Somehow the world has become even darker since we last met. I’ve been wandering through the corridors of the house of mirrors we call life. Today I’ve been studying this painting by Peter Bruegel from the der Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. When I took the photo, I had one of those moments that happen every once in a while in a person’s life.

I was gobsmacked that I was actually looking at the painting. As I had been the first time I stood in front of a Van Gogh, ‘The Tower of Babel’ was not something I thought that I’d ever see outside of a book. Standing there in der Kunst, I was able to stand in front of it and study it for as long as I wanted. This is a luxury that most people will never experience. When I was younger, I thought that most other people had the opportunity to see these wonderful things. It wasn’t until I actually stood in front of a masterpiece that I realized that really very few people could do what I was doing. I was determined to never let a moment like that ever pass me by. (more…)

I’ve been away for a few weeks. I was in Vienna (Wien) and then Florence (Firenze). I had always said that I wouldn’t go to Austria as long as Jörge Haider was still drawing a breath, but I had a need to see Klimt and Schiele. So, off I went to Wien.

Wien was decimated during the Second World War (see: The Third Man) and it didn’t profit by its reconstruction. There are rows upon rows of ugly concrete apartment blocks. As I looked out of my hotel window, I realized once again that many people don’t care where they live. Or perhaps it’s that they can’t afford to care. We don’t all have a real choice as to our living arrangements.

Wien has its charms. Stadt Park and the Hofburg Quarter are two. It certainly has good food and lots of it. It has some of the most dramatic skies in the world. It’s exciting to watch the weather move through. Yet, somehow I kept thinking of that saying, “How clever those Austrians, they’ve made the world think that Beethoven was Austrian and Hitler was German.”

There is a lively art scene in Wien, and the museums are top notch; but I kept wanting to stop old men and ask them what they did in the war. I had this same desire in Spain every time I saw an old man wearing a beret. “Whose side were you on?” In Spain no one would ever own up to having heard of Franco, so I couldn’t engage anyone in a discussion about him. This is why I should never go to places like Austria, Germany, Poland, or anyplace that capitulated or conspired with the Nazis. Of course, that would put most of Europe off limits for me. So, it’s best I don’t think about it. (more…)

Let me set the scene: it’s a brisk spring day in Paris. The HB and I are at the Museé d’Orsay. For many reasons, it’s our favourite museum. It’s more than the contents, though that can’t be beat. It has an incredible collection of modern art especially the Impressionists.

It’s more than the structure: it was a railway station that has been converted magically into a light-filled ode to art. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of entering the building. Its long central hall has rooms filled with treasures off to each side. At the far end there is an exhibit for the child in each of us: miniatures of the great buildings of Paris, including a cut-away of the Paris Opera. The best though is the exhibit in the floor under glass of the Opera district of Paris with Haussmann’s boulevards in their full glory. Adults react to this model in reverential awe. Children always get it right, they start walking all over the glass. They treat this Lilliputian Paris as the fun thing it’s meant to be.

It’s more than the ambience: from the huge railway clocks to the wonderful restaurants, it’s a welcoming palace of art. There is one restaurant, on the quay-side of the museum; that is moderately priced and serves excellent food. This is where my story begins.

We had a wonderful meal. I had an outstanding Potage Crecy (a creamy carrot soup). We were well-sated when we strolled back out to the museum. Then, nature called. “Need to ‘spend a penny’” I said. HB and I aimed for the loo. These particular conveniences were located down a narrow hall and across from one another. (more…)

I’d like to think that I’m a sophisticated kind of person, but there are things that just get me where I live and there’s not a thing sophisticated about them. I can do the puppy thing and the baby thing; but the best (or worst) of things-that-makes-me-whimper are WPA murals.

I first discovered one in the Hollywood High School library that had once been the auditorium. It had a WPA mural that depicted the history of the theatre. It was very fanciful in its chronicle from Greek amphitheatres to motion picture studios.

Later, I found another WPA mural in the dining room of the Natural History Museum in downtown Los Angeles, California. This particular mural portrayed the history of eating from cave dwellers to modern days. My favourite character in that mural was King Henry VIII. He had a big bone in his hand and was gnawing away at it. No flatware for those Tudors. When last in Los Angeles I was disappointed to find that some troglodyte(s) had completely covered the mural. (more…)

If you like to rush through museums, you don’t want to go with me. I have been known to plunk myself down in any museum and let the world go by while I look at a painting or sculpture. I’ve also been known to get emotional: the first time I saw Van Gogh’s “Sunflower’s” at the National Gallery in London, I wept. Yeah, hard-arsed Anon wept. Ya wanna get in my face about it?

So, today, whilst I was looking at my digital Hopper collection, I started to think again about the painting here. It’s titled, “Soir Bleu.” The obvious focal point is Pierrot. Not only is he in the centre, and his colouring forces our eyes to him; but most of the people in the painting are looking at him. (more…)

We used to live in the hills. When you live in the hills, you know the rules of the road like the back of your hand. You know what I mean. When you park, bank your wheels. Put on the emergency brake. Keep your car in gear: preferably reverse. If you have a dodgy battery, always park going downhill so you can pop the clutch to get the engine started.

It’s all fairly easy and really logical. One of the most important things to remember is that the person coming up the hill has the right of way. Makes sense when you think about it really. If you’re coming up the hill and you have to stop, you lose momentum. This is especially true if you have a manual transmission. (more…)