hyperart:saludagrade
A Thomasson, coined by Japanese artist Genpei Akasegawa in the 80’s, is a term for a (typically urban) structure that no longer serves its purpose, but is still actively maintained. Staircases to nowhere, second floor doors that open on empty space, gates rusted shut but freshly painted — Akasegawa become obsessed with the concept of these existentially ambiguous objects, eventually writing an entire book on the subject.
“Abandoned by the world, no longer of use, but still carefully repaired and preserved, these were no ordinary objects. The reasons for their maintenance remain a mystery. At this point, they could only be described as “art”. No—not so much “art” as something that exceeds art…
Hyperart.”
Genpei Akasegawa, Hyperart: Thomasson
It’s the kind of idea that nests in your head, and once it’s there you start to see Thomassons everywhere. (Or at least you think you do. Truly useless artifacts are surprisingly difficult to identify, and inspire intense debate.) I recently found an interesting one on my second read of Brian Hayes’s Infrastructure: A Guide to the Industrial Landscape.
spartanburg to asheville
The Saluda Grade is a 3-mile long stretch of railroad track between Spartanburg, South Carolina, and Asheville, North Carolina, which for the duration of its active operation was easily the steepest main line track anywhere in the United States, at almost a 5% incline. For comparison, most passenger rail aims for a maximum grade below 1.5%.
Though the rail was closed to traffic in December 2001, it wasn’t officially abandoned to overgrowth until 2014, which means that for almost 13 years the track was commercially worthless but still kept up — in hopes of future use or just for appearances, I’m not sure. But at a standard density of 3,250 wooden crossties per mile (not even thinking about the volume of steel), I wouldn’t be surprised if the Saluda Grade was, during those 13 years, the largest Thomasson in the world.
and thus the heart will break
They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn:
The tree will wither long before it fall:
The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn;
The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall
In massy hoariness; the ruined wall
Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone;
The bars survive the captive they enthral;
The day drags through though storms keep out the sun;
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on:Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage