solitary_summer | Entries tagged with art

Sometimes privacy is necessary, sometimes I don't want to bother taking care how to exactly phrase things in order not to give a wrong or skewed impression. [Edit: On second, or third, thoughts, unlocked. ::shrug::]

Running before work helps relieve the tension, after 70 mins I'm pleasantly tired, the edge is taken off a little, I'm less energetic, but also less likely to be irritated and/or irritable. I can stand by (step back) with a certain amount of lethargy, nod & agree & let her do whatever she wants to do in whatever disorganised way she choses to. Can convince myself that I don't much care. Petty, certainly, but if your ambition is constantly to be cut short at a certain level, if your energy isn't wanted... if this is the way she wants it, then so be it.

I'm not happy with this, but for the moment it seems the better course of action, rather than constantly struggle with anger and frustration.

So I look at Aivazovsky's paintings, and dream...

Part of me feels (obliged to feel) slightly guilty about this recent unexpected bout of fangirlishness, but the greater part is just unabashedly happy, because it is so very good to feel positive, enthusiastic, alive about something again, even if it's something comparatively stupid or trivial. Tired as I am at the moment it's hard to recapture the emotion, but this afternoon I felt it acutely. Not dead inside. Alive

... last things first, so to speak.

Bonn was nice-ish, even if I arrived barely rested & train-sick; nerves, I guess, I can't seem to help it. Had no trouble at all sleeping comparatively well on my way home...

Walked along the Rhine in a beginning drizzle, refreshing.

Die Thraker - Das goldene Reich des Orpheus

( Archaeological babble of presumably severely limited interest )

Took the train to Köln, since my sister said I ought to go there, found the cathedral large, bare & too full of tourists; as was the whole historic part of the city. Wallraf-Richartz-Museum, impressive, I guess, especially the Middle Ages/Renaissance section - the 19th century one not so much, a little bit of everything, and nothing special - but at that time I was already tired, hungry (exhibition of still-lives didn't help; worse, no cafeteria) & grumpy.

My problem is that unless it's a subject I'm at least vaguely familiar with, my attention span isn't really sufficient for art galleries. (Is anyone's, I wonder?) What with M.'s influence, I've started to become interested in German/Dutch medieval and early renaissance art, but after several rooms of crucifixions, virgins and martyred saints my old prejudice begins to re-surface and I quickly get bored with religious-themed gore, however exquisitely painted. There are only so many paintings I can really look at, depending on my mood. Portraits interest me most of the time, because there's always some kind of immediate human connection across the ages, and I've developed a strange kind of fondness for dutch and flemish still lives...

It also rained, a lot.

Bought a can of marzipan (almond)-flavoured ice-coffee powder from Lübeck I can't wait to try out.

Bought a basket.

Still feeling... happy, smiling at the world.

Reading E. Fromm's Haben oder Sein (To Have Or to Be?). It's almost frightening, but satisfactory at the same time - even while I'm aware I'm far from living his ideas, I've never read an author whose worldview / theories / beliefs fit me so well, in the sense that they allow me to reconcile parts of my personality I thought were at odds, even irreconcilable, or maybe lost, my younger self and my recent self. It's like looking through a prism and suddenly seeing yourself whole where you only saw parts before, or shuffling pieces around and suddenly discover they fit. Seeing a process that led up to something, a foundation, upon which I can build.

The last author who changed my worldview like this was N.Elias, in the sense of shattering my subjectivism; but this, too fits & needed to happen.

It's almost too easy, I sometimes feel I should be wary.

I wonder, too, if it'll last.

[I guess it's probably no coincidence, that this all happenes after I gave up on the diss, though it's not quite clear to me, why, or how. Not so long ago I thought the diss was central to my self-image, my self-respect. I can only presume between the pressure to meet expectations not necessarily my own and the guilt trip it took up too much of my mental energy? But it was a necessary part of my life, too. This doesn't feel like resignation or defeat, rather like rediscovering a person I had lost far too long, with the added experience of what I learned since.]

More in TM's diaries at work, because I was too tired for anything philosophical. Still unable to define exactly why I enjoy reading them, except maybe in a roundabout way: I realise this isn't quite the same thing, but I remember some tv program where M. Reich-Ranicki (a great admirer of Mann), when asked if he ever met him (or would have wanted to meet him, given the chance, I forget which) said something that started with "Um *Himmels* Willen, nein!" ("For heaven's sake, no!") and went on about how supposedly everyone who did was disappointed &c.

Oscar Wilde makes Lord Wotton say something similar in The Picture of Dorian Gray, about great artist always being uninteresting and only bad ones personally fascinating.

I couldn't say how much truth there is in this, but this isn't my point. Personally, I've never managed to wholly separate my interest in a work of art from at least a certain degree of interest in the artist. And yes, especially if you're young you don't want to hear things that would knock your idol off its pedestal. But after all... So what if they're not perfect; no one is. This realisation shouldn't necessarily lead to disappointment, or loss of respect for the artist. It isn't about taking someone down, rather about appreciating them for what they are, but without blind, unreasonable idolisation. IMO this is the fascinating, the beautiful thing, the human being as a whole.

(And I think there's a lot more to be learned/understood this way.)

Does this make any sense at all?

[Will go to sleep early today & try to go running tomorrow, unless it's raining. Which the forecast says it will. Er. So much for fitness.]

Current Mood: content
Current Music: something by Gustav Mahler

It's odd. Some days I could easily type one essay length post after the other, other days... thoughts are sluggish, the words never quite come together in my head, the English feels wrong... there are even more typos than usual. If I actually finish something, most of the time I end up deleting it again. Hormones?? Except I'm not sure there is a pattern... Might also be lack of sleep, of course, what with my rather irregular sleeping pattern.

Anyway. Sunday my sister and I drove to Krems to see Liebe, Tod und Leidenschaft. Geschichten aus dem Zarenreich (whence the picture from yesterday's post), which was pretty interesting. Even while in some cases the extreme realism isn't exactly my kind of thing, there's some basic attraction, the opposite of those times when I look at a work of art and think I ought to like it, because it's beautiful in ways I usually appreciate, but find it impossible to connect on an emotional level. The balance between art and awareness of social problems works really well most of the time. And some of the paintings are truly terrific, the way the light is handled, the details...

[Nikolai Jaroschenko, Auf der Schaukel; Nikolai Kassatkin, Kohlensammler in stillgelegter Grube; Alexej Kiwschenko, Federsortierung; Nikolai Pimonenko, Wahrsagerei in der Weihnachtszeit; Andrej Popow, Jahrmarktbuden in Tula in der Karwoche; Lukian Popow, Unter Freunden; Ilja Repin, Das Picknick; Waleri Jacoby, Die Hochzeit im Eishaus; Konstantin Makowski, Spendenaufruf...; Wassili Polenow, Nach dem Kampf; Konstantin Sawizki, In den Krieg]

It being Sunday it was of course an unpleasantly cold, windy day, threatening rain.

Meme-time. Er, well. PotC was a long time ago, but this? Story of my life, really.

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Current Mood: listless
Current Music: rem, she just wants to be

Yesterday: finally got to visit the Leopold Museum, only, oh, about two years after if opened. Go me. [/sarcasm] Anyway, not overly impressed - or perhaps grumpy to begin with. Whoever thought it was a good idea to put large windows into a building meant to primarily exhibit paintings, a good part of which are behind glass... the view across Vienna was kind of nice, but it didn't compensate for all the times I had to actively search for a spot where you could see the painting rather than all kinds of reflections. This being an dark, overcast day. Architecture is perhaps the art that can least afford being self indulgent, but sadly so often is.

Some beautiful late 19th century impressionistic landscape paintings, Emil Jacob Schindler, Tina Blau, Eugen Jettel, Rudolf Ribarz.

Exhibition, SCHIELE / JANSSEN: Selbstinszenierung, Eros, Tod, vaguely interesting, though I was not really in the mood to put up any real intellectual effort... some of Janssen's etchings ('Tod'), however...endless variations of dissolving, running, fading, fragmented or distorted faces, some self-portraits, some not... strikingly (nauseatingly) conveying the concept of death, dissolution of self.

Schiele, but perhaps that's the result of a certain over-exposure you can't quite avoid here, I only like in small doses, and best at his most abstract and minimalist. Or, again, his landscape paintings. (Sich umarmende Mädchenakte, Liegendes Neugeborenes, Selbstseher, Tote Mutter, Kleiner Baum im Spätherbst, Herbstbaum in bewegter Luft, Versinkende Sonne)

Otherwise... the Wiener Werkstätte design for the most part is too severe for my taste, some of the Albin Egger Lienz landcapes I rather liked, but the greatest part of the more modern work goes right over my head/heart/obviously all too limited artistic appreciation ability.

.:.:.:.

Home, watched the taped men's free program and ice dancing free dance from the World Figure Skating Championships, though without much enthusiasm. I miss Yagudin, he really pushed things choreography-wise. Joubert et al... *shrug* Emanuel Sandhu seemed kind of interesting. I didn't even watch the whole of Lindemann's program, but he was so radiant when he won bronze (as opposed to the obviously quite pissed Joubert), you just had to be happy for him... (And someone give Plushenko a haircut. Being from Russia is really no excuse for that kind of thing today.)

Ice dance... Really liked Navka/Kostomarov, though Denkova/Staviski were more interesting, and especially their exhibition program was stunning. And whoever did the Carmina Burana program earlier, liked it a lot, but still forgot the names...

Nice day, for the greater part.

Blue sky, with heavy white clouds driven across it, strong wind, but warm for the season; everything still almost incongruously bare, buds only just coming out. Faint garlic smell of Bärlauch, a few violets... white trunk of a plane tree against the deep blue of the sky.

The museum itself... the kind of art you feel you should like, but can't, quite. Especially with his work from the 1910s and 20s there's something mannerist, almost too smooth for my taste about the artfully contorted bodies - too artful to really convey pain or any other emotion. In exhibition context it also tends to become a little repetitive... maybe slightly reminiscent of Tamara de Lempicka's paintings.

And yet... Studie zum hl. Sebastian, clearer and less mannerist than most, body suspended in space; Die Erkenntnis, not unoriginal; Ikarus, slightly too... (obvious?), the fall, already touching the waves, but still straining to look up at the sky... but not bad; a Christ on the cross, the face tilted up in agony (towards god?) and invisible to the viewer, interesting.

Some of the portraits are more immediately touching, but portraits, if I've no connection to the subject, generally don't interest me much.

A cast of Hanak's pietà in the garden, and I'm struck again with the curious composition... the way she displays the body, barely touching it at all, as if ready to cast it off, almost suggesting she doesn't want to have anything to do with... what? this male world of killing and torturing and dying for causes??

[Watched Smallville, Accelerate, not bad and really quite creepy. Then again, I'm easily creeped out by small children, dolls that come alive & such. There's another thing about Smallville besides the doomed-from-the-start gay subtext that gets at me every time, and that's Lex's relationship with his father. That family friendly US mainstream TV would come up with a father son relationship lifted straight from ancient greek tragedy is almost more... subversive is maybe too strong a word, but I can't think of any better, than the tongue-in-cheek queerness. The way Lex reacts to the most casual touches, the visible stiffening, the pointed looks... Watching almost hurts, because it's too close to the feelings I experience sometimes, when all those twisted issues and suppressed anger make me hate it when my father (who obviously isn't the evil Luthor type) touches me at all, a hand on the shoulder is enough to almost make me flich, wanting to scream at him. I know it's unkind, because he loves me in his way and doesn't want to hurt me, but I can't help it sometimes. I can't be forgiving.

Anyway. Smallville (or Andromeda, for the matter)... Is there such a thing like subtextual complexity? Catering to the Clark/Lana teenage fan crowd on the surface and slipping in all those psychological issues and complex themes of power (ab)use, conscience, love, obsession, the relativity of good and evil... *shakes head* B5 is a complex story with complex characters and when I see complexity I can be reasonably certain that MJS intended for it to be there. With Smallville, or, again, Andromeda, I am never sure what has been intentionally put there, perhaps by writers/producers/actors frustrated with the mediocrity of it, what is there simply because human life is complex, however much you try to ignore it, and what is merely my imagination and need to complicate and dissect everything. It's frustrating to someone as over-analytical as I am.]

( Feeling drained now, a little nauseous... )

Current Mood: drained
Current Music: nin, the fragile

... vaguely continuing from last post; also relating to something

soavezefiretto wrote some time ago about art and it being a necessary part of our lives, which I wanted to reply to, but never actually got around to ...

I discussed this with M. once, at work, and she wouldn't see my point, but I think most art - great art, groundbreaking art - comes from a place of inner conflict, often pain: most artists' biographies are not exactly those of happy people. Depending on my mood this has, at times, made me feel almost like a voyeur, or maybe a kind of vampire - even if the book/work of art is important to oneself, if one does connect to it, even if the artist wanted (needed) to share his/her feelings, there is a (probably totally irrational) element of almost-guilt, feeding on someone's pain, being entertained by it... there's a nin bootleg that makes me uneasy every time I listen to it, but it's even more complicated when the pain isn't so obvious in the art. I browsed through Marc Almond's autobiography recently, because during my late teens/early twenties I was quite a fan and was almost appalled at having liked the music never knowing where it came from.

Art... either creating it or looking at it is, I think, a way of trying to figure ourselves out, to better understand ourselves. Plato was deeply suspicious of most art, but he himself started out as a poet.

"We are starstuff, we are the universe made manifest, trying to figure itself out."

Religion is irrelevant as a sponsor or inspiration for art today at least in the western world, and state art has mostly disappeared just as we've ceased to define ourselves mainly by our place in society; any too close connection between art and politics is regarded as suspicious. Art today is ideally highly individualistic...

... if we all were truly happy and balanced, if we understood ourselves (not that this is going to happen any time soon, but merely for the sake of the argument) would art render itself useless and eventually disappear?

( quoted from Nietzsche's Also sprach Zarathustra... )

... he, of course, takes the pessimistic view.

Current Music: mozart, don giovanni

Current Music: rem, man on the moon

Quite a nice day, relaxing, sort of productive even, in the sense that I didn't spend it glued to the computer.

Got to see Orientalische Reise. Malerei und Exotik im späten 19. Jahrhundert (exhibition on late 19th century Austrian orientalist painting).

Had a two hour walk through the Lainzer Tiergarten before, quite a dense mist that didn't clear up all day, especially further up on the hills, but very beautiful despite (or rather because of) that. The beech woods are glorious, both trees and ground a deep russet; the oak trees a muted grey-brown, blurred shapes fading into the mist. Carpet of leaves, shades of green, yellow and brown, colours brilliant from the moistness.

The exhibition was not big, but very much worth seeing, informative and well organised; some very beautiful landscapes and portraits, interesting not only for their exotic subject-matter. With orientalist paintings (even the less clicheed ones) there's always the danger that they're to a greater or lesser extent western projections and fantasies (mostly of the sexual kind), but most pictures chosen for this exhibition seemed not too bad in this respect, thankfully mostly lacking in harem scenes full of gratuitous nudity. If some of the portraits are erotic, it's done rather subtly and tastefully.

I've no idea how authentic the paintings by Leopold Carl Müller (which I especially liked) really are, but they don't seem too cliched and are strangely appealing for all their often detailed naturalism.

Leopold Carl Müller, Ein Sphinxgesicht von Heute; Figurenstudie einer gefässtragenden Araberin; Kamelmarkt in Kairo; Brunstbild eines jungen Arabers; Die Karawane; Volksschule in Oberägypten; Das Dorf Matarije

Tony (Anton) Binder, Tor zum Chons-Tempel in Karnak, Schwimmende Kinder an der Küste bei Alexandria
Carl Rudolf Huber, Wüstenmahlzeit; Sachmetstatuen im Mut-Tempel zu Karnak
Johann Victor Krämer, Motiv aus Tanger
Alphons Leopold Mielich, Das Schloss Qusair Amra; Bei den Mamelukengräbern von Kairo; Schule in Benassa
Alois Schönn, Haschim, der Assuaner; Geschmückte Mohrin

The Hermesvilla itself is a veritable orgy of historistic kitsch, but so over the top that it's almost charming (or else I'm in a very charitable mood today)...

( Smallville: Red )

( Andromeda: Deep Midnight’s Voice )

Current Mood: content
Current Music: sweet charity

I think I understand now why my father always refused to have anything personal in his office, while my mother had drawings there and other stuff my sister and I made. It's about not wanting to form too close and too personal a connection with something one feels very ambivalent about, to say the least. It struck me today that I don't want to make our kitchen at work prettier or more comfortable, don't want to invest any energy, because it would feel like another step towards resigning myself to a future there. In reality I'm more than half way there already, but those small token gestures of protest are important, it seems, even if they are mere self-indulgence and utterly pointless.

In a similar vein, when I fetched the car from my sister's workplace at the university and the bus passed the archaeological institute all the confused feelings of nostalgia, wasted chances, guilt, self-disgust and failure came crashing down, i could have cried, was actually swallowing back tears.

( :: Sunday :: )

Also, on the plus side, I think I might finally be getting over over my chocolate addiction. I don't even have a Homer Simpson moment any more every time someone just mentions chocolate...

Current Music: les miserables, french recording

* Ah well. It's back to lj layout until I figure out how to upload my background on the Uni server again, without the easy upload thingy they used to have. I sort of like this new style, though, rather practical.

* And the uncharitable antisocial streak comes out again... But I rather dislike it when people get too clingy. G* invited himself over yesterday to write an e-mail and check e-bay, forcing me to wash the dishes, vacuum, put away the cloths & generally clean up a bit, which hadn't really been on my 'to-do-after-work'-list in the morning, rather than just crash in front of the TV with a pizza, which had been. And now he called me about something or the other, and I randomly tell him I'd been to the Belvedere today (more about that later), and he asks me, apparently sort of insulted, why I hadn't asked him to come along, seeing as he's living in the vicinity. Er. Because I wanted to be alone, maybe?! Quite apart from the fact that we'd only seen each other yesterday I don't like visiting museums with someone who I know perfectly well isn't really interested - tends to spoil the experience.

* The capital-C-culture part of the day over & done with I watched a DS9 re-run - the 'the-lesbian-kiss-that-wasn't'-episode. I never know whether I should find this sweet or exasperating. To write an episode where allegedly gender or sexual preference isn't an issue at all, while at the same time inventing a perfectly rational, even non-homophobic reason, why, yet again, there can be no gay relationship on star trek is either somewhat unfortunate or more than somewhat hypocritical.

* Hu. I'm not so good with the cooking for singles... there's enough vegetable soup to last me a week...

* Note to self, it's really too late in the year for peaches and nectarines. Try to remember next time.

* One of these days there will be an entry with some sort of actual content again. No, seriously, in the [quote] near, future [/quote], nin time. :: g ::

Current Mood: tired

Current Music: still jj72...

[ edited and typed: 07-13 ]

:: 9.55 am: Arken, in front of the museum, waiting for them to open, along with some other people. Slightly shivering & definitely underdressed for this weather. And really, why do these museums have to be so far from the station? :: groans :: Or more to the point, why do I insist on walking rather than just take the bus? But even at home I hate waiting for public transport and the feeling of dependency using it, and I do enjoy noticing details I would miss otherwise and getting a sense of distances and direction. The latter part of the path led through a rather pretty coastal march landscape, too. But still, another 2-3 km walk and my legs are still slightly aching from all the aimless running around I did yesterday.

Grey, overcast skies, a chilling wind. ::

The architecture is really pretty spectacular, right down to the toilets; the café has a nice view of the sea. If I had to compare though, I really prefer the extension wing of the National Gallery, because there the impression you get is that it's been designed first and foremost to serve its function as best as possible and is beautiful almost as an afterthought, or maybe because of that. The Arken museum is rather more self-indulgent, aiming to be a work of art in and of itself, with all the theoretical concept & recurring ship metaphors. That's not to say, though, that it isn't impressive, especially the approach to the entrance and the main gallery with its optical illusion...

The actual collection? :: shrugs :: Not my cup of tea, but then I expected that... I'm rather surprising myself by saying this, but I mostly came out to look at the architecture. No, seriously.

Took the bus back to the station. Go me. Or rather, not.

By train to Roskilde, the weather still hadn't cleared up, dreary, cold, though it at least wasn't raining, which was probably to be expected, seeing as I had not only bought, but taken along the umbrella (unlike the sweater I might have actually needed). The town itself was rather dead on a cold Sunday like that, the cathedral impressive from the outside, gothic for the most part, with some more recent additions, inside brick and white paint, colour only used to emphasise the architectural structure, except for the sidechapels, some of which are covered with frescoes in light, pastel colours; organ and pulpit the same intricately carved, painted & gilded woodwork I've seen before. More graves of Danish kings and queens than i could be bothered to identify.

Made my way down to the harbour and the Viking ship museum, stared at the preserved remains of a couple of Viking ships with a sense of archaeological duty, but decided lack of enthusiasm. Tired, with aching feet, at only 2 pm the day felt it'd been going on forever. Found a coffee machine, which even sold 'Wiener Melange'; dosed myself up with two of those and the remaining M&Ms, but even the sugar & caffeine high didn't really jerk me out of my listless state of mind. Ambled along the harbour and up to some obviously very old church, which was - unsurprisingly - closed. Tiny old houses, flowers everywhere, everything so pretty and picturesque it hurt.

Caught the train back to Copenhagen, took a shower at the hotel, found that apparently the cleaning person had dropped my glasses, because the right lens was gone. The guy at the reception desk said he'd inquire. :: sigh ::

Found myself one of those city bikes and biked along the harbour, sat on the harbour wall pretty much where I'd been on the first day, moodily staring across the water... melancholy, too.

Guy at the reception said he found out nothing, not that I'd expected much. Really had no idea what to do or not to do in such a case, so I called my sister, who said I should definitely complain and try to have them pay the replacement (:: conflicted sigh :: i hate making a fuss), so I went back, explained the story yet again to someone who was helpful, but not in charge either, but gave me the name of the manager who was supposed to be in tomorrow...

[ edited & typed: 07-19 ]

Louisiana Museum of Modern Art:

:: Very green, very lush gardens, swallows swooping low over the lawn; a gull crying. Still cloudy with a chill wind, but the clouds have broken and the sun glitters on the sea near the Swedish coast. Tiny waves lapping on the beach, and when the sun comes out for a moment it's quite warm. ::

Beautiful as it is, the museum did nothing to diminish my absolute lack of understanding as regards modern and more specifically abstract art. I was wandering through the collections with a growing sense of bafflement tinged with guilt for my ignorance, but if nothing else the sculpture garden was very much worth the visit, the way the works of art blend into the natural surroundings.

:: Later. Sitting in a rather secluded spot on what may be some kind of sculpture or just part of the architecture, back against the wall, sun quite hot on my face for the moment, looking across the bushes and trees at the Swedish coast, a tanker, a sailboat crossing slowly. Sound of the waves, smells of the sea. Bluebells. ::

Ordrupgaard Museum:

Arrived rather tired, after a 3/4 hr walk from the station; country house in a beautiful small park; small, but nice museum. I don't much care for the French painting, but the Danish collection was interesting, some very beautiful landscapes by L. A. Ring, painted with extreme precision, but having an air of the symbolic without seeming constructed...

:: Sitting in some semi-secluded spot in the park in the sun, a meadow with long grass, all kinds of wild flowers, butterflies; unwilling to go on, go back, take the train to the other museum I was planning on visiting. Hating the self-created rush that doesn't really allow you to enjoy places for as long as you'd like. I once used to ignore the pressure and just enjoy the moment, whatever it was, but my interests have broadened since and when you're paying for the vacation yourself, suddenly it does matter and you want to see as much as possible in the week or so you've got. Not sure whether I should resent this or not.... Moments like snapshots. Got bitten by the largish local mosquito variety. Ouch.::

With hindsight I must say be careful what you wish for, because when I decided to take a different way back to another station on the same line, what with the somewhat sketchy plan form the Copenhagen Card booklet I took the wrong turn, trudged through the (admittedly rather pretty) landscape along the edge of a park for at least an hour or so until I found myself stumbling through some posh suburb, hot and tired. Finally asked someone for the way to the station, which after another 15 min. or so I even managed to find. Only it turned out it wasn't the station (or indeed any of the stations) I'd been looking for by a long way. In fact I'd been walking in the wrong direction entirely for the whole time.

So by the time I got back to Copenhagen it was much too late to take the train to the other museum, got back to the hotel, showered, went out for a walk. Er. Yes. Walk.

Still feeling very irritable because of the enforced change of plans; called my sister, who casually asked what I was doing the evenings. Now I hate going out alone, don't even do it at home. Ended up feeling alone and pathetic to boot, irritated with the sun and the people enjoying it. Hot, blue skies, all quite unbearably cheerful. Didn't find a city bike and ended up walking for another three hours, through the old town to Christanshavn, mood finally improving somewhat, sitting on the harbour, doing the touristy thing taking snapshots ...

Dropped in on the parents (on their way to Sweden with their tourist party) in their very posh hotel to give them the camera, promising myself to really get a digital camera one of these days. Annoyance ensues. Oh, not really, we actually had a nice chat, but they're just so complicated. :: sigh ::

I seriously planned on taking the bus to my hotel, but when I didn't find one immediately I was to lazy to look and ended up walking all the way back, another 3/4 hr. My legs were cramping and aching by the time I finally got to bed.

[ edited & typed: 07-20 ]

Second visit to the Statens Museum for Kunst, took a lot of photos of the modern building...

I think I really might like Flemish renaissance painting, even baroque, at least the earlier phases.... maybe it's just the full blown baroque of Rubens that puts me off? :: shrugs :: I really need to get a wider knowledge of art history... too many blanks by far. Some lovely 16th/17th century still-lives and trompe l'œil paintings.

Portraits by Jens Juel (Danish, late 18th century)

Anders Bundgaard, Hidden Treasure. Sitting Nude Girl

Valdemar Schønheyder Møller, Sunset, Fontainbleau: looking straight into the evening sun filtered through the leaves.

Vilhelm Hammershøi. Interestingly lit landscape paintings.

Late 19th century realism & Skagen Painters. Erik Henningsen, Hans Nikolaj Hansen, Albert Edelfelt, Laurits Tuxen, Otto Haslund, Valdemar Irminger, Wenzel Tornøe, Julius Paulsen, Frants Henningsen, P.S.Krøyer, Michael Ancher, Richard Bergh, Christian Krohg

Theodor Philipsen, whose cattle paintings are somewhat boring if they're close ups, but interesting if they're a little more abstract and dynamic.

Noted for nostalgically guilty study reasons, Harald Jerichau, The Lydian Plain near Sardis

William Bendz (A Sculptor in his Studio Working from the Life; A Young Artist (Ditlev Blunck) Examening a Sketch in a Mirror; The Life Class at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts), Ditlev Blunck (A Battle-Painter in his Studio; Portrait of the Copperplate Engraver Carl Edvard Sonne), earlier 19th century, who apparently belonged to a circle of artists/friends and painted each other's portraits. Some of their other work I didn't like so much, but those portraits are rather brilliant, fun details that make you smile - giggle.

Hirschsprung Collection: More Danish painting...

Ejnar Nielsen, The Blind Girl. very beautiful, I even bought the poster. My sister, when she came over for breakfast last Sunday, insisted she'd get depressed having that around all the time, but I love the contrast between the golden sunset landscape she turns away from as she cannot see it, the glittering river winding behind her, and the tenderness with which she touches the seeds of the dandelion she holds, her way to connect to the beauty surrounding her. Amazing.

Slightly reminds me of Klimt, only much less floridly ornamental, some of his other paintings recall Schiele, but with a clearer style.

I even bought a book(let) on his painting in Danish, as there wasn't one in any language I actually can read, but his pictures really fascinate me.

P. Krøyer, Summer's Day at the South Beach at Skagen. Now here my sister say she doesn't see the sadness, but to me this is just short of heartbreaking, the little girl standing on the beach well away from the water, fully dressed, watching the boys bathing. So self possessed (well trained) already she doesn't even try go nearer, much less join them.

Michael Ancher, a very curious portrait of his wife, standing just inside the open door looking out, the dog facing her almost as if to keep her in.

Vilhelm Hammershøi, whose portraits are a bit too minimalist and bleak for my taste, but interesting landscape paintings.

Rosenborg Slot: smallish, very fairy tale like looking from the outside, rather sombre inside, especially the renaissance parts, the rooms aren't quite large enough to carry off the heavily carved ceilings. A bit stuffy, the rooms dark and crowded.

A kitsch (and somewhat provincial) Chinese cabinet for one of the princesses, a kitsch, but cute, glass cabinet with green and gold the dominant colours, lemons made of glass. Nice-ish.

Smallish mirror cabinet, interesting as both the floor and ceiling are covered in mirrors, too.

Something I already noticed earlier in Frederiksborg Slot, they have a kind of very beautiful inlay furniture, different coloured woods with some light green stone for floral ornaments, occasionally mother of pearl for flowers. Very pretty. Seen it on a floor, too, here.

Took one of those city bike thingies the system of which actually seems to function here slightly better than at home, biked around for a bit, but got cut short by the rain.

Noted how insecure i get when i don't speak the language.

[ edited & typed: 07-11 ]

Frederiksborg Slot: situated very picturesquely, a renaissance palace built into a lake, brick architecture and copper roofs turned green, which seems to be typical for the local architecture of that time, quite playful, but not overly so.

A beautiful chapel - church, rather, it's quite large- with intricately carved and colourfully painted and gilded wood ornaments, too playful to be oppressive; my favourite part, a free standing baroque audience chamber, white stuccoed walls, light and airy with windows on all four sides, connected to the rest of the castle by a private passageway leading over a channel in the same style.

The palace itself has served as a museum and storage for furniture & such from other palaces for quite some time, more pictures of Danish royalty and relations than I ever cared to look at; noticable - a table with a whimsically beautiful stone inlay tabletop decorated in the manner of the hellenistic 'unswept floor' mosaics, but the artist chose to add not only birds, but every kind of insect, including beetles and worms.

A formal baroque garden across the lake vis-à-vis the castle, which unfortunately was being restored at the moment and mostly closed, the rest of the park more like an English garden, very lush. This might be getting repetitive, but the sheer abundance of green here is a pleasant change from the already rather parched lawns at home. There are just so many flowers everywhere, roses in every park, scent heavy on the air, flowers in front of the private houses.

Hot, sultry day, heavy clouds in the distance, thunder rolling as I was walking along the lake back to the station...

Nationalmuseet: Very large, rushed through it in the 2.5 hrs left until closing time, with slightly more attention on Denmark's bronze age, an exhibition on the influence of the Roman Empire on Danish history and the classical antiquities department I hadn't even known about. (:: cough ::) Found a Cypriote terracotta group that might or might not show (a) Persian(s). (The harness of the horses isn't typically Persian, rather Cypriote, but at least one of the male figures rather looks like the Persian dignitaries known from Achaemenid and graeko-persian art) Other than that nothing much spectacular, a little bit of everything, but some very nice vases.

More or less ran through an extensive and presumably very interesting ethnographic collection and a thousand years of Danish history. Probably should come again, but I doubt I'll have the time. I'm already resigning myself I'll probably remain woefully ignorant of the details of Danish history...

Hot day, the air in the museum was stifling, ended up at the hotel feeling grumpy, hungry, feet aching, and generally irritable, the beautiful first half of the day already very distant.

Dragged my tired ass out again & went to the Tivoli (because apparently you got to see this), which is kind of kitsch, kind of cute and probably a lot more fun if you're not there on your own. Didn't take any rides, either, it just seemed a little pointless, alone... Getting caught in a downpour didn't really help either.

Went to Louis Tussaud's Wax Museum, mostly because it was near and the entrance was free with this Museum pass I hadn't really used enough anyway, and got scared shitless. What with the late hour, the rain and extremely high entrance fee I was practically alone, and wax figures suddenly take on a life of their own when they're in the majority, so to speak. Suddenly you no longer feel like a visitor, but an intruder, not watching, but being watched, and your subconscious mind decides to remember every horror movie you've seen or heard about, every Lovecraft story you've read... i was laughing at myself almost the moment I walked out, but the fairy tale section? Decidedly creepy at that moment, the dwarves singing their cheerful littlle song. And don't even mention the horror section. I was very glad when I finally caught up with a group of people, but as there was no one else it was pretty impossible to stick around them without seeming too obvious, so I passed through very fast...

(Objectively speaking, though I don't even think the figures were very good, some of the movie celebrities barely recognisable...)

[ edited & typed: 07-11 ]

Overcast, drizzling. And in a bout of - considering the warnings my travel guide gave - certainly misplaced optimism I hadn't packed an umbrella.

Ny Carlsberg Glyptothek: The museum itself is very beautiful with a glass roofed central garden courtyard with tall palm trees, a fountain and benches; the exposition halls of the old part have mosaic floors, the ornaments of which were chosen in accordance with the style and age of the objects displayed, walls painted in matching colours and stuccoed ceilings. A small, but beautifully designed modern annex, that fits perfectly with the old building, mostly for French art.

The ancient Greek collection is not especially large, but it's nice to finally see some famous pieces I'd been reading about for ages; a hall of portraits, both Greek originals and roman copies; a couple of rather interesting near eastern pieces. A large, but incredibly badly lit (especially on a rainy day like this) etruscan collection in the basement.

19th century Danish sculpture, much classicist white marble, which imo is a material it's almost impossible to be profound in - it tends to give any sculpture an air of pretty superficiality and blandness, especially when combined with the smooth, classicist style. Now I rather dislike classicism in the first place, as it's based on a wrong and idealised image of ancient Greek art; and while from the art historian's point of view I can understand why this appealed to people at one point and what they were trying to express through it, to me personally it always has a flavour of superficiality, maybe insincerity, a kind of repetitiveness and lack of originality that merely bore me.

Elna Borch, Death and the Maiden
Stephan Sinding, The Oldest of the Line; Creation Fantasy

Some of the late 19th /early 20th century Danish artists seem rather interesting...

Harald Giersing, Lady in Yellow Coat, Seated
Kai Nielsen, Two Sisters
Theodor Philipsen

Bought a book on Mesopotamia and Iran in the Persian period. So much for giving up... :: sigh ::

Statens Museum for Kunst: Again, the building. Now i know about modern architecture about as much as about modern art, possibly less, but it's impossible not to be impressed by this, though not impressed in the sense of overwhelmed, rather it's a building one feels at once at ease in. Very beautiful in a quiet, unostentatious way.

The modern extension wing stretches along the whole length of the old museum, connected to it by a glass roof and footbridges that allow you to cross back and forth between the upper floors of the old and new wings. Its front opens on a garden and exploits this view to the best advantage. Light and airy, without making one feel exposed. Complex, but with enough structure and visible axes never to be confusing or labyrinthine. There are two levels of smaller sized, rectangular expositions halls for the more 'conventional' paintings and sculptures at the back and one series of more irregular rooms spanning both levels at the front for the modern installations and such. Both are connected by openings in the walls, staircases and balconies that offer views from different perspectives; windows or floor to ceiling glass walls that make the view of the park a background or even a part of the works of art displayed.

The rooms fit the works of art so perfectly that one suspects they were designed especially for them - if not, the arrangement is a work of art in itself.

The older part I didn't really have much time for & probably will visit again...

Marinus von Reymerswaele, The Merchant and his Wife
Abraham Bloemaert, The Death of Niobe's Children
Cornelis van Haarlem, Fall of the Titans

A hall with paintings and sculptures most of which have death as a subject in one way or the other, late 19th, early 20th century Danish artists. Very intersting.

Ejnar Nielsen, The Sick Girl; Blind Girl Reading; Hell (which at the first glance one would be almost certain was painted with the images from the death camps in mind, but actually is much earlier)
Harald Slott-Møller, The Poor: The Waiting Room of Death
Joakim Skovgaard, Christ in the Kingdom of Death (Can't quite make up my mind if that one is oversized religious kitsch or actually quite good.)
Niels Hansen Jacobsen, The Shadow

Some of the later 19th century realism reminds me of the Russian 'Wanderers' movement in its realism and social critique, though I've really no idea if there's any connection...

Walked back through the botanical gardens, not very large, but beautiful, very lush, copies of ancient Greek statues that somehow look rather tasteful and in place, a pretty mid 19th century greenhouse I never got to visit due to its opening hours.

:: :: :: ::

Overall impression so far...

What I'm really impressed with is how they manage to combine old and modern architecture in a way that never seems to be possible at home, because someone will invariably scream sacrilege and how the old building needs to be preserved just as it is and will get enough conservative support to basically ruin every project. Also, the results are rarely as pleasant as I've seen here so far... There are beautiful modern buildings, but nothing flashy or on the overwhelming scale I've seen in Berlin last year. Here architecture seems to be use-oriented, humanly sized rather than stunning.

The good: not very touristy... even on a rainy day in the main tourist season at no point i felt crowded in either of the museums.

The bad: er, not very touristy. Opening hours from 10 am to 5 pm at best, often not even that....try organising a visiting schedule on that if you've only got a week. If you're looking for books on Danish artists there isn't much in English or any other language I can read.

stupid, i forgot the milk in the fridge at work, so it's either another coffee now, or one tomorrow morning... decisions...

.:.:.:.

recently (or at least i don't remember it happening before) images from dreams keep popping up in my mind at the oddest times, dreams from years ago i wasn't even aware i still remembered... weirdness. i still don't recall the context, but some images are suddenly *there*, very clear...

.:.:.:.

catching up, part 2, ca. last friday. (i only wanted to look at a few sculptures, but ended up looking at the whole collection... i also ended up buying a tiny, bright-green-&-glittery-violet-spots stuffed frog, but that's not strictly relevant here... er...but it's cute.)

[[ what bugs me is that apparently i absolutely lack the intellectual equipment to appreciate modern art, especially abstract art. on my inner scale it mostly rates somewhere between 'pretty' and a vague dislike, but touch me? move me?...

part of the problem presumably is that i never bothered to get informed enough to really understand it, but it's sort of hard to, when there isn't even an initial connection...

when a work of art deals with the human body, or even a landscape, anything material, i feel that i've got at least something to work with, some sort of common ground, even taking into account that details or even central messages can get lost or distorted across the divides of time and culture. but there's just a basic connection of common human experience...

with an abstract painting / object i don't even know where to start... maybe it's modern individualism, that makes art no longer necessarily or even primarily a means of communication, something that should be seen in a personal rather than a social context, but i feel like i'd have to to climb into the artist's head or at least read a lengthy explanation to even get the initial key, which my mind refuses to supply.

i tend to look for meaning, for the artist's intent. the 'it can be whatever you think it is' approach just doesn't do it for me. (personally i think there is a basic truth in every work of art, even if the artist isn't conscious of it... i've let the few persons who bought one of my sculptures think about it whatever they liked, rather than tell them what i'd intended to say... i'd have preferred it if they'd seen it, but who was i to spoil their pleasure. also, privacy.) it probably just goes against years of learning to analyse art from a historic and sociological perspective, trying to decipher the meaning of small details... so to me not every meaning is as good as the other. a work of art can be beautiful, but to me it's even more interesting when i know the background, the context, when it unfolds it's layers of meaning...

i guess that's a purely personal problem / deficiency, though, as many people seem to be able to truly appreciate and relate to what i'll pass with barely a shrug... ]]

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