We visited Cristo Redentor today, the massive statue at the top of Corcovado Mountain which serves as a universal landmark for the city. Before we boarded our train to the top we knew that would be heavy cloud cover obscuring our view of the city from the statue’s perch. I, however, did not anticipate such heavy clouds that we would struggle to see even the icon’s head!
This seeming inconvenience actually transformed my experience of the landmark into a more mystical one. Gathered on the two-tiered platform before Cristo’s feet was a mass of people just staring and buzzing in anticipation. The whole scene would go through these dramatic waves based on the clouds above: first near-silence as the statue was hidden completely, then a rise in conversation and preparation (many “Cristo” poses struck), then a culminating cheer as the cover thinned enough to see his face clearly.
What a magical experience! Sharing the cheer with everyone, and making a kind of game out of looking at a fairly straightforward statue, was humorous and rewarding. It seems a fever-dream of the egoistic architect, to have a crowd of people stare for minutes on end just to see your work. This kind of uncontrolled event is a fleeting moment of amazing interaction between the electricly alive people and the more rigid world of architecture.
The lively crowd was of more interest to me than the statue itself.
What a great thing for a place to do to people! This kind of anticipatory spectacle is something I would love to explore in architecture: the hidden icon, the randomly-timed event, these become moments of collective excitement and interaction, curiosity, and wonder. Whether it’s a religious statue shrouded in mist, a faithful geyser, or a giant cuckoo clock (which Troy told me about), dynamic moments of spectacle create powerful moments. Curiousity, anticipation, wonder; it sounds like an architecture that can reignite the magic of childhood, and that would be a beautiful thing.
