They're all water towers, literally just bits of infrastructure relating to water management.
Is it worth the additional cost and resources to make things look like this... or is it a waste?
These old water towers are an architectural subgenre of their own.
There are hundreds, mostly Neo-Gothic, and all add something wonderful to the skylines of their cities.
Like the one below in Bydgoszcz, Poland, from 1900.
But, most importantly, they're just infrastructure.
We don't think of infrastructure as something that can improve how a town looks and feels.
Infrastructure is necessary to make life convenient; but also, we believe, definitionally boring.
These water towers prove that doesn't have to, and shouldn't be, the case.
Most amazing is that these towers — remember, just bits of water management infrastructure! — have actually made their respective towns or cities more interesting, not less.
It would have been cheaper and easier to make them simpler, like this more typical example:
But their longevity, and the fact they have survived, is testament to the fact that aesthetic appeal isn't some sort of "bonus" when designing buildings or infrastructure.
To make something look nice is a thoroughly sensible investment of resources, time, and effort.
There are a few reasons for that.
First: the nicer things look — meaning, simply, the more people like them — the longer they are likely to last.
It's surely wiser to build something that will survive for centuries instead of being demolished and rebuilt in a few decades.
Because, rather than being demolished when they became obsolete, the architecture of these water towers has turned them into landmarks worth preserving and adapting.
Whether like the Lüneburg Water Tower, which is now (along with being a gallery) a viewing platform:
Or the Prenzlauer Berg Water Tower in Berlin, which (along with having a gallery space also) serves as an apartment block:
Or the quite remarkable Schoonhoven Water Tower, perhaps the most refined and sophisticated of all.
This was converted into a workshop and gallery for silversmiths after it was decommissioned.
Or even something like the Mannheim Water Tower, which hasn't been adapted to a new purpose yet and simply serves as a landmark.
The Mannheim Tower was so beloved that it was rebuilt to its original appearance after being damaged during WWII.
Infrastructure can even be iconic.
Second: there's also the accumulative benefit of beautiful buildings, and how they combine to create charming cities or towns that people want to live in and tourists want to visit.
Buildings or infrastructure are never isolated; they are always part of a broader picture.
If you removed all of Venice's lovely Medieval and Renaissance architecture... the tourism would dry up!
The same for Paris.
No doubt people would still visit for its museums and culture, but Paris' appearance is a vital and inseparable part of what makes it so appealing.
To invest in beautiful architecture (or, more importantly and simply, characteristic architecture) is to invest in the future of a given city or town or region.
King Ludwig of Bavaria's eccentric, expensive Neuschwanstein Castle has more than paid back its cost to Bavaria.
The same is true for the Sagrada Família, and for the architecture of Barcelona more generally.
Gaudí's buildings cost time and effort and resources... but they have all been worthwhile investments that helped turn Barcelona into one of the world's most beloved cities.
Third: making cities and towns prettier for the people who live in them has knock-on consequences.
Human happiness itself seems like a worthy investment, after all.
And, even keeping a purely economic perspective, people who are happier are also more productive.
So this isn't about past versus present, about so-called "traditional architecture" versus so-called "modern architecture."
I, for one, happened to love Brutalism, and Brutalist water towers (like this one in Finland) are no exception.
Alas, the majority doesn't feel that way!
People sometimes criticise posts like this by saying that old and beautiful buildings are just examples of survivorship bias.
Yes... that's the point!
It doesn't matter whether the past was more or less beautiful; what matters is how we can improve the present.
If these water towers are, indeed, examples of survivorship bias (in the sense that the past's uglier buildings have been demolished) then this is simply proof of the fact we should build more things like them, because their survival is evidence of what the public love most.
Anyway, the crucial fact is that these towers didn't end up looking how they do by accident.
It was a conscious choice to design them in a way that the public would enjoy and that would enhance the cities where they happened to be built.
And that choice is still open to us.
Every year we build hundreds of thousands of new bits of infrastructure: sewage plants, roads, bridges, signs, power stations, junction boxes, telegraph poles, and so much more.
Not all of it needs to or should be designed like those old water towers, of course.
But, as those water towers prove, it would surely be a good investment of resources, time, and effort to build certain bits of infrastructure with more care and thought, with a bigger timespan in mind, and with more attention to local heritage and what the public prefers.
Every single time we build something new, whether a bench or skyscraper, there's a straightforward choice: do we want this new thing to improve the appearance and character of its location, or detract from it?
Those old water towers represent the first option.
Anyway, there's a separate but related discussion about whether buildings' appearances should reflect their purpose, and whether these water towers are "fake" because of how they look.
But that's for another time; and, in any case, it's not something that bothers most people.
If you liked this then you'll enjoy my new book, coming out 4th September.
It's an introduction to culture — art, architecture, history, literature — as an alternative to doomscrolling and the 24 hour content cycle.
You can pre-order it, of course, at the link in my bio.
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If one thing sums up the 21st century it's got to be all these default profile pictures.
You've seen them literally thousands of times, but they're completely generic and interchangeable.
Future historians will use them to symbolise our current era, and here's why...
To understand what any society truly believed, and how they felt about humankind, you need to look at what they created rather than what they said.
Just as actions instead of words reveal who a person really is, art always tells you what a society was actually like.
And this is particularly true of how they depicted human beings — how we portray ourselves.
That the Pharaohs were of supreme power, and were worshipped as gods far above ordinary people, is made obvious by the sheer size and abundance of the statues made in their name:
It's over 500 years old and the perfect example of a strange architectural style known as "Brick Gothic".
But, more importantly, it's a lesson in how imagination can transform the way our world looks...
Vilnius has one of the world's best-preserved Medieval old towns.
It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, filled with winding streets and architectural gems from across the ages.
A testament to the wealth, grandeur, and sophistication of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
Among its many treasures is the Church of St Anne, built from 1495 to 1500 under the Duke of Lithuania and (later) King of Poland, Alexander I Jagiellon.
It's not particularly big — a single nave without aisles — but St Anne's makes up for size with its fantastical brickwork.
The Spanish edition of my new book, El Tutor Cultural, is now available for pre-order.
It'll be released on 22 October — and you can get it at the link in my bio.
To celebrate, here are the 10 best things I've written about Spain: from why Barcelona looks the way it does to one of the world's most underrated modern architects, from the truth about Pablo Picasso to the origins of the Spanish football badge...
What makes Barcelona such a beautiful city? It wasn't an accident — this is the story of how the modern, beloved Barcelona was consciously created:
When Vincent van Gogh started painting he didn't use any bright colours — so what happened?
It isn't just about art.
This is a story about how we're all changed by the things we consume, the places we go, and the people we choose to spend time with...
The year is 1881.
A 27 year old former teacher and missionary from the Netherlands called Vincent van Gogh decides to try and become a full-time artist, after being encouraged by his brother Theo.
What does he paint? The peasants of the countryside where his parents lived.
Vincent van Gogh's early work is unrecognisably different from the vibrant painter now beloved around the world.
Why?
Many reasons, though one of the most important is that he had been influenced by his cousin, the Realist painter Anton Mauve, who painted like this:
He rose from obscurity, joined a revolution, became an emperor, tried to conquer Europe, failed, spent his last days in exile — and changed the world forever.
This is the life of Napoleon, told in 19 paintings:
1. Bonaparte at the Pont d'Arcole by Antoine-Jean Gros (1796)
Napoleon's life during the French Revolution was complicated, but by the age of 24 he was already a General.
Here, aged just 27, he led the armies of the French Republic to victory in Italy — his star was rising.
2. The Battle of the Pyramids by François-Louis-Joseph Watteau (1799)
Two years later Napoleon oversaw the invasion of Egypt as part of an attempt to undermine British trade.
At the Battle of the Pyramids he led the French to a crushing victory over the Ottomans and Mamluks.