Adamo Faiden’s new veterinary clinic in Buenos Aires is a testament to the growing consideration for non‑human creatures in cities There is nothing to indicate it is a veterinary clinic, yet this anonymous building stands out from its neighbours. From the street, Calle Guayaquil, in the picturesque Caballito neighbourhood of Buenos Aires, its facade is an elegant patchwork of corrugated sheets. Some are white opaque metal, others are perforated, while the ones of transparent plastic give passers‑by a glimpse of what lies beyond, and of the sky above. On the overcast day of my visit, the greys of the sky blend with the building’s tones. With its shimmering skin and irregular height, it almost resembles a temple. The clinic, designed by the Buenos Aires‑based architecture practice Adamo Faiden, is situated between a two‑storey early‑20th‑century house and an eight‑storey residential tower made of red brick. Although there is no visible trace from the outside, the concrete frame of the site’s previous occupier – a townhouse also built in the early 20th century – was largely kept, in an attempt to avoid complete demolition. ‘Why should we demolish it if it works?’ asks co‑founder of Adamo Faiden Marcelo Faiden. Despite its boldness in terms of composition and materiality, the veterinary clinic’s facade remains respectful of its surroundings. Its articulation references the next‑door house’s height and elements such as the ground‑floor double door. On the pavement in front of the clinic, an old plátano hispánico, a plane tree commonly found in the city, has been preserved. The clinic’s nearly symmetrical facade responds to this tall tree; its central bay towers above the two lateral wings. ‘Plants and pets give life to the building’s otherwise austere language’ Instead of coinciding with this central axis, the entrance door is offset to the right – where the front door of its predecessor was also positioned. Walking in, I was surprised to see the small entrance hall open, past a glass door, onto a 10m‑tall atrium with natural light flooding the interior. Reminiscent of a winter garden, the nave‑like central space is used as a large waiting room; it is not hermetic, as perforations in the corrugated‑metal sheets on both the front and back facade let a pleasant breeze in, which helps keep the interior odour free. Most plots in the orthogonal urban grid of Buenos Aires – an inheritance from the Laws of the Indies during the Spanish colonisation – are just 8.66m wide, while their depth can vary, particularly if on the corner of a block. The 8.66m‑wide house that previously stood on the Guayaquil site was organised in three bays; the floor and roof slabs of the central bay, dedicated to circulation and featuring a prominent staircase, were removed and the space extended upwards to become this covered passage, which leads to a large garden at the back. The floor is made of concrete with exposed stone, while newly planted vegetation – and visiting pets – give life to the building’s otherwise austere architectural language. The programme is accommodated linearly on either side of this central axis; consultation rooms are on the ground floor, while a laboratory as well as X‑ray and operating rooms are up on the first floor. The 1.2m by 1.2m sheets of corrugated metal, and the metallic structure that supports them, cover the old concrete frame, giving rhythm and structure to the interior while dictating the dimensions of rooms. The old structure is more visible on the upper floor, where concrete columns are left exposed. Much less prominent than its predecessor, the new staircase is light and practical, located at the back, in the building’s southern corner.     The architects believe that all construction is an act of conversation with history. ‘History gives growth direction,’ Sebastián Adamo and Marcelo Faiden write in their monographic book The Contemporary Constructor, published in 2018. Since memory is ‘never perfect’, they argue it is ‘an image composed of, or degraded from, a previous situation or moment’. As a ‘partial construction’, each memory is ever‑evolving, and has ‘the potential for self growth’. Faithful followers of Lacaton & Vassal, they rely on industrial materials to create large volumes, while keeping costs low: corrugated as well as flat sheets of metal and PVC, off‑the‑shelf windows, iron and steel pipes, screens and meshes. They want users and inhabitants to appropriate the spaces they design, and be able to monitor internal circumstances to provide optimal conditions for life to occur – with gestures as simple as opening or closing a window. These are materials and ideas that Adamo Faiden have been experimenting with in their recent projects. One of their most recent, the Di Tella University pavilion, resembles a greenhouse; it functions as one in winter, trapping the sun’s heat, while in summer the roof gives way to a system of awnings that allow the heat to rise and escape. At Cepé House, completed in 2021, all the rooms are articulated around a central space that is covered by a large glazed roof; a simple system of sliding enclosures allows inhabitants to adjust visual connections and control the climatic environment. Back in 2012, they encased the mixed‑use 33 Orientales 138 building in a metallic ornamental mesh, a material they have used again for the recently opened branch of Italian restaurant Orno in the neighbourhood of Palermo. The Guayaquil veterinary clinic’s winter garden becomes an open‑ended space that is ventilated and luminous, but without a fixed programme. Reminiscent of Lacaton & Vassal’s ‘extra’ space, provided in addition to what is required and programmed, it is a space open to the interpretation of humans and their pets to play an active role in deciding when and how to inhabit it. Throughout the clinic, transparency prevails, making visible the constant movement of people and animals. Fixed and blind panels alternate with glazed panes and openings. Upstairs, the large central atrium is crossed by a bridge, part of the same modular system. The same width as a room, it is not reduced to simple circulation; furnished with a bench, it becomes a place where pets and their owners wait to be called in by the staff for their appointment. Argentina has more pets per capita than any other country in the world. Pet adoptions increased significantly during the Covid‑19 pandemic – at the time, taking your dog for a walk was one of the few valid reasons to be able to spend time outside. Today, 80 per cent o the families in the country who have at least one animal in their home own a dog. Buenos Aires alone counts an estimated population of 475,000 dogs – the most popular pet – and the city has adapted to it. There are now many dog walkers, pet shops and medical facilities; the Guayaquil veterinary clinic has been busy since its opening in 2022. The architects, who think that the greater recognition of cohabitation with non‑human species in cities gives us ‘rights and responsibilities’, see architecture as a way to ‘connect private ambitions with public needs’. By stripping the old Guayaquil townhouse back, the architects have chosen to do away with some of its layers, replacing them with air, lightness and vegetation that in turn infuse the surrounding city. At night, or on very cloudy days, the interior’s artificial lighting irradiates the street. 2025-04-23 Francesco Perrotta-Bosch Share AR April 2025Buy Now