Brutalism as a Refuge for Memory | Mariano Moreno National Library

Author: Pablo Vazquez.

A lover of discovering new places and a workaholic—in short, an architect.

PROJECT: Mariano Moreno National Library.

ARCHITECT: Clorindo Testa, Francisco Bullrich, and Alicia Cazzaniga.

LOCATION: Recoleta neighborhood in Buenos Aires.

YEAR: 1993.

SQUARE FOOTAGE: Approx. 5,402.45 m2.

I would like to begin this article by asking you:

What makes a building a landmark?

Perhaps you answered that it is because of its scale or size, or its contribution to public or urban functions in the city. Even if you mentioned that the time and history it carries with it is not the reason. Sometimes, it is its aura of mystery, the feeling that beneath each concrete slab beats something that has not been fully revealed. And it is in the heart of Recoleta, where the city seems to breathe with European elegance, that a structure defies everything around it: the Mariano Moreno National Library.

Elevated on titanic columns, suspended like a brutalist ship floating above the void, this concrete mass holds not only millions of volumes, but also layers of history, silence, and power. Some love it, others avoid it; for many, it remains an unsolved enigma.

What lies beneath its foundations? Why did its construction take three decades? What political and ideological gestures were imprinted on its form?

This is not just a chronological tour of a masterpiece of Latin American architecture: it is a deep excavation into the country's constructed memory. Because where there once stood a presidential residence, today stands a fortress of knowledge. And none of that was accidental.

2. Institutional origins: the library without its own building (1810–1960)

Founded in 1810 by Mariano Moreno, the Buenos Aires Public Library was one of the first institutions of the nascent Argentine nation. However, for more than 150 years it did not have its own building. It operated in borrowed spaces, first in the Cabildo, then in the Manzana de las Luces, the Colegio de San Carlos, and even in the building at 564 Mexico Street, where Jorge Luis Borges once lived while he was its director.

This precarious situation contrasted with the richness of its collection, which had been growing steadily since the 1930s and was overflowing the available space.

3. The modern project: competition, decision, and rupture (1961–1962)

In 1961, a national competition was launched to build the National Library. The planned headquarters had to be worthy of a central institution for Argentine thought. The site chosen was the grounds of the former presidential residence, known as the “Unzué house,” which was demolished after Perón was overthrown in 1955.

The winning team—Clorindo Testa, Francisco Bullrich, and Alicia Cazzaniga—proposed a profoundly innovative design: a gigantic platform raised on columns, freeing up the ground floor as a public space. This decision, radical at the time, broke with the classic library-palace typology to propose a “cultural viewpoint” over the city.

4. An interrupted project: dictatorships, crises, and abandonment (1962–1992)

Despite winning the competition in 1962, construction did not begin until 1971 and suffered countless interruptions due to budgetary, political, and social reasons. First the Onganía dictatorship and then the 1976 coup affected the pace and philosophy of the project.

For decades, the brutalist skeleton of the Library remained half-finished, generating controversy: for some it was a symbol of state failure; for others, a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

It was not until 1992—under the presidency of Carlos Menem—that the building was finally inaugurated, albeit with modifications to the original design and without its underground spaces having been fully completed.

5. Architecture and program: brutalism at the service of the city

The building functions as a huge platform raised on concrete pillars. The ground floor is open, designed as a civic promenade. Above, a large “hall” houses the reading rooms, exhibition spaces, and offices.

The most daring aspect of the design is invisible to many: the book storage areas are buried underground, as if knowledge were to be preserved underground, protected, while reading—the living experience of knowledge—rises toward the light.

This gesture—elevating the public, burying the archived—is a brilliant conceptual and architectural operation. Testa and his team designed a building that not only fulfills its function, but also narrates it spatially.

6. Disputes, impairment, and revaluation

In the years following its inauguration, the Library suffered from a lack of maintenance, discussions about its actual usefulness, and criticism of its “uninhabitability” or “formal hostility.”

However, over time, the building gained recognition. It was declared a National Historic Monument and is studied in architecture schools around the world. Today, it is recognized as one of the great works of Latin American brutalism, alongside the Ministry of Education in Brasilia and the Central University of Venezuela.

7. A buried memory: the secret beneath the library

The basement of the Library—in addition to housing the archives—conceals another type of memory: the remains of the old Unzué building, a symbol of Peronist power and, later, of its downfall.

The decision to build there was not innocent: it was a political operation of “erasure,” later reinterpreted as an opportunity to re-semanticize the site.

The basement of the Library—in addition to housing the archives—conceals another type of memory: the remains of the old Unzué building, a symbol of Peronist power and, later, of its downfall.

The decision to build there was not innocent: it was a political operation of “erasure,” later reinterpreted as an opportunity to re-semanticize the site.The basement of the Library—in addition to housing the archives—conceals another type of memory: the remains of the old Unzué building, a symbol of Peronist power and, later, of its downfall.

The decision to build there was not innocent: it was a political operation of “erasure,” later reinterpreted as an opportunity to re-semanticize the site.

“A building that buries memory and elevates thought. That's what we wanted to do.” — Clorindo Testa

Did you know the story behind this monumental library? Have you visited it? Keep reading the rest of the articles in this edition.