The Calculus Diaries - Jennifer Ouellette [83]
Descended from a family of coppersmiths, Gaudi enrolled at the Escola Tecnica Superior d’Arquitectura in Barcelona after a two-year stint in the military. His father sold the family property to pay for his son’s education, and Gaudi further earned his keep by working for Barcelona builders. Gaudi was not the most stellar student; he was too quirkily eccentric for that. One project involved the design of an entry gate to a cemetery. Gaudi embellished the basic blueprint by drawing a hearse and a smattering of mourners to set the mood, but forgot to draw the actual gate he’d been assigned to design. He received a failing grade. But two of his subsequent drawings received the highest marks, and eventually he earned the official title of architect. “Who knows if we have given this diploma to a nut or a genius? Time will tell,” sighed Elies Rogent when he signed Gaudi’s diploma in 1878.
Even today, Gaudi’s work is not universally admired, and in his early career, his designs were so bizarrely original that more often than not, he was ridiculed rather than praised. (George Orwell purportedly loathed Gaudi’s style when he lived in Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War.) A select few recognized the signs of genius. He soon found a patron in wealthy industrialist Eusebi Güell and began building his reputation as a rising young architect. The Gaudi of this period cut a striking figure, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and ruddy complexion—unusual for someone of Mediterranean descent. He augmented this with the most fashionable of clothes and a carefully groomed beard. In short, he was a bit of a dandy, although later in life he renounced such frivolities.
Gaudi also had a nasty temper and could be incredibly stubborn when it came to his craft. Take his design for Casa Batlló, which included every last detail, right down to the furniture. It was a truly innovative renovation, showcasing the architect’s signature style, with balconies that appear to move and a large cross crowning an “undulating roof.” Unfortunately, the owner of the house (Josep Batlló) had this silly notion that his furniture and aesthetic tastes should be taken into consideration, as he would be the actual occupant.
Their epic battle inspired a local poet and wag named Josep Carner to compose a rhyme describing a fictional “Mrs. Comes,” who has been given a grand piano for her newly decorated home. Not only is its sheer size problematic, it has “no style” and disrupts the harmony of the space. Mrs. Comes asks the great Gaudi for a solution. He advises her to play the violin. Satire it may be, but the tall tale captures the essence of Gaudi: He expected others to adapt to his artistic vision, not the other way around.
It was while designing the Church of Colonia Güell on the outskirts of Barcelona that Gaudi developed his unique method for determining the best curvature for his many arches and ribs in the church’s crypt, taking his inspiration from gravity. He devised a “hanging model” approach to calculate the loads on the arches. It was an elaborate system of interconnected threads, representing the columns, arches, walls, and vaults of any given design, from which he suspended sachets filled with lead shot to mimic the weight of various building components. Not surprisingly, the end result was often a catenary. Catenary shells are still used in structural engineering today.
Gaudi’s method wasn’t sufficient