My
theological qualifications are ridiculously
peccable, so when I say I couldn't find a Patron Saint
for those who perform Maintenance and Upkeep, I may,
indeed, have missed him or her. There is Expeditus
(also known as Elpidus), the saint against procrastination
and
for expeditious
or
prompt solutions. Also, Saint Barbara and Saint Thomas
the Apostle (better remembered as "doubting") are both
listed as saints for construction workers. All of
these are close to what I am looking for…but…
One of the maddening things about Naples is that they build beautiful things and then let them fall apart. Some years ago, they city decided to redo Piazzale Tecchio, the square in front of San Paolo stadium (background, center, in photo). They turned the square from a squalid clot of traffic and noise into a vast pedestrian zone, replete with banks of brick bleacher-type seats for students from the adjacent university buildings and a large area surfaced with natural, rough-hewn wooden planks. All that plus the new trees gave the students and passers–by a pleasant place to sit outside in a busy city and enjoy their lunch and maybe a fine day.
I passed by that
spot yesterday; the wooden surface is rotted and warped,
and there are weeds growing up between the cracks
(photo). Years of weathering and no maintenance will do
that. As a result, the entire area is closed and
cordoned off by that orange plastic web fencing that
they string around construction sites to keep
lollygaggers away. That, too, has been pushed down and
trampled underfoot in places by people trying to get
across the square along the narrow walkway that has been
left open. Bare, rusted spikes that held the fence in
place stick up along the route. It's a pit.
The football stadium is adjacent, also, to the east end of the mammoth Mostra d'Oltremare —the Overseas Fair Grounds— an area about one mile long by several hundred yards wide. It was opened in the late 1930s and was part of the Fascist-era splurge of construction in Naples. It had thousands of Mediterranean pine trees, a zoo, buildings for expositions, and—the crown jewel—the arena flegrea, an outdoor theater, the backdrop of which was a colouful mosaic. The wings led from both sides to access paths around to the production area where props were stored. Through the 1950s, summer productions of Aida were an annual event. The most spectacular feature at the Mostra was a suspension cable-car that led from the fair grounds up and over the trees to a point on the Posillipo ridge hundreds of yards distant and 300 feet above sea-level to overlook the entire bay of Pozzuoli to the west.
The zoo is still there, as are many
of the trees, but the fountain has not fountained in
years, nor has the theater been used in decades. Many
of the buildings have fallen to ruin, and if you
wander into the still ample wooded sections, you can
see what is left of buildings jutting out or toppled
over. In many cases, newer and very ugly buildings
have been put up over the years in that formless
quick–and–dirty prefabricated slab style of the 50s
and 60s. The grounds are still used to host yearly
events such as book and computer fairs, and some
university buildings are also on the premises. The
cable lift to Posillipo has, of course, not run since
the 1950s.
[added Jan 2014: update on the zoo here and the story of the cable lift . The square is now the site of new Mostra subway train station.]
There are two
possibilities, both of which have to do with my search
for the right saint: one, either the saint does not
exist and, thus, those people charged with keeping
things looking spiffy and fine have no need to curry
favor with the gods; or, two, the saint does exist and
those same people figure they don't have to worry about
it because the saint has it covered. This is a Thomistic
dilemma, indeed, and I tremble before it. [more at Mostra d'oltremare 2]
[Note added August
2015: German social philosopher, Walter Benjamin, figured it all out, here.]
Another good example, from Feb. 2021, is the
ex-English cemetery.
And another one, from
February 2023. This "non-maintenance" is
endemic and ingrained. It is Naples.
portal
for architecture and urban planning
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