INTERVIEW ALE MULLER

1. Introduction

Between Concrete and Poetry: We spoke with a creative mind who builds spaces — both real and imaginary — with beauty, courage, and expression. Today, we dive into the world of Alessandra Müller, an architect whose vision transforms the rawness of concrete into tangible emotion.

Her honest, unpolished aesthetic carries a strong sense of personality and reminds us that what is essential doesn’t have to be soft — it can, in fact, be profoundly sensitive.

In a conversation about material, creative process, and identity, Alessandra shares what beats behind her creations.

2.Questions organized by topic

Origin and Identity

What led you to architecture? Was there a specific moment when you realized that’s what you wanted to do?

As a child, I was a quiet girl who lived very much in my own world. A bit (actually quite) shy, my way of expressing myself was by recreating that world of observation through art and experimentation — drawing, painting, sculpture, crafts, dance... That’s where I literally built my own sense of beauty and fulfillment.

The moment I finally gave in to the desire to turn a passion into a profession was when I felt ready — with enough experience and maturity — after having been a ballerina, a model, a traveler, a designer, a journalist, a businesswoman, a wife, and a mother. I often say I’ve had several careers in several “lifetimes,” but when I look back now, I realize they were just different chapters of this multifaceted life that led me to blossom into something that truly fulfills me.

Architecture, I believe, has always been with me. It’s simply a consequence of my need to make tangible what is intangible.

Your work has a very strong signature. How would you define your core identity as an architect?

I believe a signature is the synthesis of our background — a true portrait of who you really are. Every creation, whatever its form, reflects a story, desires, longings, and beliefs. Personally, I find joy in creating from a “problem.” I also like to go beyond the obvious — I’m always in search of the unexpected. I strive to surprise and to be surprised. In that sense, even though I have such a defined mark, I’m still able to explore different universes without losing my identity.

Why the choice of the Brutalist style?

First of all, concrete as a material has always fascinated me. I have memories from my earliest childhood of visiting buildings from that era, where its texture and tone felt like pure magic to me.

Its sobriety, elegance, the way it reflects light, and even its inevitable imperfections give me a feeling of peace and comfort. In my view, the possibilities of concrete as a material are endless. Brutalism, in this case, is simply a consequence of that admiration. I’ve never labeled myself as a Brutalist, but rather, Brutalist architecture expresses my appreciation. I love contrast — the geometry that emerges from it — and yes, whenever I have the opportunity to show that preference and use it as a creative tool, I certainly will.

Creative Process

What is your starting point in a new project: function, place, material, or emotion?

It’s hard not to say that it’s a product of all these elements, but if I had to put them “in order of appearance,” I’d say: the place — which evokes an emotion — that must respect a function, and finally, the material, which becomes the result of all the reflection that came before.

You work a lot with concrete, a material often considered “cold.” How do you reinterpret it in your work and make your creations stand out?

In that sense, “cold” means soulless — and because of the emotional connection I have with this material, I simply can’t see it that way. Any material, when poorly used, feels cold and dull. Wood, for example — a symbol of warmth — can feel heavy and sad when out of context. A sheet of glass can bring despair and chaos into a space, yet paradoxically, it can also highlight beauty and peace.

Concrete, on the other hand, is alive — and as such, it reflects either the best or the worst of the environment in which it’s used. My goal is to draw out its best qualities — its soul.

Sensitivity and Brutalism

At House of Wander, we believe that space has a profound influence on our emotions. How do you see the connection between your architecture and the feelings evoked when people experience the environments you design?

Architecture is emotion. That’s why we don’t live in boxes that merely protect us from cold or heat. The way a space exists — its fullness and emptiness — brings us different sensations, and these differences, even when subtle, play an important role in shaping an environment.

In my creative process, I seek to engage our senses, which are guided by intention. Every architectural work should tell a story. And we have many stories to tell…

Inspiration and References

Which artists, architects, or movements influence your practice?

It’s hard to name just a few. In architecture, I deeply admire the process and work of Tadao Ando, Felix Candela, Peter Zumthor, Aires Mateus, Paulo Mendes da Rocha, Vilanova Artigas, and RCR Arquitectes…

What inspires you outside of architecture — travel, books, landscapes?

Inspiration comes from many sources. Of course, traveling and observing are always incredible wells to draw from, but I believe my true inspiration comes from everyday life. I like to reflect on our relevance in the universe.

There’s a fascinating work by Charles and Ray Eames from 1977 called “Powers of Ten”, which is essentially a journey through infinity and its dimensions. To me, that piece captures the relative importance we hold in this universe — we are everything and nothing at the same time.

In practice, if I have a sunset, a concrete wall, a cracked path, a dead tree, or any object or event that I can transform, elevate, or conceal — all of these are sources of inspiration. I’m an eternal seeker of solutions for the themes of everyday life. These are the challenges that move me.

Path and Future

Which project has challenged you the most, and why?

All my projects are a challenge — not always because of their complexity, but because of my own desire to get them right. I also have a trait that both helps and hinders me: I often stray from the ordinary, from trends, and inevitably move toward customization. I can rarely create a project without drawing it in full detail, regardless of its scale. Designing a chair requires as much time and energy as designing a house, a shoe, a bikini, or even a business card.

My greatest challenge — and my greatest ally — is time. I’m always chasing more of it to deliver my work, yet I’m grateful I can’t control it… because if I could, my projects would never be finished!

What would you like to build that you haven’t had the chance to yet?

A museum, a hotel, a set design, an amphitheater...

What advice would you give to young architects seeking an authentic path?

I think a good piece of advice is: don’t let yourself get lost along the way. What’s for sale is always your work — not your soul. No amount of money can make up for the dissatisfaction of doing work you don’t believe in, winning over a client who will never understand your vision, or wasting your time trying to convince them. You can only be truly good at what you do if you love doing it.