Rebuilding connections: participatory architecture as an immediate response | Chacras Project by Natura Futura Arquitectura
- Arq. Henry Loarte
- Dec 20, 2025
- 5 min read
AUTHOR: Henry Loarte.
I have come to see architecture not only as an art, but as a powerful form of communication that transcends space and time.
NAME: Chacras Project.
ARCHITECTS: Natura Futura Arquitectura + Colectivo Cronopios.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Eduardo Cruz and Natura Futura.
LOCATION: El Oro, Ecuador.
YEAR: 2016.
AREA: 30 m2.
The earthquake that struck the Ecuadorian coast in April 2016 tested the resilience of entire communities in the face of the abrupt loss of homes, security, and essential support networks. Amid this fragility, an intervention emerged that, beyond addressing the immediate housing crisis, explored the role of architecture as a driver of social reconstruction, community building, and collective learning.
Built in just ten days in the province of El Oro, the Chacras project is a 30 m² house that became a refuge and starting point for Don Velfor and his family, who found in this new space not only a roof over their heads, but also the opportunity to rebuild relationships, a sense of belonging, and hope. The project, led by Natura Futura Arquitectura in collaboration with the Cronopios Collective, demonstrates how the architectural discipline can reinvent itself in emergency situations, integrating responsible design, local resources, and self-managed solidarity.
Located on a 12 x 10 m plot, the house is structured around three clearly differentiated sections: two for bedrooms and one for the kitchen and social area, allowing for possible future expansion onto the exterior platform. This basic configuration, far from being a limitation, embodies the premise that an elementary design, if projected with flexibility and openness, can evolve according to the changes and needs of its inhabitants. In this way, the architecture becomes a living framework, adaptable and permeable to daily transformation.
One of the key decisions was to raise the structure above the natural ground level. This technical approach, in addition to protecting the house from ground moisture—common in hot, humid climates like that of the Ecuadorian coast—enables a constant flow of air beneath the floor, enhancing natural ventilation and reducing the perceived temperature inside. Furthermore, the height of the roof acts like a large, floating hat, casting shade and protecting from the rain, reinforcing passive environmental comfort strategies and optimizing resources without the need for artificial climate control systems. In contexts with economic constraints, these passive principles are more than just a technical choice: they are a tool for autonomy and efficiency.
The transparency and permeability of the enclosures, achieved through the arrangement of pallets and recycled wood slats, allows for the controlled entry of natural light. The modulation of the slits filters the light in a fragmented way, creating plays of shadows that change throughout the day and imbue the spaces with dynamic atmospheres. This quality of light is not merely an aesthetic feature; it establishes an active relationship between interior and exterior, between private and communal, suggesting an architecture that breathes in harmony with its surroundings.
The windows, designed at varying heights and dimensions, serve multiple functions. The low, floor-level openings act as escape and play areas for children, transforming the home into a playful and flexible space that encourages creative exploration. This approach recognizes the importance of considering the scale and routines of young children within the emerging housing, fostering their sense of ownership and belonging.
The main entrance, conceived as a generous threshold, connects the kitchen to the outdoor platform, extending domestic life into a communal gathering space. The kitchen, organized with shelving made from recycled fruit crates, exemplifies how everyday resources can acquire new functions within a circular economy approach and with maximum material utilization. This same logic is applied to the home garden, created using repurposed tires filled with topsoil. This small garden, in addition to contributing to self-sufficiency, symbolizes a seed of hope for the younger members of the family, who see it as their own project and a tool for rebuilding connections with the land and the community.
The entire construction process was based on a self-management model and direct participation of volunteers, who were recruited through local networks, digital media, and word of mouth. Organized training workshops allowed people with no prior experience to acquire basic knowledge of construction techniques, actively integrating themselves into the project's realization. This process, beyond the physical result, fosters knowledge transfer, community cohesion, and the creation of support networks that extend beyond the completed structure.
A key aspect of this experience is that it didn't just address an immediate need, but rather focused on revitalizing the family economy and invigorating community life. The entrance platform, in addition to serving as a transitional space, functions as a flexible setting for productive activities: selling food, hosting neighborhood meetings, or organizing cultural events. This spatial versatility extends the living space into the street and fosters interaction with neighboring homes, reinforcing the idea of a vibrant community hub. In a context where job losses severely impacted income, these hybrid spaces offer alternatives for generating resources, sharing knowledge, and strengthening collective resilience.
The house's inauguration included a puppet show by the Rompecabezas group, a symbolic gesture that transformed the act of inhabiting the space into a shared celebration. In this context, culture becomes a bridge that reinforces the sense of ownership and nourishes the emotional dimension of the reconstruction. Every shadow, every crack, and every construction detail holds a story of solidarity, ingenuity, and collective hope.
Taken as a whole, this project exemplifies how architecture, understood as a social and participatory discipline, can transcend the mere construction of walls and roofs to become a catalyst for support networks, knowledge transfer, and the empowerment of communities affected by adversity. The modesty of the resources employed contrasts sharply with the magnitude of the impact generated, reminding us that great changes often arise from simple gestures, common materials, and the will to collaborate.
Looking closely at this experience invites us to question how we plan, design, and build in vulnerable situations. It compels us to reflect on the importance of considering not only technical functionality but also the human and symbolic dimensions of architecture. Every space, however small it may seem, can become a platform for fostering new economic dynamics, strengthening community cohesion, and restoring people's basic right to live with dignity.
Ultimately, rebuilding after a catastrophe is not just about putting up walls: it's about restoring trust, revitalizing the community, and demonstrating that architecture, when connected to social reality and fueled by collective participation, can be a driver of genuine transformation.
And if each page leaves this reflection lingering, let this article be merely the prelude to other perspectives offered in Focus Magazine, Issue 13: stories, ideas, and proposals that invite us to rediscover the power of architecture to change realities, one story at a time. We invite you to continue reading, discovering, and building ideas alongside us.
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