I was, as one always is, confident about the location of the gallery that I was supposed to visit to check out the exhibition of photographs which will be the eventual destination for my Media Studies group. That confidence was ill placed.
I knew whereabouts it was having visited it a few times in the past, but my approach (arrogance! arrogance!) was down a slightly different approach road and my patience (and bladder) were both giving out when I decided to cut my losses and have lunch. After attending to the bladder!
Lunch was in a small run-down Chinese owned restaurant which offered a very reasonable menu del dia (without drinks, but on a Saturday) and at least it looked clean.
I cannot say the same for the toilet but, at the stage that I had reached I would gratefully have used a North African place of easement.
The food was adequate with a blandly gentle chicken curry and a couple of mini bottles of drinkable red wine to give the whole experience a dose of the style which was lacking. My asking if the gallery or museum of modern art was near elicited nothing more than blank incomprehension and it took a little more aimless wandering in circles before I discovered that I was within in a street of the place all along!
I got in to the exhibition using my out of date “I am a teacher” card and attempted to buy the catalogue using my bank card. This was impossible so I had to scrabble together all the cash I could find to pay for the €24 catalogue. I couldn’t actually make it to the full total but the kind lady at the desk actually let me off the last few cents.
I am now armed with telephone numbers and names to try and arrange the visit. And a visit is certainly a good idea. The exhibition is “World Press Photo 10.” The photographs which make up this exhibition are press winners in various categories and they make fascinating, if sometimes disgusting viewing. They range in subject matter from the quotidian to the appalling. There are graphic photos of a ritual stoning which are deeply unsettling.
My favourites were (leaving out photos of penguins which have an unfair claim on my attention) one of a walrus (or some such creature) photographed face-on with a aerial circle of flipped sand and a photo of a ship sailing through an ice channel; the composition, view-point and the colour of the water make this compelling.
There are many other images, perhaps too many, which demand attention and it is disconcerting to wander through the subterranean gallery and move effortlessly from subject to subject with emotions and responses pulled in so many different directions.
If you are in Barcelona or if the exhibition is going to come to your area it is one not to miss.
The Family had descended by the time I returned to Castelldefels and the redesign of the space in the living room was able to accommodate them much more easily than before. We are now considering different curtains and perhaps paint to make the room unrecognizable for future visitors!
The youngest members of The Family took their toll and the weariness extended itself to fingers as well as mind – which explain the missing day.
Although not hot the day has been sunny and, although it is early evening as I type, I am doing so with the door to the terrace open and the sound of the sea crashing its way in. I am, of course, in T-shirt and shorts.
I was the only person in this sort of attire as I waited in line to get the pollo a last for lunch. Spaniards are great believers in the significance of the months of the year and what season should be indicated if you are living in a particular month – this is in spite of the temperatures which indicate something else. I go on heat rather than orthography and will respond to precious sunlight whenever it makes its gracious presence felt.
The War III
The second post along our drive ways has now been unceremoniously snapped off. I checked the rubbish, but I fear that the criminals threw it away last night and our ever efficient refuse collectors have taken away the evidence.
So, these people (and, let’s face it we know who they are) have destroyed the posts which protect our driveways from strangers parking there so that they can have an easier approach to illegally park their cars there. That may be a clumsy sentence but it does tell you who the people are who are guilty of criminal damage and theft.
The end result is that the removal of the posts at the edge of the pavement now gives an uninterrupted stretch of precious pavement and drive way which is an open invitation to those people who find it impossible to park more than 50 yards away from where they want to be.
The behaviour of the people close to us (ah, ever nearer to an identification and denunciation) has made access points to our property into parking spaces. God rot them!
I have done my homework as set by Suzanne and watched the film “The Mona Lisa Smile” (2003) starring Julia Roberts and directed by Mike Newell.
Set in 1953 it follows the introduction of a new art history teacher played by Julia Roberts into the conservative girls’ educational establishment of Wellesley. As is usual in this type of “charismatic teacher causes ructions” the norms are questioned; a liberal mode of expression is established and chaos ensues.
The hypocrisy of the establishment is established and in the end, to give at least a modicum of reality to the situation, the “offending” teacher is forced to leave and find pastures new.
I don’t think that there was anything in this film which added to the Romantic and easy psychology of “The Dead Poets Society” with Robin Williams. All of these films are built on the principle that The Establishment thinks that knowledge is dangerous and the ability to think is seen as the destruction of The System.
These films are, of course made by the system and form part of the “comfortable” questioning that gives the illusion that even if things are bad we talk about them and that is a significant part of the solution.
It is now time for me to start reading the new Ken Follett book which looks more like a breeze block than a brick!
Excellent!
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