May 11, 2007, How to build a house without losing your mind, By Edward Swift

When I announced I was going to build a house, I was given advice from all fronts, and I took none of it. Everyone I spoke to seemed to have a horror story they were too eager to share—fights with architects, contractors, new neighbors, etc.

“Building a house will drive you crazy,” said a cousin living in Texas, “but that’s part of the process.” Part of the process? Whose process? Not mine. Some people naturally want to suffer, but I’m not one of them. “I’ll choose the right architect,” I replied.

“And how will you recognize the right architect?” my cousin wanted to know. I have never enjoyed the way my family emphasizes the word “you” when referring to my likes, dislikes and abilities.

“After writing all these difficult novels about difficult members of our family, I’m a pretty good judge of character and talent.” That was my answer and you can imagine how it went over.

One day at the gym, I told one of my Mexican friends that I had purchased land in Montes de Loreto and I was going to build a house. “Then you better talk to Jesús Zárate,” he said. “He’s an architect. His father is an engineer. They work together. Both are very responsible. They have a reputation for finishing on time.” He pointed to a young man doing bench presses. I’d seen him around, but I’d never spoken to him because he seemed to be in a space all his own. Since I am not the kind of person who will interrupt someone who’s reading or who appears to be in deep thought, I had never spoken to Mr. Zárate. But when I was told that he was an architect, I barged into his space unannounced—“Excuse me, are you an architect?”

He jumped up from the bench press and said “Yes,” with bountiful energy. He was immediately alert as if someone had flipped his switch. My God, I thought, this man’s plugged into something.

I later came to learn that architecture naturally turns him on. It’s his passion. I told him I wanted to talk to him about designing a house. He said he and his father would do everything, including getting the permits and supervising the construction. That sounded good to me. I told him I was a visual artist and a writer, and he said, “Then you need plenty of light. Come visit my office when you’re ready.”

Not long after, I visited his office on Zacateros which he shares with his father who is also named Jesús. I arrived with the book, Casa Mexicana, in my bag. A chapter of the book is devoted to the work of Luis Barragán, one of my favorite architects. When Barragán won the Pritzker Architecture Prize for having devoted his life to architecture as a “sublime act of poetic imagination,” he delivered a magnificent acceptance speech in which he said, “It is alarming that publications devoted to architecture have banished from their pages the words beauty, inspiration, magic, spellbound, enchantment, as well as the concepts of serenity, silence, intimacy and amazement.”

After reading Barragán’s speech, and after having endured the cold of a San Miguel winter in a colonial house with no heat, small windows and little sunlight, I knew exactly what I wanted—a modern Mexican casita. An amazing house, bewitched and spellbinding, imaginative and serene—a house that makes a statement, a work of art, not a job for just any architect.

When I mentioned my admiration for Barragán, Jesús Zárate said, “He’s a God at my school.” (UVM) He pulled a book of photographs from his bookshelf, and I pulled Casa Mexicana from my bag. Flipping through the books, we made comments about the way Barragán combined styles: ancient, colonial and modern; his use of strong Mexican colors, the off-center placement of paintings, windows in surprising places and the overall feeling of living in a sanctuary or a chapel. I soon learned that Jesús Zárate is a continuation of this architectural tradition but with his own bold style and astonishing sense of color. When given the freedom, his style is distinctively modern, serene and sculptural.

During my first visit to the Zárate office, I began thinking, this is the man I want to design my house. I suspected he was expensive, but I was determined to afford him one way or another. I have traveled through this life with a large personality and a small bank account, and neither has held me back. So I plunged forward by showing the architect a bank statement indicating the exact amount I had budgeted and set aside. He said he could probably build a very small house with my limited funds, but he would need to see the land before giving me a firm answer. At my land he stomped around the lot and said that the foundation would be easy because the ground was hard and level. “A house five meters by six meters will give you a garden of one and a half meters on two sides and a garden of nine meters in front. You can have windows on three sides.”

A few days later he called me to his office to see the design. On paper, the house looked exactly like me, tall, thin and noticeable. Two windows extended over five meters from floor to ceiling. A staircase spiraled through vaulted space to a sleeping mezzanine and continued on to the terraza. “Your studio is here,” he said. “Your sunken kitchen is here. Your sala is here. Do you want changes?”

“No.”

“Do you want a copy of this plan?”

“No, it’s already in my head.”

It seemed to me that this young man, who hardly knew me then, had stepped inside my head and designed a house that I would have designed myself if I’d had the ability. On the plan I pointed to three small windows in a row that were very high up. Those three windows somehow define the character of the house, like three eyes that see everything without judgment.

“Of course you’re going to supervise the construction,” said more than a few expatriates who seemed worried about my approach. “Certainly not!” I answered. “I have neither the time nor the ability to supervise.” When I paid the bill all at once and returned to my art studio leaving Mr. Zárate to deal with the construction problems, a lot of people said I had lost my mind. They failed to understand that I operate from a different point of view. I, too, am an artist. I wish to be left alone to create without interference, and I’m secure enough to give the same freedom to a person of my choice. Sometimes my choices are wrong, but with Jesús Zárate I was right on target. From the beginning I knew that I could trust him and depend on him. I knew that he was enormously gifted and responsible, that he would not run off with my money and he would not bother me with stupid questions.

My house was finished in five months, and it is everything that I wanted and more. Not only does the house make a bold statement, it is cool during the hot months and warm during the cold months. This was achieved by the size and placement of windows and by Mr. Zárate’s understanding of things beyond my grasp. Not once during the construction did I have a bout of nerves or an argument with anyone other than my advice-givers. Now I would like to be the one giving the advice. And here it is: After carefully choosing the right person to create something for you, please have the good grace to pay the bill and stay out of the way. You’re hiring someone to do something beyond your ability; therefore you’re not supposed to involve yourself with the process. You must go on with your life while your house is being constructed or your portrait painted. Otherwise you will suffer miserably through the whole thing and that should never be “part of the process.”

Edward Swift was born in Texas. He spent 40 years in New York City where he worked at Scribner Bookstore, Reuters America and American Ballet Theatre.

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