Living inside Brazil’s largest apartment complex amid a pandemic

David Sabino, 14, peers out from his family’s sprawling apartment on the 31st floor of the Copan. The building is home to a cross-section of Brazilian society, from artists and freelancers to the very wealthy.

Art teacher Bruna Moraes, 27, lounges in a hammock in her apartment. Pina says many of the residents were relieved to have someone to talk to, so he often visited with them for hours before photographing them. With each visit, Pina says he always followed established health protocols.

Tamara Salazar, 28, a resident of four years, works as a DJ, stylist, model, and event planner. Many freelancers, including Salazar, have found their assignments cancelled or put on hold as a result of the health crisis. “Basically I have been living off the jobs I did in January,” Salazar says.

A resident walks her dogs near the Copan’s entrance. Though there’s little green space at the iconic building, the cooped-up inhabitants take every opportunity to go outside.

Helena Sabino, 10, plays on the couch of her family's apartment.

The Copan’s “mayor,” Affonso Celso Oliveira, has lived in the building since the 1960s and now runs the place. Residents credit him with keeping coronavirus out of the building through actions including closing the usually crowded rooftop in late January. Under normal circumstances, an average of 250 people visit the rooftop, many of them tourists looking to take in the view from the famous building.

The wave-shaped Copan building is permanently etched on the arm of Fani Moraes, a journalist who lives in the building.

The Copan has been shrouded in a mesh shield for years, in an ongoing project to replace the millions of tiny tiles that cover the structure’s exterior.

Seen from the back, the Copan resembles an undulating wave in the middle of Brazil’s largest city. The shape mimics the tilde in “São Paulo.”

Pina spent days walking up and down the hallways in the Copan, documenting the various moods elicited by these welcome mats.

Every day, Fabio Rodrigues drives three hours from his home in eastern São Paulo to the Copan, where he delivers mail to the building’s 5,000 residents spread across 1,160 apartments. The building is so big, it has its own zip code.

Pablo Resende, an architect, and Livia Tatsumi, a film editor, are fortunate to be able to do their jobs remotely while in quarantine. Other residents have not been so lucky. Some have been laid off; others are furloughed. Nearly all fear the uncertainty ahead.

Seen from the back, the Copan resembles an undulating wave in the middle of Brazil’s largest city. The shape mimics the tilde in “São Paulo.”

A doormat that reads 'welcome' in Portuguese.