Everything is immersive, even hell. A journey to the heart of darkness in Casa Batlló.
The creative and technological world often appropriates words to empty them and turn them into pure tedium. Welcome to the era of the immersive, because now everything has to surround us in 360°, full HD, 8K. Even the wonderful Casa Batlló.
Original article published by Retina Tendencias
Recently I was on a trip to Barcelona and some friends invited me to visit Casa Batlló. I had been there years ago and I thought, “Why not? Seeing a work by Gaudí is always a great experience. Plus, it’s been quite a while, so I’ll take the opportunity to see how it feels to revisit an iconic space in the Ciudad Condal that has marked a before and after in the personality of Paseo de Gràcia.”
The truth is that it has been a real discovery to return and see that everything was immersive. Actually, it always was immersive; I had already been “immersed” in Gaudí’s wonderful work when I visited years ago. But now that immersion is not enough. It is no longer enough to appreciate the spectacular work done with wood or the sinuous shapes of the doors and the main staircase railing. Nor is the degraded sea that occupies the lower patio from bottom to top in an apotheosis of tiles that recreate one of the most spectacular ascents of the 19th century. The snail-shaped ceilings or the windows that open outward in the shape of bones are not enough either. No, all that explosion worthy of the richest lysergic experience fell short, and someone thought that the best way to enjoy the grandeur of Gaudí was to create an experience in the purest Disney World style. It’s not like people will complain about the lack of stimuli, because there will surely be some Google review saying, “Casa Batlló, 2 stars, neither here nor there, a lot of wood, not a single straight door, I don’t know what people find in that mashup of broken ceramic pieces.”
Casa Batlló is a magnificent example of nineteenth-century architecture, excessive in its opulence and requiring nothing more than a good audio guide to appreciate its splendor. However, human creativity, marketing, and crass commercialization have sprouted around it like cherry blossoms, creating a useless experience that almost parodies the original.
Upon arrival, visitors are handed a tablet with a virtual reality experience that is neither virtual nor realistic. Accompanied by audio guides with a base reminiscent of The Lord of the Rings’ soundtrack, the epic nature of the experience seems designed to appeal to fans of Peter Jackson’s movies. It’s as if Walt Disney and Jackson collaborated to bring the world of epic adventure and Disney fun together. Even Pirates of the Caribbean pales in comparison to the level of spectacle offered by Casa Batlló’s marketing.
As I climb the magnificent stairs of Casa Batlló, they resemble the scales of a dinosaur or mythological creature. Suddenly, virtual marine life appears, including turtles, fish, and other creatures. At first, I wonder if the tablet I’ve been given is meant for children, despite the gray hairs outlining my beard. But as I look around, I see that everyone is similarly immersed in their own 360°, full HD, 8K, Dolby Stereo experience.
I continue to climb, hoping to reach the rooftop, which I expect to be full of colors and iridescent gradients of ceramic tiles that decorate the building, like a cake from a Wes Anderson movie. The pinks, turquoises, and blues alternate, creating a spectacular mosaic that frames the top of the house with elements that once again remind me of dragon skins and imaginary creatures.
Once upstairs, I find a horde of tourists sitting at the newly-built bar, ordering coffee or drinks to take their desired pop photo to post on Instagram as a trophy that’s so hard to achieve.
As I reach the rooftop, I’m greeted by a horde of tourists who are sitting at the newly-built bar, ordering coffee or drinks to take the perfect Instagram photo. The shiny colors of the tiles mix with the hipster strips of light bulbs that light up at sunset, creating the perfect modern and casual setting that has become so popular.
Feeling overwhelmed by the crowd, I decide to go back inside to explore the half-empty interior. As I walk further, I come across a balcony that offers the perfect photo opportunity for couples, families, or anyone looking to capture a rollercoaster-style snapshot.
I don’t rule out that I’m starting to get older and that I’ve been left out of the wave of modernity that has engulfed architectural attractions. Gaudí, take a spoonful of contemporaneity. You’re not attractive enough. The world is so fast-paced that a real experience like living your architecture has to be hyper-adorned with digital stimuli and perfect cuts for Instagram snapshots. You, who were a pop icon of your time, succumb to ephemeral contemporaneity.
The world is so fast-paced that a real experience like living your architecture has to be hyper-adorned with digital stimuli and perfect cuts for Instagram snapshots.
I quickly pass by the box where I can pick up the photo and don’t even look at how much it costs to pose on the cornice for fear that they’ll offer me the same thing. I descend with a desire to escape and leave as quickly as possible, passing through a secondary staircase whose installation is based on metal chain profiles that create a descending gradient to the house’s foundations.
Finally I breathe. Upon stepping outside, I return my tablet and headphones, only to be informed that the visit isn’t yet complete. I’m led to the final room, which promises an immersive experience inside the mind of the Catalan architect. A sense of dread creeps over me, accompanied by a chill and cold sweat, warning that the installation may not be suitable for those suffering from claustrophobia or epilepsy. Despite this, I’m drawn in by the danger and decide to brave the modernist version of Squid Game.
The last room is filled with other visitors, all eagerly anticipating the experience. LED walls enclose us in a cube, with the door slowly closing behind us, its flashing red frame signaling that there’s no escape. The darkness descends, and the room comes alive with flashes and images. Sketches float above our heads, thoughts swirl beneath our feet, and endless digital graphic projections surround us. The stunned faces of the other visitors reflect the rush of adrenaline that washes over me. Finally, a door opens, offering an escape from the overwhelming stimuli, leading us through a gift shop and back onto the street.
As I step outside, the warmth of the sun washes over me, and I feel a sense of relief at the return to natural surroundings. Glancing back at the building’s facade, I smile, thinking it was all just a bad trip. However, my colleagues confirm that the experience was indeed real, an unprecedented immersion into the mind of Gaudí.
