Carrefour de l’Europe
Carrefour de l’Europe (Crossroads of Europe)
Contrasts are wonderful. In the graphic arts, in the weather, in attitudes and behaviours, in cities, in life. The measurement or analysis of the nature of something almost always demands that it is compared against something else, I believe. The bigger a contrast one can find between two things, the more it is possible to appreciate either extreme. Brussels is without doubt a city of the most fantastic, surprising, sometimes horrifying, yet inspiring contrasts. It is a cliché to say that it sits at the heart of a nation which already contains rather strong contrasts between its people, and furthermore as a place which can arguably be described as the cross-roads of Europe, yet this cliché is here very evident, and has a poetic truth. I think there are many words to be written about what I call the “edges” of Brussels – it is truly a city of edges; social, cultural, urban. It is the latter I want to write briefly upon. As usual I am aware of the incredible depth of material there is to speak of on this matter, and it is both exciting, and intimidating. Having only had some cursory glances, and chance glimpses into the history of this city, I don’t feel at all prepared to write something in any way scientific or even particularly well informed.
I think one of the places which best illustrates this theme is the “Mont des Arts”, located between Central Station and the Upper Town/Royal Palace/Park. What an incredibly strange construction it is, in urban, architectural and cultural terms. It was once home to the Putterie district, also known as the Montagne de la Cour, which followed largely a Medieval street pattern, albeit clearly much altered since that time. What was then to come was shocking, yet typical for this town. The Belgian King, Leopold II, hopelessly concerned with bringing Brussels closer to a grand vision of a major European city, sought, against the protestations (and resignation) of its Mayor Charles Buls to sweep away the fabric of the old (lower) town and realise another major axis in the city, only made possible by his immense colonial wealth. In typical Brussels fashion, the area was demolished in the early 20th century, and then lay seemingly empty for some decades, before the various elements of the Mont des Arts were realised. What the visitor to Brussels has been able to see for the last decades, is a completely artificial garden, surrounded by grand stairs, colonnaded, impenetrable buildings (with what appears to be remains of a church facade embedded within one of them) where for, as long as I can remember, there has been a dark hole within the city, especially at night.
Yet now it has been “redeveloped” (most people struggle to see the difference) – largely underground – and was the subject of a grand opening recently, with every kind of entertainment possible thrown at the event, it was impressive, and enjoyable to say the least. So, that is a little bit of history, but what fundamentally is my point? I think it is to say that this development, this scar (as it has been described by others) leaves me in two minds – one pining for the old town (of which there is precious little left of) and the other, influenced in this moment strongly by my experience last night of walking through the newly lit space, rows of coloured lights giving the green of the ordered garden a vivid, bizarre sheen, the untended fountains, the new steel and glass box poking out from the cavernous levels below, filled with conference halls, parking spaces, tunnels, and goodness knows what else. And I was there almost alone, in the centre of Brussels, in the centre of Europe, at the crossroads of this continent. There is a beauty to the dead glory of this space, something born out of a kind of megalomania, and now considered by ordinary people as something strange, without use, and fundamentally and most importantly without any idea at all as to why it’s even there. Yet passing through it, and on into the old, twisting fabric of the lower town is a memorable journey, an incredible “shift”. One feels the organic nature of the city – you can see it in the abandoned shops (there is one whole street, rue saint-jean) between this monumental construction and the riotous network of small properties and proprietors of the centre. Around the scar is dead tissue, slowly healing itself as it can. You see this best at the skate park built over the most clear and deep cut dealt to Brussels, that of the North South underground train link. Dead land slowly is appropriated for new uses. The almost abandoned railway station Kapellekerk now hosts a cultural centre and a memorable night club, Recylcart. You can see the old city wall, cut brutally and abruptly by the road running over the railway tunnel, and dwarfed by a bowling complex just metres from the wall – only in Brussels!
Since I have arrived here I have seen and shared these and other contrasts with the people I have met, and with the friends I have made – we tell each other about them, often holding our heads, often laughing, always in wonderment at the various situations this urban creature contains. I sought recently to record some of the most memorable visions of this in a short series of photos, which I hope to further add to. In a way these might tell much more about what I’m trying to say than by the words themselves. I am both happy and sad to realise that it is the violent, uncaring history of this city which has created the possibility of such amazing contrasts, and for me, such a strange and hypnotic beauty.
bru
Mont des Arts - a photo taken on a summer evening, during redevelopment work
Financial district - "Spaghetti hut" contrasted against another amazing Fortis (bank) building
Green refuge - Part of the amazing roofscape of Brussels
Oud Korenhuis - A small square not far from Central Station
Remnants of the city wall - As only Brussels can...
