Across Valencia’s façades, small cast-iron faces appear quietly along drainpipes and spouts. Known as Cares d’aigua, “water faces,” these sculpted visages once turned the most utilitarian parts of a building into something expressive. They are thresholds between architecture and weather, where the flow of rain meets the built fabric of the city.

It is said that these faces of men, women, angels, children, and even demons carried a silent role in protecting the home. Rooted in myth and superstition, the Cares d’aigua were believed to ward off misfortune and guard the home. Much like the gargoyles of Gothic architecture, they merged function and faith, channeling rain while symbolically defending what lay within.

Cast in local foundries during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, these small figures reveal a time when craft and industry still spoke the same language. They transformed infrastructure into ornament, necessity into care. Today, many have disappeared, replaced by smooth PVC pipes that drain efficiently but remain silent.

Yet those that endure offer small moments of discovery. You notice them by chance, snugged between cornices or peering from a corner, each one different, each provoking a quiet pause. They invite curiosity: who made them, what stories did they hold, what faith shaped their forms? These encounters remind us that even the most practical details once carried imagination and spirit. Architecture, at its most generous, leaves space for wonder, for small moments that invite us to look again.