HW Studio was founded in 2010 and is located in Morelia, Michoacán, Mexico. It is composed of multidisciplinary architects who carry out residential, corporate or cultural projects. They have a very specific approach to their projects to produce subtle, beautiful, practical, magical, and meaningful architectures that inspire inspiration, but are accompanied by the best technical response. Consider the dialogue with customers, environment, technicians and our own language as the value in the design process.

Yinji: What kind of opportunity does HW Firm offer?
Roger Bores：It gives us the opportunity to test our ability to experience peace in an environment as dramatic and often chaotic as architecture. 

Yinji: What is HW's design philosophy?
Roger Bores：I want to believe that we still don't have a design philosophy, or even a language, and I hope we don't. I suspect it would be harmful to us, to the process, and to the very architecture we create.
Each project provides the possibility to challenge our own truths, and from there, the opportunity to enrich the design process, the methodology, and ourselves. As a result of this reflection, I ask myself: Is it useful to have a philosophy? In the end, isn't it something that imposes certain rules and preconceived norms even before starting a commission?
The creative process we follow reminds me a lot of dancing; you must move to the rhythm of the music you hear. Having a philosophy seems to me to be like trying to dance salsa when you are listening to a mellow waltz. I understand it is impossible not to have an underlying philosophy, the one that supports our way of doing architecture; it is like a cloud: ethereal, ephemeral, and ever- changing. If I dared to describe that philosophy, very likely it would not be the same when I finished the sentence.

Yinji: When did you become interested in Eastern (Buddhist) philosophy? What inspiration does this bring to your design?
Roger Bores：I think it was not something voluntary, conscious, or even optional. A large part of my mother's family has been teaching or practicing Taekwondo for several generations, and I think that brought me into contact with Eastern philosophies from a very young age.
I don't remember a specific moment in which I became interested; it was just there, and it happened. What I do remember with more precision is that around the age of 22, I began a spiritual search, and on that path, I discovered a Buddhist meditation technique that I still practice today called Vipassana.
It seems like Eastern philosophy, more than providing inspiration as a conclusive event, provides reflections during the process. Inspiration comes from many places, and I have some very vivid memories from my childhood: I remember visiting the mountain where my family grows avocado, playing with my sisters and cousins in the central courtyard of the house where we grew up, and having Taekwondo classes with my teacher who is also my uncle. These are very present events in the architecture we create.
Eastern and Western philosophies complement each other in many ways. For instance, the importance of calligraphy for Western people lies in the letter itself; while for some Eastern cultures, the emptiness that surrounds the letter is more important. In architectural or sculptural composition, matter seems to weigh more for some, while for others, emptiness is more relevant. Understanding this other perception of reality from a completely different angle brings balance; it helps us question some preconceptions, solutions, and supposed truths, and it makes our own beliefs and designing methods more flexible.

Yinji: How do you understand the Japanese "Wabi-Sabi" philosophy?
Roger Bores：Wabi Sabi is a Japanese aesthetic term; it is a concept difficult to translate and, like most profound and even some simple concepts, difficult to explain. It gets even more complicated if, like us, you believe that words are the enemy of understanding.
I will illustrate the answer to this question with an example: My mother invariably has sweet bread with coffee at night, and for this she always uses the same gray ceramic mug--it is her favorite one. The daily and methodical use has worn out the mug’s handle; it is unglazed, without color, and a little thinner. Moreover, the coffee that spills off the top has left an impregnated tan between the thin cracks of the ceramic. All those marks on the mug are evidence of my mother's pleasure in dining that way. The mug is unique, very representative of her and of those good family moments; it is an unrepeatable, asymmetrical, and imperfect mug--that is Wabi-Sabi. However, I wonder if the beauty of that mug really lies in the mug itself. It seems to us that no; the beauty of the mug is in all those actions and circumstances that made it special.
For the architecture we create, we try to focus on the whole universe that surrounds a piece rather than on the piece itself; we give the piece attributes such as simplicity, asymmetry, and modesty so it is free from excessive prominence.

Yinji: In your design, we feel the charm of nature. How do you solve the clash between nature and design?
Roger Bores：For us, it is important to walk the middle path; balance is a quality that comes naturally when you are open to listen and do it with attention, patience, and deep contemplation.
For instance, when we built "The Hill in Front of the Glen", we proposed a very long access corridor to intensify and dramatize the route, causing a sense of loneliness, detachment, and abandonment as it could only be crossed by one person at a time. When we traced the corridor, we realized that a huge pine tree was right in the middle; it interrupted our path and simply made it impossible to pass through. If we moved the house to the left to free the passage, it would affect the overall composition of the project by leaving the land’s biggest tree out of the area of the house; and if we moved it to the right, the cost of the terraces would increase too much. So, there was no other solution but to leave it there and find the best way to pass by it or cut it, and this was definitely not an option. So, we waited for the turbulence of the situation to settle and find a clear answer.
As the days passed by and as we tried to find a solution, I understood that it was not an object interrupting our passage but a warm living being that was there long before many of us were even born. This tree possessed such a strong but friendly and calm presence at the same that it had to be felt and made visible by disrupting with a soft curve the strong linearity and apparent rigidity of the corridor’s concrete wall. This way, we transmitted the sensation that the tree was allowing us to pass by and that its energy sweetly transformed the wall. Both beings, tree and wall, seemed to coexist in imperturbable harmony as if it were a marriage.
With this example, I am trying to say that building a relationship between nature and design takes time to listen to the murmurs of the place, be it the top of a mountain or the periphery of a city.

Yinji: When you start a new project, what crosses your mind? how do you finally find a suitable solution?
Roger Bores：When we start a project, I try not to think too much; every day I try to think less. I try to be completely honest as I go along this path, and I doubt I will be able to solve anything… I guess this is a natural consequence of practicing mindfulness meditation. Nevertheless, I try not to think about architecture at such an early stage.
In this initial phase, we simply collect all kinds of information: climate, technology, orientation, budget, regulations, and the most important (at least so far): the place and our client. That is where the most valuable creative material comes from and what will give substance to the architectural project. During this stage, I continue meditating as a daily practice of life, not trying to find any answers nor trying to achieve absolutely anything, just being here and now. This is where some reflections start to come about, mental traces and images made of the same nature of a dream. Different disparate, complex, and often nonsensical solutions begin to articulate; it is a complete chaos… not very pleasant, but over time, I came to understand that it is part of the process.
Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, all instruments in that chaos are synchronized as if the director of an orchestra had given the order to start the concert and a melody revealed; a solution emerges: very crude and little carved but forceful and clear. It seems to keep in balance the most important variables of the project: the form, the function, the place, the budget, the client’s tastes, among many other things. We know it is a good solution because it is serene, cheap but expressive, suggestive but conservative; it contributes to strengthen our architectural heritage but does it in a discreet way; it remains silent but strikes, it understands the landscape but does not mimic, it is a balanced piece.