Beckett Bridge over the Liffey, Dublin, by Santiago Calatrava

photo: Shane Murphy m

Can there ever have been a more appropriate memorial to a writer than the new Samuel Beckett bridge that opened in Dublin on 10 December? The several thousand tons of steel deck and pylon were fabricated in a factory in Rotterdam, then carried across the sea by a barge labouring in the churning swell. A stately bridge carried over the turbulent water by a boat? Here's a conceit so surreal it makes Waiting for Godot read like a cereal packet.
The designer was Santiago Calatrava, the Valencian architect who has made expressionist bridges and weirdly torqued structures a trademark. Never mind that Beckett made a virtue of muted understatement. The writer once said "Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness". Calatrava does not think that way. He's in the landmark business.
This is Calatrava's second bridge in Dublin – the first was dedicated to James Joyce and opened in 2003. The new Beckett Bridge is technically interesting: the structure is cable-stayed from a 40-metre pylon. The span across the Liffey is 124m and carries two lanes of motor traffic, one of cycles and one of Godots. Trains may come later. Hydraulic apparatus allows the bridge to swing through 90 degrees in the horizontal plane to allow ships to pass.
Artistically, it is more interesting still. Calatrava has ignored the temptation to use ForEx traders, race-horse owners and other Celtic tigers as a source of inspiration. Instead, he has been inspired by Guinness's traditional harp: the tensioned cables are, he says, to be seen as strings. It reminds me of what Beckett said about Dublin university containing the cream of Ireland: rich and thick.
Calatrava is a form-giver of novel genius. And cities all over the world have eagerly offered him commissions since the dramatic presence of a Calatrava bridge has become short-hand for "go-ahead". Indeed, few people are better engineered into the postmodern sensibility than Calatrava: his PhD was called "Concerning the Foldability of Spaceframes" a title which powerfully suggests the ambiguous fascination of our human predicament. Significantly, Calatrava's work has of late been suffering a little revisionism in the architectural press. Some see him as a showman rather than a great designer. Still, Dublin has a fine new landmark bridge. It's too early to say whether it's a success, but let's remember Beckett's advice: "Fail better."

The Guardian