C 12 61
beautiful, I have to go to a place that’s much
less beautiful. I went to Milan, which was
less beautiful but more interesting, socially
speaking. It was the beginning of student
occupation of schools. I led a double life for
at least two years. During the day I worked
in an atelier, with Franco Albini, which was
fantastic. I was learning to be an architect,
drawing and all. In the evening I was join-
ing in the occupation activities. But all these
things contribute to the making of a little
compass, a treasure in life. This self-compass
has different names. And it’s not just about
one’s profession. It’s about life, about people,
about commitment, about politics in the real
sense of the word. And there’s another thing,
more difficult to touch on: sense of beauty. It’s
not just about people, it’s also about color and
light. If you grow up by the Mediterranean,
you absorb something from this water. This
sea is full of light, vibration, voices, and per-
fumes. Somebody said that the water makes
things beautiful. It’s quite true.
LFG: When you say that your final home
will not be in Paris or Genoa or New York,
but on a boat, I can understand it, given
your Mediterranean roots. But let me now ask
you something about your education. Did you
learn more from Albini than from the teach-
ers in Milan? You always speak of him with
great devotion.
RP: I went to university really to ‘occupy,’
not to study, so yes, I learned more from Al-
bini, but also because he was a real craftsman,
someone who took pleasure in doing things,
checking, controlling, making prototypes,
making pieces. It was a good school, but you
know, I wasn’t very good at school when I was
a child, so I grew up with the idea that, by
watching people, you learn. You don’t grow
up with the arrogant attitude of thinking you
know enough. On the contrary, you grow up
with the idea that you have to learn because
you’re not good enough.
LFG: So you were like a sponge with Franco
Albini.
RP: Albini was one. Also, there’s a non-
romantic aspect of things and events. I was
born shortly before the war. I’m the child of
a storm. When the war ended, I was 8 years
old. So I grew up with this feeling that things
would become better in time. Every day, every
week, every month, the street would be a bit
cleaner, my father would come home a bit
more relaxed, the food on the table was better. I
grew up with the idea that the passage of time
improves things. It’s mad, but it gives you the
optimism you need to be an architect. I grew
up with this idea, and even now I think that
tomorrow will be better than today.
LFG: Yes, we all know that you can’t be an
architect unless you’re an optimist.
RP: Optimistic from every point of view,
especially if your work is to make places for
people, where they can come and stay to-
gether. It’s about a civic duty. Then the world
is a little better each time, it is. It’s little by
little, drop by drop, day by day, but you’re
doing something to make a better world. If you
don’t believe in the capacity of architecture
to change the world, if you don’t believe in
the capacity of beauty, and civic life and civic
values, to make a better world – for me it’s
not just utopia, but a real possibility – then
you had better change profession, you’re in
the wrong one…
LFG: I want us to wrap up this conversation
discussing your recent project in Santander,
where you have finished the Botín Centre.
That’s good news because in Spain before,
you had only built a small base for Luna
Rosa, in Valencia.
RP: I never really worked in Spain so I’m
pleased I’ve been able to do this. It’s fantastic
for a number of reasons. First, I learned to
love Santander, which has a double identity:
one towards the Atlantic, and one on the bay.
The first one is rougher, breezier, with the
waves coming. The other one is like a lagoon
with light which is very similar to the light
of Venice. The Jardines de Pereda look south
and at the bay… the light is fantastic. I saw
the place after Emilio Botín came to us, and
I was seduced by it… but also by the family,
especially Emilio Botín. We became very close
quite quickly. I never thought of him as a
banker, but more as a dreamer. He was quite
a tough banker, I guess, but he was also a man
who was in love with education, with the new
generations, with Santander… and with the
idea of building something there. The Jardines
de Pereda were separated from the bay by a
“With the arrogant
attitude of thinking
you know enough, you
cannot grow up“
