FERRIS WHEELS
When the British Government was planning for the 2000 celebrations for the millennium it considered a number of grand schemes to commemorate the history of its people, democracy, good governance, etcetera, and came up with the Millennium Dome, an enormous exhibition space that would be a monument to the nation’s rich and varied culture. A Ferris wheel, the London Eye, was also mooted. Compared to the Dome it was much cheaper to build, to maintain and could also be dismantled at little cost. It was a cheap appendage to the real thing.
Construction of the Dome hadn’t begun when ministers realized what a horrid mistake it was. Costs were going to blow out, there were dozens of parties with competing interests to negotiate with and no one really thought through what would happen post-millennium. It was an expensive fiasco that ruined quite a few political careers. The London Eye on the other hand, a big but simple revolving wheel is regarded as one of the city’s premier attractions. In summer people still have to book ahead if they want to ride. There’s proof here that there’s no accounting for the judgement governments display, and something more; that of the people isn’t hard to understand. Given the choice of travelling out of the city to see an exhibit they may not have been especially interested in, and an exhilarating view of the city, the Eye was sufficient. The Dome didn’t have to be built.
Not every city can have a giant Ferris wheel like the Eye. Relatively flat, low rise ones like London and Paris can but you wouldn’t put one in the centre of New York because it would have to compete with the skyscrapers, San Francisco is too hilly, and some cities like Beijing and Seoul are too big, and worse, too polluted. New York, Kuala Lumpur and Dubai could argue that they don’t need one; they have towers that offer more expansive views, but that misses something essential. The scenery from the chair of a Ferris wheel is constantly changing perspective. A ride on one is a journey across the city
There is something about abandoned fairgrounds that kindles gloom in the soul. The creak of rusting steel from an empty Ferris wheel is an evocative sound, especially if you have a broken heart. Closed forever or just for the season, it doesn’t matter, though it helps if it is winter, the rain is on the horizon and you in a frame of mind open to meditative or philosophical nostalgia. There are really only two types of fairground in our literature, which includes cinema. One is working and the flashing lights and spinning machines provide a backdrop to a foolish romance. The other is empty, preferably decrepit, with tumbleweeds or litter blowing about, and the protagonist enters it aware that this is the place where fate must be encountered. As metaphors go it may be cheap but in The Third Man, when Harry Lime tells Holly Martins to meet him at the Ferris wheel in the Prater, he isn’t just picking an obvious Viennese landmark; he is telling Martins it is time to grow up.
When the British Government was planning for the 2000 celebrations for the millennium it considered a number of grand schemes to commemorate the history of its people, democracy, good governance, etcetera, and came up with the Millennium Dome, an enormous exhibition space that would be a monument to the nation’s rich and varied culture. A Ferris wheel, the London Eye, was also mooted. Compared to the Dome it was much cheaper to build, to maintain and could also be dismantled at little cost. It was a cheap appendage to the real thing.
Construction of the Dome hadn’t begun when ministers realized what a horrid mistake it was. Costs were going to blow out, there were dozens of parties with competing interests to negotiate with and no one really thought through what would happen post-millennium. It was an expensive fiasco that ruined quite a few political careers. The London Eye on the other hand, a big but simple revolving wheel is regarded as one of the city’s premier attractions. In summer people still have to book ahead if they want to ride. There’s proof here that there’s no accounting for the judgement governments display, and something more; that of the people isn’t hard to understand. Given the choice of travelling out of the city to see an exhibit they may not have been especially interested in, and an exhilarating view of the city, the Eye was sufficient. The Dome didn’t have to be built.
Not every city can have a giant Ferris wheel like the Eye. Relatively flat, low rise ones like London and Paris can but you wouldn’t put one in the centre of New York because it would have to compete with the skyscrapers, San Francisco is too hilly, and some cities like Beijing and Seoul are too big, and worse, too polluted. New York, Kuala Lumpur and Dubai could argue that they don’t need one; they have towers that offer more expansive views, but that misses something essential. The scenery from the chair of a Ferris wheel is constantly changing perspective. A ride on one is a journey across the city
There is something about abandoned fairgrounds that kindles gloom in the soul. The creak of rusting steel from an empty Ferris wheel is an evocative sound, especially if you have a broken heart. Closed forever or just for the season, it doesn’t matter, though it helps if it is winter, the rain is on the horizon and you in a frame of mind open to meditative or philosophical nostalgia. There are really only two types of fairground in our literature, which includes cinema. One is working and the flashing lights and spinning machines provide a backdrop to a foolish romance. The other is empty, preferably decrepit, with tumbleweeds or litter blowing about, and the protagonist enters it aware that this is the place where fate must be encountered. As metaphors go it may be cheap but in The Third Man, when Harry Lime tells Holly Martins to meet him at the Ferris wheel in the Prater, he isn’t just picking an obvious Viennese landmark; he is telling Martins it is time to grow up.
