TOR-01 — yoursmaterially

Techniques of Resistance is a collaborative and ever-expanding archive of communal construction practices. It displays a heterogeneous collection of vernacular, indigenous, and popular ways of doing, ranging from large buildings to small devices

The Atacama Desert, located in northern Chile, is one of the driest places on Earth. Its extreme aridity is due to a combination of geographical factors, including the Andes Mountains blocking moisture from the east and the Pacific Ocean’s cold Humboldt Current, which limits evaporation. Despite the lack of rainfall, the region experiences frequent fog, known locally as “camanchaca,” which drifts inland from the coast. This fog is a vital resource, as it provides a rare source of moisture in an otherwise barren landscape.

To capture this fog, locals have developed “atrapanieblas” or fog nets. These large mesh structures mimic the natural abilities of airplants, or tillandsias, which can absorb water from fog and dew. By capturing droplets from the fog, atrapanieblas collect water, which is then used in various activities, such as mining and agriculture. Mining, a major industry in the Atacama, consumes vast amounts of water, leaving little for local communities. This scarcity of water for domestic use has made water a precious commodity in the region.

The atrapanieblas technology is inspired by nature, particularly airplants, which thrive in harsh conditions by gathering moisture from the air. These fog nets provide a sustainable solution to water shortages in the region, offering an innovative way to harness the fog. However, the demand for water continues to grow, and with climate change impacting fog patterns, the future availability of this water source remains uncertain. In the Atacama, balancing industrial needs with those of local residents is a constant challenge.

Ladakh, a high-altitude desert in the northernmost region of India, has an extreme climate characterized by long winters and short summers. Agriculture is the primary livelihood for most residents, but water scarcity poses a significant challenge. Despite receiving some water from glaciers, the timing and amount are inconsistent. Winters last for months, making farming difficult, and by the time summer arrives, the reliance on glacier meltwater is often insufficient. Additionally, unpredictable rainfall patterns and prolonged dry spells further exacerbate the problem.

To address these water shortages, locals have embraced an innovative solution known as “ice stupas.” The concept is simple and requires no pumps or external power. Since water naturally maintains its level, the idea is to pipe water from a source about 60 meters upstream and let it rise to a similar height when it reaches the village. In Ladakh’s freezing winter temperatures, which can plummet to -30 to -50°C, this water freezes as it falls, creating towering conical ice structures, or ice stupas, that can reach heights of 30 to 50 meters.

These ice stupas gradually form over the winter months as water is added layer by layer, starting from the ground. The goal is to conserve this ice structure for as long as possible into the summer. As the ice slowly melts, it provides a steady water supply for the fields until the glacial meltwaters begin flowing in June. Because the ice cones rise vertically, they receive less direct sunlight per volume of water compared to horizontal structures, allowing them to melt more slowly and ensuring a prolonged water supply for agriculture.

The puquios are a stunning example of ancient innovation, crafted by the Nazca people between 200 BCE and 600 CE to thrive in a hostile desert. These underground aqueducts, carved deep into the earth, were designed with elegance and precision to draw life from beneath the barren land. In a region where rainfall is nearly nonexistent, the puquios harnessed the hidden currents of groundwater, transforming the desert into a place where agriculture could flourish and daily life could persist.

At the heart of the puquios’ beauty lies their spiraling channels, known as “ojos” or “eyes,” which twist downward into the earth like sacred portals. These spirals allowed air to move freely, ensuring the water could flow consistently to the surface. The design, so attuned to the landscape, is a profound reflection of the Nazca people’s deep connection to nature and their mastery of hydrology. In a place devoid of rivers, these channels became lifelines, sustaining crops and communities with their quiet, unceasing flow.

Yet the significance of the puquios extends beyond their practicality. In this desolate land, water was not just a necessity—it was a source of reverence. The nearby Nazca Lines, vast and mysterious geoglyphs etched into the earth, may have been intertwined with the puquios in spiritual purpose. Some believe these lines were part of rituals to honor water deities or to invoke rain, a delicate dance between survival and belief.

The puquios are more than engineering feats; they are a testament to the Nazca’s resilience, their ability to bend the will of the earth to their needs while honoring its sacred forces. In their spirals, we see not just the flow of water, but the flow of life, of art, of survival in a landscape where nothing should thrive.

A peep into the drawings done for the MIT exhibition at The Venice Biennalle for Rocio Crosetto Brizzio - Power Alliances