120
archipelago possessed something unique and very important in which they
could take pride. From that moment on, el Astrofísico began to acquire recognition and popularity among our people, and Spaniards began to see in the
Canaries something more than just a warm climate. The IAC had certainly
given an extra unexpected and long-lasting added attraction to the
Fortunate Isles.
Returning to the summer of ’85, this magnificent display was not brought
about by sheer chance. Everything was fraught with difficulty, starting with
the challenge of getting so many VIPs to fit a purely scientific event into their
crowded schedules. There were many complications. The inaugurations themselves had to be organized, along with the concomitant entertainments on
both islands. And then there was the problem of transporting so many VIPs
simultaneously. Extreme care had to be taken regarding security, logistics,
protocol, accommodation, catering, and so forth. It was a tough challenge
and a real headache for those charged with organizing it all, and everything
needed to be carried out to perfection. It seems miraculous now that it all
should have gone like clockwork and without a single hitch.
The inaugurations were the cherry on a rich cake that had been many years
in the baking. To reiterate the ingredients: we had first of all to verify, with the
scantest of means, that the skies above the Canarian summits met the most
stringent requirements for observational astrophysics; then it was necessary to
encourage and persuade foreign scientific institutions to cast off old prejudices
and bring their modern telescopes here, and at the same time convince our
politicians here that the Canarian skies were a valuable public ‘natural resource’
that could be tapped for science, technology, and culture, and even tourism.
A couple of amusing incidents served as light relief from all the solemnity
of these inaugural events. When we began to think about what to do to leave
a visible and lasting memorial of the occasion, we came up with the idea of a
symbolic sculpture. And what better than a great spiral of the sort produced
by the consummate Canarian artist Martín Chirino, cofounder in 1957 of the
Spanish El Paso abstract movement? I spoke to him about it and he was
delighted. He told me he would set to work on the concept immediately. We
obtained money from the Ministry of the Presidency of the Government, to
which the IAC was answerable at the time, and which was covering the costs
of the inaugurations. But the President of the Canarian Government had
found out about the plans and, without informing us, commissioned another
Canarian artist, César Manrique, to do the sculpture. It was evident that
Manrique was a friend of the President. Martín was naturally furious at this
turn of events and did not speak to me for years, as though I had been to
blame. César, on the contrary, became a friend.
F. Sánchez
archipelago possessed something unique and very important in which they
could take pride. From that moment on, el Astrofísico began to acquire recognition and popularity among our people, and Spaniards began to see in the
Canaries something more than just a warm climate. The IAC had certainly
given an extra unexpected and long-lasting added attraction to the
Fortunate Isles.
Returning to the summer of ’85, this magnificent display was not brought
about by sheer chance. Everything was fraught with difficulty, starting with
the challenge of getting so many VIPs to fit a purely scientific event into their
crowded schedules. There were many complications. The inaugurations themselves had to be organized, along with the concomitant entertainments on
both islands. And then there was the problem of transporting so many VIPs
simultaneously. Extreme care had to be taken regarding security, logistics,
protocol, accommodation, catering, and so forth. It was a tough challenge
and a real headache for those charged with organizing it all, and everything
needed to be carried out to perfection. It seems miraculous now that it all
should have gone like clockwork and without a single hitch.
The inaugurations were the cherry on a rich cake that had been many years
in the baking. To reiterate the ingredients: we had first of all to verify, with the
scantest of means, that the skies above the Canarian summits met the most
stringent requirements for observational astrophysics; then it was necessary to
encourage and persuade foreign scientific institutions to cast off old prejudices
and bring their modern telescopes here, and at the same time convince our
politicians here that the Canarian skies were a valuable public ‘natural resource’
that could be tapped for science, technology, and culture, and even tourism.
A couple of amusing incidents served as light relief from all the solemnity
of these inaugural events. When we began to think about what to do to leave
a visible and lasting memorial of the occasion, we came up with the idea of a
symbolic sculpture. And what better than a great spiral of the sort produced
by the consummate Canarian artist Martín Chirino, cofounder in 1957 of the
Spanish El Paso abstract movement? I spoke to him about it and he was
delighted. He told me he would set to work on the concept immediately. We
obtained money from the Ministry of the Presidency of the Government, to
which the IAC was answerable at the time, and which was covering the costs
of the inaugurations. But the President of the Canarian Government had
found out about the plans and, without informing us, commissioned another
Canarian artist, César Manrique, to do the sculpture. It was evident that
Manrique was a friend of the President. Martín was naturally furious at this
turn of events and did not speak to me for years, as though I had been to
blame. César, on the contrary, became a friend.
F. Sánchez