Espai Verd: Where ideology becomes space and the city becomes experimentation

by Nicola Desiderio on January 17, 2026

In Valencia, at the heart of the Benimaclet district — between traditional urban fabric and the fertile huertas to the north of the city — stands a building that seems to have emerged from a utopian dream of the 1980s: Espai Verd. It is not a simple condominium, but one of the most astonishing residential complexes in Spain, a true social and architectural experiment that anticipated the concept of the “vertical forest” by several decades. The project, developed essentially in two phases (1983–1991 and 1991–1994), is the work of the studio CSPT Arquitectos (an acronym for architects Antonio Cortés, Alfonso Serrano, Salvador Pérez and Toni Carrascosa). The studio specialized in the design and construction management of buildings through a cooperative ownership system — a model that made it possible to prioritize habitat quality and the search for the best living solutions over profit. The long construction vicissitudes, including the bankruptcy of the first contractor, never undermined the vision.

Born as a residents’ collective, Espai Verd was able to bypass the traditional figure of the private developer, typically focused on maximizing profit from sales. This allowed the CSPT team to prioritize interpersonal relationships and quality of life, dedicating much of the surface area to recreational spaces, greenery, and generous ceiling heights. The underlying idea was clear: to create a “vertical village” where inner courtyards and shared terraces could foster encounters and collaboration among neighbors. Vegetation was never treated as mere decoration, but as an essential functional element. It regulates the microclimate, mitigates heat, and makes the spaces more livable. In this sense, Espai Verd is a precursor, anticipating today’s reflections on urban sustainability and demonstrating how concrete architecture can become a vital support for nature.

Architecturally, Espai Verd presents itself as a monumental mass of exposed reinforced concrete, typical of the Brutalist language. Its extraordinary strength lies precisely in this dialectical contrast: the rigor of the concrete structure is softened and gradually engulfed by lush terraces, hanging gardens, and climbing plants that envelop the entire façade, transforming the building into a true vertical landscape. Today, the complex is universally recognized as a “manifesto” of Spanish experimental architecture. Some interpret it as an imposing monument to Brutalism; others celebrate it as the bold precursor of contemporary bioclimatic green towers. In reality, Espai Verd is the successful synthesis of both visions: a work capable of merging a communal utopia with radical environmental innovation. For this reason, it remains a crucial reference point for those who design and imagine greener, more sustainable, and more inclusive cities.

From a construction standpoint, the building represents the result of an ambitious experiment combining reinforced-concrete prefabrication with vegetative integration. The structure is organized on a modular 6×6-meter grid of prefabricated elements, forming the load-bearing framework onto which the dwellings are grafted. The 108 residential units, built in four phases for a total of about 21,000 m² of constructed area, unfold around a true artificial “green mountain.” The layout, rotated 45° relative to the urban grid, stems from the desire to maximize morning light while protecting the spaces from afternoon heat. Even in the 1980s, the complex stood out for its avant-garde solutions: a pneumatic waste collection system and a telecommunications network, introduced when the internet was still in its infancy. The structural vegetation, an integral part of the project, performs multiple functions: acoustic filtering, climatic buffering, and a genuine “green lung” for the entire settlement.

The internal circulation of Espai Verd is a dynamic weave of vertical and horizontal paths, designed to promote social interaction and widespread access to greenery. Movement between levels does not rely solely on elevators, but is ensured by stairways and pedestrian ramps that encourage a slower pace, reinforcing a sense of continuity between spaces. Corridors and walkways — often screened and wrapped in vegetation — connect the various residential blocks. Transit becomes an immersive experience, almost a stroll through a hanging garden. The housing units (duplexes, triplexes, and quadruplexes), each unique in its layout, are arranged around central courtyards that serve as distribution nodes and vital meeting places. These voids not only lighten residential density but also optimize natural ventilation. Beyond functionality, circulation opens onto shared terraces and small plazas, conceived not as mere passageways but as genuine spaces for rest and spontaneous socialization. Movement thus becomes a collective experience.

Antonio Cortés Ferrando, the group’s visionary architect, still lives in the complex — a fact confirmed by a resident who, with great courtesy, granted me access to the building. What followed was a pleasant guided tour and a fluid conversation, at times in Spanish (or Valencian) and at times in Italian, which allowed me to understand firsthand a masterpiece of European architecture that I had previously known only through publications. “This building is the expression of an ideology shared by all those who have supported this project until now.” With these words, my guide managed to summarize the past, present, and future of the building. This vision remains strong today: around 70% of the residents are the original families who believed in and invested in this endeavor. The fact that community life among these families is described as pleasant and participatory suggests that new residents, too, are fully aligned with the philosophy of living together. Given the well‑known difficulties of modern condominium life, this condition appears not only unusual, but almost idyllic. The choice to use the word “ideology” is particularly significant. It is a term often misunderstood or relegated to divisive or extremist contexts. Yet here, it is not dangerous at all. On the contrary, it evokes a sense of poetry and shared purpose.

The ideology of Espai Verd is not a dogma, but a shared belief in a peaceful, social, and non‑conflictual way of living. In this context, the residential project still stands as a bold social model, in stark contrast with the contemporary view of housing as an isolated refuge or, worse, a mere instrument of monetization. Our guide proudly emphasized a crucial economic detail: at the time, the housing units of Espai Verd were sold at market prices comparable to those of mass‑produced real estate, despite not being standardized and despite being conceived as unique residential prototypes. These factors — high quality of life, a focus on community, and economic accessibility — make this complex a living testimony and a case study that deserves careful reflection for the future of architecture and urban planning.

The experience of the Covid‑19 pandemic served as a true test. It is worth noting that, although in Spain political communication managed to handle the emergency without generating deep social fractures — signs of which are still perceptible in Italy — the lockdown was nonetheless a critical moment for the Spanish population as well. For the Espai Verd community, however, the ordeal was experienced in a less dramatic way. This was made possible above all by the physical and social structure of the complex, characterized not only by an abundance of open spaces, both shared and private, but especially by the strong sense of identity among its residents. This “urban cathedral” behaved like an open‑air bunker: a refuge capable of ensuring mental survival and social cohesion. Our friend is rightly proud of this.

Designed to foster cooperation and self‑sufficiency, this place weaves matter and nature into a concrete utopia born from a participatory design process that generated vibrant spaces: a swimming pool, a running track, an interfaith oratory, and even an avifaunal park — now largely compromised but still recalled at the entrance by a map of the species that once inhabited it, about half of which have since disappeared from the area. The building is a living manifesto: it shows how collaboration among residents can produce more humane environments and how an architect’s vision can anticipate the smart cities of tomorrow. Its monumentality does not lie in its scale, but in its ability to become a collective symbol, to embody shared values, and to weave together past and future. Espai Verd thus emerged as an experiment in communal living, with the ambition of presenting itself as an urban prototype — or perhaps a model of resistance — in the face of the contemporary city that was beginning to take shape.

Espai Verd: Where ideology becomes space and the city becomes experimentation

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