in Natural Capitalism, which Bill Clinton called one of the five most important books in the world today. And PBS turned his tome Growing a Business into a 17-part TV series.His latest book, nearly 10 years in the making, Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came Into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming, is an exploration of the fragmented world of environmental and social justice organizations, from giant multinational NGOs to four-person internet-based activist groups. Hawken’s theory is that these organizations, taken collectively, represent the largest social movement in the history of the world. Though fragmented, he says it’s highly effective.With no leader, center, organizing system or ideology, the movement Hawken identifies in Blessed Unrest grows organically, crossing borders, class and ethnic differences. It’s driven mostly by the desire for a common good. Trying to organize the movement, as well as documenting it, Hawken has created WiserEarth, a collection of wikis that serve as an umbrella for the millions of organizations he has identified and provide a platform for discussion and information sharing.Wired News: Describe how your bags full of business cards inspired the book.Paul Hawken: In the early ’90s, I had been giving a hundred speeches or more a year on the environment. Afterwards people would come up and exchange cards. I would stuff them into my backpack or pockets and when I got home I would lay them out, look at them, and put them in a drawer. One day my housekeeper, seeing that the drawer was overflowing, placed them into a gold Bergdorf-Goodman bag in the closet. When that bag got full, I began to ask myself how many groups there were in the world working on environmental and social issues. I quickly discovered that no one knew. So I began to count.WN: You were asked in 1999 if the WTO protests in Seattle represented a return to the 1960s. And you said one difference was that the nature of leadership had changed.Hawken: It’s difficult for people in the United States to see that there is a massive global movement afoot — what I’m calling the largest social movement in human history — because it gets no coverage here at all. A small in-group of charismatic leaders does not represent this movement nor does the movement have a central office or name. Because there are tens of thousands of leaders of the movement it can be seen as toothless.Understandable conclusion, but another way to look at it is that we are seeing an entirely new form of leadership that is networked, place-based and task specific. This is one of the reasons the police were so frustrated during the WTO protests in Seattle. There was no head to cut off, offices to raid, computers to seize or leader to arrest. At the 1968 Democratic Convention, the Chicago Seven were arrested and charged with conspiracy and inciting to riot. Very romantic. In Seattle, they would have had to arrest the Seattle Seventeen Thousand.WN: How do the environmental visionaries you write about — Emerson, Thoreau, David Brower — figure in today’s amorphous, sprawling, global eco-social-political movement?Hawken: It is an unwieldy and diverse movement, but then, too, so are the cells in your body when seen up close. We look at the movement up close and call it amorphous, but we’re unable to step back and see that it might have deeper organizational patterns and functions.My guess is that this movement is humanity’s immune response to political corruption, economic disease and ecological degradation, but the idea that it arose since Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring just isn’t true. This movement has roots that it is unaware of, cultural memes that have persevered over centuries. I guess what I’m saying is that if you’re going to be part of the largest social movement in history, it’s helpful to know your intellectual genetics and spiritual predecessors.WN: Can you say more about Carson? The reaction to 1962’s Silent Spring set the stage for how multinationals react to environmental and social justice issues today.Hawken: Rachel Carson was the first person who used science and nature as a basis to question the rights of business. You almost have to say it again to get the meaning. She did not do it overtly, but in elucidating the persistent long-term damage of a new family of pesticides made from chlorinated hydrocarbons, she questioned the assumption that business has greater rights than the environment.When business realized how responsive the public was to her logic, they went after her with extraordinary vengeance, perfecting techniques that are used to this day, like greenwashing — the creation of industry front groups funded by corporations, the use of paid scientists to attack academic scientists, the manipulation of the media to sow doubt in people’s minds about complex issues. The person behind the defaming of Rachel Carson, E. Bruce Harrison, was the same person who helped create the Global Climate Coalition, a so-called nonprofit funded by Chevron, Exxon, General Motors, the American Petroleum Institute and other companies. Its purpose was to undermine the adoption of the Kyoto Protocol and any other legislation or policy that would limit greenhouse gas emissions.WN: You quote John Maynard Keynes: “We live under the illusion of freedom but are “slaves to some defunct economist.” Can you explain why you consider contemporary global economics to be immoral, destructive and impractical?Hawken: I don’t use the word immoral. I think good people can do things that cause harm on a cumulative level, and then be unaware or look the other way, and I have certainly been one of them. I think there are several fundamentalist movements about in the world, not just Islamic or Christian fundamentalism. One of them is economic fundamentalism, the idea that unfettered global markets will do a better job in addressing social and economic needs than regulated markets.Business has spent decades corrupting government using lobbyists and money, ensuring that government became more responsive to bags of money than to social needs and the environment. It is these bags of money that created our economic policy, not debates in the halls of academia.WN: So what’s the answer? Power remains centralized in these multinationals and in the federal government.Hawken: I would like to see a lot of power revert to states and city-states because I think that’s where the action is now. Just as economic globalization has been the biggest game in the world, we are moving into an era where economic localization is going to be the biggest game in our towns and regions. Governing, whether in business, government or non-profits, is observably more effective when decisions and information are co-located, an insight first made by Friederich Hayek. This is why the internet is so crucial to both the movement and governance — it can provide the transparency that has been missing in large-scale systems.WN: You spend a chapter discussing the difference between systems and networks. How does that apply to your concept of this movement?Hawken: I estimate that there are over 1 million organizations in the world addressing the salient issues of our time: poverty, water, climate, oceans, injustice, cities, energy, food security, democracy, women’s rights, etc. Our living systems are failing and degrading, and human systems are under greater duress and stress.… (T)his is the fastest growing movement in the world, and because of communication technologies including texting, cell phones and the internet, it is rapidly connecting up in ways that are both plebian and brilliant, creating a network of activity, transparency and communication that’s unparalleled.What goes unreported is (these groups’) innovation, design, engineering and social technologies. This is a movement of ideas.… It’s an iterative, evolutionary movement. It’s tens of thousands of ideas with respect to water, buildings, cities, poverty, women, education, climate and carbon neutrality and how all of these relate to people, economics, livelihoods, children and growth. The sum of these ideas point toward a different world than the one we live in now.WN: How does the architecture of WiserEarth.org differ from that of Wikipedia?Hawken: Wiser is an open-source platform that is editable like a wiki, but underneath is a taxonomy and underneath that are tags and keywords. It is an editable relational database, although not as sophisticated as Danny Hillis’ Freebase.com. We call ourselves Web 1.5 because we believe that the taxonomy, which links all the people, organizations, jobs, events and resources, enhances the search capabilities. But we also believe that everything should be editable including the structure itself.WN: Do you have a metaphor or a description of how the internet can serve the movement?Hawken: I think this is a movement that doesn’t know it is a movement, and that would be fine if the issues being addressed weren’t so pressing. We want to help change that but it is not our purpose to become another hub or pivot point.WiserEarth is trying to create an information commons if you will, a baseline series of templates for organizations, groups, people, and resources, which can be re-purposed and used by any other organization. We are designing it so that other organizations can sit on top of our data and pull it up, and hopefully at the same time, refreshing and adding to it. Robert Metcalfe 101 — the more people that use it the more valuable it becomes. What we are not trying to do is create another “green social networking” site with ads for bamboo shirts.WN: Any anecdotal evidence that it is having an impact?Hawken: As we speak, Wiser is 12 weeks old. We are going about this in a deliberate way…. We are working with users so that the site co-evolves with its base, and they are in over 90 countries. We do not expect a big impact for at least a year or more.I sometimes ask an audience how many of them used Wikipedia in its first three years, Jan. 2001 to Jan. 2004, and few if any raise their hand. Then I ask how many use it now. Virtually all raise their hand. In order to have an impact, Wiser will have to become used by many organizations all over the world. We see ourselves as a service organization, not a digital nonprofit phenomenon. We are in active collaboration with over a dozen organizations that are or will write code that will both repurpose and enhance Wiser. We succeed only if they do.
Archive for agosto, 2007
‘GRANJEROS’ | EL NUEVO RETO DE LOS GASTRÓNOMOS
A imagen y semejanza del modelo estadounidense, algunos grandes chefs españoles se han apuntado a la última tendencia: cultivar sus propios productos y criar sus propios animales. ¿Saben mejor un cochinillo o unas zanahorias caseras? Los puristas de la alta cocina no lo dudan.
Por Susana Martín. Fotografías de Ricardo Cases
«Cómete la tierra y aprenderás a amarla». Cuando Dan Barber aún era un niño, su abuela le dio este consejo en la granja familiar de Massachusetts. «Es lógico, si vives de la tierra, la conservarás mejor», explica a Magazine. A este chef de 36 años, copropietario del restaurante Blue Hill en Stone Barns (Pocantico, NY) y de su sucursal en Manhattan, se le considera promotor de una corriente de restaurantes regidos por cocineros horticultores, con granjas y huertas anexas a sus negocios hosteleros.
La alta cocina cambia de registro para regresar a sus orígenes y apostar por la rusticidad, el menos es más, el producto como protagonista absoluto de los fogones. Conseguir algo tan aparentemente sencillo como que cada producto «sepa a lo que es». Para ello, qué mejor que acudir a los alimentos en origen, sin intermediarios. Y nada como producirlos uno mismo para autoabastecerse.
Conocido también por sus combativos editoriales para exigir al gobierno de Bush más protección a la agricultura, el neoyorquino Dan Barber hace hincapié en que esta ola que defiende la gastronomía de calidad surgió de una agricultura y una ganadería muy trabajadas. «Los mejores chefs no han hecho otra cosa que ofrecer lo que ya habían descubierto los agricultores a lo largo de varios siglos», insiste, «un tomate lleno de sabor o una pata de cordero jugosa y tierna no aparecen por accidente». Para realizar una cocina más cercana a la tierra Barber ve necesario conseguir ingredientes auténticos, de primera, «productos que el hombre no haya adulterado con sus dosis de interés». Concluye su argumentación con una frase rotunda: «Los cocineros no somos magos, está claro que sin producto de calidad no hay cocina».
La máxima de este boom gastronómico es clara: la naturaleza y los fogones, la creatividad y las técnicas más innovadoras, al servicio de la materia prima. Si Estados Unidos ha conseguido popularizar los objetivos que promueve la tendencia –alimentos controlados desde el inicio del proceso hasta el emplatado–, desde Europa muchas voces aseguran que más que de una moda pasajera se trata de una manera de vivir. El francés Alain Passard, conocido como el «mago de las verduras», cultiva un huerto junto a su restaurante parisino, el célebre L’Arpege. «Los tomates, las cebollas o la zanahoria tienen otro sabor», dicen sus clientes. Una huerta casera para complacer a los paladares más exigentes. No falla. También en España son cada vez más los cocineros que se rinden a los beneficios de la autoproducción de cuantos más productos mejor, como los cinco que protagonizan este reportaje. «Fácil no es», coinciden todos, «pero merece la pena». Aceite, garbanzos, lechones, flores y hasta 80 productos de huerta son el repertorio que producen con mimo Montse Estruch, Carlos Cidón, Oriol Rovira, Mario Sandoval o Abraham García, los chefs a los que ha visitado Magazine.
He is arguably the world’s greatest living architect. As Oscar Niemeyer prepares to turn 100, he grants Jonathan Glancey a rare interview – and looks back on an extraordinary career
The Brazilian Palacio da Alvorada (Palace of the Dawn), which was designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer. Photograph: Eraldo Peres/AP
‘Fidel Castro sent me that box of Havana cigars last week,” says Oscar Niemeyer, looking dapper in blue linen trousers and black shirt with silver buttons. Holding court in his penthouse studio in Rio de Janeiro, this giant among architects continues: “And those boxing gloves next to it are signed by the Cuban world champion. One time, Fidel came to see me here, late at night, and the elevator broke down. It’s very old. So I rang a neighbour and asked if my friend could come through his apartment. He was in his pyjamas and, I think, a little surprised to watch four giant bodyguards and then Castro walking past his bedroom. Fidel gave him a cigar.”
Niemeyer has had quite a life. Fifty years ago, he began work on the first of his eye-catching civic monuments for Brasilia. This was the stunningly beautiful Alvorada Palace, the official residence of the Brazilian president and a building like no other in the modern world. Newly restored, this diaphanous structure sits on a peninsula overlooking the yacht-studded, artificial Lake Paranoa. It shimmers from the far side of an immaculate, perfectly geometrical lawn. A discreet moat, veils of hummingbirds and a polite modern gatehouse are all that separates this colonnaded building from the rest of Brasilia, one of the most extraordinary cities on the planet.
Brasilia remains an amazing feat of architectural daring, radical urban planning and political will. Its futuristic centre – a World Heritage Site today, along with such places as Machu Picchu and Pompeii – was realised in just 41 months, spurred on by Juscelino Kubitschek, the populist Brazilian president who, when he took office in 1956, promised “50 years of progress in five”. The men he appointed to give shape to his dream didn’t disappoint. “JK’s” city, inaugurated in 1960, was planned by the Brazilian architect Lucio Costa, who offered his protege Niemeyer the architectural gift of a lifetime: the design of all the set-piece buildings of one of the most improbable and distinctive cities in the world. Here, a powerfully emblematic Congress building. There, an arcaded Palace of Justice. Here, sleek ministry headquarters. There, a revolutionary cathedral and glamorous, ultra-modern apartment blocks.
As if the building of Brasilia, which continues today, has not been enough to keep him occupied, Niemeyer says today: “I have plenty of new work. The president of Angola has invited me to design a new capital city for his country, four times the size of Brasilia.” Four times the size of Brasilia? So it could take four times as long. “That’s 16 years,” I say, “or could you do it in less?”
Niemeyer smiles. If work on the new Angolan capital were to take 16 years, he would be 115 at the time of its inauguration. The architect turns 100 in December and every day he comes to this penthouse studio, perched atop a curvaceous 10-storey art deco block known, for obvious reasons, as the Mae West building, in the centre of Rio de Janeiro’s Copacabana beach. Here he draws, talks to colleagues, family and friends, eats lunch at a table overlooking white sand beaches and the rolling Atlantic, smokes small cigars, drinks a glass of wine and draws some more. He enjoys the company of writers, philosophers, scientists, journalists – and politicians of a certain stature. Castro has been here several times. Not so long ago, the Cuban president said: “Niemeyer and I are the last communists on this planet.” A member of the Brazilian Communist Party since 1945, Niemeyer was presented with the Lenin Peace Prize in 1963.
A few weeks ago, Hugo Chavez, the radical president of Venezuela, came to spend time with Niemeyer. Famous architects drop by on any pretext; none, though, is more famous than Niemeyer himself. He is the last of the “heroes” of the Modern movement. Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe, Frank Lloyd Wright and Alvar Aalto were all in awe of this young Brazilian who single-handedly transformed architecture into a wonderful thing of sensuous curves, lightness and unforgettable forms. Even then, they didn’t always understand the ways Niemeyer was transforming Modern movement architecture to suit Brazilian conditions.
“Walter Gropius came to see me at my house at Canoas above Rio. I designed it in a sequence of natural curves to flow in and out of the existing landscape. He said, it’s beautiful, but it can’t be mass-produced. As if I had intended such a thing! What an idiot.”
Today, Niemeyer lives in what he calls “an ordinary apartment” in Copacabana close to his studio. The Canoas House, set among banana and jackfruit trees beside a plunging river with ocean views, is now the headquarters of the Oscar Niemeyer Foundation.
“I don’t like to talk about architecture,” he says. “Life is too short for that, a breath, that’s all – it matters far more than buildings.” This seems an odd thing to say for a man who has not only designed some of the most admired, and beautiful, buildings of the past 70 years, but who has lived and breathed architecture as few others have, and who has outlived his contemporaries. “All my old friends and sparring partners are dead,” he says.
So we talk about life, the universe, books, politics – until, as I thought he might, Niemeyer inches towards architecture. I have thrilled to many of his buildings since I was a teenager, and one of my most treasured possessions is a drawing he once made for me of the Niteroi Museum of Contemporary Art, an ultra-modern building, looking out across Guanabara Bay from Rio, that appears to hover over the rock it rises from like some flying saucer. The building, one of the most exciting of the past 50 years, brims with youthful energy, yet Niemeyer was 89 when it opened in 1996. “I think of myself as no more than 60,” says Niemeyer, who married, for the second time, last year. His bride was his long-time assistant, 60-year-old Vera Lucia Cabreira. “What I could do at 60,” says Niemeyer, “I can still do now.”
What I like most about his best buildings is that they seem to have emerged in an instant, as if fully formed from his mind, hand and eye. They are as they are and you cannot imagine them being any other way; they seem to spring naturally from their sites, whether in the blazing civic plazas of Brasilia, or in the mountainous hills above Rio.
Niemeyer’s first fully curved building, the church of Sao Francisco de Assis at Pampulha, appears to be formed from a single flowing line. It is a happily inventive, moving building, seemingly designed all at once, without a single doubt in the architect’s mind.
“This is how it was,” says Niemeyer. “Architecture for me has always begun with drawing. When I was very little my mother said I used to draw in the air with my fingers. I needed a pencil. Once I could hold one, I have drawn every day since. The buildings do appear on paper the way you say, but they are not the result of gratuitous brushstrokes. The pencil is guided by so many thoughts stored away in my mental library. But, when I have looked at the site for a building, considered its budget and thought of how it might be built, and what it might be, the drawings come very quickly. I pick up my pen. It flows. A building appears. There it is. There is nothing more to say.
“Of course, I have given my engineers some headaches over the years, but they go with me. I have always wanted my buildings to be as light as possible, to touch the ground gently, to swoop and soar, and to surprise. Architecture is invention. It must offer pleasure as well as practicality. If you only worry about function, the result stinks. Many of my buildings have been political and civic monuments, but perhaps some of them have given ordinary people, powerless people, a sense of delight. This is what architects can do. Nothing more.”
When I revisit the Museum of Contemporary Art, I talk to visitors who come from all backgrounds, including the poverty-stricken favelas of Rio; they clearly take pleasure from it. Newly married couples come here to have their photograph taken. Children run up with their arms open as if to embrace this striking, yet welcoming building. A work of art, it exists just this side of a drawing from the Jetsons cartoon.
Sometimes Niemeyer’s instant buildings can veer towards the glib, or the vacuous, as with the brand new National Museum at Brasilia, a white 80-metre concrete dome wrapped around, inside and out, with a twisting, elevated walkway. It’s a fine conceit, but with nothing to show inside – no collection, only one gallery – the building is an exhibition of itself. Truly, a building needs a function, and while Niemeyer is a prolific form-giver, even he needs to be challenged and if not reined in, then disciplined by the demands of a purposeful brief. Which is why the great curves of the principal buildings of the Constantine University at Ain el Bey, Algeria, commissioned by president Houari Boumedienne, or the breathtaking dome of the Communist party headquarters in Paris are so convincing; these are glamorous, signature buildings working hard for their living while delighting everyone drawn into their orbits.
Niemeyer emerged, from obscurity and a lazy education, as one of the most original and talented of all Modern movement architects, with a highly informed and almost intuitive understanding of the possibilities of reinforced concrete construction. In his native Brazil, steel was far too rare and expensive for use in the majority of buildings, while concrete was not only cheap, but it could be stretched to unimagined limits while being poured and moulded by relatively unskilled labour. In concrete construction, Niemeyer could see a way of shaping an architecture that would not only be modern, but would also echo the Brazilian landscape he loved, and which he drew, increasingly, in the guise of curved female forms.
His chance to shine came in 1936 when Gustavo Capanema, the idealistic Brazilian minister for education, commissioned Lucio Costa to design the country’s first Modern building, a headquarters for the health and education ministries in central Rio. Costa and Capanema decided to seek the advice of Le Corbusier, the greatest of all Modern architects. The famous Swiss-French visionary and architect flew to Rio. “In the Graf Zeppelin,” says Niemeyer, referring to the magnificent 237-metre German airship that, between 1928 and 1937, made 143 impeccable transatlantic flights. “I went to meet him,” he adds.
Le Corbusier descended from the air, “a mighty god visiting his pygmy worshippers,” says Niemeyer. Or so it seemed. The result of Corbu’s trip proved to be unexpected. He made two designs for Capanema’s ministry: one idealistic, for an unobtainable site by the ocean, the other a low-rise building that somehow failed to capture the idea of the new Brazil and the new Brazilian. “We wanted to do something very special,” says Niemeyer, “perhaps to show that we were something more than primitive Indians dancing colourfully for visiting Europeans and Northern Americans.”
Working for nothing, and reliant on his family – his father was a graphic artist, his grandfather a Supreme Court judge – Niemeyer transformed the Corbusier scheme into the serene high-rise building that adorns central Rio today. A National Monument, it has since been renamed Capanema Palace. Le Corbusier had been deeply impressed by Niemeyer’s burgeoning talent. Although rigid by Niemeyer’s later standards, the palace abounds with curves inside; its exteriors are decorated with romantic wall tiles, depicting scallops and sea horses, and shaded by deep sun-louvres. Immensely photogenic and a superb fusion of art, engineering, landscaping and architecture, this confident new building was ecstatically received in 1943.
By then, Niemeyer, who had silently encouraged Le Corbusier to introduce curves into his designs, had developed his unmistakable free-flowing style with a wave of new buildings at Pampulha. At Brasilia, 15 years on, he balanced curves – those of the new cathedral and of the domes of the Congress building – with right angles, those of the city centre’s 20 identical ministry buildings lining the city’s Monumental Axis, and innumerable glamorous apartment blocks.
“Brasilia was a wonderful time,” he says. “I designed a wooden cabin for us to live in – me, engineers, visiting friends and JK himself. We called it Catetinho [a national monument today]. JK flew out to join us in the savannah as we built his city. We went to the same dances and bars as the workers. This was a liberating time. It seemed as if a new society was being born, with all the traditional barriers cast aside. It didn’t work. Now, Brasilia is too big. The developers, the capitalists are there, dividing society and spoiling the city. Brasilia should stop.”
In 1961, the military seized power in Brazil. Niemeyer chose exile for many years, mostly in Paris. Here, aside from forming close friendships with Jean-Paul Sartre and André Malraux, author, adventurer, Résistance hero and France’s first minister of culture, Niemeyer designed beautiful buildings in western Europe and north Africa. Because he was an architect, above all else – and architects like to build – Niemeyer continued to design projects for Brazilian clients. Most surprising of all is the gigantic and rather terrifying General Army Headquarters (1971), in Brasilia, a structure that would not have looked out of place in Saddam’s Iraq. This, unsurprisingly, is not something Niemeyer likes to discuss. He simply changes the subject.
Niemeyer is a man, as his powerful buildings show, who likes to be in control. Today, although surrounded by his family, who form much of his day-to-day professional team, he has outlived his equals. So who does he turn to today for inspiration? Does he argue with younger colleagues? Does he look at the work of contemporary architects? “No. I argue with myself. Inside, we are always at least two people. So when I draw, I have this very clever man who fights with me. He is a great guy. He loves the beach, women and the sea. He says he wants to live a simple life, fishing, but he knows a lot more than me about architecture. Sometimes I talk to him out loud when I’m alone at my drawing board. And somehow we come to conclusions about what a new building wants to be, what it has to be. The drawings appear. I write a text to go with them, and read it back to make sure it makes sense, common sense. If not, I have another argument with myself, and produce a new drawing. When this reads clearly and simply, there you have the building. This is it. Nothing more.”
Is he aware of his place in the history books? “When people ask me if I take pleasure in the idea of someone looking at my buildings in the future, I tell them that this person will vanish, too. Everything has a beginning and an end. You. Me. Architecture. We must try to do the best we can, but must remain modest. Nothing lasts for very long.”
Except, of course, Niemeyer himself. I still find it hard to think that the man I leave at his drawing board in Rio is the same young architect who went to meet Le Corbusier stepping down from an airship here more than 70 years ago. But when he draws – those simple, perfect, seductive drawings – the old man and the young man are clearly one and the same. It must be hard being a living legend, which is why, despite having created some of the most compelling buildings and monuments of the past 70 years, Niemeyer likes to say that he doesn’t like to talk about architecture. Perhaps he doesn’t need to. Just look at what he has built.
Fuente: The Guardian
Sao Paulo, Brazil, 31 July – The Angolan government has approached Oscar Niemeyer to design a new capital in the African state, the Brazilian architect has said.
Niemeyer, 99, who designed the new Brazilian capital, Brasilia, in the 1950s, told macauhub: “In reality, it was an invitation from the Angolan authorities, but there is still nothing definite.”
Besides a number of buildings in Brasilia, Niemeyer’s landmark projects include the headquarters of L’Humanité, the newspaper of the French Communist Party, besides numerous other constructions in Brazil and other countries.
His projects include the creation of the Israeli desert city of Neguev, which never left the drawing board.
Brazilian media reported last week that Niemeyer had been approached to design new Luanda, a city for 2 million people to be built on unoccupied land near the Angolan capital. The planned city will be four times larger than Brasilia, inaugurated in 1960.
Niemeyer says he has no wish to travel aboard to undertake projects, but would wait to study material in his Rio de Janeiro office, including maps, photographs and technical studies being sent to him from Angola.
“Only then would I be able to think about a sketch and the project.”