Tag: public art

Postcard from Bilbao, Spain: Urban vitality conquers industrial detritus

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Above: Dancers swirl around Plaza de Santiago in Casco Viejo on a fall night.

There is no nightlife in Spain. They stay up late but they get up late. That is not nightlife. That is delaying the day.”

Ernest Hemingway

Better leave it to Ernest Hemingway to explain Spain’s nocturnal habits, for I rarely witness late nights outside our home in South Austin or apartments when we travel. That’s why it was particularly pleasurable for the Basques of Bilbao to bring the party to a plaza directly under our balcony. If they did indeed stay up late, they were polite enough to pack up the accordions and finish the celebration elsewhere.

Below represents a random unpacking of snapshots from our stay in Bilbao – a city resuscitated by the reclamation of its riverfront from its industrial past and a bold, massive investment in art.

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Postcard from San Antonio, Texas: Reclaiming creek as urban asset

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Above: “Restoration,” mural by Kathy and Lionel Sosa

Once upon a time, I logged a lot of hours at City Hall, sometimes parking on a surface lot behind it. Behind it meaning on the other side of an unrecognizable creek. An ugly footbridge, hemmed in by chained-link fencing, crossed a narrow trash-filled concrete-walled ditch – San Pedro Creek. A place creepy enough to leave me feeling I should pay an extra dollar or two to park in front of City Hall.

Above: 1889 photograph of San Pedro Springs, Austin History Center via Portal to Texas History

Development and insensitive flood-control projects had destroyed what had once been a healthy spring-fed creek.

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Postcard from Oviedo, Spain: Things that matter along the streets

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Above: Souvenir display in a shop window

Mass-manufactured souvenirs might be tacky, but they often serve as indicators of what distinctive symbols a community values. Assigned positions of prominence here are replicas of the pair of treasured bejeweled crosses from the Cathedral, the ancient ones recovered and repaired following a brazen 1977 theft. And the beloved Virgen de la Esperanza (Hope) from Capilla de la Balesquida across the plaza.

And then there is apple cider. Almost a religion as well. The ritualistic way to pour cider is to hold the glass at waist level and pour from above one’s head, essentially aeration. Obviously, a talent best left to the experienced waiters circling within the sidrerias, which are far from difficult to locate. You are supposed to down this serving immediately before it goes flat and then wait patiently for a server to stop to pour another glug from your bottle. The cider has about the same alcohol content as standard American beer.

And there, completing this cherished trinity, perched front and center in the window, is Mafalda. Argentinian Quino created the wise-cracking six-year-old girl, usually with a smile on her face, to voice satirical criticism of her enemies: Fascists, militarists and, for some strange reason, soup.

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