The Adjusted Normal, 39. On the Red List.
There is an association in Spain that has a web page with a red list. That red list is composed of historical structures in danger of disappearing. The structure doesn't have to have been involved in direct history, it can simply be part of the cultural heritage that changes as time continues.
On the red list, this week were added some telleiras, or tile factories. There are two in Valga, one in Catoira, and another on this side of the Ulla across from Catoira, in the village of Quintáns. They were probably abandoned in the middle of the twentieth century, but had been producing at least by the end of the nineteenth century. The buildings were leased by a man from A Guarda, on the Portuguese border, who brought two Portuguese workers with him to run the factory. Eventually, he married a local woman, and after some years rented the one in Catoira, leaving the Quintáns factory because it had less production capability.
The best thing going for these artisan industries, was that the tiles were moved by water. There were landings, and they had their own boats. Undoubtedly some also moved by land, but in those times, roads were little more than dirt lanes. With the years, though, they disappeared, and another factory appeared in 1950, also on the Catoira side of the river. This one specialized more in wall tiles, but they also made roof tiles, only it had machinery, and the work was no longer artisan. I remember going with my parents back in 1978, when we started building the house next door, where they would retire to. My parents chose that summer we were here, on vacation, to get a few things done in person, one of which was choosing the tiles for the kitchen and the bathroom.
The crisis of 2008 put paid to that factory, by then already in the hands of a French multinational corporation. It declared bankruptcy and closed in 2009. Now, it, too is a shell, abeit of a more modern stripe.
Hispania Nostra is an association that seeks to preserve historical and cultural buildings that are unique. It has a red list, on which information can be found of all the sites brought to the association's attention that need saving. It has a green list, with all the sites recovered, and a black list, with sites that have disappeared, or have been transformed into something very strange. It's useful for discovering gems that time and human activity have wilted to the point no one knows what they are any more.
Sometimes, a ruin is recognizable, or remembered. Four stone walls by a river, with a diversion of that river, means there was a flour mill there. Any ruin with a cross was a chapel. Other times, there will be a house standing by itself, paint peeling from crumbling window panes, ivy and brambles poking through rafters without tiles, and you will wonder at its story, and how it came to be abandoned. Unfortunately, too many of these lonely sites are considered eyesores and, eventually, razed. Or have their stones pilfered. A local tower, the Castelo da Lúa, dating from at least the fifteenth century, has disappeared that way, its outline in the ground the only sign it ever stood there. Its stones now make up many of the stone houses in the vicinity.
The new isn't always better, and the old isn't always trash. We should try to conserve our history, so we can learn from it who we are and where we're going.
Life continues.
On the red list, this week were added some telleiras, or tile factories. There are two in Valga, one in Catoira, and another on this side of the Ulla across from Catoira, in the village of Quintáns. They were probably abandoned in the middle of the twentieth century, but had been producing at least by the end of the nineteenth century. The buildings were leased by a man from A Guarda, on the Portuguese border, who brought two Portuguese workers with him to run the factory. Eventually, he married a local woman, and after some years rented the one in Catoira, leaving the Quintáns factory because it had less production capability.
The best thing going for these artisan industries, was that the tiles were moved by water. There were landings, and they had their own boats. Undoubtedly some also moved by land, but in those times, roads were little more than dirt lanes. With the years, though, they disappeared, and another factory appeared in 1950, also on the Catoira side of the river. This one specialized more in wall tiles, but they also made roof tiles, only it had machinery, and the work was no longer artisan. I remember going with my parents back in 1978, when we started building the house next door, where they would retire to. My parents chose that summer we were here, on vacation, to get a few things done in person, one of which was choosing the tiles for the kitchen and the bathroom.
The crisis of 2008 put paid to that factory, by then already in the hands of a French multinational corporation. It declared bankruptcy and closed in 2009. Now, it, too is a shell, abeit of a more modern stripe.
Hispania Nostra is an association that seeks to preserve historical and cultural buildings that are unique. It has a red list, on which information can be found of all the sites brought to the association's attention that need saving. It has a green list, with all the sites recovered, and a black list, with sites that have disappeared, or have been transformed into something very strange. It's useful for discovering gems that time and human activity have wilted to the point no one knows what they are any more.
Sometimes, a ruin is recognizable, or remembered. Four stone walls by a river, with a diversion of that river, means there was a flour mill there. Any ruin with a cross was a chapel. Other times, there will be a house standing by itself, paint peeling from crumbling window panes, ivy and brambles poking through rafters without tiles, and you will wonder at its story, and how it came to be abandoned. Unfortunately, too many of these lonely sites are considered eyesores and, eventually, razed. Or have their stones pilfered. A local tower, the Castelo da Lúa, dating from at least the fifteenth century, has disappeared that way, its outline in the ground the only sign it ever stood there. Its stones now make up many of the stone houses in the vicinity.
The new isn't always better, and the old isn't always trash. We should try to conserve our history, so we can learn from it who we are and where we're going.
Life continues.
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| Telleira de Quintáns |
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