We moved some Decada pieces around Laguna for a bit,
placing them into spaces that already have a very clear point of view.
Each spot has its own style, its own way of doing things,
so this wasn’t about changing anything… just adding a layer.
It was interesting to see how the same pieces shift depending on the context.
How they can sit differently in each space, and still make sense.
They can live across very different environments.
Thanks to everyone at Laguna for letting us step into your spaces.
DECADA @lagunamx@bunamx@designcacao.mx@cancanpress@arquilectura.libreria@primoelaperitivo@lamarzoccomexico@loofok_selections
Oscar Niemeyer was kind of a genius for his time
when he started designing, nothing really looked like this…
not these curves, not this sense of movement
he once said he wasn’t attracted to straight lines
but to the free and sensual curve
and you can tell
it’s in the way everything flows
the way nothing really starts or ends
even the furniture feels like it just landed there
like it was always part of the space
there’s something very effortless about it
nothing is trying to stand out
and somehow that’s exactly what makes it special
Oscar Niemeyer never really believed in straight lines…
and not just in architecture, but in the way he saw life.
While modernism leaned into logic and grids, he chose something softer. More instinctive.
Curves that feel human, something more inevitable.
For him, design wasn’t about control, it was about emotion, movement, and freedom.
Inspired by Brazil, his home. its landscape, its rhythm.
In projects like Brasília, concrete stops feeling heavy and starts to flow.
Almost like it was sketched in the air.
That same idea happens inside.
His interiors are understated but intentional.
Low furniture, soft shapes and honest materials.
The pieces don’t compete with the space, they extend it.
More than buildings or objects,
Niemeyer was designing a way of moving through space.
Everything comes from the same gesture.
In honor of Semana Santa,
we’re looking at a few modern chapels in Mexico.
Focusing on what happens inside.
Light, material, and the pieces that shape the space.
With Semana Santa approaching, we’ve been thinking about the spaces that stay with us.
Not only for their architecture, but also the interiors.
How light moves across a wall throughout the day,
how materials age,
how certain pieces end up holding the space together.
In many of these chapels, furniture is part of the space from the beginning.
In Le Corbusier’s churches, the benches are heavy… austere,
thick wood, simple joints, over and over.
They don’t try to stand out, but they give the room its rhythm.
In Álvaro Siza’s Santa Maria, everything comes down to a few very deliberate elements like
stone, wood, a pulpit, a wall.
Tadao Ando reduces it even further.
A few benches, a plane of concrete, light entering at the perfect moment… and somehow that’s enough.
And then there are places like the Cathedral of Brasília,
where the scale shifts completely. and yet, the interior elements still anchor the experience, bringing it back to the human scale.
Soon, we’ll be looking a little closer to home.
Featured here:
1-3. Notre-Dame du Haut — Ronchamp, France (Le Corbusier)
4-5. Santa Maria Church — Marco de Canaveses, Portugal (Álvaro Siza)
6-7. Chapel of the Holy Cross — Sedona, Arizona (Richard Hein & August K. Strotz)
8-9. Firminy Saint-Pierre — Firminy, France (Le Corbusier)
10-11. Church of the Light — Ibaraki, Osaka (Tadao Ando)
12-14. Cathedral of Brasília — Brasília, Brazil (Oscar Niemeyer)
15-16. Saint Mary’s Cathedral — Tokyo, Japan (Kenzo Tange)
#LeCorbusier #AlvaroSiza #TadaoAndo #OscarNiemeyer #kenzotange
There’s something about how we imagine a New York loft in the 90s.
Not just the space, but everything around it… the light, the clothes, the way people exist inside it. Everything seems placed with intention.
In Love Story, that atmosphere is built piece by piece. Clean walls, diffused light, a palette that keeps everything in balance.
It’s less about being exact, and more about holding onto a feeling; one that still shapes how we imagine these spaces today.
#lovestoryinteriors #90sminimalism #90sinteriors #newyorkinthe90s #interiorism
At DECADA, we think of furniture a little differently, more like sculpture than product.
Each piece starts with a single slab of Parota wood that we choose very intentionally, for its grain, its weight, and the way it naturally wants to move. Instead of forcing a design onto it, we try to listen to what the wood is already telling us… letting its knots, curves, and imperfections lead the process.
Some of these pieces were created for specific spaces, while others found their own place over time. But all of them share the same idea: no two will ever be the same.
Every table, bench, chair or desk holds onto something of the tree it once was.
Furniture you don’t just use, you live with.
Parota Collection
DECADA
Chilean architect Smiljan Radić has been awarded the 2026 Pritzker Prize, architecture’s most important international recognition. We would like to congratulate him on this well-deserved honor.
Radić’s work moves somewhere between architecture, art, and landscape. From the outside his buildings can feel almost mysterious, but inside they reveal warm, atmospheric spaces shaped by wood, structure, shadow, and framed views.
Projects such as Prism House in Conguillío, House for the Poem of the Right Angle in Vilches, and the Solo House in Spain show how his interiors blur the line between shelter and landscape, where light, materials, and structure define the experience of the space.
Radić reminds us that architecture is not only something we see, but something we inhabit.
#smiljanradic #pritzkerprize2026 #arquitecture #interiordesign #interiorism
In the work of Álvaro Siza Vieira, winner of the Pritzker Architecture Prize in 1992, interiors are never an afterthought. From his earliest sketches, architecture and furniture appear together, imagined as part of the same spatial idea.
In many of his projects, Siza designs not only the architecture but also the furniture, lighting, handrails, and small interior elements so that the entire spatial experience follows a single language. In religious buildings, this approach even extends to liturgical pieces such as altars, benches, and crosses.
His spaces are often defined by white walls, generous openings, and carefully controlled light. Windows frame fragments of sky, courtyards, or landscape, allowing light to shape the atmosphere of the room throughout the day.
In Siza’s work, architecture is not only about form, but about shaping the quiet experience of inhabiting a space.
@casasiza@casawabi@alvaro_siza_vsp@casachaboanova@fundacao_serralves
Modernism in Mexico was never an import, it was an exchange.
Throughout the mid-20th century, Mexico became a meeting point for architects, designers, and artists from around the world… many of them arriving as exiles or in search of creative freedom.
What emerged was not foreign design placed onto Mexican soil, but a dialogue shaped by landscape, craft traditions, materials, and local knowledge.
This series explores that intersection… where global ideas met Mexico’s cultural depth, and something unique of its own was created.
#modernisminmexico #maxcetto #mathiasgoaerritz #donshoemaker #claraporset
Max Cetto’s House-Studio, built in the late 1940s, was the first house in what would become El Pedregal, a volcanic landscape that would define an entire chapter of modern architecture in Mexico.
Inside, the architecture feels carved from the terrain rather than placed upon it. Volcanic stone shapes walls, floors, fireplaces, and circulation, dissolving the boundary between structure and interior.
Built-in furniture and continuous shelving reinforce a sense of permanence, while wood, textiles, books, and artwork soften the austerity of the materials.
As a European émigré adapting modernism to Mexico’s climate and geology, Cetto rethought the relationship between architecture and place. The house stands as a quiet manifesto… modern, but deeply rooted in its landscape.
