On the Bicentenary Fountain in Pinoso: Water, Women, and Memory
To honour that memory, a bronze sculpture of a woman water carrier will now stand at this spot, reminding us of those early mornings when filling a pitcher meant far more than a domestic chore — it was an act of life itself, and a moment of connection among neighbours.
Originally, the water came from the Encebras springs, channelled through a gallery that supplied the town for generations. Later, when water ran low, it was supplemented by the waters of the Almorquí.
At the end of the nineteenth century, what is now the Town Hall Square was still called the Plaza de la Constitución, named after the liberal Constitution of Cádiz of 1812 — a landmark text that inspired modern municipal governance in Spain and allowed communities like ours, already with over a thousand inhabitants, to begin shaping their own destinies.
In the centre of the square once stood a commemorative monolith honouring that Constitution, a symbol of an age when the very notion of a people with their own voice was taking root. But in 1822, absolutist forces entered Pinoso and destroyed the plaque, reminding us that remembrance has always been vulnerable.
Time moved on, and on 12 April 1885 the Town Council unanimously agreed to allocate funds to build a fountain in the Plaza de la Constitución — a long-awaited project for the residents. The master builder Nadal Cantó drew up the plans, and the fountain was commissioned in jasper or marble from the stonecutter Pascual Cremades of Aspe, for a total of 825 pesetas including materials and labour, with completion scheduled for early June that same year.
On 19 April, the mayor, Evedasto Verdú, reported to the council about a meeting with Cremades, and shortly afterwards Miguel Mira Iniesta was appointed to dig the trench and lay the pipes from the water tank in the Plaza de Alfonso XII (today the Plaza Virgen del Remedio) to the new fountain.
On 14 June the council also approved the installation of a lamp above the fountain — a symbol of light and civic gathering. The column that had held the previous lamp was relocated to the Plaza de Alfonso XII, a silent witness to a changing era.
Once inaugurated, the fountain quickly became a lively meeting point and a hub of daily life. On 9 December 1888, the local tinsmith Joaquín Yáñez López was paid 7.05 pesetas for repairing the tap springs, and in January 1889 new taps were purchased to replace the worn ones — evidence of the constant care that such a shared asset required.
For many years, water was measured, rationed, and deeply respected — for those who have lived with scarcity know its true worth. Older residents recall that during dry seasons, especially in spring and summer, each family was allotted a specific number of pitchers: one for households of two, two for those of three or four, and so on, enough for drinking, cooking, and washing. Some homes had their own wells, easing that burden, and even neighbours from Algueña — then still under Pinoso’s administration — would come on Sundays to fill their pitchers here.
For decades, that public fountain was an emblem of the town — a witness to its life, encounters, and everyday rhythms. It remained so until 1961, when its waters ceased to flow. According to the council minutes of that year, on 30 November 1961 payments were approved for the installation of a new fountain made of “Alicante red” marble, a gift to the town from the marble entrepreneur Carlos Tortosa of nearby Monóvar.
Then came 1972, when the discovery of the Paredón wells transformed daily life in Pinoso. Gradually, water reached every home. With it arrived peace of mind, health, and a new way of living — the end of long queues and the beginning of a modern era long yearned for.
In the 1990s, the central square underwent another redesign, featuring a decorative fountain surrounded initially by natural grass — the one that stood here until construction of the new Bicentenary Fountain began in January 2026.
For public fountains have always been much more than simple water features. They have helped shape the very character of our towns, serving as places of rest, conversation, meeting, and community. Through their flowing water ran not only the lifeblood of the people but also the stories that, when remembered, bring us closer to those who came before us.
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