sculpture Garden of Sir Edward James —British poet, artist, and patron of the Surrealist movement— is the site where this project was conceived.
The land possesses an extraordinary natural condition. A stream runs through the property, fed by cold, fresh water descending from the upper reaches of the mountain. Along its course, the water first gathers in a natural pool shaped over time by erosion and the continuous force of the current. From there, it continues between rocks and vegetation until it disappears once again into the density of the jungle.
The vegetation is abundant and generous. This is an ancient tropical forest, populated by enormous trees whose canopies keep much of the site shaded throughout most of the day. The house was strategically positioned beside a majestic parota tree more than a century old, seeking both proximity to this remarkable presence and uninterrupted views toward the stream and natural pool.
The main intention was simple: to inhabit nature with as few barriers as possible.
We wanted an architecture capable of visually disappearing into the landscape; a house that was open, light, and permeable, where the jungle could enter the interior and the interior could extend toward it. A structure that would not compete with its surroundings, but instead appear to float among the trees.
Xilitla sits more than 600 meters above sea level. Its altitude, humidity, and dense vegetation create a very particular atmosphere. On certain mornings, mist descends from the mountains and completely envelops the site. For a few moments, the jungle disappears behind a white veil, only to reveal itself again. This constantly changing, almost theatrical condition became an essential part of the experience of the house.
The proposal begins with a very clear image: a glass box in the middle of the jungle.
A slender exposed-concrete slab defines the house horizontally. Concrete appears not only as a structural and aesthetic decision, but also as an inevitable reference to the world of Edward James, who used the material to introduce surreal, eccentric, and monumental structures into the vegetation of Xilitla.
In contrast to the lightness of the glass and roof, a massive element emerges: a long rammed-earth wall made with materials from the region. The wall runs through the entire house and, toward one end, gradually curves until it begins to embrace the space. Its geometry becomes increasingly organic and natural, creating a counterpoint between precision and imperfection, between the industrial and the primitive.
The few walls within the house are not intended to divide it into isolated rooms, but rather to frame different areas. Living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom remain continuously connected. Privacy does not depend exclusively on doors or solid partitions, but on the position of the user, the direction of the gaze, and the way architectural planes overlap.
It is a kind of open privacy.
The house can feel completely exposed and, at the same time, protected.
To support the roof, eight steel I-beams were strategically positioned around the project. Their placement was carefully considered in order to preserve the views as much as possible and reduce the visual presence of the structure to a series of slender lines between the interior and the surrounding vegetation.
The interior material palette brings warmth to this otherwise light and elemental structure. Natural timber flooring extends across the interior and reappears on the ceiling, partially wrapping the space and creating a more intimate and comfortable atmosphere. Local grey stone is used on the exterior terraces, allowing the transition between architecture and landscape to occur gradually.
At the heart of the house, a fireplace emerges.
Although it may seem unusual to imagine a cold winter in the middle of a tropical jungle, Xilitla has particular climatic conditions. Its altitude, humidity, and the permanent shade created by the large trees can cause temperatures to drop considerably. For this reason, in addition to the fireplace, radiant floor heating is proposed throughout the house.
During the summer, the house behaves in an entirely different way.
The large glass surfaces slide away, allowing the dwelling to open almost completely. Natural cross-ventilation enables air to move freely through the interior, transforming the house from an enclosed object into something closer to a covered terrace suspended within the jungle.
A layer of soil and vegetation is proposed over the roof, helping reduce heat transfer into the interior while allowing the building to become, once again, an extension of the surrounding landscape.
The house has a built area of 182 square meters and sits within a property of more than 3,000 square meters.
Its relationship with Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House is both evident and deliberate. From it, we borrowed principles such as structural lightness, spatial continuity, transparency, and the desire to dissolve the boundaries between architecture and landscape.
But this house belongs to another territory.
Here, there is no open plain.
There is jungle.
There is humidity.
There is rain.
There is mist.
There are century-old trees and a stream crossing the land.
For this reason, rather than reproducing an architecture, we were interested in interpreting its principles and adapting them to an entirely different reality.
We wanted to preserve the spatial freedom of Mies while making it inhabitable under the specific conditions of Xilitla.
Here, you can open the entire house without feeling enclosed.
You can close the bedroom with sliding panels when guests arrive.
You can hide whatever you do not want to see within the service area.
You can walk around with very little clothing because the vegetation itself becomes your boundary.
Curtains?
Probably unnecessary.
The jungle already serves as one.
And when the mist arrives, even more so.
The architecture attempts to disappear just enough to allow the landscape to become the true protagonist: to hear the water, feel the humidity, watch the light filter through the tree canopies, and perceive how the character of the house changes throughout the day.
Mies sought an architecture that was free, transparent, open, simple, and without unnecessary constraints. An architecture in which structure, space, and life could coexist with as few obstacles as possible.
Here, we tried to bring some of those principles into the jungle of Xilitla.
Not to imitate him.
But to ask what happens when those modern ideas encounter a landscape that is untamed, humid, exuberant, and ancient.
And perhaps there, somewhere between concrete, glass, earth, timber, water, and mist, another way of inhabiting can emerge.
One that is more open.
More free.
Closer to nature.
I believe one could live very happily here.
Thank you for everything, Mies.
We love you.
ZA
