Chiloé's builders were boatwrights first. Asked for churches, they framed the naves like upturned hulls and wrapped everything — walls, towers, porticoes — in alerce shingle, the tejuela, cut square or pointed or fish-scale and laid in offset courses that shed constant rain. The shingle was valuable enough to spend: the Real de Alerce circulated as money.

This system takes that logic literally. The ground is the cool grey-white of painted board seen through sea fog; every plane is a course, not a flat field; and the trim is saturated on purpose — teal, marine blue, chrome yellow, violet, oxide red — because in a foggy archipelago colour is how a building announces itself.