The site operates at a low luminosity near-black, with the palette drawn from charcoal, umber, and faint sepia — colors that appear lifted from the photographs themselves rather than applied as a theme. At more than fourteen thousand pixels in height, the page reads as a long vertical plate in a printed monograph, where each project is given room to breathe but never falls into generic minimalism. This is an archive that understands darkness as a material condition, not a display preference. Serif typography carries the entire narrative, but emphasis is managed through placement and timing rather than size. Titles are small and close to the text block, while the recurring 'Próximamente' notes create a deliberate cadence of absence and anticipation — a sly acknowledgment that the complete Dieste catalog is still being assembled. Image edges often run flush to the viewport, allowing the curves of the brick vaults to push beyond the frame, and the occasional full-bleed spread disrupts the column rhythm exactly when the geometry demands a larger breath. Scrolling here feels less like navigating a website and more like handling a sequence of architectural plates, each section weighted by its own gravity. The near-zero color saturation and the warm dark tones produce a somber, contemplative atmosphere appropriate for a posthumous survey, while the mix of Spanish project names with English navigation locates the work firmly in its Uruguayan context. It is an art direction that makes the browser into a gallery wall — disciplined, tactile, and remarkably sensitive to the materiality of construction.