Returning from Barcelona by bus was made just that little bit more intolerable by the raucous accompaniment of a vocal child. Attention Deficit Syndrome sprang to mind as the tiny urchin emitted a prolonged, deep, throaty howl which one assumed would abrade the vocal chords and bring on premature puberty thus enabling the child to be singing basso profondo by the end of the bus ride.
I restrained my natural impulse to leap from my seat and hurl the infant though an open (or indeed closed) window. At times like that you really can sympathize with that Roman emperor who swung a child by its feet and . . . well, thinking about it, you probably can’t sympathize at all – but I was annoyed!
The Munch-like creature gave an unwanted negative spin on what had been an otherwise excellent day.
My trip to Barcelona had been to revisit MNAC (Museu Nacional D’Art de Catalunya) a museum which seems to reform itself into a different institution every time I visit it!
I restrained my natural impulse to leap from my seat and hurl the infant though an open (or indeed closed) window. At times like that you really can sympathize with that Roman emperor who swung a child by its feet and . . . well, thinking about it, you probably can’t sympathize at all – but I was annoyed!
The Munch-like creature gave an unwanted negative spin on what had been an otherwise excellent day.
My trip to Barcelona had been to revisit MNAC (Museu Nacional D’Art de Catalunya) a museum which seems to reform itself into a different institution every time I visit it!
This time there was an exhibition of works by Duchamp, Man Ray and Picabia: interesting, but ultimately quaint rather than impressive. It was revealing to see early works by these three and amusing to see the readymades but apart from interesting historical footnotes to a particular aspect of art theory – who cares?
The permanent art collection, however, is another thing. The Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection ensures that MNAC has a collection which is of world importance and their collection of Catalan art is without equal.
I have been doing my homework on Catalan art and struggling my way through Castellano and Catalan art books to try and get a better understanding of Modern Catalan art and so the collection is becoming more and more fascinating. I must admit that I took the opportunity on this visit to get the English language version of the guide book which I have previously been struggling through in Castellano! I hope that I can begin to make links between the painters I like and understand their antecedents and influences with great ease now that the information is in a language I can read with ease!
I suppose that I have visited the museum about half a dozen times and my discovery this time was a rather fine portrait by Munch (hence the earlier reference) as well as a whole section on Modernista furniture and decoration. I have only given a fairly cursory look at the Romanesque and Gothic art for which the gallery is justly famous so I think that I am going to get full value from my six month Art Ticket (at the ridiculously low price of €20) which gives me access to six or seven of the major art galleries in Barcelona!
When not visiting art galleries and eating I am, of course, reading. At our Ladies Who Lunch meal yesterday Caroline gave me my birthday present from last United Nations Day: it may have been eleven months late, but who can even pretend to be annoyed when the present turns out to be an excellent little book called ‘In The Garlic’ by Valerie Collins and Theresa O’Shea ISBN-13: 978-84-89954-59-5. The title refers to the phrase ‘estar en el ajo’ which means to be clued up to know the score and the book takes the form of a dictionary with comments of essential information for someone learning about Spain.
For example, every country has a place (or another country) which is the butt of jokes because of the alleged stupidity of the inhabitants. I once did some research on prejudice for a lesson and found a book which listed the countries that were stigmatized as stupid with their stigmatizers – it was both astonishing and bewildering. In Spain the repository of odium is Lepe a village in the province of Huelva. The little book gives a joke: One day three men, from Catalonia, Madrid and Lepe are put through the lie detector. The Catalan says, “I think we Catalans aren’t as mean as we’re made out to be.” The machine bleeps. The Madrid fellow says, “I think we madrileños aren’t as cocky as people make out.” The machine bleeps. The guy from Lepe says, “I think . . .” The machine bleeps.
The places may change but the jokes don’t!
No further news about the School That Sacked Me – I find it incredible to think that they may have retained what is left of the staff for a whole day further!
Down boy!
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