Authors’ Comment
The project theme, House of Film, proposes a reflection on the subtle yet profound connection between cinema and dwelling. The title itself suggests more than a simple function: it speaks of a shelter for cinema, a space dedicated to the viewing, experiencing, and sharing of film as art. It is a house for cinephiles, for artists, for a quiet yet vibrant community that longs for a place where film is not consumed, but inhabited — as a natural extension of one’s inner life.
Mătăsari Street is a living fragment of the city — withdrawn and calm, bearing a strong cultural symbolism. From an urbanistic perspective, the street retains the stratified structure of a city in transition: once a middle-class residential artery, it has evolved into a mixed-use territory where housing coexists with workshops, independent cafés, bookshops, and alternative cultural initiatives. Culturally and socially, the street has been redefined by events such as Women on Mătăsari, which have contributed to the revitalization of the area's urban perception, turning it into a hub of contemporary urban dialogue. The site’s proximity to the University of Theatre and Film is not coincidental — many of the events held on the street are supported or attended by its students.
The architectural approach does not seek to impose, but to quietly insert itself by adopting the vernacular morphology of the area: a composition developed along the depth of the plot, inspired by the typology of the wagon-house and the succession of intimate courtyards. The interior spaces are designed to actively support the local artistic community and students: a video library and book collection on the ground floor, small screening rooms, temporary exhibition spaces, and, above all, an urban hall on the upper floor — a versatile space dedicated to screenings, rehearsals, gatherings, and public dialogue. This program emerged from direct conversations with students of UNATC, who expressed an urgent need for such places of study and expression.
More than a building, the House of Film becomes a filter between the city and the intimacy of cinephilia — an initiatory journey. Access unfolds gradually, through a series of thresholds: a closed gate, a narrow path, a receiving courtyard, until the visitor enters an inner, protected universe, built to foster belonging rather than exposure. This approach is supported conceptually by Gaston Bachelard’s reflections on intimacy and protective space, and by Aldo Rossi’s ideas on urban collective memory.
The House of Film thus becomes a space of silent belonging — a communal refuge for thought, image, and dialogue. It is an architecture that does not dominate, but completes. One that does not reveal itself, but allows itself to be discovered. The project takes a balanced stance between intervention and withdrawal, presence and discretion. It does not seek to impose, but to quietly become part of the whole. The House of Film is a space of memory and becoming — an architecture of the silent community, expressed not through spectacle, but through the depth of shared silence, because, in essence, the proposal is not an institution, hub, or cultural center. At its core, it is a House.