Matias Mosquera is an Argentine architect and musician, educated at the University of Buenos Aires, and who spent time with Denmark’s 3XN studio, before launching BAM! Architecture and later founding AtelierM in Buenos Aires in 2020. He also teaches Architectural Design at his alma mater. Under Matias Mosquera’s leadership, AtelierM operates as an experimental studio driven by circular logic, collaborative exploration, and a deep engagement with material and spatial experimentation. Projects like Shire, a self-sufficient concrete home that appears to dissolve into its natural surroundings, and MeCa House, centered around a kitchen as a shared, nurturing core, illustrate the studio’s blend of sculptural form, environmental sensitivity, and lived experience. Matias Mosquera’s work continues to push architectural boundaries by merging music-like rhythm, ecological thinking, and tangible craftsmanship into distinctive, human-centered spaces.
What inspires you?
Practically everything. I’ve always believed that the output of what we produce is directly connected to the input we absorb. I consume a lot of architecture, but also music, art, film, and travel. Traveling to experience different kinds of spaces around the world is fundamental for me—it allows me to see how people live, move, and connect with environments in ways that can later resonate in my work. Inspiration is everywhere; the key is to stay receptive.
What inspired you to become an architect?
The idea that you can imagine something and then see it materialize in reality. That power to transform an idea into a tangible space that others can inhabit felt magical to me—and it still does.
How would you describe your design philosophy?
Experimental. I believe that in the end, we are all experimenting. Acknowledging that reality allows me to push experimentation to its extremes. Each project becomes a laboratory where the aim is not just to build, but to test, challenge, and discover new ways of living through architecture.
What is your favorite project?
I have a very long list, but one that left a profound mark on me was the Concert Hall by Jean Nouvel in Copenhagen. The immersive experience of that building—its acoustics, spatial qualities, and atmosphere—taught me that architecture can truly transcend functionality and become an emotional performance.
What is your favorite detail?
A recurring detail in several of our projects has to do with the flowing nature of concrete. Experiencing how space deforms—when our consciousness is so used to orthogonalizing it—and then seeing it bend and shift fascinates me. That moment of distortion reveals the material’s expressive power.
Do you have a favorite material?
Nature in all its forms. Above all, I admire its ability to change, adapt, and transform. For me, materials are alive—whether it’s stone, wood, or concrete, I try to approach them as if they were natural extensions of the environment.
What is your process for starting a new project?
We begin by opening up as many possibilities as possible. In the office, we fill the walls with sketches, diagrams, and alternatives. It’s a collaborative editorial process, where discussion and common sense gradually filter ideas. Egos are left aside, and once we’ve built that solid base, everything flows naturally—it’s almost downhill from there.
How do you fuel your creativity?
By doing. By staying in motion. I’m very pragmatic: while I enjoy debating and theorizing, I find that ideas come alive only when expressed concretely—through drawing, modeling, making music, or building. Words can often be misleading, but what you create with your hands and body is undeniable.
What inspired the MeCa House?
The understanding that a boundary can be so much more than a wall separating inside and outside. By expanding and exploring those thresholds, the relationship between interior and exterior becomes beautifully blurred. That was our pursuit with MeCa House, and achieving that diffused boundary was immensely rewarding.
How did materiality shape the LuMa House?
The LuMa House project revolved around concrete, which, in essence, I see as “liquid stone.” It has the power to adapt to any geometry, and in LuMa House, it allowed us to flow around a centuries-old oak tree, almost like dancing a tango with it. That dialogue between the permanence of the tree and the fluidity of concrete shaped the entire house.
What advice would you give to young architects?
Experiment. Play. Open possibilities rather than closing them. Ask questions instead of rushing to answers, because certainties can often become traps. Architecture is about curiosity, about allowing yourself to be surprised, and about constantly pushing the boundaries of what’s possible.
