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[title]Eliana Bórmida is one of Argentina’s most influential architects and an undisputed reference in winery architecture. She co-founded the studio Bórmida & Yanzón in Mendoza alongside Mario Yanzón, from where she has led projects for over thirty wineries across the country, radically transforming how these spaces are conceived. Her approach—deeply connected to the landscape, sensory experience, and cultural identity—has produced emblematic works such as Bodega Salentein, Pulenta Estate, DiamAndes, Séptima, Atamisque, and O. Fournier (now Alfa Crux), among many others.
Today, she continues to develop large-scale projects, such as a winery in Cafayate (Salta), a hotel at Lago Moreno (Bariloche), and the Vesta residential building in Mendoza, reaffirming her commitment to architecture that dialogues with the environment and the history of the place. Recognized with honors such as the Konex Architecture Award and the title of Emeritus Professor at the University of Mendoza, her work and thinking continue to set an avant-garde course.
Eliana, you were among the first to speak about people’s experience inside spaces, linking it to phenomenological architecture...
When we began designing our first wineries, we innovated with this concept. At that time, the term “experience” was being discussed in some universities but was far from common. The debate focused on what perception meant as a holistic concept—how human beings perceive with all their senses. Psychology had an important role in studying human perception related to feelings and emotions, and marketing began to adopt it as a sales strategy.
At that moment, our studio had the opportunity to design wineries, but external investors wanted to strengthen the wine industry by encouraging wine enthusiasts to visit production facilities, persuading them that wine was a high-quality beverage, superior to the drinks trending at that time.
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How can architecture of a winery persuade or invite people to enjoy wine?
We applied mastery of large scale to make the vineyard and landscape part of the winery. These projects engage geography, geology, climate, breeze, sun, and also consider that beyond this large container—the physical environment—there is the person interacting with what is near them. The smell of things, sound, temperature or breeze on the skin. The sound of water in one place, the sparkle of water from a fountain somewhere else, the aroma of plants, the interplay of sun and shade—all these generate sensations. At the time, “experience” was not yet a common term, but during the first decade of the 21st century, when we were working on five large wineries simultaneously, the word naturally began to emerge.
What role did the mountain play in this landscape architecture?
I would say that when we started designing wineries and placed the mountain as the fundamental creator of the landscape—not only because of its presence, but because mountain erosion creates our soil and because the water comes from the Andes—we worked very consciously. Today, in the wine world, this is fully integrated.
What sensations does the mountain evoke for you, and how is that reflected in your work?
The mountain is earth with volume, earth with colors, earth with textures, earth with its unique scents, with its tiny life forms, with plants so different from those usually found in the city, with very small foliage to minimize water evaporation, and enormous roots to store water. So, I can say there is a lot of sensoriality. There is a word travelers from the late 18th and especially the 19th century used: the mountain is “sublime.”
“The mountain is sublime”
Something sublime, something that even frightens a little. The immense scale and the scale of the minute, and you within that scale. The mountain has an extraordinarily strong magnetism.
And in flatter geographies such as Uruguay, what natural elements were taken into account for the Bodega Garzón project?
The first thing I started to study and ask myself was: What is the Río de la Plata? Although it is not next to the winery by any means, the Uruguay and Paraná rivers flow into the Río de la Plata, and then there is the Argentine Mesopotamia that reaches into the heart of Brazil with tributaries descending from the Andes to join this huge basin, which is part of a geological fault, including the Río de la Plata drainage area.
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In Garzón, the geography is rocky because of a huge fault. There is a large geological fracture that is part of the Brasília Shield, where some of the oldest rocks on the planet are found. How could that not inspire you when you have to build on that land? Especially if it is a winery with vineyards planted in those soils.
Did the sea also influence the design?
Of course. Although the sea cannot be seen from there because it’s far away, you can feel the humid maritime climate. It is a territory of gentle hills; the hills have a very undulating geography. So, we designed a series of pavilions at different levels, adapting to the topography, with cellars we had to build in the cavities we found between underground rocks. Uruguay has very strict codes, and we couldn’t touch those rocks—we could only remove the fill and create passages through the natural interstices. These cellars are truly unique because nature allowed them. Visitors today walk through those interstices.
Regarding cities, what are the trends in urban architecture?
Urban fabric is the great challenge architects face now. In that regard, I want to talk about a new landscape that appeared before my eyes when I moved to a seventh-floor apartment overlooking the city. I discovered a new world because from my apartment I see the tree canopies disappearing inside the city blocks; I see what happens with the neighbors. From there, I observe the life of all my neighbors—not out of curiosity, but to see how shadows fall on them, how one building relates to another in communal life. All this forms a new, invisible landscape to the eyes of anyone walking on the street but essential for those who inhabit these buildings.
“Urban fabric is the great challenge we architects face now”
How could the quality of life in cities be improved?
Architects and urban planners need to make this imperceptible landscape visible because it defines the quality of life for city dwellers. In new urban projects, decisions must be made about whether you want to be seen or whether you want to place something to reduce visibility. How much sun or shade will fall on your windows? How will the southern wind hit a building affecting your apartment? From the architecture of these buildings, you define your privacy, the climate of your home, noise levels. Everything can affect how you will live.
Are any cities working in this way?
In Buenos Aires, some very nice developments are being built with a different urban scale. They are lower but more elongated. They create apartments along entire blocks with much greater setbacks from the sidewalks. The ground floors are commercial bases where residents find what they need for daily life. On the rooftops, there are amenities, promoting neighborhood life.