It was a winter morning but the temperature wasn’t too low, and the sun was kind. I was sitting in the common room of my hostel where I was staying for a few days, feeling freshly infused with a special kind of Sunday languor by the angel of indolence, snug on an overtly cushy pink and green sofa chair. I had made this common room home; since I shared my room with 3 other travellers - I was living in a dorm (the horror!!!).
Away from the quagmire of shared rooms, bathrooms, and loo(s), this room felt ‘a lot like home’ with its Television set placed on top of a warmth-inducing dilapidated wooden book rack that hosted lengthy volumes of the lonely planet guides to all parts of the world amongst other books left behind by weight-shedding backpackers. Right in front of the TV was a worse for wear centre table with a tiny potted plant on top of it, which was probably the only ‘young thing’ in the room. The other three walls supported three antique looking wooden and jute sofas. Close to the balcony door was the nebulous sun-hatched spot with a sofa chair … ‘my sofa chair’ that I dashed towards each time I entered the hostel and to my delight, found empty each time I did. The warmth of the sun here, in this chair, made me feel connected to something universal. I could be anywhere in the world, and given a sofa and a spot in the sun ‘like so’, I would be home!
15 minutes into my weekend reverie, my drooping eyelids were wheedled into attention by a friendly voice from across the street. In the balcony right across the hostel’s, was a young boy of about 18, yelling ‘Hola chica!’
It took me a few seconds to wrap my head around the intrusion and reply,
‘Hola, que tal?’, (Hello, how are you?).
‘Muy bien, y tu’ (Very good, and you), the boy said.
‘Bien, bien’ I replied.
He then started off with a cheery rant in rapid Spanish and I had to intrude at some point with,
‘No entiendo’ (I don’t understand).
He grinned and said, ‘Hablas poquito Español eh?’ (You speak little Spanish, eh), to which I said ‘Si, Si’.
A big smile and a wave goodbye later, I got out of the chair and left the common room, it didn’t feel private enough any more. The boy was sweet and well-intentioned but the recluse in me wanted to set out in search of better obscurity.
So, I went to my dorm, picked up my little day-bag and set out … Sigh! What a job it is to be a tourist on a Sunday. I started walking in a new direction, hoping that it would take me somewhere nice, somewhere I’d want to be … somewhere I could be completely anonymous again! I walked and I walked and I walked … and behold! After about an hour of walking very slowly, taking in the sites I passed by, I found myself at the gates of the Museo del Prado ( Tut tut, don’t google it, I’ll tell you, I was in Madrid).
Inside my head someone said ‘George just lucky, I guess’. But George was about to get luckier as ‘Along came Polly’! Polly told me that since it was Sunday the Museo del Prado was ‘gratis’ (free) in the evening from 5 pm – 8 pm, and right now it was the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía that was gratis … Now I couldn’t believe my luck, I was damn glad that boy had cajoled me out of my reverie.
Reina Sofia (the national museum of 20th century art) is just down the road from the Museo del Prado (featuring exquisite collections of European Art from the 12th to the 19th century).
After Polly had finished asking me for alms for god knows who or what, for giving me the information that she had; and after saying ‘Sorry, I haven’t got much money’, I started walking down the road towards Reina Sofia. My camera was at this point focused on autumn leaves, fountains, people - the usual, until it spotted something very unusual across the street …
I randomly took this picture (picture 1) and then went back to it on the LCD screen of my camera. I am going to shamefacedly admit that it took my slow brain a good 30 seconds to realize that this was public art! I crossed the road, to get closer and find out more about the artist.
Mesmerized I walked back and forth this road …
Away from the quagmire of shared rooms, bathrooms, and loo(s), this room felt ‘a lot like home’ with its Television set placed on top of a warmth-inducing dilapidated wooden book rack that hosted lengthy volumes of the lonely planet guides to all parts of the world amongst other books left behind by weight-shedding backpackers. Right in front of the TV was a worse for wear centre table with a tiny potted plant on top of it, which was probably the only ‘young thing’ in the room. The other three walls supported three antique looking wooden and jute sofas. Close to the balcony door was the nebulous sun-hatched spot with a sofa chair … ‘my sofa chair’ that I dashed towards each time I entered the hostel and to my delight, found empty each time I did. The warmth of the sun here, in this chair, made me feel connected to something universal. I could be anywhere in the world, and given a sofa and a spot in the sun ‘like so’, I would be home!
15 minutes into my weekend reverie, my drooping eyelids were wheedled into attention by a friendly voice from across the street. In the balcony right across the hostel’s, was a young boy of about 18, yelling ‘Hola chica!’
It took me a few seconds to wrap my head around the intrusion and reply,
‘Hola, que tal?’, (Hello, how are you?).
‘Muy bien, y tu’ (Very good, and you), the boy said.
‘Bien, bien’ I replied.
He then started off with a cheery rant in rapid Spanish and I had to intrude at some point with,
‘No entiendo’ (I don’t understand).
He grinned and said, ‘Hablas poquito Español eh?’ (You speak little Spanish, eh), to which I said ‘Si, Si’.
A big smile and a wave goodbye later, I got out of the chair and left the common room, it didn’t feel private enough any more. The boy was sweet and well-intentioned but the recluse in me wanted to set out in search of better obscurity.
So, I went to my dorm, picked up my little day-bag and set out … Sigh! What a job it is to be a tourist on a Sunday. I started walking in a new direction, hoping that it would take me somewhere nice, somewhere I’d want to be … somewhere I could be completely anonymous again! I walked and I walked and I walked … and behold! After about an hour of walking very slowly, taking in the sites I passed by, I found myself at the gates of the Museo del Prado ( Tut tut, don’t google it, I’ll tell you, I was in Madrid).
Inside my head someone said ‘George just lucky, I guess’. But George was about to get luckier as ‘Along came Polly’! Polly told me that since it was Sunday the Museo del Prado was ‘gratis’ (free) in the evening from 5 pm – 8 pm, and right now it was the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía that was gratis … Now I couldn’t believe my luck, I was damn glad that boy had cajoled me out of my reverie.
Reina Sofia (the national museum of 20th century art) is just down the road from the Museo del Prado (featuring exquisite collections of European Art from the 12th to the 19th century).
After Polly had finished asking me for alms for god knows who or what, for giving me the information that she had; and after saying ‘Sorry, I haven’t got much money’, I started walking down the road towards Reina Sofia. My camera was at this point focused on autumn leaves, fountains, people - the usual, until it spotted something very unusual across the street …
I randomly took this picture (picture 1) and then went back to it on the LCD screen of my camera. I am going to shamefacedly admit that it took my slow brain a good 30 seconds to realize that this was public art! I crossed the road, to get closer and find out more about the artist.
Mesmerized I walked back and forth this road …
Lillie, 2006, Bronze
Irene I, 2006, Bronze
Irene II, 2006, Bronze
Ariadna IV, 2004, Bronze
Lydia, 2004, Bronze
La Dama, 2004, Bronze
Colosos, 2005, Iron
Regina I, 2005, Bronze
Odalisca, 2006, Bronze
Las Meninas, 2005, Bronze
I had never heard of Manolo Valdés before this day but what I saw on this day I absolutely loved - loved the work, the use of wood, the display. Of course, I had to go back to the hostel and google him to be able to understand things better, since all the information provided alongside the display was in ‘shudh Español’ and I couldn’t be bothered trying to read it.
I later figured that Valdés is a Spanish artist, from Valencia, who works in paint, sculpture, and mixed media. Heavily influenced by old masterpieces, it was in 1983 that he started working with sculpture in a big way. Today, Valdés is hugely celebrated for his work using materials like alabaster, bronze, marble, granite, ceramic, silver, and wood.
The massive bronze female heads adorned with hats are inspired by the paintings of Matisse, and Las Meninas are inspired by Velázquez. In the last few years these works have travelled through Europe and North America (I think) with the Meninas being exhibited in Paris in 2005. In 2007, the women and the Meninas went to New York, in 2008 to Barcelona, and in late 2009 I unknowingly caught up with them in Madrid.
Muchas muchas gracias well-intentioned balcony-friend!
I later figured that Valdés is a Spanish artist, from Valencia, who works in paint, sculpture, and mixed media. Heavily influenced by old masterpieces, it was in 1983 that he started working with sculpture in a big way. Today, Valdés is hugely celebrated for his work using materials like alabaster, bronze, marble, granite, ceramic, silver, and wood.
The massive bronze female heads adorned with hats are inspired by the paintings of Matisse, and Las Meninas are inspired by Velázquez. In the last few years these works have travelled through Europe and North America (I think) with the Meninas being exhibited in Paris in 2005. In 2007, the women and the Meninas went to New York, in 2008 to Barcelona, and in late 2009 I unknowingly caught up with them in Madrid.
Muchas muchas gracias well-intentioned balcony-friend!
