I’m not the poster child for SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). But I am the late-in-the-campaign third string for secondary markets poster child. It’s an overcast, drizzly day. A cold front moved through last night, the rain at that outdoor concert the harbinger of cooler temperatures and overall dampness of the day.
I’m not feeling 100% and thought maybe a light day indoors as much as possible closer to the hotel would behoove me for the marathon tomorrow. So I decided to make it a two-fer museum day.
I started at the Magritte Museum. I have to be honest here. My Philistine knowledge of surrealist Rene Magritte’s work probably begins and ends with Son Of Man, and that’s only because it was a key plot point in The Thomas Crown Affair remake from 1999.
I also knew this image:
But I didn’t know it was his. The pipe that is not a pipe. Hearing Magritte in his own words describe the public’s outrage and his take on the whole thing via the audiotour was probably worth the 4 euro upcharge. Realizing Son of Man is in a private collection (Thomas Crown’s mayhaps?) and The Treachery of Images is at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art meant the two best known works were NOT what I’d be seeing.
It was a pretty good museum but I as always tired easily of all the learning. I’m a terrible example of the boorish American with a short attention span. Even when I’m kinda into the subject, I’m really only good for about an hour before the mind forever voyages onto other places and things.
Still, there were a few works that really struck me, even if I was strolling by with an audiodevice glued to my ear:
Ironically, NONE of the pieces I particularly liked were available as postcards in the gift shop, a shop the curator in the opening monologue of the audiodevice introduced as being integral to understanding how mass production and marketing aided Magritte and, he said, it afforded us all an opportunity to take a piece of Magritte home with us.
I was tempted by the 350 euro giant apple but couldn’t see how I’d transport it on my next few tour stops.
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Afterwards, I mosied on down to the European Parliament, where a Parliamentarium visitor’s center and museum complex awaited me. The EU is incredibly important. And the geo-political landscape at the moment is one big mess so I know I should be incredibly interested in the history and current state of affairs for this body. But if Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace were a museum, it’d be this place. So much talking and reading and a bit of whiz-bang technology that didn’t always work. Because of the myriad languages of the EU, text on the walls would occasionally be double-exposed to highlight the melting pot, tower of Babelness of it all. You’d scan your audio device at certain points in the room to access multimedia content in your native tongue but it didn’t always scan correctly, sometimes the plates to scan were at an awkward height (too low, too high, rarely just right), and the thing kept crashing on me. Again, super important thing but was it a snoozer.
If only I could remember when I visited the Parlimentarium…
By far the most intriguing exhibit was “2050: What’s the Future Of The EU?” They asked various Members of European Parliament to donate an item they felt represented the EU and its Future and then had them answer a few questions. You’d scan the object with your audio device and get their video messages. It wasn’t the technology I found interesting. It was the items on display and what they meant to each MEP. I’ve always been fascinated with these kinds of mental exercises. What’s the way to boil something down to its quintessence? What’s the ultimate expression of some meaning, of some hope, of some desire, or wish, of some concept. I’m terrible at this game but it’s fun to play. I think a lot of it stems from the George Pal “Time Machine” movie I saw as a kid. Our intrepid hero, having returned home and escaped the Morlocks, decides to go back to the future to rebuild human society. And he takes three books with him. There’s an exchange then amongst those he left behind in the present past:
David Filby: He must have taken something with him…
Mrs. Watchett (George’s housekeeper): Nothing… except three books.
David Filby: Which three books?
Mrs. Watchett: I don’t know… is it important?
David Filby: Oh, I suppose not. Only, which three books would you have taken?
Anyway, amongst the items on display were a piece of the Berlin Wall, a book on microloans that could change the world, a computer mouse, and a photo of a crappy arts+crafts Owl your fourth grader might have made for you that you will “accidentally” drop one day and “have to get rid of.” This MEP talked about how a constituent artist gave this “Euro Owl” to her before she went to European Parliament the first time in 2004. It was a reminder that it’s about the people and not just the Euro. It was a play on what she called the phrase of “bringing Owls to Athens” which I had never heard. It’s apparently to do something fruitless, pointless, redundant. I guess the Euro Owl was to not be redundant? I don’t know. It made more sense in the original German and in the subtitles as I sat watching them.
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As I settle in for the night, the sun has finally come out. I haven’t properly run since the Half Marathon last weekend… and there I was mainly dashing between photo opportunities. I’ve been walking a fair bit but this stupid sinus thing is driving me nuts. Plus, there’s the question mark hovering over my new Hulk shoes. Ah, it’ll be fine.
Here’s a few stray shots from the day to close this out.
First of all, you should never wear green into a green screen photobooth. I call this “The Phantom of the European Parliament”
I also probably shouldn’t have worn my llama “Llame” shirt to snap a photo outside of the EU Parliament.
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While walking back to the hotel, I came across this sculpture. Upon closer inspection it’s of two stargazers, one with a telescope. But to my mind, I assumed it was a tribute to the legendary Belgian Beers and the one was cheering on the other to “chug-chug-chug.” When in Brussels, I say…
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Preview of tomorrow’s attractions:
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And because if you’ve been following this blog you know I promised myself this would happen. Enter the Samurai.
It’s spicier sauce, sure. It’s got a kick. But it’s not “Oh. My. God. My lips are on fire! I have brought dishonor to you all!” hot. Ya know what I’m saying?
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Ok. Tomorrow, I run.
Run, Kevin. Run.