Part of the 1820 Settlers’ Monument went up in flames in 1994 and was rebuilt at a cost of around R59 million in today’s money, something I wasn’t aware of at the time. Most of us had other things on our mind that year. Had I known, I might have campaigned for its demolition instead.
Part of the 1820 Settlers’ Monument went up in flames in 1994 and was rebuilt at a cost of around R59 million in today’s money, something I wasn’t aware of at the time. Most of us had other things on our mind that year. Had I known, I might have campaigned for its demolition instead.
For many of us the monument, looking massively down on the African townships from the upland on the edge of town, was a symbol of our oppressive colonial heritage when it was opened in 1974.
For some, the structure represents 1970s apartheid monumentalism, perhaps not at its worst, but certainly a good sample of that era of architectural monstrosity. The half-hearted attempt at playfulness in mimicking a ship’s mast and shape falls flat.
The Monument does have in its favour that it is functional and could more rightly be described as a cultural centre rather than the usual stone edifice empty of everything except symbolism. Still, imagine if the Monument had actually been rebuilt in a more modern style, embracing the future of a new South Africa and presenting a symbol which could galvanise the hopes of the region.
What does this have to do with money, other than construction costs? There is a psychological value that is often missed in economic calculations. There is also an economic value in psychological well-being, and there is an argument that the things that are really valuable are those that are hard to measure.
Sitting in the large open auditorium at the centre of the Monument one night at a Highway Africa dinner, I appreciated the oversized yellowwood frame on which the splendid Skotnes murals hang. Then it occurred to me how much more inspiring an architectural vision the Monument could be from the outside.
Also, the Monument is a sterile space outside of big events. What could attract tourists, townsfolk and students, even when Arts Festival and other big events are not being held there?
The experience of the Spanish port city of Bilbao, the heart of the Basque region, in building its Guggenheim art museum is worth examining. Constructing the Frank Gehry-designed, titanium-clad building and buying an initial art collection cost in today’s money around R2.7 billion.
This was “signature architecture” by the man labelled by Vanity Fair as “the greatest architect of our age”. Vanity Fair also proclaimed the Guggenheim the most important piece of architecture built since 1980, describing it as “a gargantuan bouquet of writhing silver fish”.
The Bilbao Guggenheim Museum attracted criticism for the expected reasons: it represented American imperialism, it was pharaonic and grandiose, and the money could have been spent on other more useful projects rather than on a risky investment that would not necessarily resonate with the citizens or lead to urban regeneration.
In Bilbao’s case the investment seems to have paid off in pure money terms, with the number of visitors to the city drawn by the Guggenheim sending tourist numbers soaring. Added to this, much of the cost was borne by corporate sponsors. By 2004 the city had arguably made back its investment, and if not it almost certainly has by now.
The other criticisms remain cogent. Not everyone is impressed by the disconnect between the transcendent modernism of Gehry’s architectural triumph and the city of Bilbao itself. That is not an argument against spending money on architecture, art or museums, however.
Museums, including art museums, are public goods. Calculations of return on investment that do not take note of art’s incalculable contribution to the cultural life of the city are crass. There is a trade-off.
Often, however, investments in art or culture cannot simply be redirected to other projects. You couldn’t easily persuade the sponsors of the National Arts Festival to put their money into education instead.
I don’t think Grahamstown could bear the cost of a Guggenheim. The Bilbao Guggenheim was a “onceoff ” and other such projects have failed. But what about building something exciting if more modest, perhaps, that better mirrors the original architecture of the town? Is there no South African architect who could build something other than a large blockhouse or corporate tower?
The building of the Bilbao Guggenheim was accompanied by the regeneration of city facilities to meet tourist demand. The only architectural investments I see in Grahamstown are varsity residences and new apartment blocks and townhouses thrown up to house students.
The 1820 Settlers’ Monument is a dominant visual symbol in Grahamstown. If we can find the money for a name change, surely we could find the money for a building that would inspire civic pride and add to the city’s tourist potential. Should the monument burn down properly at some stage – and, please, I am not recommending arson – it would provide the foundation for a new vision.
