The city of Melilla is used to being in the news due to incidents on its border or due to the periodic demands of the neighboring kingdom of Morocco, something that bothers the inhabitants of a city that is much more than conflicts: a multicultural city, an example of coexistence between religions, enclave of pleasant climate, hospitable inhabitants, excellent gastronomy and calm life.
Melilla is not exactly one of the best known Spanish cities, and neither is its varied heritage: natural, archaeological, intangible and architectural. Originally limited to the monumental and beautiful Melilla la Vieja (a citadel delimited by defensive walls from the 16th to the 19th centuries), it was the agreement of August 24, 1859, endorsed by the subsequent Wad-Ras treaty signed by Queen Elizabeth II and Sultan Mohamed IV in 1860 and materialized two years later, who dictated the new limits of the city, defined by the arc traced by the range of two shots from a cannon from the Victoria Grande fort. An extension whose layout was carried out by military engineers such as Julián Chacel and José de la Gándara.
The economic splendor that the city of Melilla achieved through trade with the Spanish Protectorate in Morocco and through the activity of its port, including the export of minerals from the Rif mines, gave rise to a new bourgeoisie. And so, along with excellent public buildings, numerous examples of domestic architecture arose, largely promoted by Hebrew merchants. It is the origin of a historical set of buildings that still exceeds half a thousand buildings. The modernist style burst into the city with force with the prolific activity of the Catalan architect Enrique Nieto y Nieto (1880-1954) who, after settling in Melilla, built hundreds of buildings. His biography has been simplified on occasions, defining him as a disciple of Antonio Gaudí. Something that the historian Antonio Bravo Nieto, official chronicler of Melilla and a great student of the city’s architecture, denies: “Enrique Nieto once worked with Gaudí, but there is nothing Gaudian in Melilla; rather he is influenced by Lluís Domènech, but also caught forms of other authors of Catalan, French, Italian modernism…”.
The work of Enrique Nieto is also linked to the temples of the main religions of the city, being the author of the central mosque and the most important synagogue, Or Zaruah. Together with him, there were various architects who turned Melilla into one of the main modernist Spanish cities, although the group includes other styles: eclecticism, rationalism, neo-Arabic, art deco zigzagging, art deco aerodynamic, etc. All this with authors such as Carmelo and Droctoveo Castañón, Alejandro Rodríguez Bolardo, Enrique Álvarez, Juan Nolla or Fernando Guerrero-Strachan.
Some of them combined interesting constructions with fictional biographies. This is the case of the military engineer Emilio Alzugaray: imprisoned for deserting the Annual disaster (he fled in the car of General Silvestre’s son), escaped from the prison in Melilla and took refuge in Casablanca, readmitted by the Republic to defend Madrid at the head of the Basque Anti-Fascist Militias, exiled in Paris and recruited by British intelligence, later forced to collaborate with the Nazis, to end up assassinated by the French Resistance. Some of the buildings Alzugaray left behind in Melilla are as picturesque as his life, including his two buildings flanked by elephant heads.
Other properties appear signed by Luis García Alix, among them the Perelló Theater-Cinema, one of the few cinemas from the twenties of the last century that is still in operation. His work did not prevent García Alix from recently leaving the city street map due to his involvement in the arrest and death of Federico García Lorca.
Less eventful was the biography of the Madrid architect Francisco Hernanz Martínez, author of the magnificent buildings art deco on Avenida de la Democracia in Melilla and some of the first rationalist houses in the city. His activity was not carried out exclusively in Melilla, but also on the Peninsula and in the Spanish Protectorate in Morocco. Recently, one of his works in the city, located on Calle de Pradilla, has been mutilated with the removal of part of its beautiful floral sgraffito due to simple bad taste on the part of the promoter.
This example immerses us in the irregular and insufficient protection of this substantial historical heritage. Royal Decree 2751/1986 declared a large part of the city as an asset of cultural interest (BIC) with the category of historical complex. This BIC, with geographical limits marked by streets, protected various neighborhoods completely and others partially. But this has not prevented the demolition of a considerable number of modernist buildings. Some, because they were, inexplicably, left out of the BIC, and others within the protected complex, for having been declared in ruins.
In general we could say that —in a first vision— Melilla presents an acceptably preserved historic center. The visitor accesses it mainly from the Plaza de España, with its imposing Spanish-style town hall. art deco, now the Melilla Assembly Palace, also the work of Enrique Nieto. The square communicates with the avenue, today named after the king emeritus, and its adjacent streets, which include some of the main examples of the historical-artistic complex: the Melul building, the Casa de los Cristales, the buildings called the Rif Telegram , La Pilarica, La Reconquista or El Acueducto, well maintained and restored. This is the Melilla that tourists and visitors see, as well as the authorities that come from Madrid, with a showy and well-cared image.
The problem begins when strolling through neighboring neighborhoods: El Carmen, Gómez Jordana or El Rastro, where deteriorated, abandoned or dilapidated buildings follow one another. Or in more remote areas such as the Real, Isaac Peral or the Industrial neighborhood, where a large part of this modernist complex, protected or not, has fallen victim to pickaxes. The architecture of Melilla includes buildings worthy of the art nouveau of any European capital next to small buildings and single-family houses that in the neighborhoods imitated the styles of large buildings. This “small modernism” has not been valued by those responsible for the city, perhaps because they do not understand its value as a whole.
What explanation do dozens of closed or dilapidated buildings have? Sometimes it is structural damage; others, of disagreements between heirs. But in other cases the reason is more perverse: closing the buildings and allowing them to deteriorate has been the way to avoid the costs of their rehabilitation, until obtaining a declaration of ruin that allows demolishing and raising a new building in which even manages to increase the height and multiply the benefits. This has been carried out as a habitual practice, tolerated by the different governments of the city whatever their political persuasion.
To address this situation, the resources that the ordinance provides to enforce the Land and Property laws have not been used: coercive fines, inclusion in the registry of plots, forced expropriations, subsidiary execution and subsequent invoice to the owner, among others. These roads are barely outlined today and appear timidly in a future General Plan for Urban Planning.
To date, the conservation of the properties has depended on the good faith of their owners. Because the aid for rehabilitation is clearly insufficient, and the means of the ministries involved —Culture and Infrastructures— are also insufficient. There is a lack of personnel, there are no specialized rehabilitation technicians, there is a need for more daily inspection of the properties in which not only the heritage is compromised, but also the health and safety of its inhabitants. Lack of will, ultimately.
Another risk is posed by certain rehabilitations. Despite the efforts of the city’s Historical-Artistic Heritage Commission, there are no clear guidelines on how to act on buildings and sometimes there is no understanding of the value of the property as a whole. Preservation, even within the BIC, seems in some cases to be limited to the façade, taking away hydraulic pavements, interior decorations, artistic stairs and original woodwork. Some buildings have been emptied on the inside for the mere purpose of adding a couple of floors. The works are usually carried out with hardly any control by the city.
Ana Viñas, dean of the city’s College of Architects, recalls that the materials used in the construction of the buildings in Melilla were inferior to those used, for example, in Barcelona, so the buildings are more vulnerable. Viñas calls for a change of mentality regarding the value of heritage. Another gap is the absence of an exhaustive catalog that negligent management never did. How many modernist buildings are there in Melilla? Five hundred? Seven hundred? How many hundreds of buildings have disappeared?
The only catalogings are partial, carried out by individuals or in scientific publications. A lack that, for the love of art, the historian Antonio Bravo and the photographer Antonio Ruiz try to fill, who today make a determined effort to inventory the moldings that frame the openings of all the buildings in Melilla, surviving and missing. They have registered more than 600 models, which gives an idea of the value of a historical complex whose streets are a true catalog of architecture.
The alarms have gone off. Two complaints are being processed before the Ombudsman and one complaint at the General Subdirectorate of Cultural Assets. But above all, there are unprecedented citizen movements that include forums such as Arquitectura de Melilla and Melillenses por el Patrimonio Histórico. Politicians seem to be trailing behind these complaints, but Melilla’s modernist architecture needs a big bailout that may no longer be possible exclusively at the local level and may require the involvement of the central government. At the same time, there is beginning to be an awareness that a city with few resources of its own has been robbed of the possibility of not only cultural and tourist development, but also economic and labor development, such as the respectful conservation of all this heritage and the learning of artistic disciplines and trades that would give training and work to many of their young people. Up to now, heritage has not been appreciated as the motor of the city, but rather as a burden.
These are the two faces of Melilla’s modernism, the one that shines and the one that is dying. Paradoxically, the city has recently awarded its gold medal to the artist Carlos Baeza, the great painter of this heritage. His paintings evoke a dream city that in its palette of ocher and gold tones shines like a precious treasure. A treasure that today requires urgent initiatives to guarantee its survival.
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