J AV I E R S E N O S I A I N ’ S C O N J U N T O S AT É L I T E ith the exception of factories and warehouses, tall towers and military installations, most architecture gives at least a nod to nature. If nothing else, the view outside gets some consideration, even if the structure itself doesn’t necessarily play nice with the landscape around it. This is especially true when it comes to residential projects. Even the picture windows that punctuated 1950s tract homes were an attempt to open interiors to the outside. Frank Lloyd Wright, of course, was adamant about making a connection with the immediate environment. So too is Mexican architect Javier Senosiain, who makes earth itself a central component of his highly individual organic architecture. Senosiain, who has drawn from his compatriot predecessors Juan O’Gorman and Luis Barragán, as well as Wright and the Austrian artist and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser, has long striven to avoid the straight and narrow. “Before we’re born,” he has noted, “we’re floating in our mother’s belly, like astronauts in space or a permanent Jacuzzi, but then we’re pushed into a box, a crib, and we move from one box to another throughout our lives – playpens, bedrooms, square houses, until we die and are put in another box.”