life and times from Madrid, Spain
Sometimes when visiting really popular museums, the crowds can be distracting. Or they can be entirely fascinating. I am intrigued by people looking at well known works. For example, the crowd in front of Guernica in the Museo Reina Sofía. How are they looking at the artwork and why? What is their reaction? WHY are they taking pictures?
And here we have people viewing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre:
I have mentioned before how great it is to live in a country where the majority of museums are either completely free or have reasonable hours during, say, the weekend that are free. Not to mention that if you are unemployed, you get free entry at any time. free free free. Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting the CaixaForum Madrid museum. And it is, quite simply, an incredible postmodern museum with a structure that rivals my love for the Guggenheim in New York and, yes, the Tate (but of a more manageable size than the Tate.) I knew, just by approaching the building, that there were good things inside. I mean just look at what greets you from the start:
Shouldn’t we endeavor to find the things in life that give us this type of giddy hope?
And there were good things inside. The current exhibit is a body of work from Miquel Barceló. It’s a funny thing seeing art outside of the United States because I am familiar with Barceló’s work, but never looked at him as a SPANISH artist. Suddenly, he made more sense to me. His textures and concepts are unabashed and I feel like I am experiencing the continuation of the line started by the likes of Rauschenberg (when he dared to be unrefined) and deKooning. (Forgive me my American late modern art crushes, they will never fade.)
The museum is actual funded by the Catalan bank La Caixa and is a great example of what societies like Spain do with banking. La Caixa is a nonprofit that controls the largest charitable foundation in Spain and among the largest in the world. Among its many programs are those with the purpose of the “dissemination of culture” – hence this fabulous free museum.
Go.
As I walked up to the entry, I looked at the time. I had fifteen minutes for the entire building, or more if I didn’t mind rushing to the airport later. Of course I don’t mind rushing, it’s how I spend a significant chunk of time every day. So, I skipped the Arshile Gorky exhibit (skipping it hurt less than not seeing enough of it) and went to the third floor where I moved as quickly as possible until I landed in the room of Gerhard Richter paintings and had to stop.
There are three things that I adore about this museum. 1) The actual building is really cool. 2) they hang paintings the way I might in my living room – artists, mediums, sizes all jumbled up and in contrast with one another at varying spots on the wall. 3) the space is large enough to hang some really huge canvases – and some rooms are dedicated to the huge (and I mean physically large) works of just one artist so you get a distinct feeling as you walk through each grouping.
Which brings me back to Richter and the room I had to spend a high percentage of my allotted thirty minutes:
The Richter room has six pieces that the artist envisioned as a whole and named after John Cage. I don’t know much about John Cage but I do know that the composer (among other things) had significant impact on many of my favorite painters. These works by Richter are full of emotion yet distant at the same time. He built layer upon layer of paint, scraping away part of one layer before applying the next. Here’s a closer look at a section:
And then I walked speedily (no running!) until I landed in a Cy Twombly room…his later works are large and obsess over mythology. This room is about Bachus, the Roman God of Wine. Perhaps I use the word obsess because I myself am obsessed with how Twombly renders mythology – he takes allegories found in abundance at places like the Prado and translates them in nontraditional yet incredibly natural ways. If you’re in Philly, find the Twombly room…it’s hidden away in the back…for good reason, it may have the ability to horrify people who are out for a nice simple stroll around the museum (and there is absolutely nothing wrong with a nice simple stroll around a museum, but Twombly can be violent.) But I digress. Here’s a quick peek into the room with the Bachus paintings:
when you've got verbs?
And it's a good thing because I finally went up to the artist I've been circling around for the past few week in Plaza Mayor and asked him how much he sells his work for. Oh, you know, around €1200-€1700. sigh.
When I finally made it to the San Antonio de la Florida Hermitage, there was a children’s puppet show happening in the small 18th century temple. Sadly I did not understand what the puppets were saying. A couple more weeks of Spanish class and perhaps it would be perfect. The draw to this tiny, neo classical temple are the frescos, painted by none other than Francisco de Goya. They mark the beginning of his impressionism and they are beautiful. I think the hermitage also houses Goya’s tomb – but it does not include his head because it was apparently desired by scientists.
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