Unseen Buenos Aires: The Obelisk.

Misoneism, was first used in 1886, and it is defined, by the Merriam- Webster’s dictionary, as a noun that means: ‘a hatred, fear, or intolerance of innovation or change.’

After its confronted by fluctuations in its environment, there are three possible states of attitude that the human psyche can derive at: Acceptance, and quite possibly joy; the complete opposite of that first happy spectrum, Hate; or the third, to everyones’s chagrin, acquiescence with a bitter taste. That third emotional stop, is, to many, the worst outcome; it’s defeat in the face of the future. Its yielding under something repulsive and learning, as they say, ‘to live with it.’

There is nothing as unfavorable as to be stomped by progress’s black jackboots; its horrid march bearing all its, considerable, weight on your back.

Sometimes, when people first witness modifications to their ecosystem, they see everything with a murderous prejudice. Everything is uncouth, gaudy, ill-bred and simply, as Argentinian’s are so fund of pronouncing: grasa.

When the Eiffel Tower was being planned, by the Parisian government, as a memorial to celebrate the centennial of the French Revolution, public opinion towards it was grimily low. Alexandre Duma even published, and signed, the following declaration: ‘we protest with all our strength the useless and monstrous Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower is without doubt the dishonor of Paris. Everyone feels it, everyone says it, everyone is profoundly saddened by it.’

Another primer example is Neuschwanstein, the fairy tale inspired fortress that was later used as a blueprint for Disney’s Cinderella Castle. For over a century nestled in a looming pool of peaks inside the German Alps, its presence was heavily repudiated. During its construction, its creator: King Ludwig II’s, sanity, was called into question; if he hadn’t died, in 1886, the authorities would have stolen the throne, destroyed the citadel and, just so he couldn’t build another monstrosity, would have had him declared legally insane. 

The Guggenheim Museum, in New York, cemented such colorful reactions as: ‘A toilet bowl’, ‘A hangar for flying saucers’, ‘a gigantic snail shell’ and ‘Wright’s joke on New York’.

Even St. Paul’s Cathedral could not escape initial outcries, and was referred to as: ‘awful, pompous and artificial’, when its was first viewed after its completion.

In the end, most where reclaimed as state seals and, after a while, do in part to the economic boom they brought to the tourist trade, and regional merchants, they were ultimately embraced, in spite of the fiery outburst they first fueled; money ended up calming the beast and winning over aestheticism.

The postcard imagery of Buenos Aires, that monument that has given it a worldwide logo, The Obelisk, was almost burned on completion because of its perverse and burlesque mockery to the Capital’s refined taste.

Built on the intersection of The 9 de Julio and Corrientes Avenue, in the place geographically referred to as ‘the exact heart of the country’. The first impression devised by the populace was that of a bad omen; they saw a giant white dagger stabbing the nation’s beating cardiac muscle.

The iconic monument was build in order to commemorate the fourth centenary of the city’s foundation. Its construction began in March of 1936 and by May of that same year, the monolith was inaugurated. In less than 31 days, 157 workers erected the mighty plinth over the demolished St. Nicholas of Bari church; the historical house that first hoisted the official Argentine flag. 

Retailers, shopkeepers, tycoons, and citizens, were relocated in order to facilitate its rapid built. Markets, stores, banks, homes and historical sights were decimated, in less than a week, to widen the arterial avenue and the park: Republic Plaza, for the colossal white Olaen stone and concrete behemoth. 

Protests and marches soon followed its launch. Graffiti and defilement was an everyday occurrences. Elderly ladies, and gentile men, would glare at it with ‘the evil eye’ and spit on its foundation. The place was thought to be cursed by the souls and ghost of dead workers. Lightning would continually strike the metal rod, situated on the apex of the beast, giving it a Galvanic air, reminiscent of gothic visuals.

Phrases like: ‘Giant pincushion’, ‘It’s only compensation for the president’s tiny prick’, ‘Plasta de mierda’, ‘armatoste espantosos’, ‘We’re not even creative... We stole it from the Yanks!’, constantly braced themselves against the architect’s, Alberto Prebisch, modern masterpiece. 

After a few years all the fuzz was forgotten. The podium not only heighten the city’s cosmopolitan perfume, broadcasting to the world its fevered night life, and claiming it had nothing to envy from Times Square and Picadilly Circus, but it also became the beloved symbol of Buenos Aires. The picture and idol that would forever be conjured up inside the public’s mind; one part of the vast representation of Porteño scenery and stereotypical ideals. 

Like all things, some, even to this day, continue to repudiate it. Nonetheless, there can be no quarrel to the fact that, like Gardel’s tangoed silhouette, like the celestial blue and white of the country’s flag and like the multicolored houses of the Boca neighborhood, the Obelisk has become a stable and a hallmark of Argentina. It grew into the emblem for vacationing travelers and the main magnet for foreign currency.

Once again a clear example that its easier to adapt if greased by green dollar bills.

Excerpt: The Wraith of The Obelisk- L.J. Gomez.