The house he built for himself soon after his arrival is now a museum. Within its white walls Manrique's imagination guided me like a good host. Sinuous passages plastered by hand lead to three bubbles of lava he used as living rooms, surprising and comforting spaces, and then to a fourth bubble, open like a cup, that holds a garden and a swimming pool. The house seems a sensual organism that fuses the earth with human purpose. It drew me from globes to vista, up and down, from light to shade, and into attending to movement, texture, and color.
White walls alternate with walls of black lava.
Doors and window frames are painted brown and green. Green plants grow in black lava. In this restrained spectrum a red geranium blazes like a fanfare. The house shows eloquently what Manrique must have longed for in Madrid and New York. I also long for in dark winters and closed buildings.