Since I don’t live in war-torn Syria or conflict-ravaged Afghanistan, the following statement is bound to sound ridiculous. But here goes.

Every day, something happens that makes me realise I’m no longer cut out for this world. Granted, life in Malta can be sweet and easy. We are by world standards without severe economic hardship or humanitarian disaster. We’re blessed with good public health and education and bathe and bask in wonderful sea and sunshine. Whatever we lack, we have compensations.

Yet, we are still at odds, waging an environmental and aesthetic war against officialdom. I’d even say we’ve reached the point of having to pick and choose our battles in order to avoid a permanent state of impotent rage.

That Malta is an environmental disaster is pretty clear and it is swiftly becoming an aesthetic one as it is being ‘embellished’ to oblivion. No surprise a few weeks ago, therefore, when the Times of Malta reported that stairs in Balluta were to receive a €450K facelift. I lost my rag, not knowing what angered me more, the astronomical inflated cost or the ridiculous design that was both ugly and dangerous.

OK, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that. Fast food and inferior wine may be all very well but a Michelin star is altogether something else, a universally accepted standard, both authoritative and reliable in its objectivity. And it’s the same with stairs: take the much-admired Spanish Steps in Rome or, closer to home, Renzo Piano’s or the ones connecting the Victoria Gate with Valletta.

Such structures are flawless in their simplicity and, surely, anyone who disagrees is visually illiterate. It’s the same with other architectural details in Valletta, Mdina, Rabat, the Three Cities and, indeed, ‘old’ Malta generally. If you can’t appreciate their authentic beauty or if you truly believe that modern Buġibba or Sliema are better than they were 50 years ago, you’re aesthetically challenged. It’s that simple.

I’ll say it again: a ‘staircase’ which looks more like a bathroom centre is a non-starter. Aside from obvious safety issues (glass, strong winds and inebriated adults don’t mix and you can’t physically hold on to glass ‘railings’), this particular exercise in kitsch reminded me of ‘crazy mini-golf’, all confusion and ‘busy’. Simply looking at the artist’s impression made me feel dizzy, for surely the focal point of any staircase should be the steps themselves. They shouldn’t be a sideshow you have to work hard to notice.

Besides, the whole shebang looked like a maintenance nightmare: glass, to look good, must be pristine or the whole point of it is lost while planters at €64,000 a pop is a lot of money to invest in vandalism and ashtrays. Indeed, there wasn’t a single thing I liked about the design and I was not alone. Everybody I know was outraged.

A ‘staircase’ which looks more like a bathroom centre is a non-starter- Michela Spiteri

But most staggering of all was that this design enjoyed the blessing of the St Julian’s local council, which, it appears, has not learned its lesson from the Paceville garden, vandalised to death despite security cameras and night-time closure. And the lesson, quite simply, is this: you’ve got to keep things as simple as possible. That is why the Spanish Steps have stood the test of time. There’s no glass to break, lights to vandalise, steel to rust or fountain to keep clean. The steps are their own feature and, being timeless, have, in time, become iconic and romantic.

I have spent my entire life photographing staircases, both in Malta and overseas. There is something haunting about them, old and neglected as they may be, and this, I think, explains why films and ads regularly use Valletta as a location. The Balluta stairs may not be in that league but they are still charming and, given that they are sandwiched between the splendid Balluta buildings and the pretty terraced houses on either side of the Carmelite church, they could have been transformed into something staggeringly beautiful, with the right design.

Instead, our local council was content to banish all trace of authentic Balluta and replace the stairs with something soulless that would – which is far worse – look tacky in a few months’ time. And while I am sure the mayor meant well when he said that he’d risk losing the financial handout if a project was not forthcoming, I’m afraid that is the problem. The Development Planning Fund, you see, is just another racket designed to line the pockets of architects and project managers.

In places like St Julian’s and Sliema, which are sinking (and stinking) under the weight of their garbage  (and let’s add vomit and urine), it is sheer lunacy to splurge €450K on a single stairway when a breathtaking alternative could cost less effort and a lot less public money. And while adjacent pavements remain stained, broken and dangerous, dustbins are mostly scarce or need replacing and beaches are strewn with broken glass and cigarette butts, such one-off vanity projects remain an obscene anomaly.

St Julian’s (and Malta by extension) doesn’t need project embellishment. It needs protection from it. On the other hand, a daily pavement power-wash and a radical clean-up would be a breath of fresh air. Literally. 

Endnote. Here is something I heard from the other side of the harbour (no longer the other side of the tracks): the Three Cities. A sudden and not inconsiderable river of raw sewage deluged a narrow alley at 10.30 one night in mid-August. Neither the police, the local council or WSC wanted to know (and still don’t), although the latter were eventually prevailed upon to hose down – or rather ‘dilute’ – the effluent.

This alley was authentic and photogenic enough to serve as a stunt-double for the 1919 Mandraggio in a recent film. Where is the will and the money to upgrade the 1840s British plumbing and repair the traditional Żonqor paving? Sadly, this is not kitsch useless embellishment but very necessary public works. Therein lies the rub. 

 

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