Madrid, Spain - A long-standing plan to create a museum dedicated to the famed war photographer Robert Capa, at the site of his iconic photograph capturing the wreckage of the Spanish Civil War, is facing unexpected upheaval. Campaigners and historians are expressing deep disappointment and frustration as the current council appears to backtrack on commitments made only several years prior.
The building at 10 Peironcely Street, immortalized through Capa's lens, was damaged by bombings during the war. The photo depicts the stark juxtaposition of destruction, with children playing on the street outside, providing viewers with insight not only about the town’s state but also the spirit of its people amid chaos.
Originally, under the leadership of former leftist mayor Manuela Carmena, Madrid's city council had plans to expropriate the property for €500,000 (approximately $540,000) and convert it to a cultural center to honor Capa's legacy. "When the expropriation process is over, our idea is to create a memorial center, where Robert Capa’s work could be displayed," stated José Manuel Calvo, responsible for sustainable urban development back then.
These ambitions seemed to align with the city’s historical narrative, as Capa’s work during the war exposed the grim realities faced by ordinary civilians. His photograph from 1936 became one of the most enduring images of the war, showing both suffering and resilience.
Fast forward to 2024, and the mood has shifted dramatically. The present council, now led by the conservative People’s Party, has cast doubt on the necessity of the museum. The director general for heritage recently indicated at a council meeting, "The concept of the Capa museum is merely a conceptual proposal and not an architectural draft.”
They added, “At this moment, our focus is on restoring the building, which is quite fragile. After these renovations, we will decide its optimal use based on the building’s conditions."
This change has angered local activists like José María Uría from the Fundación Anastasio de Gracia. He expressed, “We feel devastated after all these years of work. We have continuously promoted this site as the Robert Capa Centre for the Interpretation of the Aerial Bombing of Madrid.”
The proposed site is not just any location; its historical significance has drawn attention from various fronts. Uría and his colleagues argue vehemently against the council’s suggestion to turn the space instead to multi-use cultural activities, as they believe it diminishes the site's uniqueness. They already have safer and larger cultural venues within proximity.
The controversy doesn't stop there—this is part of broader political strife involving numerous locations linked to Spain's frayed connection to its Francoist past. For example, the former socialist government faced backlash when they removed Franco's remains from the Valley of the Fallen, and only recently, the Real Casa de Correos was designated as a site to commemorate the victims of Franco’s regime.
Uría also noted the inconsistency of the city’s stance; only three years earlier, part of Capa’s iconic photo was showcased at the renowned Reina Sofía museum, juxtaposed with Picasso’s famous painting, Guernica. “We proudly display THAT photo,” Uría pointed out, “while simultaneously neglecting the very site it was taken.”
His frustrations reflect not just disappointment but what seems to be growing cynicism toward local governance. "It feels disdainful; we’re not fools. You don’t build without planning.” His remarks echo those of many who've invested emotional and financial effort to preserve not just the building but the memory of what it symbolizes.
Despite the shifting narratives and political chess games being played around them, activists remain hopeful. The Save Peironcely 10 platform continues to gather support from across communities. They argue fervently for the preservation of the building, not just as rubble, but as active testimony to Spain’s fraught history.
While the plans for the museum are on hold, the eyes of many will remain on the Peironcely site, questioning if the city can reconcile its historical significance with the inertia of its government’s current priorities. The people who have lived near the building and who fight for its legacy represent not only history enthusiasts but those who wish to honor the pain and perseverance of their ancestors.
To many, the decision to revisit the plans surrounding this cultural landmark isn’t merely about architecture; it’s about identity. Madrid’s heritage, shaped significantly by the Spanish Civil War, holds insights and lessons still very relevant today. And as activists continue to rally around Capa's legacy, they remind us all of the weight of history and memory—and how important it is to honor it, not just with words, but with actions, as well.