The Plan by John Francis Kinsella
Sophie drove uncomfortably fast for Barton winding her way along the sinuous autoroute that led to the Spanish frontier some twenty kilometres south of Biarritz. It had taken a little effort, but Sophie had finally persuaded Barton to take time to visit some of the recent and more remarkable architectural achievements in nearby Spain.
As an architect specialized in interior design, Sophie worked with her father’s architectural firm, Michael Emerson & Partners, as an independent associate in London. Emerson was known for the design of the famous Dubai Bank building, one of the more startling landmarks in the Emirate.
Their first stop was Getaria, a small fishing port of two and a half thousand inhabitants on the Basque coast, fifteen kilometres south of San Sebastian, where Sophie planned to start their tour with a visit to the recently opened Balenciaga Museum.
Cristóbal Balenciaga Eizaguirre, who was to become one of the world’s most famous couturiers in fashion history, was born in Getaria in 1895. His clients included Jackie Kennedy, Helena Rubinstein, the Duchess of Windsor and the Spanish royal family. The museum, a massive block of glass and granite glinting under the summer sunshine, was situated on the flank of a small hill overlooking the picturesque fishing port.
The left wing of the museum was the Aldamar Palace, not really a palace, but a large summer house that had belonged to the Marquis Casa de Torres, the grandfather of Queen Fabiola of Belgium. When Balenciaga was a child his mother took in sewing for the marquis who was to become one of the couturiers most important clients.
The ultra-modern architecture of the museum, perched above the small port, seemed incongruous to Barton, though the idea Getaria remember its world famous son with a suitable monument was perfectly normal. Another of the town’s sons would certainly live longer in history than Balenciaga: Juan Sebastián Elkano, the first sea captain to circumnavigate the globe. Ferdinand Magellan’s second in command, who when Magellan was killed in the Philippines took command of his ship, returning to Spain in 1522 with just seventeen survivors of the two hundred and forty one men expedition that had set out in 1519.
The museum, designed by the Cuban architect Julián Argilagos, was certainly interesting, as was its contrast with the nineteenth palace adjoining it.
Sophie told Barton of the stories and ugly scandals that surrounded Mariano Camio, the mayor of Getaria, who was behind the idea of building a museum to house Balenciaga’s works in 1987. At the outset the project was mired in controversy and accusation: sketches made by the couturier disappeared, as did two pairs of gloves, one in white leather, the other in velvet, and a number of silk scarves. To make matters worse the architect was accused of megalomania. Finally, the design of the museum was finally awarded to the Cuban, a close friend of the mayor, and according to certain stories his lover. The project was however, marred by the scandals; misappropriation of public funding, the dismissal of Argilagos, and the endless delays.
Camio headed the company designated to carry out the construction, in addition he was appointed deputy president of the Balenciaga Foundation’s and director of the museum. The construction, initially budgeted at six million euros, rose to twenty one million, leaving the foundation in debt to the tune of one million eight hundred thousand euros.
Whether the stories were exaggerated or not, Barton found the Baroque intrigues fascinating, but what surprised him most was the dimension and the extravagance of the museum, which had certainly cost the Spanish tax payer, not forgetting Brussels, a pretty fortune.
After an excellent fish lunch in the old port they continued their journey to Burgos, where Sophie planned to show Barton the newly opened Museo de la Evolucion Humana. She had contributed to the design of the museum’s different levels and the creation of its exhibit rooms.
From Getaria, the drive took an hour and a half, first over the recently build highway that cut through the Basque Mountains in a series of tunnels and spectacular viaducts. They soon left the all-pervading greenery of the Basque landscape, suddenly emerging on a sun drenched plateau. After bypassing Pamplona they soon neared the outskirts of the historic city Burgos.
There traffic was light as the heat of the early afternoon sun reflected off the autopista ahead. As far as the eye could see the city was surrounded by cereal country, the crops had already been harvested leaving a golden yellow stubble across a landscape broken only by a series of small wooded hills.
Barton impressed by the region’s infrastructure, which must have been built at great cost, and noted whatever the effects of the ongoing economic crisis Spain would be left with a highly modern system of highways.
Burgos, like many Spanish cities, was compact with the cathedral the focal point of the old town. Sophie knew her way around the city having frequently visited it during the construction of the museum, which did not prevent Barton from pointing to the rose coloured road direction signs that pointed the way to the Museo.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the museum where Sophie parked the car in the underground garage and led the way up to the esplanade and the offices of the curator. There they were met by José Velasquez, one of the co-directors, for a guided tour of the museum and its exhibits.
The complex, estimated to have cost almost one hundred million euros, had been inaugurated just two months previously by Queen Sofía and was still going through its teething problems. The complex, designed by Juan Navarro Baldeweg, consisted of a three buildings clad in glass and aluminium: the Museum of Human Evolution, the Human Evolution Research Centre, and the Congress Centre and Auditorium.
Velasquez explained the design was a representation of the geological or paleontological aspects of the archaeological site, which Barton had not yet visited and had some difficulty imagining. To his untrained eye building seemed vast, out of scale given the number and size of the exhibits. It was reminiscent of the Balenciaga museum, extravagantly built, regardless of cost. It was an immense glasshouse, the unoccupied spaces of which were more than vast: stairwells, halls and corridors. It was an architect’s dream, where the question of budgets had evidently been relegated to some obscure bureau in Castilla-Leon’s regional government offices, or filed away in some corner of the Burgos City Hall.
Velasquez, wanting a few words with Sophie on the subject of some unfinished details, pointed Barton to the exhibits where he could see the cranium and mandible of Homo heidelbergensis, part of the two hundred original human fossils on display in the museum, by far the largest collection in the world.
Barton, though he knew little of science and anthropology, found himself deeply moved in the presence of the five hundred thousand year old skull of Homo heidelbergensis. As for the rest of the museum it was a sparse didactic presentation of human prehistory, he felt disappointed, to his mind the number of interesting exhibits did not warrant the vast scale of the edifice.
The visit finished, they headed for their hotel as Sophie enthused over the piece of monumental architecture. Barton congratulated her on her accomplishment, very certainly a reference as far as her career was concerned. He was careful to avoid voicing his thoughts, which would have certainly hurt Sophie.
The hotel, situated to the west of the old town, was described by the French guide book as a hôtel de charme. An ancient building tastefully relooked; its original style retained and set off by a clever choice of contemporary furnishings.
‘You’re not tired Tom?’
‘Of course not,’ he replied knowing that Sophie was eager to show him the sights.
‘Then we’ll visit the cathedral, it’s closed now but we can still admire its style.’
‘Suits me,’ he said enthusiastically.
‘It’s Spain’s the third most important cathedral. After that I know a little restaurant.’
The early evening sun reflected from the white limestone walls of the cathedral. It was magnificent. The construction of the Gothic-style Catedral de Burgos had commenced in 1221, and was not completed until 1567. During the intervening three hundred odd years, d
ifferent architects added diverse elements to the edifice and in equally varying styles.
Barton wondered how long the Museo de los Humanos or the Balenciaga Museum would last. Not long, it was a simple question of materials. Elliot Stone had once told him that architects worked for politicians and politicians knew nothing of architecture. Their ideas reflected the societies in which they lived in, with little or no thought given to durability. What counted was now and the next election.
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ asked Sophie.
‘Nothing, just thinking…,’ he replied, before admitting, ‘Well, I was only wondering how long the Museo de los Humanos would last?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘It would last longer if we could build it with more durable materials, but that costs money, lots of it.’
‘And they don’t have it?’
‘No, you can see what has happened to Spain, the result of spending money it doesn’t have.’
It was hot, still in the upper twenties, the heat of the day radiating from the massive walls of the ancient city.
‘Let’s go eat,’ said Sophie grabbing his arm.
Chapter 32 DEPRESSION AVOIDED
As an architect specialized in interior design, Sophie worked with her father’s architectural firm, Michael Emerson & Partners, as an independent associate in London. Emerson was known for the design of the famous Dubai Bank building, one of the more startling landmarks in the Emirate.
Their first stop was Getaria, a small fishing port of two and a half thousand inhabitants on the Basque coast, fifteen kilometres south of San Sebastian, where Sophie planned to start their tour with a visit to the recently opened Balenciaga Museum.
Cristóbal Balenciaga Eizaguirre, who was to become one of the world’s most famous couturiers in fashion history, was born in Getaria in 1895. His clients included Jackie Kennedy, Helena Rubinstein, the Duchess of Windsor and the Spanish royal family. The museum, a massive block of glass and granite glinting under the summer sunshine, was situated on the flank of a small hill overlooking the picturesque fishing port.
The left wing of the museum was the Aldamar Palace, not really a palace, but a large summer house that had belonged to the Marquis Casa de Torres, the grandfather of Queen Fabiola of Belgium. When Balenciaga was a child his mother took in sewing for the marquis who was to become one of the couturiers most important clients.
The ultra-modern architecture of the museum, perched above the small port, seemed incongruous to Barton, though the idea Getaria remember its world famous son with a suitable monument was perfectly normal. Another of the town’s sons would certainly live longer in history than Balenciaga: Juan Sebastián Elkano, the first sea captain to circumnavigate the globe. Ferdinand Magellan’s second in command, who when Magellan was killed in the Philippines took command of his ship, returning to Spain in 1522 with just seventeen survivors of the two hundred and forty one men expedition that had set out in 1519.
The museum, designed by the Cuban architect Julián Argilagos, was certainly interesting, as was its contrast with the nineteenth palace adjoining it.
Sophie told Barton of the stories and ugly scandals that surrounded Mariano Camio, the mayor of Getaria, who was behind the idea of building a museum to house Balenciaga’s works in 1987. At the outset the project was mired in controversy and accusation: sketches made by the couturier disappeared, as did two pairs of gloves, one in white leather, the other in velvet, and a number of silk scarves. To make matters worse the architect was accused of megalomania. Finally, the design of the museum was finally awarded to the Cuban, a close friend of the mayor, and according to certain stories his lover. The project was however, marred by the scandals; misappropriation of public funding, the dismissal of Argilagos, and the endless delays.
Camio headed the company designated to carry out the construction, in addition he was appointed deputy president of the Balenciaga Foundation’s and director of the museum. The construction, initially budgeted at six million euros, rose to twenty one million, leaving the foundation in debt to the tune of one million eight hundred thousand euros.
Whether the stories were exaggerated or not, Barton found the Baroque intrigues fascinating, but what surprised him most was the dimension and the extravagance of the museum, which had certainly cost the Spanish tax payer, not forgetting Brussels, a pretty fortune.
After an excellent fish lunch in the old port they continued their journey to Burgos, where Sophie planned to show Barton the newly opened Museo de la Evolucion Humana. She had contributed to the design of the museum’s different levels and the creation of its exhibit rooms.
From Getaria, the drive took an hour and a half, first over the recently build highway that cut through the Basque Mountains in a series of tunnels and spectacular viaducts. They soon left the all-pervading greenery of the Basque landscape, suddenly emerging on a sun drenched plateau. After bypassing Pamplona they soon neared the outskirts of the historic city Burgos.
There traffic was light as the heat of the early afternoon sun reflected off the autopista ahead. As far as the eye could see the city was surrounded by cereal country, the crops had already been harvested leaving a golden yellow stubble across a landscape broken only by a series of small wooded hills.
Barton impressed by the region’s infrastructure, which must have been built at great cost, and noted whatever the effects of the ongoing economic crisis Spain would be left with a highly modern system of highways.
Burgos, like many Spanish cities, was compact with the cathedral the focal point of the old town. Sophie knew her way around the city having frequently visited it during the construction of the museum, which did not prevent Barton from pointing to the rose coloured road direction signs that pointed the way to the Museo.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the museum where Sophie parked the car in the underground garage and led the way up to the esplanade and the offices of the curator. There they were met by José Velasquez, one of the co-directors, for a guided tour of the museum and its exhibits.
The complex, estimated to have cost almost one hundred million euros, had been inaugurated just two months previously by Queen Sofía and was still going through its teething problems. The complex, designed by Juan Navarro Baldeweg, consisted of a three buildings clad in glass and aluminium: the Museum of Human Evolution, the Human Evolution Research Centre, and the Congress Centre and Auditorium.
Velasquez explained the design was a representation of the geological or paleontological aspects of the archaeological site, which Barton had not yet visited and had some difficulty imagining. To his untrained eye building seemed vast, out of scale given the number and size of the exhibits. It was reminiscent of the Balenciaga museum, extravagantly built, regardless of cost. It was an immense glasshouse, the unoccupied spaces of which were more than vast: stairwells, halls and corridors. It was an architect’s dream, where the question of budgets had evidently been relegated to some obscure bureau in Castilla-Leon’s regional government offices, or filed away in some corner of the Burgos City Hall.
Velasquez, wanting a few words with Sophie on the subject of some unfinished details, pointed Barton to the exhibits where he could see the cranium and mandible of Homo heidelbergensis, part of the two hundred original human fossils on display in the museum, by far the largest collection in the world.
Barton, though he knew little of science and anthropology, found himself deeply moved in the presence of the five hundred thousand year old skull of Homo heidelbergensis. As for the rest of the museum it was a sparse didactic presentation of human prehistory, he felt disappointed, to his mind the number of interesting exhibits did not warrant the vast scale of the edifice.
The visit finished, they headed for their hotel as Sophie enthused over the piece of monumental architecture. Barton congratulated her on her accomplishment, very certainly a reference as far as her career was concerned. He was careful to avoid voicing his thoughts, which would have certainly hurt Sophie.
The hotel, situated to the west of the old town, was described by the French guide book as a hôtel de charme. An ancient building tastefully relooked; its original style retained and set off by a clever choice of contemporary furnishings.
‘You’re not tired Tom?’
‘Of course not,’ he replied knowing that Sophie was eager to show him the sights.
‘Then we’ll visit the cathedral, it’s closed now but we can still admire its style.’
‘Suits me,’ he said enthusiastically.
‘It’s Spain’s the third most important cathedral. After that I know a little restaurant.’
The early evening sun reflected from the white limestone walls of the cathedral. It was magnificent. The construction of the Gothic-style Catedral de Burgos had commenced in 1221, and was not completed until 1567. During the intervening three hundred odd years, d
Barton wondered how long the Museo de los Humanos or the Balenciaga Museum would last. Not long, it was a simple question of materials. Elliot Stone had once told him that architects worked for politicians and politicians knew nothing of architecture. Their ideas reflected the societies in which they lived in, with little or no thought given to durability. What counted was now and the next election.
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ asked Sophie.
‘Nothing, just thinking…,’ he replied, before admitting, ‘Well, I was only wondering how long the Museo de los Humanos would last?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘It would last longer if we could build it with more durable materials, but that costs money, lots of it.’
‘And they don’t have it?’
‘No, you can see what has happened to Spain, the result of spending money it doesn’t have.’
It was hot, still in the upper twenties, the heat of the day radiating from the massive walls of the ancient city.
‘Let’s go eat,’ said Sophie grabbing his arm.
Chapter 32 DEPRESSION AVOIDED