By Peter Dellert, 2011
Route 5, Holyoke
At the intersection of Route 5 and Lincoln Street in Holyoke — between a worn median and a red brick 100-year-old home for sale — stands Peter Dellert’s Sentinels: two slender cement tornados divided.
Installed in 2011, the cylinders are made of a white cement that was smoothed in places and left rough in others, creating a texture reminiscent of paper pulp. As Holyoke is the Paper City, the lean and delicate appearance of the columns is unlikely an accident.
Paper built Holyoke. The city was one of the nation’s first planned industrialized communities, which means, in the mid-1800s, it was designed to maximize Holyoke’s ability to contribute to the economy. At the time, that meant taking advantage of the city’s water-power potential and manufacturing. And Holyoke’s contribution was paper — lots and lots of paper. The city claims that with 25 manufacturers humming in the mid-20th century, Holyoke was the world’s largest paper-maker.
And paper hurt Holyoke. Keeping up with advances in paper production was difficult, and as people moved more and more toward leading digital lives, demand for paper diminished. In 2004 the last of Holyoke’s paper mills closed for good.
Now, here along Route 5, with the steady hum of traffic and the occasional faint bass beat of a reggaeton jam in the background, these paper-like twisters stand, cut in half, but stretching to reconnect — or not. Repulsion can be difficult to read, as can cement.
Dellert’s Sentinels are a success of Brutalism’s struggle to make concrete lithe and curious. And a beautiful reminder of the city’s heart.
— Kristin Palpini, editor@valleyadvocate.com
