Pabellón Cuba

This article is part of the Hidden Architecture Series “Tentative d’Épuisement” , where we explore the practice of an architectural criticism without rhetoric and based mainly on the physical experience of the work itself. Este artículo forma parte de la serie “Tentativa de Agotamiento” , comisariada por Hidden Architecture, donde exploramos la práctica de una crítica arquitectónica ausente de retórica y fundamentada sobre todo en la experiencia física de la propia obra. There is a corner in Havana that resists the weight of the passing years, that still plays a leading role in its faded memories. Estrella Rodríguez, La Estrella, walks slowly down La Rampa. If this heavy swaying through memory, without strength or clear destination, could be called walking. Up or down; down or up. Even descending towards the sea, that reflective sheet that at this time of the afternoon looks like a purple mirror, she feels as if she is crawling uphill. Her legs feel heavy. She no longer knows if it is because of the accumulated years, the steps she has always taken within the limits of this old city, or simply because she is tired of going up and down without ever managing to leave this prison: her life. As a young woman, impetuous, arrogant and brilliant, she felt how the gazes longed to capture her from the beginning to the end of the Rampa, ascending or descending the steep Calle 23, tirelessly linking the Coppelia ice cream parlour with the Malecón wall, with the sunsets burning with hope. Hay una esquina en La Habana que resiste el peso de los años vencidos, que conserva en sus ajados recuerdos todavía un papel protagonista. Estrella Rodríguez, La Estrella, camina despacio bajando por La Rampa. Si es que a este pesado oscilar por la memoria, sin fuerzas ni destino claro, pudiera llamársele caminar. Subir o bajar; bajar o subir.