Tomorrow I’m going to make the journey north along the coast of Chile to Ciudad Abierta, in Ritoque. I’m going for lunch with the architects are a part of the Amereida Corporation, who live and work on the 275 hectares of coastal land found here between the sea and the forest, the wetlands and the dunes. I’ll be interviewing one of the architects about poetry and its relationship to architecture, for a specially themed issue of T-R-E-M-O-R-S Magazine on sound and architecture.
A few weeks ago I got the softest of glimpses of Ciudad Abierta in the bright dusted-yellow lights of early evening as I walked along the coastal highway. Despite the roar of the cars beside me, it was the fiercely elemental roar of the sea breaking into foam in the distance which left the greatest aural impression. Between the 275 hectares of the Open City Group and the sea stretches the wetlands and low-lying dunes, the train track dividing the transformations of the landscape from the beach. In this perfect light the rolling curves of the virgin dunes recalled some poetic act gifted to the land by the Amereida in the 70s: silhouettes traversing the tracked peaks. In this light, beyond the fences and electric gates, it looked like a veritable, unobtainable utopia.
I already have two recordings of the sea for my sound article; tne from the estranged stretch of perfect Vina del Mar sands, and the other from the powerful turbulence of the sea crashing against the rocks at Isla Negra. Tomorrow I hope to record a reading of one of the Amereida’s poems. The poems represent the inauguration of a new construction, and often decide the location and form of the design; an architectural philosophy founded on the poetic.