Perpetua Forma — furniture label & editorial platform for architecture, furniture and photography
PF, short for Perpetua Forma, is a double-sided entity — both a furniture label and an editorial platform featuring architecture, furniture and photography.
Openfield House
At its core, Openfield House is defined by a simple proposition: what remains when architecture is reduced to its most permanent elements. The project distinguishes between what is fixed and what is temporary, imagining a future in which the lightweight components fall away, leaving behind a composition of stone objects embedded in the ground. This conceptual clarity is expressed through a series of heavy concrete volumes that rise directly from the terrain. These elements anchor the house, forming its centre and giving weight to the otherwise open field of occupation. Around them, lighter cedar-clad volumes gather beneath a corrugated metal roof, establishing a tension between mass and assembly, permanence and change. The plan operates as a continuous field rather than a sequence of rooms. Organised on a square grid, it allows spaces to expand, contract, and reconfigure in response to daily life. Openings are not fixed but negotiated—large sliding panels and timber screens move along an external track, dissolving enclosure and enabling the house to shift between states of exposure and shelter. This condition is most evident at the perimeter. Rather than a defined façade, the house is wrapped by an intermediate zone—an extended threshold that recalls the spatial logic of the Japanese engawa. Here, walls are released, and boundaries become thickened. Concealed sliding doors disappear into the built mass, while a low concrete upstand traces the edge, maintaining a constant line even as the enclosure changes. The distinction between interior and exterior is not removed, but continuously deferred. Only then does the house fully register its setting. Located within the expansive terrain of New Zealand’s Crown Range, it aligns itself with the region’s utilitarian precedents—miners’ huts and agricultural sheds—through its square footprint and restrained material palette. Yet these references are abstracted, allowing the building to operate less as a replica and more as an extension of the landscape’s underlying order. Material restraint reinforces this position. Concrete, stone, and timber are deployed not as finishes but as conditions—each contributing to a reading of the house as something both constructed and unearthed. The architecture does not sit lightly on the land, nor does it attempt to disappear. Instead, it establishes a measured continuity, as though it has always existed in some latent form. Openfield House ultimately frames inhabitation as a state between movement and stillness. It is a place that can open entirely to its surroundings or withdraw into itself, maintaining a constant dialogue between body, space, and terrain.
Corcet
Perched atop a small hill in Penafiel, Corcet is conceived like a local acropolis — a purposeful elevation for a headquarters building that brings together a surprising array of functions. Commissioned by a family-run business, the complex balances industrial performance with spatial richness, articulating a dense program within a singular concrete structure. The building hosts a wide range of uses: from a motorcycle sports and navigation hardware shop, to offices, software development labs, storage rooms, a cafeteria, showroom for heavy equipment, and a technical assistance area with loading docks. These varying functions are distributed across three cores, which are tied together by an open-air gallery that lends cadence and rhythm through a rigorous repetition of pillars — an architectural gesture that hints at monumentality before the user even enters. Internally, the strategy remains one of controlled contrasts. Twin patios carve light and green space into the grey bulk, while an axial entrance leads to a dramatic double-stair lobby defined by four vertical columns and a raised ceiling. Circulation is intuitively handled, with a central path and cross-routes weaving through the second level, supporting clear orientation amid the programmatic density. Materially, the building is grounded in its place: granite from the local topography is used for pavements and walls, forming a continuous surface that subtly detaches the heavy concrete structure above. The result is a building that feels both deeply rooted and formally precise — a “concrete mammoth” visually lifted by its granite base.
Pinetum
In 2018, a competition was held for a new pavilion in the Pinetum Blijdenstein botanical garden in Hilversum, attracting 135 architectural firms, including several prominent international names. Following a rigorous selection process, which narrowed the field to eight, then four, proposals, Enzo Valerio's design was selected as the winning entry. Over the next few years, the design evolved through close collaboration with Pinetum Blijdenstein, alongside efforts to secure funding for construction. After obtaining a building permit in 2022, numerous tests, material samples, and design iterations were conducted, culminating in the pavilion’s initial staking out in March 2023. Enzo Valerio’s studio is distinct in its hands-on approach, allowing continual refinement and adaptation throughout the construction phase. The pavilion’s architectural form comprises three robust, monolithic walls that appear to emerge naturally from the forest floor, seamlessly blending with their surroundings. A fluidly connected floor flows between the walls in three distinct directions, each creating a unique atmosphere and function. Above, a cantilevered roof appears to fold organically around the surrounding trees. The entire structure was crafted from a custom concrete mixture, incorporating sand excavated from the pavilion’s foundation and stones gathered on-site. This blend, featuring Hilversum’s characteristic yellow sand, lends a warm tone to the concrete. Hilversum’s soil plays a significant role in the pavilion’s design. This region is notable for its sandy subsoil, which has formed over centuries due to glacial and fluvial processes. The sand is not just a structural component but is integral to the design, embodying a connection to place. During the pouring of the pavilion walls, sand and stones from the garden were added to create horizontal striations, evoking the stratified layers seen in the area’s natural terrain. These bands highlight the weight and solidity of the structure, providing a visual narrative of the land’s geological history. In contrast, the pavilion’s floor features a polished finish that reveals embedded stones, showcasing a spectrum of colors and textures found in the garden’s soil. The roof was poured in seamless formwork, creating a smooth, reflective ceiling that brings the lush greenery of the garden into the pavilion’s interior. The process of creating this pavilion, blending thoughtful design with meticulous craftsmanship, is documented in the film At a Garden’s Pace by Juan Benavides, which premiered at the Architecture Film Festival Rotterdam (AFFR). The film offers an immersive look into the pavilion’s construction, where Enzo Valerio and a team of young architects, employed simple yet inventive techniques to explore and emphasize the “nature of concrete.” Under the attentive eyes of the gardener and garden visitors, their dedication illustrates that construction is as much a creative and integral part of the design process as any other stage. This meditative documentary highlights how exceptional design, coupled with skilled craftsmanship, can transform even a modest commission into a living work of art.
Alnö Guest House
Tucked into the sloping coastal terrain of Alnö, an island just outside Sundsvall in northern Sweden, this slender guest house offers a quiet counterpoint to the rugged pine forest and moss-covered stone. Designed as an annex to a 1940s timber log cabin, the structure extends the site’s architectural language in form, material, and tone. Measuring just 12.3 by 2.7 meters, the guest house is compact yet complete—containing extra bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small studio facing the sea. It follows the contour of the landscape, standing on a grid of slow-grown pine posts, reaching 2.1 meters above ground at its highest point. Beneath it, where the site naturally falls away, a parking space tucks into the underside—an efficient response that avoids the need for a separate garage. A covered deck runs the full length of the western façade, wrapping around to a small balcony at the southern end. This simple gesture mediates between interior and exterior, shielding the building from the northeast winds while offering framed views across the bay. In this way, the architecture defines both outlook and enclosure—it opens, protects, and anchors. The structure is stabilized by internal cross-bracing and steel tension rods, exposed as a quiet undercurrent of tectonic clarity. The pine cladding and framing are treated with dark brown tar paint, echoing the vernacular finishes of traditional Swedish log cabins and harmonizing with the site’s palette of bark, rock, and shadow. Modest in scale but precise in execution, the Alnö Guest House demonstrates a sensitive approach to building in nature. It neither dominates nor disappears. Instead, it takes its place—lightly held above ground, aligned with the trees, and open to the sea.
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Browse the furniture label's collection — pieces made in small series and available to order now, with pre-orders open on upcoming designs.
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Submit your projects to the editorial
Studios and photographers can now create a profile and submit projects directly for editorial review. Share your work and, if it's a fit, we'll feature it across the platform.
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