By Katie Weeks
Photography by Jaime Navarro

It seems fitting that in redeveloping a Mexico City site that was devastated by a fatal nightclub fire in 2000, state and municipal officials chose to rebuild not with another club or restaurant, but with a fire station. Of course, given the tourist-friendly, bar- and disco-heavy nature of the locale, not just any fire station would do.

Designed by local firm at103, the Ave Fenix fire station sits on Insurgentes Avenue—the longest avenue in Mexico City—as a simple, elevated box, accented by the ground-level movement of rescue vehicles and fire trucks. Its subtle design, however, gives just a hint of the dramatic interiors.

Awarded the project through an invite-only competition, at103 approached the design by looking at the station's functions. First, the space had to house a busy firehouse with trucks of various sizes and be organized in such a way as to not affect traffic on the avenue. In addition, it had to include areas where local business owners could come and be trained on emergency evacuation procedures. As the plan developed, the interiors also evolved to include a bomberoteca—a library dedicated to firefighting—and a small café that is yet to open.

Function wasn't the only focus, however, as a good looking design was seen as a key selling point for the donation-dependent project. Luckily—and perhaps unexpectedly—researching the more functional aspects like traffic patterns led to an innovative concept.

In tracking traffic and truck movement, at103 came across a pattern that lent itself to teardrop-shaped spaces, and "that started informing the whole project in terms of visual connections and light and platforms," says Julio Amezcua, a principal at at103. Playing with the teardrop shape on each floor and adding abundant colored glass resulted in interior spaces that offer unique visual connections between floors that give visitors, no matter what their location, a constant connection with both the ground floor and the sky above. "We closed the façade and have the views coming from the inside. These circles and tears become windows in the ceiling," Amezcua notes.

Finishes and materials are deliberately sparse. "Many public buildings are not maintained in Mexico so you have to design thinking that your building won't receive much cleaning or maintenance. You have to think very long term," Amezcua says. Of course, convincing a client to spend a little more up front to prolong the aesthetic life of the building is no easy feat, especially in this particular project, he notes, as finances were a constant obstacle.

"There was always a financial issue," he recalls. "At the beginning, we started really fast, designing and beginning construction, but after one year, we had to stop because there was no money. That year, they wanted to begin changing the project." One particular point of contention was a dual staircase in the original design. Organizationally, the building is split with the firehouse functions on one side and the more public areas on the other. Each side was to have its own half of a double stair. However, during construction, the contractor objected, citing costs, and insisted the stair be changed. After heated arguments, the architects relented, only to find in the long run that the redesigned, singular stair ended up costing more than the original double stair would have. Another near-loss: the dynamic red coloring throughout the space. Thankfully, the bureaucracy relented and the red remained—and has since become a defining element of the station. "As an architect in Mexico, every day you have fights and confrontations. Some you win, some you lose," says Amezcua. Luckily, he says, "in the end, I think that 90 percent of the things we designed are there."   

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