Roberto Behar and Rosario Marquardt
The Living Room, 2001, urban intervention, concrete, concrete block, stainless steel, glass, fiberglass, fabric, and paint, 100 x 100 x 42 feet, courtesy Ivelyn and Craig Robins Collection.

Roberto Behar, Rosario Marquardt, Dana Sunshine, architecture, installation, archetectural

The interview was conducted by Dana Sunshine of TheArtBiz.com.

You've had many city or public commissions, especially in Miami, which often require difficult approval processes. What was your first public commission and how did it come about? Is it difficult to balance the city's needs with your own visions?

RM: We have done two types of public commissions: those offered by municipalities and those afforded by private sponsors in the public realm. The two are somewhat different. RB: We evolved from public commissions to private ones. But the two share a key aspect, from our view, which is that both engage us in a process of carrying our vision into a public realm, and coming to terms with alternative needs. RM: In fact, we begin by conceiving several alternatives for any project. If you only have one alternative, you place yourself in the position of having to amend that project according to the opinions of people on the panels. The worst case scenario of this is that an artist would wind up so totally altering her initial conception that she reduced it to the lowest common denominator. RB: We think that we are always striving to make a relation between art and life, and that this effort is what allows us to uncover and incorporate the needs and desires of others in a way that is not trivial--either for us or for them. This often means that our projects do not undergo radical alterations. In fact, the "M" which we built in Miami was executed virtually without changes. RM: It's a process of discovery. RB: It's also true that criticisms can lead you to return to the project and to reconceptualize it, so that, in the end, you may produce something that is very different from the original. We like to think that there is a performative aspect of our work. Architecture is, in a way, permanently in need of others, of actors to enter onto the stage.

You both moved here from Argentina. What precipitated your decision to relocate?

RB: That's a subject that is difficult and personal for us. The years we went through school in Argentina were the years of the military dictatorship. As a result, our decision to come to Miami was dictated in part by circumstances beyond our control; call it chance. RM: But, when we saw Miami, we realized that the idea of a city that was in the process of creating itself, of being made, was exciting and intriguing to us. RB: Because we saw that we might have a role in its invention, and, in turn, might re-invent ourselves--because leaving one's homeland behind... RM: There is all this cultural invention occurring here: Miami is located at the intersection of the North and the South, and draws immigrants from all over the world, including the United States. Approached from the South, the city looks like a capital, a destination. Whereas from the North, it looks like a frontier town--raw and on the move. This duality struck us as fortuitous, and serves our work particularly well, because we are interested in this new world of the present and of tomorrow, where the vast majority of the people come from somewhere else.

How do you define "urban interventions," and why do you use that particular phrase to describe your work?

RM: It's not possible, really, to assign one strict definition to the term. In fact, it represents the way that we approach our work. We aim to be proactive, not passive, and our works participate in the life of the city. RB: The intent is both to introduce an element of hope in the transformation of the city by presenting possibilities for public life, and, at the same time, critique the existing conditions. RM: Our interventions blur the line between art and architecture. We use tools from both disciplines, but we actually do not recognize a distinction between the two. RB: "The Living Room" is a criticism of the lack of public space and its disappearance, of the privatization of space and of lack of opportunity in public spaces. It aims to at least provide opportunities for human interaction and alternative states of mind. Whether or not these are taken advantage of, of course, isn't something we can control.

Writing about your work, Janet Rumble reflects that "the loss of youth becomes entangled with the loss of homeland; the traveler's point of view is superimposed upon the dreamer's." Can you talk about this theme?

RB: We are all in exile in many ways. We are in exile from our childhood, for example. For us, it is vital to think about the idea of how it is possible to recuperate, as in a dream, say, the idea of the ability to play. "The Living Room" is a good case; it is a home that wants to be open, as in one's childhood, when the doors to the house were always open to the neighborhood. In a very real way, "The Living Room" is a house that belongs to its neighborhood, without the sort of defenses that one takes as characteristic of adulthood.

What does the window represent in the "The Living Room." Is it just a frame for the nature of the Miami sky, or something more?

RB: For us, the window is a metaphor, a painting, and a mirror, simultaneously. And, like "The Living Room" itself, it dissolves the boundary between the fantastic and the real. RM: We also see it as an ever changing, almost narrative, painting: as you move, the image alters. And as the clouds drift past, or the sky darkens or lightens, the image does, too. In a sense, it is "a thousand and one paintings."

Do you have any advice for emerging artists?

RM: You are inventing yourself as you go. RB: Yes, and I would say, too, that it's crucial to think of the work itself more than one's career. A career is something defined by other people. Instead, your work represents a reflection of the process of self-discovery--which can take years, and isn't dependent upon external recognition of what one does. In fact, success can fly away very quickly. RM: Yes, but if one is actively exploring the possibility of what one can be, then the invention of oneself and the discovery of one's work run parallel to each other. RB: This is not meant to be an act of ego, or a pretentious act, rather a process of discovery that mirrors the sort of transformative processes of cities and of history.

This article was originally created for TheArtBiz.com. It appears on NYFA Interactive courtesy of the Abigail Rebecca Cohen Library.