Signs Of The Times
Every year, London's venerable 'Literary Review' awards a not so coveted award for the worst description of a sex scene in contemporary fiction. There are always plenty of embarrassing contenders, and in many cases, the more surly authors are themselves too embarrassed to collect the award.
Cracow might launch a similar prize for the most offensive architectural adornment to the city each year. The newspaper Gazeta Wyborcza already ventures into this territory, giving a best and worst stamp to the year's architectural projects. However, Gazeta's awards tend to bypass the new phenomenon of road advertisements and shop-signs, which constitute a whole plastic galaxy in themselves.
Of course, moaners will always find something to moan about, and it's worth remembering that much of Cracow was verging on collapse fifteen years ago. Scores of businesses (glamourous and unglamourous) deserve applause for investing in the city.
However, one of the downsides of the no-holds barred investment culture is the rash of signs which is defacing the city, and the results are there for all to see.
This month, mourners walking on the annual march of remembrance for the liquidation of the Nazis' Jewish Ghetto were greeted by a brand new plastic monstrosity.
The closing phase of the march crosses the sweeping stretch of grassy upland that lies to the south east of Cracow. Here stands the impressive monument to the victims of the nearby Plaszow concentration camp, itself no more than an abandoned heath today.
The twenty foot monument stands on the crest of the southern most ridge, and it is one of the most arresting monuments in Cracow, all the more so as there are no trees in the vicinity of this wind-swept stretch of land.
Invisible to visitors is the whopping great big Castorama store that has just opened below. Or at least it should be. Last month, Castorama added a jumbo-sized sign to catch the attention of passing motorists. The bright blue and yellow belter stands some 25 feet higher than the store itself, completely destroying the effect of the memorial. It would sweep the awards at the 'most offensive sign' Oscars.
To be fair to Castorama, they probably hadn't checked out the ridge above their site, so they must have been blissfully unaware of the damage that they were doing.
All the same, the question of a law on these issues is not new to public debate. The case of ul. Florianska, the street which marks the beginning of Cracow's historic Royal Way, is one that repeatedly crops up. This ancient street - like so many others - is now choc-a-bloc with wacky signs, and authorities are always making gallant pronouncements on how the damage will soon be fixed. But nothing ever happens. Considering that so much of Poland's heritage was obliterated during the Second World War, it's crazy that the remaining treasures should be subjected to such crass insensitivity. Somebody call the style police and let's have a good old fashioned dismantling session.