The Arcades Project - Operi

The Arcades Project - Operi The Arcades Project - Operi

07.04.2013 Views

The Ring of Saturn or Some Remarks on Iron Construction According to Gretel Adorno, this text (Gesammelte Schrjften, vol. 5 [Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1982], pp. 1060 1063) was "one of the [u st pieces Benjamin read to us in Konigstein" (cited in Gesammelte Schrffrell) vol. 5, p. 1350). Benjamin himself filed the text at the begimung of Convolute G. Rolf Ticdemrull suggests that it may have been intended as a radio broadcast for young people, but thinks it more likely to have been a newspaper or magazine article that was never published. TIle piece was written in 1928 or 1929. The beginning of the nineteenth century witnessed those initial experiments in iron construction whose results, in conjunction with those obtained frolll experiments with the steam engine, would so thoroughly transform the face of Europe by the end of the century. Rather than attempt a historical account of this proc­ ess, we would like to focus SOme scattered reflections on a small vignette which has been extracted from the middle of the century (as from the middle of the thick book that contains it), and which indicates, although in grotesque style, what limitless possibilities were seen revealed by construction in iron. The picture comes from a work of 1844-Grandville's Another World-and illustrates the adventures of a fantastic little hobgoblin who is trying to find his way around outer space: ''A bridge-its two ends could not be embraced at a single glance and its piers were resting on planets-led from one world to another by a causeway of wonderfully smooth asphalt. The three-hundred-tlnrty-three-thousandth pier rested on Saturn. There our goblin noticed tllat the ring around this planet was notlnng other than a circular balcony on which tlle inhabitants of Saturn strolled in the evening to get a breatll of fresh air:' Gas candelabra appear in our picture as well. They could not be overlooked, in those days, when speaking of the achievements of technology. Whereas for us gas lighting often has about it something dismal arid oppressive, in that age it represented the height of luxury and splendor. When Napoleon was interred in the church of Les Invalides, the scene lacked nothing: in addition to velvet, silk, gold and silver, and wreaths of the inmlOrtals, there was an eternal lamp of gas over the resting place. An engineer in Lancaster had invented a device that people regarded as a veritable miracle-a mechatnsm by which the church clock over the tomb was automatically illuminated by gaslight at dusk and by winch the flanles were automatically extinguished at daybreak.

For the rest, people were accustomed to seeing gas in cOlunction with cast iron at those elegant establishments that were just then starting to appear: the arcades. The leading fancy-goods stores, the chic restaurants, the best confectioners, and so on found it necessary to secure a place in these galleries in order to presenre their reputations. Out of these galleries emerged, a little later on, the great department stores, of which the pioneering model, Au Bon MarchC, was designed by the builder of the Eiffel Tower. Iron construction began with winter gardens and arcades-that is, with genuine luxury establishments. Very quickly, however, it found its true range of technical and industrial application. What resulted were constructions that had no precedent and that were occasioned by wholly new needs: covered markets, railroad stations, exhibition halls. Engineers led the way. But poets, as well, displayed amazing foresight. Thus, the French Romantic Gautier declares: "A proper architecture will be created the moment we begin making use of the new materials furnished by the new industry. The advent of cast iron enables and calls for many new forms, as we can see in railroad tenninals, suspension bridges, and the arches of winter gardens:' Offenbach's Parisian Lift was the first theatrical piece to be set in a railroad station. "Railway depots," they used to be called back then; and they inspired the strangest notions. A decidedly progressive Belgian painter, Antoine Wiertz, sought permission around midcentury to decorate tl,e halls of railroad stations with frescoes. Step by step, the technology of that era took possession of new fields; it did so in the face of difficulties and objections of which today we can scarcely form a conception. In the 1830s in England, for example, a bitter controversy arose over the issue of iron rails. Under no circumstances, it was argued, could enough iron ever be procured for the English railway system (at that time plal1l1ed on ouly the smallest scale) . The "steam carriages" would have to nm on lanes of granite. Alongside the theoretical battles were ongoing practical struggles with materials. Tbe story of the bridge over the Firth ofTay is an especially memorable exanlple. Six years were required for the construction of this bridge: 1872 to 1878. And shortly before its completion, on February 2, 1877, a hurricane (of the particularly violent sort that assail the inlet of the Tay and that also caused the catastrophe of 1879)1 blew down two of the biggest supporting piers. And not only bridge construction made such denlands on the patience of engineers ; with turme1s, it was no clifferent. When, in 1858, plans were afoot for the twelve-kilometer tul1l1el through Mont Cenis, the estimated length of time for tl,e work was seven years. Thus, while in great things heroic efforts were expended on precedent-setting, groundbreaking achievements, in little matters there was often-strange to saysomething motley. It is as though people, and "artists" in particular, did not quite dare to acknowledge tlns new material, with all its possibilities. Whereas we

For the rest, people were accustomed to seeing gas in cOlunction with cast iron<br />

at those elegant establishments that were just then starting to appear: the arcades.<br />

<strong>The</strong> leading fancy-goods stores, the chic restaurants, the best confectioners, and<br />

so on found it necessary to secure a place in these galleries in order to presenre<br />

their reputations. Out of these galleries emerged, a little later on, the great department<br />

stores, of which the pioneering model, Au Bon MarchC, was designed by<br />

the builder of the Eiffel Tower.<br />

Iron construction began with winter gardens and arcades-that is, with genuine<br />

luxury establishments. Very quickly, however, it found its true range of technical<br />

and industrial application. What resulted were constructions that had no precedent<br />

and that were occasioned by wholly new needs: covered markets, railroad<br />

stations, exhibition halls. Engineers led the way. But poets, as well, displayed<br />

amazing foresight. Thus, the French Romantic Gautier declares: "A proper architecture<br />

will be created the moment we begin making use of the new materials<br />

furnished by the new industry. <strong>The</strong> advent of cast iron enables and calls for many<br />

new forms, as we can see in railroad tenninals, suspension bridges, and the<br />

arches of winter gardens:' Offenbach's Parisian Lift was the first theatrical piece<br />

to be set in a railroad station. "Railway depots," they used to be called back then;<br />

and they inspired the strangest notions. A decidedly progressive Belgian painter,<br />

Antoine Wiertz, sought permission around midcentury to decorate tl,e halls of<br />

railroad stations with frescoes.<br />

Step by step, the technology of that era took possession of new fields; it did so in<br />

the face of difficulties and objections of which today we can scarcely form a<br />

conception. In the 1830s in England, for example, a bitter controversy arose over<br />

the issue of iron rails. Under no circumstances, it was argued, could enough iron<br />

ever be procured for the English railway system (at that time plal1l1ed on ouly the<br />

smallest scale) . <strong>The</strong> "steam carriages" would have to nm on lanes of granite.<br />

Alongside the theoretical battles were ongoing practical struggles with materials.<br />

Tbe story of the bridge over the Firth ofTay is an especially memorable exanlple.<br />

Six years were required for the construction of this bridge: 1872 to 1878. And<br />

shortly before its completion, on February 2, 1877, a hurricane (of the particularly<br />

violent sort that assail the inlet of the Tay and that also caused the catastrophe of<br />

1879)1 blew down two of the biggest supporting piers. And not only bridge<br />

construction made such denlands on the patience of engineers ; with turme1s, it<br />

was no clifferent. When, in 1858, plans were afoot for the twelve-kilometer<br />

tul1l1el through Mont Cenis, the estimated length of time for tl,e work was seven<br />

years.<br />

Thus, while in great things heroic efforts were expended on precedent-setting,<br />

groundbreaking achievements, in little matters there was often-strange to saysomething<br />

motley. It is as though people, and "artists" in particular, did not quite<br />

dare to acknowledge tlns new material, with all its possibilities. Whereas we

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