I thought that Havana’s beauty would be subjective- that it was a type of beauty only I could appreciate, having an aesthetic bias and fascination toward weathered materials, decay and dilapidation. I quickly realized that this was not the case and that it was, rather, a combination of subjective and objective beauty that drew me to Cuba. The buildings in Havana are objectively significant, first and foremost. This is not a result of dilapidation, although they are, perhaps, more interesting as a result. They are significant due to their level of detail, range of styles, and the sheer volume of historic structures, some original and others layered with alterations.
Art Deco building across the street from our casa particular, Centro Habana.
From our balcony on San Nicolas- Teatro América (tall art deco building), 1941, Parking Garage with perforated concrete, 1957.
Rooftop conglomeration- from our balcony on San Nicolas.
I find that a building is inherently more interesting if it shows signs of aging. The most basic building, if left to the elements, can be enhanced through natural processes resulting in color variation and the details of degradation. When this process occurs on an already elaborate, highly detailed building, the result can be overwhelming; there’s too much to look at, and an understanding requires actual analysis beyond architectural terms- into the realm of archaeology.
San Lázaro, Centro Habana
There are depths of color, as opposed to a single layer. Color palettes are incidental- a result of layers of time being subtracted, or simply due to the availability of paint, or lack thereof. Openings are not standardized, but reflect individual personalities, styles or needs.
Shell of a building, Centro Habana.
Centro Habana.
Contrast between maintained and neglected, Centro Habana.
An industrial relic, Centro Habana.
An ‘incidental’ color palette.
There are abundant examples of Neo-Baroque, Neoclassical, art nouveau, and art deco buildings, some with clear Spanish/Moorish influences. Most buildings are highly ornate and unique, and in a strictly architectural history/research sense, we are lucky to have the Havana that exists today because it is absolutely full of architectural marvels. The fact that new construction has been scarce means that little has been demolished, so nearly every building is interesting in a historical sense.
Colonnade along the Malecón, weathered by the rugged Atlantic exposure.
It’s a surreal city; a wonderland of unassuming masterpieces. In Mark Kurlansky’s words, it is “ornate but disheveled, somewhat like an unshaven man in a tattered tuxedo”.
Colonnade and canopy, 51 Malecón.
51 Malceón comes out of nowhere. It is shockingly tall in context, and its sharply undulating façade consists of tiny, intricately patterned purple, green and white tiles. Some windows have been replaced while others appear to be original. Paint is peeling and the base columns which form the continuous colonnade along the Malecón are deteriorating. The cantilevered canopy, so precariously pinned to the columns, adds to the thrilling experience of this building. I remain intrigued, and would love to know more about 51 Malecón.
51 Malecón.
Intricate tile work, sharp undulations.
A postcard I bought in Cuba- Havana’s skyline featuring the anomalous 51 Malecón.
On the Malecón.
Neoclassicism on the Malecón.
Neo-Baroque building, Paseo del Prado.
Art Deco Teatro Fausto, 1938, Paseo Del Prado.
Uniquely detailed Teatro Fausto, 1938, Paseo Del Prado.
Egyptian Revival, Paseo Del Prado.
Elaborate Neo-Baroque building, Paseo Del Prado.
Intensely detailed Moorish building, Paseo Del Prado.
There are buildings that require more attention than they have been given, with such elaborate ornamentation that they could not be fully understood without careful study. This Moorish building along the Paseo Del Prado, much like 51 Malecón, is incredibly intriguing. These photos were taken the first time I saw it, and we revisited it multiple times during our time in Havana.
Intricate Moorish details, Paseo Del Prado.
Nighttime is endless entertainment. Whether wandering the streets or watching from a balcony- there is a constant stream of activity. People are outside, relishing the cool breeze. Jalousies are left open and iron grates do very little to obscure views straight into people’s living rooms or bedrooms. The sound of television, music and conversation wafts through the streets to create a constant, chaotic- though strangely pleasant- symphony.
Obispo 306, Habana Vieja.
Finding beauty in ruins is subjective. If objective beauty exists, it is found in work that is incredibly thoughtful and detailed. Havana is a special place that, due to unique and complex circumstances, has both types. I am not advocating for a ruinous landscape, but simply find myself interested in the paradox of a place that is both ruinous and elegant.