It is a warm winter morning in Montevideo. Walking along Avenida Sarmiento from Pocitos, you might be deceived by a modern-looking house, but no, it’s not the one we’re looking for; it belongs to his rival, Mauricio Cravotto. Crossing the bridge over Boulevard Artigas, we spot it. It’s a lookout tower, modern and white, standing out against the genteel area. The house is a fortress. A gorgon with closed eyes, symbolising protection, gazes at the house of its rival, and about thirty small boat bows made of ceramic are the signal that we have arrived.

Nadia, the guide, greets us with a smile and opens the door to the home of architect Julio Vilamajó, Uruguay’s first house museum. She informs us that this will not be a regular visit but rather a guided experience intended for a group of museology students, and we are encouraged to ask as many questions as possible. My husband and I happily agree, and thus begins our experience.

Uruguay is a small country that, throughout its history as an independent nation, has shown a strong commitment to citizen freedoms. For example, divorce has been legal since 1907, and women have been able to vote since 1932, which is 18 and 19 years earlier, respectively, than in Argentina (being sister countries, comparisons are inevitable). The prosperity it enjoyed in the early 20th century earned it the nickname "the Switzerland of America," and architects like Vilamajó contributed with their new ideas to give the capital a modern architectural identity.

The 1930s were particularly prosperous for the country. Le Corbusier visited Argentina, Uruguay, and Brazil in 1929, partly due to an invitation from the Association of Friends of Art of Argentina, but also to promote his urban planning ideas taking advantage of the economic boom in Southern countries. It is well-known, as he describes in his book Precisions, that he was not impressed—he called Buenos Aires an ant heap, criticised its back-to-the-river orientation, and suggested using the cannons from the Cerro de Montevideo fortress to demolish the Palacio Salvo. However, he was very impressed by the new ideas of young Uruguayan architects like Vilamajó, who can be seen sitting in the second row at one of Le Corbusier’s conferences in the city. The paths of both would cross again almost two decades later.

The house museum is located in what is now an upper class neighborhood of the city, but in 1930, when Vilamajó designed his home, the city centre was still distant and the area was closer to the beach resorts of Pocitos and Trouville. Today, just a few blocks away, is the Faculty of Architecture, where he was a professor, and one of his most impressive works, the Faculty of Engineering.

Julio Vilamajó was born on July 1, 1894, in Montevideo and was part of the first generation of architects graduated from the Faculty of Architecture at the University of the Republic. His education was marked by that transitional period between the traditional training of L’École des Beaux-Arts and the dialogue with the modern architectural principles that captivated Le Corbusier. After a period of training and travel through Europe, as was customary at the time, he returned to Uruguay and began working. In his early works, almost all private residences, we see this syncretism at play.

His house is no exception and encompasses everything he loved. As mentioned at the beginning, the smooth facade is covered with ceramic pieces created by the sculptor and ceramist Antonio Pena, a great friend of Vilamajó (together they created the monument to Argentine-Uruguayan brotherhood in Buenos Aires). The house is designed as a fortress with five levels, with an interior that cannot be seen from the outside. The only access door is through the garage, and the central staircase resembles an ascending spiral. On the first floor is the living room and the garden, which unfolds in two levels.

Today, we might think of it as a Zen garden, but Vilamajó had in mind the Andalusian-type gardens that fascinated him in Europe and were fashionable in the 1930s. On the second floor is the dining room, which features a large terrace and connects with the service area. The third floor contains the bedrooms, and on the fourth and final floor is Vilamajó’s studio. However, the whole house is interconnected, with a fluidity between spaces. An exterior staircase connects the garden with the dining room terrace, creating circulation between floors and areas.

It’s interesting how life often interferes with projects. Vilamajó and his wife Mercedes had no children, and the house was planned to be inhabited only by the two of them. However, shortly before its completion, Vilamajó’s mother passed away, and his younger sister, Estrella, moved in with them. Without a private room, Estrella slept in a hallway in front of the master bedroom, a space originally intended as a closet. Some accounts suggest that Estrella was a lesbian, but she was never able to publicly reveal her sexual orientation, and it is a symbolically fascinating gesture that she was forced to sleep in a closet. Why Estrella continued living with them, even though she worked and had her own income, is not known—it might have been unusual in the 1930s for a single woman to live alone.

In the 1930s and 1940s, Vilamajó completed many public and private works in Uruguay, such as the Bank of the Republic, Las Flores office (1929), the Peñarol Gymnasium (1930), and The Public Assistance Garage (1931), or the Ventorrillo de la Buena Vista (1946). He participated as a consultant in the project for the United Nations building in New York in 1947, where we see him debating with prominent 20th-century architects like Le Corbusier and Niemeyer. He is clearly one of the significant names in Latin American architecture of the early 20th century.

Julio Vilamajó passed away in April 1948. His wife and sister continued to live together despite their strained relationship. Mercedes passed away first, and Estrella lived in the house until her death in 1978. The house then fell into a period of decline, reflecting the political violence prevalent in Uruguay due to the military dictatorship established in 1973, mirroring the situation across the region.

The house was dismantled, its contents and collections were auctioned, and after a period of abandonment, it was reclaimed by the Uruguayan government and converted into a public administration office. In 1990, it was declared a national historic monument. It was only in 2012 that it was acquired by the Faculty of Architecture at the University of the Republic and began its restoration and conversion into a museum space. Some pieces we see on the tour are original, while others are reconstructions based on the limited photographic material of the interior that was recovered (for example, there are no photos of the architect’s studio).

Vilamajó was a very creative person, even dabbling in animation and leaving behind film archives that are currently being restored. He was also a Freemason, and his membership in this secret society and its ideals are reflected in the concepts he developed for his house. For example, the ceiling of his studio is red, which is a ritual colour for the lodge. Even the Grand Lodge Palace of Freemasonry of Uruguay is one of his works. The detail of the boat bows on the facade reminded me of the house of another great Uruguayan architect, Pittamiglio, whose boat-shaped house symbolises the spiritual work of the alchemist.

Montevideo is a magical city with a much more relaxed rhythm compared to neighbouring Buenos Aires. It is the works of architects like Julio Vilamajó that give it its unique and singular identity.