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The story of an orientalist daydream: the use of images in branding the Belgian seaside resorts as exotic playgrounds for the 19th and early 20th century bourgeoisie, and its importance as a historical evidence for the present day. Davy Depelchin, Ghent University (Belgium) During the 19th and early 20th century, the leading Belgian bathing resorts identified themselves as exotic playgrounds for the wealthy. The oriental idiom, extremely popular at the time, combined stylistic extractions of the Islamic world with contemporary political and socio-cultural points of view on the East. Permeated by escapism and by the idea of political supremacy of the European Superpowers, the aim was to rebuild an idealised version of the Orient. And thus, several visual media (model books, illustrated periodicals, posters, postcards, etc.) were brought into action for -on the one hand- the spread of the style, and -on the other hand- for branding the seaside resorts as utopian microcosms where hedonism ruled. Along the Belgian coastline, few references to the pre-war tourist exploitation survived. The hostilities of both World Wars and the suffocating pressure of the real estate business did not only erase the existing infrastructure, but also ended a total experience in which exotic tendencies such as orientalism were omnipresent. All indications to the orientalist fashion have vanished in the physical world. Moreover, written sources are few and far between. Visual media have showed that the gap in our perception of the past can be filled in. Literally ten thousands of images depict the architectural and cultural design of the late 19th and early 20th century seaside resorts. That enormous amount of pictures, which formed initially promotional material for the respective sea resorts, is nowadays a unique source for visualising the past. A past which would hardly exist without the historical iconographic material. A brief history of the Belgian coastline in modern times. The current architectural outline of the major Belgian seaside resorts does not exactly correspond with potential definitions of aestheticism. The most severe critics do not hesitate to label it as the Atlantikwall, referring to the defensive belt of the Third Reich. Though it is not our aim to subscribe to this stigmatising viewpoint, the comparison with iconographic material of a century ago is shocking. The Belle Époque eclecticism, once giving form to an architectural and cultural program, has totally disappeared nowadays. Until the nineteenth century the coastline was determined by its natural features. The few attestations of the human presence were implanted in the landscape, trying to resist the harsh atmospheric conditions to the best. Burgeoning coast tourism however, had totally different demands.

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Since the eighteenth century, health tourism had been a common practice among the European aristocrats. The healing powers of mineral water sources conducted thousands of wealthy men and women to places that are still renowned today. Bath (Great-Britain), Spa (Belgium), Vichy (France), or Baden-Baden (Germany) are essentially all products of that time. In the beginning, those places attracted people with sanitary or medical motives, but as a result of the exposure of the exclusive character, presence in health resorts even became a goal in itself. This way, the initial pursuit of health was frequently reduced to a welcome justification for extravagancies. Sea bathing was not an issue at that particular time. Certain theoretical publications, such as John Floyer’s History of cold bathing1 (1702) had already pointed out the potential of saltwater, but it had not caught on. When physician Richard Russell released his A dissertation on the use of sea-water in the diseases of the glands2 in 1752, conditions were more favourable. Russell opened a therapeutic practice on the English south coast in Brighton and thus the foundations of the first sea resort were laid. Because meanwhile, through modifications in the socio-economic structures, the interior health/leisure resorts had reached their saturation point, the coast places appeared extremely suitable to relieve those over-populated British thermal cities.3 The insular phenomenon knew a humble imitation on the Continent from the 1780’s onwards. Especially continental harbours were particularly receptive for this trend. The city of Ostend for example, was an important gate to the mainland, where many British travelled through or even stayed for a short or longer period.4 The result was that Ostend turned out to be very susceptible for the British way of life, and sea bathing was a trend which became successful.5 During the first decades of the nineteenth century, trips to the sea became popular on a larger scale.6 Existing coast villages, which economies were almost totally based on fishing, embraced tourism as a welcome new income. While tourism initially grafted onto the existing facilities, the urge of a new infrastructure became unbearable. The nineteenth-century bourgeoisie wanted to breathe fresh sea air and enjoy the view as much as possible, and so embedded villages in the hollow of the dunes were not very convenient. As they did not frequent the area except for summer holiday, stormy winter weather was not a big problem for these temporal residents. Moreover, their financial input made it possible to erect vast buildings that were constructively far more decent than the existing vernacular architecture. Traditional building plots were strategically left behind, and a new infrastructure rose along the seafront from the 1850’s onwards. 1 J. FLOYER, Psychrolousia, or the History of Cold Bathing: both Ancient and Modern, London, s.n., 1702. 2 R. RUSSELL, A dissertation on the use of sea-water in the diseases of the glands, London, s.n., 1752. 3 R. GOBYN, Kuuroorden en badplaatsen in België, 16de-20ste eeuw, in: R. GOBYN (ed.), Te kust en te kuur: badplaatsen en kuuroorden in België 16de-20ste eeuw, Brussels, ASLK, 1987, pp. 9-25. K. VELLE, Water en medisch toerisme: een socio-culturele analyse van het thermalisme aan de Belgische kust (19de-20ste eeuw), in: R. GOBYN (ed.), Te kust en te kuur: badplaatsen en kuuroorden in België 16de-20ste eeuw, Brussels, ASLK, 1987, pp. 103-109. 4 The explanation why several Britons stayed temporally or definitely in Ostend, was twofold. On the one hand, Ostend was a neutral port in the aftermath of the American War of Independence (1775-1783), which benefitted its international commercial activities. On the other hand, the Battle of Waterloo (1815) and especially its remembrance, brought many Brits via the port of Ostend to the battlefield near Brussels. 5 R. GOBYN, op. cit., pp. 28-33. 6 At the same time, the military importance of the seashore declined slowly but surely. Eventually, in 1865, the Belgian government decided to concentrate the northern national defence on the fortification belt around the city of Antwerp. Consequently, the coast area was liberated from its military corset.

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Nevertheless, the first tourist constructions were still merely located in the perimeter of existing towns or villages. The newly developed building program consisted of kursaals7, casinos, luxurious grand hotels, richly decorated villa’s and all kinds of pavilions. Ostend and Blankenberghe, which were among the first continental coast towns to exploit tourism, grew to be amongst the world’s most popular holiday destinations, visited by Europe’s high class, including aristocratic and royal families, government members and industrials. Even the Sjah of Persia and the greatest contemporary artists, such as Enrico Caruso, were familiar with the Belgian watering places. And of course, parallel to what occurred to the eighteenth-century health resorts, after a while, socio-moral reasons took over the main intention for that kind of journeys. The seaside resorts had become places-to-be, where every self-respecting family had to spend their holiday. Only from the interwar period onwards, when the democratisation of tourism started, this argument waned. And as a result of that the-sea-is-for-everybody-ideal, massive apartment blocks were built side by side, to this very day. Branding coastal resorts: the iconographic display of exotic coast architecture. “We don’t quarrel less about the choice of a watering place, than we quarrel about taste.”8 In the bid against rival sea resorts, stressing the own distinctive features was vital for success. Constructing a self-image was a way to stand out and most of the representative Belgian coast cities were well aware of this fact. But with a target group that was inherently international, this goal was not easy to fulfil. Still, branding seaside resorts was a must to attract and to maintain visitors. For that purpose a broad range of complementary media were put into action: travel guides and travelogues were published, articles and advertisements appeared in newspapers, poster campaigns were launched. To give a concrete example; in the period 1887-1897 the commune of Blankenberghe spent yearly amounts which fluctuated between 4 416,5 (1889) and 9 673,71 Belgian franc for their marketing. Thirty-four external newspapers and magazines, of which 15 were French, 7 German, 4 Austrian, 3 Russian, 2 English, 2 Dutch and 1 Swiss, contained promotion material for the city on a regular base.9 And as a written source testifies, those campaigns were not limited to the Western world. The Middle-Eastern countries, where more and more Europeans stayed permanently or temporarily during the winter months, were seen as a potential to bring in people.

7 A public room or building accommodated for visitors of health or sea resorts. Etymological derived from German, ‘Kur’ means ‘cure’ and ‘Saal’ signifies ‘room’. Often contracted with the function of a casino. 8 “On ne dispute pas plus du choix d’une ville de bains, qu’on ne dispute des goûts.” DIABLORA, Grains de sable, in: Le Phare de Blankenberghe, vol. 9, 1863, nr. 12, September 20th, p. 3. 9 R. BOTERBERGE, Van zeebad tot badstad. Oorsprong en ontwikkeling van het toerisme in Blankenberge. Deel 1: tot aan de Eerste Wereldoorlog, Brussels, Dexia Bank, 2003, pp. 139-146.

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“What Ostend concerns, if I was allowed to give an advise to those responsible for the publicity for the Queen of all beaches [the epithet name for Ostend], I would advise them not to neglect Cairo which is the outstanding cosmopolite city… We could be able to lead a productive propaganda, and for the coming winter, I will make myself available for the organisers.”10 There is no doubt that this type of marketing was fruitful and determining for the flows of people heading towards the Belgian coast every season, but it still required a considerable financial effort from the local authorities. True, those costs could be recovered indirectly via local economy, but an innovation that appeared around the turn of the century did not even demand that initial investment, namely the picture postcards. In a few years time this medium developed into a massively popular way of communicating. It is not strange that those image containing cards turned out to be the ideal promotional material. As they were produced by private companies and bought by individuals, economically this was a marketing product which paid itself back without costs to the community. Moreover, it was a very effective way of proliferating fame on an international scale. Strangers sending postcards to relatives or friends in their homeland, spread -mostly unconscious- the brand and fame of their holiday residences. Of course, the influence of postcards rested also upon the capacity to multiply the image. Literally ten thousands of images depicted the different seaside resorts, each of them throwing their most attractive sides into the fray. The contemporary newish resorts with an urbanism based on the garden city concept for example, stressed the quietness and picturesqueness of the place, while the older towns, Ostend and Blankenberghe in particular, emphasised their luxurious building programs with exotic influences. Especially the orientalist style was well represented.

“In the age of Louis XIV we were Hellenists, now we are Orientalists.”11 (Victor Hugo, 1829) The marriage between orientalism and coast architecture was no coincidence. Some background about the intrusion of Islamic styles in the West is however needed to fully understand this liaison. Already from the eighteenth century, Western Europe contained several examples of oriental influences in aristocratic circles. Fashionable “tent rooms”, Turkish cabinets and oriental garden pavilions offered a reflection on the unknown East. Although these constructions were frequently entitled as ‘Moorish’, ‘Indian’ or ‘Turkish’, stylistically these architectural manifestations were determined by Western building traditions. Sometimes crescents or suggestions of minarets were the only visible evidence for their orientalness. Together with classical temples, Chinese

10 “A propos d'Ostende, s'il m'était permis de donner un avis à ceux qui sont chargés de faire la réclame pour la Reine des plages, je leur conseillerais de ne pas négliger le Caire qui est la ville cosmopolite par excellence... On pourrait y faire une fructueuse propagande et je me mets entièrement, pour l'hiver prochain, à la disposition des organisateurs.” MABÉLOUJA, Lettres du Caire, in: Le Carillon, vol. 15, 1910, April 30th, p. 1. 11 “Au siècle de Louis XIV on était helléniste, maintenant on est orientaliste.” V. HUGO, Les Orientales, s.l., Editions Paleo, 1829, 2007, p. 9.

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pagodas, and Egyptian pyramids their role was to express and to visualise the nature of distant countries. However, it is quite obvious that this encyclopaedic purpose was often abused to function as a background for masked parties, where the fulfilling of erotic fantasies, inspired by one of the numerous editions of the popular frame story Thousand and One Nights, was made possible. This sensual connotation would keep on to shine through orientalist buildings in later times as well.12 Paradigmatic for the architectural style however, was the military expedition towards Egypt, led by general Napoleon Bonaparte in 1798-1801.13 In his wake a small army of intellectuals, scientists and artists were covering the journey in word and image and studying the foreign culture in all its aspects. This analytical study of Islamic Egypt led up to the publication Description of Egypt,14 the material evidence of the (alleged) physical and intellectual domination of the Orient by the West. On the architectural level, the expedition was first of all responsible for a truly European Egypt-mania, which resulted in applying the classical (Pharaonic) style to all kind of mystic and educational building types: tombs, freemason temples, libraries, museums, et cetera. Pharaonic Egypt grew to be a symbol of wisdom, whereas Islamic-based orientalism got associated with the absolute antithesis: hedonism. The latter was often blamed for its lack of architectonic solemnity. A late 18th-century source formulated this as follows: “The character of the style can best be compared with opium, of which the Oriental frequently make use of.”15 Architectural styles were more than a pure layout issue. Each of them represented ideological aspects concerning both the building and its exploitation. This correlation between theory and praxis gave the oriental style the label of architecture parlante, in other words: the appearance betrayed the content. The typology to which the style was applied, speaks volumes: cafés, theatres, grand hotels, casinos, fumoirs, zoological gardens, kiosks, pavilions at world exhibitions, etc. In other words, orientalism became the favourite for leisure architecture and so, many examples can/could be found in watering places. To quote some of the most famous cases: the Royal Pavilion in Brighton (Great-Britain), the pier of Nice (France), the Excelsior Hotel at the Venetian Lido (Italy). Oriental architecture was associated with earthly delights. By opposing themselves to common life and morality, those pieces of architecture became utopian worlds where fantasy and reality converged. The information which can be deduced from oriental architecture reveals more about the West than about the East. The way Alain de Botton typified architecture in his The architecture of happiness makes the man worthy to be quoted in this context. “We look to our buildings to hold us, like a kind of psychological mould, to a helpful vision of ourselves.”16 And that is exactly what orientalism did. The 12 S. KOPPELKAMM, Der imaginäre Orient: exotische Bauten des achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhunderts in Europa, Berlin, Wilhelm Ernst & Sohn Verlag für Architektur und technische Wissenschaften, 1987, pp. 28-40. 13 See recent exhibition: J.M. HUMBERT (ed.), Bonaparte et l’Egypte, feu et lumières (exh. cat.), Paris, Hazan/Institut du Monde Arabe, 2008. 14 Original full title: Description de l’Égypte, ou recueil des observations et des recherches qui ont été faite en Égypte pendant l’expédition de l’armée française, Paris, Imprimerie Impériale, 1809-1818. 15 “Der Charakter dieser Manier lässet sich am richtigsten mit dem Opium, dessen sich die Morgenländer so häufig bedienen, vergleichen” .J.F. FREIHERR ZU RACKNITZ, Darstellung und Geschichte des Geschmacks der vorzüglichsten Völker in Beziehung auf die innere Auszierung der Zimmer und auf die Baukunst, Leipzig, s.n., 1796, as mentioned in: S. KOPPELKAMM, Der imaginäre Orient: exotische Bauten des achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhunderts in Europa, Berlin, Wilhelm Ernst & Sohn Verlag für Architektur und technische Wissenschaften, 1987, p. 25. 16 A. DE BOTTON, The architecture of happiness, London, Penguin Books, 2007, p. 107.

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orientalist buildings on European soil illustrate the vision of the West upon the Islamic world in the nineteenth century. A vision that was permeated by a romantic escapism, the scientific positivism, the growing human mobility and the political supremacy of the European Superpowers. Reconstructing the seafront: case-studies. In a historical perspective the mass spread of postcards and other visual promotion material, cannot only be seen as a correspondence type or a branding mechanism, but it is a way of maintaining a vision on the past as well. While the suffocating grasp of the real estate business and both World Wars had a huge impact on the physical Belgian coast line, visual imagery has proved to be less fragile. Mainly because of the fact that thousands of images had been produced, the odds have favoured quite some remaining to this day. The importance of that visual canon for history writing is demonstrated by the discrepancy between the current layout of the seafront and the one portrayed on ancient images. Profane cultural aspects demand an adjusted approach, which is based on popular media. Whereas traditionally in history writing, pictures are used to illustrate theories based on written material, our research worked out vice versa, with visual information forming the bottom line. The triviality of exotic architecture in nineteenth-century culture makes this particular chapter of our past hardly detectible in contemporary texts. With imagery as a privileged source, our aim was to reconstruct the oriental plate which the major Belgian watering places identified themselves with and to analyse the role of visual processes. Therefore, two cases which are exemplary for the Western sea resorts of the nineteenth century will be discussed, respectively Blankenberghe and Ostend.

Blankenberghe: an evolutionary sketch of the Kursaal and the Casino (1859-1900). The Blankenberghe Kursaal was exemplary for the flourishing orientalist style at coastal resorts. Something which in this particular case can be deduced from the building campaigns perceptible through photographs and the rare remaining blueprints. In 1859, seven years after Ostend inaugurated its (first) Kursaal which turned out to be a huge success (cf. sub), private investors built a counterpart in the city of Blankenberghe. The initiator was engineer Léon Malécot (died in 1866), who aspired turning the fishermen’s village into a state-of-the-art sea resort based on the English model.17 Amongst the conservative population of Blankenberghe, the support for Malécot’s intentions was rather scarce and his Kursaal was the only building that had been realised. Nevertheless, the Kursaal managed quite well to catch up with the rival city of Ostend, since it was not a wooden pavilion construction (cf. sub), but an impressive

17 In Dominique Rouillard’s words, this kind of rather widespread processes can be interpreted as follows: “l’image de départ” or the incorporated model containing concrete and ideological references, becomes “l’image minimale” or the transposition from the model onto the specific context of the site in progression and finally turns into “l’image de la ville” or the achieved townscape as perceived by the public. D. ROUILLARD, Le site balnéaire, Brussels/Liège, Ed. P. Mardaga, 1984, p. 10.

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oriental palace erected out off sustainable materials. The complex consisted of two building layers slightly raised in relation to the seafront, rhythmed by coloured bands and perforated by horseshoe arches, repeating the bicolour aspect. The middle bay was emphasised by its width, by the slight changes in the ornamental layout and by the small tower on top of the roof. The first floor was exteriorised as a gallery, and so a subtle transition between interior and exterior was created, which enabled visitors to enjoy the delights of the panorama and the sea breeze without being exposed to sunshine. On the earliest -N.B. undated- photographs a fourth and a fifth level appear. As construction applications were not required in Blankenberghe at that time, dating those transformations had to be done in a different way. A miniature in a letterhead, going back to August 3th 1863, attests to a one level transformation in the period between 1859, the initial building date, and 1863.18 A fourth level must have appeared around 1884, when the hotel activities became increasingly important. Of course, these evolutions were linked to the urban densification and the resulting high-rise building tendency, forcing the Kursaal owners to act in order to maintain their status. The added layers fitted in with the orientalist style of the original construction. In spite of that, the changes to the dimensions of the building volume made the orientalness less manifest. A crisis of confidence between the Kursaal operator on the one hand and the city council on the other, inspired the latter to commission a building with similar facilities on the seafront. The 1886 casino, designed by Emile Hellemans (1853-1926) and Octave Van Rysselberghe (1855-1927), was given an eclectic face, though amply provided with orientalist features (see the coloured layers and tower volumes). In their attempt to overtake the leading role of the Kursaal, the local authorities apparently held on to the orientalist style. If one considers the initial project design for the casino (1873) of Josef Hoste (1833-1899), a magnificent fancy palace apparently derived from fairy tales, this becomes even more clear.19 Despite this quarrel, the Kursaal continued its activities and adjusted them to the changing needs. In 1898, plans were drawn for the extension of the complex by the local architect Marcel Hoste (1868-1929), Josef Hoste’s nephew. In the west, a newly bought plot of land was integrated in the concept and the building was enhanced in height by another extra level. This information can be extracted from the application form, but the enclosed blueprint gives a better view on the conversion.20 The actual changes which the architect implemented were minimal compared to the effect he became, as it appears on picture postcards. The disproportions and stylistic melting pot which were the result of the earlier transformations, were solved at once. Newly added elements created inexperienced relations between the different architectural components and levels. The emphasis on the corner changed the rigid frontal point of view and re-established the orientalist integrity. The exotic interior with Moorish columns subscribed this makeover.

18 Lettre on Kursaal writing paper, dated August 3th 1863, private collection J. GITS, Bruges. 19 Hoste’s project turned out to be to expensive and political lingering immobilised and finally buried the initiative. 20 BLANKENBERGHE, CITY ARCHIVES, number 32: construction dossier Grand Hôtel du Kursaal, (1898).

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Ostend: from Le Pavillon Royal (1834) to the successive (Casino-)Kursaals (1852-1907). In 1833, when the city of Ostend still functioned as a military bulwark, a group of local notables got the authorisation to build a wooden pavilion on the fortifications to accommodate the bathing tourists. The 1834 establishment, called Le Pavillon Royal and ran by Jacobus Hamers, would provide a conference room, a café, a restaurant and warm and cold baths. The existing literature on the subject describes the initial concept as a simple, classical building consisting of two octagonal wings, connected by a rectangular volume. And indeed, most of the pen drawings that came down to us support that image. A more secure prospection for iconographic material, led nevertheless to two documents which gave a deviated picture. On a share of the public limited company Société du Pavillon & des Bains de Mer d’Ostende, dated 1833, the pavilion was presented with onion roofs and crescents on top of it. Characteristics which returned on a lithograph by Sturm from about 1834-1835, where even vertical strips were appended to the design. We cannot be sure that this architectural face was ever a reality, but the differences in function and content detail between both pictures incline that possibility. Why else would a lithographer whose known oeuvre21 consists of true-to-life depictions draw a non-existing edifice different from the conceptual portrayal? The most probable these is that the building sketched on the share was a rudimentary project view, which was partially followed in reality, as shown by Sturm. The lithographs without trace of the orientalist decoration are all from later dates, so the rapid disappearance of the theme -in reality and thus in drawings- could be explained by renovations that were accelerated by the atmospheric conditions. Ottoman domed roofs and crescents; it is beyond doubt that the (anonymous) designer saw his creation in the light of the eighteenth-century orientalist tradition of Turkish park pavilions. Just a few years before, the French architect Urbain Vitry (1802-1863) had refreshed the theme in his Le propriétaire architecte (1827).22 The ‘maison turque’ presented in his model book, was a synthesis of the first wave of orientalist buildings.23 The link with Le Pavillon Royal was manifest, since the threefold constructions with Turkish domes and typical windows were fundamentally identical. Apart from Vitry’s prototype, another visual source of inspiration can be denoted. On a prospectus for the foundation of the public limited company, two of the appearing names are intriguing. First of all, there was the involvement of the British consul G.A. Fauche, the only stranger in a list of 17 founding members of the Société. Secondly, there was Leopold I, King of Belgium, under whose wings the project developed and who was affiliated to the British Crown by his wedding to Charlotte, daughter of the Prince Regent/George IV. Both men were a clear-cut link with Britain, where during the period 1815-1821 the Brighton Royal Pavilion arose. The correspondence between the English and the Belgian Pavilion was striking, especially by considering the image on

21 In fact, very little is known about the man. However, his lithographs frequently turn up in archives or historical studies. 22 U. VITRY, Le propriétaire architecte, contenant des modèles de maisons de ville et de campagne, de fermes, orangeries, portes, puits, fontaines, etc.; ainsi qu’un traité d’architecture et de construction, renfermant le résumé des nouvelles découvertes relatives aux constructions., Brussels, Tarlier, 1827. 23 Ibid., pl. 24.

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the share. With this knowledge, the choice for a name for the Ostend pavilion Le Pavillon Royal do not seem to be arbitrary either. Two decades later, in 1852 more precisely, the young Henri Beyaert (1823-1894), a major figure in the Belgian architectural context of the nineteenth century, designed a kursaal for Louis Vanden Abeele, the concessionary of the local casino. The requirements of the bathing tourists had changed and primitive constructions as Le Pavillon Royal were out-of-date. Though the Kursaal still was a wooden structure with a rather classical elevation, the interior surprised the visitors in a positive way. As Lauwers described in an article in the local newspaper La Flandre Maritime on August 15th 1855: “The room is treated in the purest Moorish style. We could imagine being in a room of the Alhambra or some other palace of Murcia or Grenade. Its thousands of gildings, its thousands of colours, its mosaics, without number blind you by their splendour, so rich and marvellous is it. Everything in the space possesses a luxury and comfort which leaves nothing else to desire, and its divans with their splendid Algerian broad stripped cloths have the nicest effect.” 24 This written source does contribute to our vision of het building. Yet, by analysing the content of those few lines, it turns out that the author was overwhelmed in the first place and that an objective description of the room was not his main goal. This becomes even more clear by confronting it to the only known visual depiction of the room, a coloured litho by Vander Hecht, edited by B. Van der Kolk somewhere between 1852 and 1868. Indeed, the exotic, orientalist character is confirmed, but the differences between word and image are striking. Of course, due to its uniqueness -and therefore lack of comparable material-, one cannot be certain about the realism of the representation by Vander Hecht. Although, similarly to Sturm his known pen drawings are in general true-to-life. Moreover the way he characterises the interior, fits completely into the contemporary oriental canon, which was still largely dominated by a classical air. This confrontation between text and picture denotes perfectly the image of western viewers onto the Islamic world and culture. The words which stand out are highly expressive adjectives (thousands, marvellous, splendid, nicest) and nouns (gildings, colours, splendour, luxury, comfort). Though describing an existing room, these terms in the fist place refer to undefined spatial and emotional senses, or otherwise: to the effect. The direct references to Moorish Spain and its palaces amplifies this, because stylistically only the coupled pillars, the sealing and the frieze showed Moorish features. But most of all, the Kursaal was a unique orientalist creation, combining such real oriental elements with presumed oriental ingredients like the brace arches. Even if visual references to probable examples are less apparent in this case, through the catalogue of the personal library of the architect, inspiring books can be traced. Beyaert

24 “Cette salle est traitée dans le style mauresque le plus pur. On croirait se trouver dans une salle de l’Alhambra ou de quelqu’autre palais de Murcie ou de Grenade. Ces mille dorures, ces milles [sic] couleurs, ces mosaïques, sans nombre vous éblouissent de leur éclat, tant c’est riche et merveilleux. Tous dans la salle est d’un luxe et d’un confortable qui ne laissent rien à désirer, et ces divans avec leurs splendides étoffes algériennes à grandes raies sont du plus bel effet.” J.B. LAUWERS, Description de la ville d’Ostende, de son origine et son histoire, in: La Flandre Maritime, vol. 6, 1855, August 15th, p. 1.

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owned several publications with the Orient as a main or a minor subject, a brief overview: Arab Architecture or Monuments of Cairo, measured and drawn between 1818 and 1825 (Pascal Coste, 1839);25 Plans, elevations, sections and details of the Alhambra (Owen Jones, 1842-1845);26 The grammar of ornament (Owen Jones, 1856) and finally Central Syria - Civil and religious architecture from the Ist till the VIIth-century (Comte de Vogüé, 1865-1877).27 Needless to say that those last two works could not possibly be influential for the 1852 Kursaal. Whereas Beyaerts Kursaal contained unambiguous allusions to Islamic architecture and thus subscribed itself in the orientalist canon, other constructions considered to be oriental by contemporary viewers, showed to be less easy to define. The second (Casino-)Kursaal of Ostend, designed by John Joseph Naert (1838-1910) and Felix Laureys (1820-1897) and built between 1875 and 1878, is a magnificent example of it. Although the building breathed out an unmistakable exotic atmosphere (the domes, the cascade of volumes, the levitation of the building on account of the material polychromy, etc.), stylistically the total image as well as the constituent parts, were difficult to assign to a specific non-European architectural tradition. Nevertheless, contemporary commentators illustrate the ‘Moorish’ labeling of the building:

“This new Kursaal will be a very beautiful thing, for it is allowed to judge; its dimensions are vast and elegant; the Moorish style dominates, small towers, ornaments of all sorts. A real caravansarai.”28 “Everything twinkles, everything reflects. The seafront and its superb palaces with marble caryatids; the little towers of the villas; the Moorish palace of the Kursaal […]” 29 “[…] the Kursaal. That beautiful building in Moorish style […]”30

As the complementary use of visual and textual sources shows, the orientalist style cannot be limited to an accumulation of architectural elements, borrowed from one or more Islamic movements. The blend of language and architecture seemed to be a non-unimportant trigger for the introduction of the building in a universe of Thousand and One Night. The Kursaal was labelled Moorish, so Moorish it was. The building presented itself as a canvas, sensible to associations and projections of the spectators. 25 Original title: Architecture Arabe, ou Monuments du Kaire: mesurés et dessinés, de 1818 à 1825. 26 In full: Plans, Elevations, Sections, and Details of the Alhambra, from drawings taken on the spot in 1834 and 1837 by Owen Jones, Archt. with a complete translation of the Arabic inscriptions, and an Historical Notice of the Kings of Granada, from the Conquest of that City by the Arabs to the Expulsion of the Moors, by Mr. Pasqual de Gayangos. (C. A. HRVOL FLORES, Owen Jones: design, ornament, architecture, and theory in an age in transition, New York, Rizzoli, 2006, p. 19.) 27 Original title: Syrie Centrale - L’Architecture civile et religieuse du Ier au VIIe siècle. 28 “Ce nouveau Kursaal sera, autant qu’il est permis d’en juger, une très belle chose; les dimensions en sont vastes et élégantes; le style mauresque domine, des tourelles, des ornements de toutes sortes. Un véritable caravansérail” Chronique locale, in: L’Echo d’Ostende, vol. 13, 1877, August 12th, p. 2. 29 “Tout flamboie, tout miroite. La digue et ses superbes palais aux cariatides de marbre; les clochetons des villas; le palais mauresque du Kursaal, […]” Chronique, in: La Saison d’Ostende, vol. 9, 1886, August 7th, p. 1. 30 “[…] le Kursaal. Ce beau bâtiment de style mauresque […]” La Saison à Ostende, in: Le Carillon, vol. 3, 1898, February 19th-20th, pp. 1-2.

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A partial explanation can be found in the function of the Casino-Kursaal, essentially a big event hall, where concerts, balls, exhibitions and other activities happened in quick succession. The interior was thereby subjected to transformations corresponding to the required atmosphere. For the 19th-century bathing guests such temporary decorations formed a real part of the spatial perception of the building. As following newspaper extract indicates, the Orient was evoked as well: “Over there, are the houses and boutiques of the Spanish road which line up and form little by little a picturesque vain apparently extracted from the abdomen of Seville, like formerly the unfortunate rib of father Adam. By crossing the venue of the toreros, here you have the Egyptian road, where very pretty facades gleaming of fresh colour line up, flanked by a pyramid - yes, sir! The “chic” will be complete with those exotic fragments of the vast cosmopolitan city which the rotunda will represent. Indeed, the ladies, the young people who will be occupying the boxes, the stalls, will be dressed in Holland, Spanish, Egyptian and other costumes. With electric lighting, which, at this moment, leaves nothing more to desire, the aspect will be absolutely enchanting.”31 In other words, the Kursaal was a dynamic entity, adapting to the nature of the events. Costumed balls required a setting that escaped from daily life, a background against which a colourful group of invitees, including “Moors” and “Egyptians”, stood out well. With or without help of alcoholic drinks, that night undoubtedly many of them will have imagined being in the Orient. Despite the enthusiasm about the 1870’s Kursaal, in 1899 the city council decided to reorganise, enlarge and restyle the complex. The man who was responsible for those changes was Alban Chambon (1847-1928), an internationally active architect-decorator with French roots. Eventually, eight years were needed to fulfil his architectural fantasy, but the result was impressive. “[…] this Babylonian concept is possibly not misplaced on our seafront, the worldly promenade where all nationalities and races of the earth gather and cross each other, where the most diverse tastes and sometimes the worst find their more or less enthusiastic representatives.”32 Chambon’s Casino-Kursaal (1899-1907) was perceived as a resurrection of the cosmopolitan setting of Babel and turned out to be a rich display of stylistic trends. His eclectic piece of architecture combined elements out of totally different cultures. Neo-

31 “Là ce sont les maisons, les boutiques de la rue d'Espagne qui s'alignent et forment petit à petit une pittoresque artère semblant avoir été extraite de l'abdomen de Séville, comme jadis la malencontreuse côte du père Adam. Croisant l'allée des toreros, voici la rue d'Egypte, où s'échelonnent de forts jolies façades rutilantes de fraîche couleur claire, le tout flanqué d'une pyramide — oui, monsieur ! Complet sera le « chic » de ces fragments exotiques de la grande cité cosmopolite que figurera la rotonde. En effet les dames, les jeunes gens qui en occuperont les loges, les éventaires, seront vêtus de costumes hollandais, espagnols, égyptiens, etc. Avec l'éclairage électrique, qui, à présent, ne laisse plus rien à désirer, l'aspect sera absolument féerique.” E. MATHY, Grande Kermesse Universelle, in: La Saison d’Ostende, vol. 17, 1894, August 25th, p. 1. 32 “[…] cette conception babelesque n'est peut-être pas déplacée sur notre digue, promenoir du monde où tous les peuples et toutes les races de la terre se coudoient et se croisent, où les goûts les plus divers et parfois les pires trouvent des représentants plus ou moins enthousiastes.” Voici la Saison, in: Le Carillon, vol. 10, 1905, June 15th, p. 1.

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Byzantine alleys were alternated by rooms in the style of the Indian Mughals, all housing a large number of tropic plants. In a photo-reportage led by the architect himself during the building process, the orientalness of the building was underlined by presenting the constituent architectural elements against a background of Persian carpets. Oriental or not, again, the associative context actually made the elements exotic. The kursaals were at the centre of elite communities which were not determined by locality but by temporality. Their unifying character made them to focal points in the townscape, which resulted in a large number of depictions in advertisements. The kursaals were not just buildings as such. As images of the city, they were identified with it and so, they actually were the city. For that reason the stylistic choice and its impact of these pagan cathedrals cannot be minimised. The evocations of Thousand and One Night branded the kursaals and thus the sea resorts as utopian worlds where fragile dreams and a certain timelessness became reality. Conclusions It is impossible to study modern times apart from the visual culture, which, as a fundamental part of the human culture, and mainly thanks to the technical advances, grew in importance during the last two centuries. With our case-study on the architectural outline of the Belgian coastline during the nineteenth and early twentieth century, we tried to underline the potential of visual media as a solid base for historical study. All to often, images are only used to illustrate theses uniquely based on written sources. Visual funds although, are far from being secondary in importance. Yet, the richness of those media may not lead us to a reactionary act, in which roles are inversed and textual sources become illustrative for visual information. Images, their verbal descriptions (ekphrasis), and their meanings, are highly dependent on context. One-sided approaches increase the distance between the present-day contemplator and the subject. As shown in the concrete examples, the complementary use of both sources has a power equal to the one-and-one-is-three-ideal. Studying visual sources proves out the possibility of a partial reconstruction of the past, but allows an insight in processes related to specific imagery types, such as model or marketing applications as well. Select bibliography BENSON, R., The Printed Picture, New York, MoMA, 2008. BOROCZ, Z., VERPOEST, L (eds.), Imag(in)ing Architecture. Iconography in Nineteenth-Century Architectural Publications, Louvain, Acco, 2008. BOTERBERGE, R., Van zeebad tot badstad. Oorsprong en ontwikkeling van het toerisme in Blankenberge. Deel 1: tot aan de Eerste Wereldoorlog, Brussels, Dexia Bank, 2003. DE BOTTON, A., The architecture of happiness, London, Penguin Books, 2007.

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DEPELCHIN, D., Het ontheemde Morgenland: islamitische elementen in de Belgische litorale architectuur van de 19de en eerste helft 20ste eeuw (unpublished Master dissertation (Dutch), Ghent University, 2008). FARASYN, D., Historiek van de eerste gebouwen langs de Oostendse Zeedijk 1830-1878, Ostend, Heemkundige Kring De Plate, 1979. FLOYER, J., Psychrolousia, or the History of Cold Bathing: both Ancient and Modern, London, s.n., 1702. GOBYN, R. (ed.), Te kust en te kuur: badplaatsen en kuuroorden in België 16de-20ste eeuw, Brussels, ASLK, 1987. KOPPELKAMM, S., Der imaginäre Orient: exotische Bauten des achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhunderts in Europa, Berlin, Wilhelm Ernst & Sohn Verlag für Architektur und technische Wissenschaften, 1987. MACFIE, A. L., Orientalism, London, Pearson Education, 2002. ROUILLARD, D., Le site balnéaire, Brussels/Liège, Ed. P. Mardaga, 1984. RUSSELL, R., A dissertation on the use of sea-water in the diseases of the glands, London, s.n., 1752. SAID, E.W., Orientalism, London, Penguin Books, 1978, 2003. TOULIER, B., Un parfum d’Orient au coeur des villes d’eaux, in: In Situ n°7: Le patrimoine rural, 2nd part, 2006. VITRY, U., Le propriétaire architecte, contenant des modèles de maisons de ville et de campagne, de fermes, orangeries, portes, puits, fontaines, etc.; ainsi qu’un traité d’architecture et de construction, renfermant le résumé des nouvelles découvertes relatives aux constructions., Brussels, Tarlier, 1827. Contemporary articles in newspapers: Chronique, in: La Saison d’Ostende, vol. 9, 1886, August 7th, p. 1. Chronique locale, in: L’Echo d’Ostende, vol. 13, 1877, August 12th, p. 2. DIABLORA, Grains de sable, in: Le Phare de Blankenberghe, vol. 9, 1863, nr. 12, September 20th, p. 3. LAUWERS, J.B., Description de la ville d’Ostende, de son origine et son histoire, in: La Flandre Maritime, vol. 6, 1855, August 15th, p. 1. MABÉLOUJA, Lettres du Caire, in: Le Carillon, vol. 15, 1910, April 30th, p. 1. MATHY, E., Grande Kermesse Universelle, in: La Saison d’Ostende, vol. 17, 1894, August 25th, p. 1. La Saison à Ostende, in: Le Carillon, vol. 3, 1898, February 19th-20th, pp. 1-2. Voici la Saison, in: Le Carillon, vol. 10, 1905, June 15th, p. 1.

Figure 1. The Kursaal of Blankenberghe (arch. Malécot), engraving by Canelle, 1859-1863. (Private collection)

Figure 2. The Kursaal of Blankenberghe after transformation, photo, 1863-1884. (Private collection)

Figure 3. The (Grand Hotel du) Kursaal in Blankenberghe, picture postcard, 1900-1914. (Collection City of Blankenberghe)

Figure 4. Share of the public limited company Société du Pavillon & des Bains de Mer d’Ostende, 1833. (Original lost)

Figure 5. The Pavillon Royal in Ostend, engraving by Sturm, edited by Konen (Brussels), 1834-1835. (Collection City of Ostend)

Figure 6. Interior of the Kursaal in Ostend (arch. Beyaert), engraving by Vander Hecht, edited by Van der Kolk, 1852-1868. (Collection City of Ostend)

Figure 7. The Casino-Kursaal in Ostend (archs. Naert and Laureys), photo, 1878-1899. (Collection City of Ostend)

Figure 8. Interior of the Casino-Kursaal in Ostend (arch. Chambon), picture postcard, 1900-1907. (Collection Province of West Flanders)