The Poetry of Decline

By Eric Sayah

26 Oct 2008

According to a judicial decree, Franz Messerli is no longer permitted to store cars on the natural soil of his junkyard premises. The authorities have declared that the collection is an environmental hazard and intend to clear it by court order. The judgment is not only threatening some existences but also the probably most unique auto graveyard of its kind in Europe.

There's just one word for Messerli's car dump some 10 miles south of Switzerland's capital Bern: Unbelievable. For who hasn't seen it with one's own eyes, will hardly believe it. In a section of the junkyard which cannot be overlooked from the outside, several hundred car wrecks spend their unhurried retirement amidst a copse. The now overgrown relics were originally bought for their parts by the owner's father who - not wanting to see the vehicles pressed and shredded - parked them cheek by jowl on his lot. In itself, that would be nothing to write home about. However remarkable is the fact that the youngest car deposited there for eternity is more than 30 years old. Since 1975, the yard has remained untouched, and in the decades afore a considerable deal has piled up, well-assorted both in respect of age and diversity of species. Think of any car imported to Switzerland between 1930 and 1975, and it's most likely that you will find it here - even though it may not always be identifiable at first glance.

The ravages of time have left their striking marks on many of the wrecks. Some vehicles appear more as peculiar, oversized planters than as cars. Ferns sprout through every hole, snails explore rare hood ornaments, spiders crawl across their cobwebs in the unglazed window frames. Yet Messerli's rusty treasures radiate much more pride and dignity than their reconditioned and shiny siblings in any museum. Like at a cemetery, you bother to avoid any breach of the peace. Having carried out their duties, the cars seem to want to be left alone as they stand around and listen to the whispery wind and the birds chirp.

Messerli respects the wishes of his protégés, and everyone else has to follow him suit. Spare part hunters beat a path on his door every now and then. But Franz Messerli won't sell, even though he's got offers beyond 10.000 Swiss francs for several of his wrecks. "I consider the auto graveyard as a jigsaw. If only a single part was missing, it would never be complete again." For anyone seeking a radiator grill for a rare vehicle such as a 1956 Riley Pathfinder and knowing that Messerli has got one, the simple fact that the guy won't give it away will reduce him to despair.

However, the odd reservation provides totally different attraction to those luckier people who do not count the collecting and restoration of vintage cars among their hobbies. Nature, which has recaptured its terrain bit by bit, eventually turned the close-packed car bodies into a colossal and awe-inspiring art installation which raises questions and provokes images: Is it a mist-shrouded jungle with dormant, bloated beasts crowding the ground? Or mobility delusion stranded in an eternal traffic jam? Could this be the countenance of a post-civilized, depopulated Earth having undergone a maximum credible accident? At least it reminds the beholder of the obvious and drastic end of the Oil Era. In any case, the unison of nature and - inoperative - engineering gives the image of decline something forgiving and poetic to the core.

Franz Messerli`s intention to turn his junkyard into an open-air museum against all official decrees has met with positive public response throughout Europe. A campaign to preserve the site was started when an open day was held early this year. The organisers expected about 50 people to attend, but 10.000 turned up. At times, more photographers than customers roam his savaged premises. "We never expected such interest. Our aim is to preserve it for posterity as a national work of art." The site has also attracted the attention of Swiss artists and academics who want to preserve it for posterity. A "national historic car graveyard exhibition" took place from June through mid-October. The aim of the installations was to raise awareness of the fact that the car graveyard has become a national treasure.

But what if even a petition with 100.000 signatures fails to save the site from close-down? It would sound the death knoll not only for the rare collection of American sports cars and sedans and classic European automobiles but also for the lush green foliage, including rare lichens, mosses and fungi that have grown over the cars like a second skin, and the black poplars sheltering the lot.

And Messerli? Would the obstinate guy change his mind and start selling spare parts and the coveted wrecks? He is prepared for such a scenario: "Then I'm going to haul out every single wreck, shred it and document the action on film." Despite all bitterness there's an almost pleasurable undertone in his statement.

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