Leandro Locsin and some of his iconic architectural works

Get to know the National Artist for Architecture and his invaluable contribution to the industry: a body of work that created a national identity through modernist spaces

I studied architecture at the University of the Philippines in the 1970s. I’m of that martial law generation that looked to Leandro “Lindy” V Locsin as a role model in design and practice. His was one of the largest and most successful firms from the 1960s to the 1990s when he passed away. His office continues today, a testament to his appreciation of corporate practice, as he had prepared for continuity early on. His main legacy, however, remains his body of work, its influence on Filipino architecture, and his contributions to the country’s creative and cultural endeavours.

Locsin did not take the traditional path to become a master architect. His aspirations and initial college education were in law and music. His well-known backstory is that when he realised in his last year at the UST Conservatory of Music that he would not become a great pianist, he shifted to architecture. He did not pursue postgraduate studies in the US, unlike the prewar generation of pensionado architects. He also did not do the grand tour of Europe to see landmarks of world architecture. He opted instead to visit America and experience the modernist works in concrete of the likes of Eero Saarinen and Paul Rudolph.

Above The Cultural Center of the Philippines is the mother ship of brutal modernism in the Philippines

Locsin’s architectural journey post-graduation was also unlike most. He bagged key commissions starting immediately out of school—notably the Church of the Holy Sacrifice at UP Diliman, which remains an icon of Philippine modernism. Before he was 30, he designed the first multistory buildings in Makati. Most architects’ careers in those days did not take off until they were well into their late forties and fifties. This was usually after a decade or more of working under an older mentor or rising from an established firm’s ranks. Locsin proved you could garner success as a young architect.

Of course, it was common knowledge that he came from the upper class, which opened up opportunities; but this did not detract from the boldness of his creations and the confidence he exuded.

I first met Locsin in the 1980s as a young designer working for his longtime collaborator on projects, the landscape architect and fellow National Artist IP Santos. Locsin was more than a large presence physically. He carried himself around with quiet dignity, commanded a room, and swayed clients. Young architects aspired to be like him in character and not just in creativity.

Above Ayala Museum at the corner of Greenbelt in Makati replaced the original, more brutalist original museum, that was located nearby

Before he was 40, he designed the Cultural Center of the Philippines, which remains the country’s most recognised landmark of mid-century modernism. The theatre marked the start of over a decade of designing civic structures and government work that was only possible because of the largesse and ambition of the Marcos era. The product of its associated architecture, as authored by Locsin, reflected an aspiration, brutalist modern in expression, that became the stylistic peg for Philippine architecture for decades after.

In the 1970s, Makati’s commercial buildings, theatres nationwide, and even the Batasan Pambansa clearly showed Locsin’s influence—the composition of large cubist masses, “floating volumes” of space set amidst minimalist landscapes. Few, if any, could pull off a Locsin knock-off, but everyone wanted one, often complete with sweeping concrete ramps up to a grand entrance ala CCP.

By the time he was in his fifties, Locsin had completed the bucket list of building types that Filipino architects could only dream of. He is, in fact, in the league of internationally acclaimed designers like Gehry and Sir Norman Foster as regards his prolific and wide range of built projects.

Above The last airport designed by a FIlipino was Locsin’s NAIA 1, which opened in 1980

Locsin’s portfolio of completed work in his less than four decades of professional practice cover over a dozen churches, a World’s Fair pavilion (Expo ’70, Osaka), schools, banks, office high-rises, condominiums, theatres, auditoria, convention centres, amphitheatres, museums, hotels, resorts and international airport terminals.

He also designed scores of residences, but in a more vernacular and tropical style, contrasting in scale and treatment with his commercial and institutional work. One exception is the Brunei sultan’s palace, with its 1,788 rooms. One critic likened it more in massing and layout to a large airport than a palace. It is the world’s largest. His domestic architecture is less known save for a few homes in a coffee table book that already featured his range and accomplishment even when it was published in 1977, at just over the mid-point of his professional career.

The book The Architecture of Leandro V Locsin, written by Nicholas Polites, was the first international publication to focus on the work of a Filipino architect. Within a few years, a number of other western publications included Locsin’s architecture as an example of emerging Asian modernism. In an era before the internet, this cemented Locsin’s local and regional fame. His book was on the shelves of all architecture schools in the country. His name was top-of-mind with the general public as well. Locsin got good press.

Above The expansive and otherworldly-scaled Philippine International Convention Center sprawls at the centre of the CCP Complex

The world wide web and local architecture magazines would take another two decades to shine any attention on other Filipino designers. Decades ago, when I used to give talks on Filipino architecture and design, I would give my audience of architecture students a pop quiz. I would ask them to list down five Filipino architects of note. Locsin’s name always was first, followed by Bobby Mañosa. Many could not name more than three.

Despite all the projects that came his way, Locsin still devoted time to other pursuits. He helped promote Philippine architecture as an active member of the Philippine Institute of Architects and the United Architects of the Philippines. He held the position of National President for both organisations. He also took a keen interest in archaeology and heritage, specifically Chinese trade ceramics (he and his wife authored a book on this in 1968, and the pair owned one of the most extensive collections worldwide). He had a continuing involvement with the performing arts. Locsin designed sets for dance and theatre throughout his career, culminating in sculptural pieces for Ballet Philippines at the CCP and Martha Graham’s 50th anniversary in New York City.

Locsin’s office practice continues today, servicing an established clientele of corporations and institutions based on the architect himself. He had planned for the firm’s longevity, turning it into a partnership and going corporate before this became the norm in Philippine architectural practice. I last communicated with him in 1992, when I was already based in Singapore. I faxed him (there was no SMS or email then) about partnering for a bid for the Singapore Theaters on the Bay competition. He responded a few days later, saying that his firm’s board decided to pass on this, given their workload. The competition was won by Michael Wilford of London, working in partnership with DP Architects.

Above Locsin’s Makati Stock Exchange building and Tower One anchor one end of Ayala Avenue

Locsin passed away in November 1994. He was busy with the NCCA (National Commission for Culture and Arts), which he headed while still active in key projects for his firm. His last assignment was a church in Malaybalay, Bukidnon, like his first.

Leandro V Locsin and Partners (LVLP) continued their work with a new generation of architects a half-century after their principal started the practice. The hand of the master is still evident, but many of his commercial structures have been demolished. Several of his landmarks have fallen in recent years—the Ayala Museum (replaced by a newer structure designed by LVLP located right next door), the Hotel Intercon and Mandarin hotels in Makati, and the Benguet Center in Ortigas. Several more 1970s skyscrapers face a similar fate—the BDO Towers (formerly the PCI Towers) on Paseo de Roxas, also in Makati, along with the Ramon Cojuangco Building on Makati Avenue. All this, despite protection by law, since these buildings are a work of a National Artist and hence considered Important Cultural Properties.

Thankfully, most of his liturgical buildings still stand, except the Magallanes church, which was destroyed in a fire. The Folk Arts Theater has been declared structurally unsafe and difficult to save, but the CCP main theatre is undergoing a much-needed structural overhaul and will be closed for a few years for this.

Above Perched atop a hill in Los Baños sits the Philippine High School for the Arts with its iconic silhouette

The influence of Leandro Locsin on Philippine architecture has been pervasive for the last 50 years. A resurgence of interest in Filipino brutalist modernism in the last few years has highlighted the plight of midcentury modernist buildings by Locsin. Hopefully, no more of his or his cohorts’ work will disappear.

What has disappeared, in my opinion, are the opportunities that he and his generation of architects had in the 1960s through to the 1980s. Almost all of the buildings of note then, for private and government work, were designed by Filipinos and Filipino firms. Since the 1990s, large corporate clients have preferred foreign firms or multinationals. Filipino architects (including LVLP) have played secondary roles as “architects of record”, essentially limiting accurate creative input and authorship for key commissions.

Above The sensitive conservation and expansion of the historic Manila Hotel is a prime example of how Locsin could meld modernism with history

It is difficult today for any Filipino architect or firm to attain the success and accomplishment of Leandro Locsin, Carlos Arguelles, Gabriel Formoso, E L Mariano, Felipe Mendoza, Cesar Concio or Bobby Mañosa. It is not impossible but difficult, as the bias is overwhelming for overseas consultants. The country’s vertiginous skyscrapers in Makati and BGC are products of firms based in Chicago, New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo or Singapore. As for civic buildings, it is the same. Since Locsin’s NAIA1, our international airport terminals have been designed by foreigners. Even the new Philippine Senate is designed by a foreign firm.

Did Filipino clients lose their trust in local Filipino architects? Have the era and image of the master architect as an artist and cultural hero become passe? Will this generation’s young architects aspire to work overseas or staff local offices of multinational consultant firms (working like call-centre agents until they burn out)? Will the future of our built environment be shaped by creatives from other cultures, rehashing designs so we look like other places? Will Philippine architecture cease to exist and fail to create national identity and pride of place?

Will there ever be another Lindy Locsin?

NOW READ

Gelo Mañosa on what sets Filipino architecture apart

Endika Ampudia of Estudio Arkipelago on the role of nature in architecture

Christophe Bariou talks about Maison Bukana and shares lessons about building disaster resilient structures

Credits

Illustration

Paulo Alcazaren

Tatler Asia

The influence of Leandro Locsin in shaping the Philippines’ architectural design