9.11.90
Well, what a surprise. I find myself in the gloriously appointed Altes Residenztheater, all cream and light Baroque. I have come (foolishly perhaps) to see Schnitzler’s “Zwischenspiel”. Inevitably the programme tells me nothing – even going so far as to reprint “Die griechische Tänzerin" – which I have read several times. His prose is so good, so smooth, so inevitable – I wish mine were.
Despite my tiredness, and my activities of the past days/weeks (more anon), I think I’ll be OK, if only because I kipped from 5 to 6.30pm Everyone very formal here – glad I didn’t come in trainers… Inside to the theatre. A glorious riot of gilt, cream and maroon – a very regal feel. Very High Baroque (Asam brothers etc.). Real armless chairs – I have a whizzo one, No. 72, DM41. Royal box amazing: central, with huge drapes et al. A real find – I tried first for the opera – “Ballo in Maschera” – but sold out. I just hope Schnitzler’s dramatic prose equals that of his short stories.
In front of me one is confronted with the stage curtain, “Zwischenspiel” written thereon, a wind-up gramophone in front. Hmm… (NB: there sill soon be kids who have never seen gramophones, or understand their principles…)
Halftime. Out with the throng as they rush to their Sekt and various raw meats. An interesting experience. I catch perhaps one sentence in 10 – but it is enough, and I shall definitely stay to find out what happens. The story so far (cf. “A Life for the Tsar” in Moscow and “Le Donne Gelose” in Venice). The composer Amadeus teeters on the brink of an affair with a singer (Friederike). He has a long talk with his wife Cäcilie – another singer – and they part (though I dunno why she agrees). He meets C. again some time later, and they seem to be getting back together… (?)
The German is lovely, though not very well projected, especially from downstage – the acoustics don’t help. The direction rather static, but this is partly Schnitzler’s fault. Like me, I fear, he’s a bit of a talker, not a virtue in drama. Unlike Canada, some attractive bints here – with a characteristically hard look to many of them. But what a contrast to Toronto… Acting generally feels high quality – and judging by the papers, there’s quite a lot of it – again, cf. Toronto…
10.11.90
I sit in the Hofgarten, under a gentle sun – we are leicht bewolkt – the air cool but pleasant. Bustling Müncheners everywhere. 1.45pm strikes. Selig?
I salved my conscience this morning by trolling along to the show for an hour or so. But never before have I rubbed blisters from a show. Then back to change, out to try to buy tickets for Vermeer at Herkulessaal (sold out), then along to St. Matthäus for a concert (on the door). But it’s too pleasant now to do much except walk around. I have had an odd lunch (ish) – roast chestnuts and dried bananas (à la Lakes). Then along to the Ägyptische Sammlung – rather disappointing, small, nothing special. For me the most exciting thing there was the map of Egypt, with all its evocative names. Ah, "Egyptian Romance"….
Along to the Staatsgalerie for Kaffee and Kuchen. Then: roomful of Kirchner – some quite nice. Great Nolde: “Nordermühle” blazing orange and complementary greens and mauves. Two good Kandinsky: one early, the other (abstract) later, but organically growing out of it. A Max Beckmann I know well – “Still life with telescope” – but why?
Interesting effect in Dali’s “Apotheosis of Homer”: he put big gobs of paint on, lets them dry, then paints on them. His ants only have four legs on some of his pix. Magritte’s “Third dimension” – shows birds perched on the veins of a leaf – fractals… “Sie können niemals wissen” – eerie pic of half human/half android… Collection quite good, though upstairs is naff. Also rather quiet. The Tate et al. gain from the people. Perhaps modern art is otherwise rather lonely.
Along afterwards to Die Neue Sammlung – exhibition of newspaper cartoons, happily fairly comprehensible, if only because the images were rather obvious [kids going by, shuffling their feet through the yellowing leaves – something I loved doing up Downs Road – and still love doing here and in Canada][I have been sitting for a while, trying to remember the Greek word for otherwise/altrimenti/autrement/sonst – αλλιώς? These words – but I’m pleased how quickly my German seems to have come back. Though last night I failed to grasp the ending of the play – I’ll have to read it when I return].
So now I sit in the Englischer Garten – named after its Capability Brown freeness, I suppose (ich vermute), the sun low and weak, sinking through the light cloud which has threatened all day, but mercifully held off. People out walking in pairs, people playing with kids (but far fewer than in London), running with dogs, sitting and watching (like me).
A few notes on this and that. The river through the park is in some state of spate, roaring through. Walking across the grass, I saw molehills – and immediately thought of the smell of anti-mole poison as smoked in by my father. A lovely way to go, I always thought. Other childhood smells: plasticine (a slightly rude, stinky smell), crayons. Furs seem far more acceptable here than in the UK. Half the world seems to be wearing glasses – all the trendy new shapes (that also look very old-fashioned, for obvious reasons). People playing with frisbees – delighting in its simple grace – and the joy of catching it effortlessly.
Money begets beauty. Not directly, but a wealthy city has far more attractive men and women than a poor one, if only because they are well-groomed and well-dressed. Also noticeable is everyone eating out at lunchtime today – another sign of wealth. On the U-bahn here, a man rubbing his daughter’s cheeks, quite hard, superficially in play, but it went beyond that. The girl, eight or nine, also reacted to him in a very grown up way – not like a child.
The bells sounds with a quirky, deep-throated old-world clangour. Only time can do this. An AC/DC video on the TV: the ultimate Dionysian music for the 20th century. Also the obligatory “erotic” programmes – even at the Sheraton. Annoying how sex – of this rather laughably (but dangerously so) soft kind – has been normalised.
A lovely day today – and a week ago I was at the Niagara Falls. Amazing. The sun reddens to the right of the Dom’s towers (Dom closed for restoration). Why do the words “tub of lard” keep going through my head? All around me a few remaining trees with full foliage in various stages of turning. Lovely smell of sap and leaves. In the distance, a bloke practises juggling with Indian clubs (what a nice name for an object).
A long walk through the park, the temperature dropping now that the sun has disappeared. U-bahn back to the hotel, where I put a jumpy on for the evening. On the TV a programme about Computer Associates, narrated in that ultra-clear German accent – with lovely uvular fricatives – that I know so well from my previous Munich trip.
Which brings me on to something I have omitted to mention: that I recognise barely anything of Munich. Marienplatz (just), Odeonplatz, the Staatsgalerie – but barely anything else. It would seem that – like a baby – I had not evolved my full city mapping machinery. Now when I visit somewhere, I soon lock in and retain its basic outline – as well as details (e.g. Torino rears up in my mind, even though I took just one early morning walk there). Interesting. But it also awakens a desire in me to visit München, um sie besser kennen zu lernen (Deutsch really is pulsing through the old Gehirn). Not to mention Paris, Berlin, etc. – perhaps a weekend every month or two. I think that "Egyptian Romance" will demand much of my time next year. Also, I am pretty certain I’ll go to South America – therefore I must brush up my Spanish, therefore I must do Germany first, lest (μήπως) I become confused.
I am eating in a place just down from the Kaufhof at Marienplatz. Like the Peterhof we ate in on Thursday night, it has a real buzz about it. The Dirndl-skirted waitresses fit, as does the décor and the music. Nudeln and ox soup to start (nice), some pork job to follow.
Pork job was pretty gross (as was to be expected of German food): roast pork, boiled pork, pork sausages, pork dumplings (?) sauerkraut and tatties. Some of the flavours distinctly odd – but surprisingly pleasant for being so. I have not drunk beer since I was last in Munich (12 years ago), when I tasted two. Given this is the centre of beer making, I almost wish I drank the stuff. Perhaps I should try it?
11.11.90
Up late (I missed my alarm), checked out, on circuitously to the Alte Pinakothek. I vaguely – but only vaguely – remember this. Downstairs – lots of old German stuff that does very little for me. Also an exhibition of early Italians – what a contrast – there seems so little humanity in the German by comparison.
Upstairs to the real stuff. Mabuse’s beautiful “Danae and her golden shower”. Rogier van der Weyden’s wonderful Madonna painted by Luke, in a big triptych (the faces…). Dieric Bouts – Christ’s face. Altdorfer’s “Battle of Issus” – totally different shape from what I recall.
Of the main Rubens hall I still find his style overblown, if virtuosic. However, I have a better appreciation of the lusciously endowed women of this period. Wonderful series of Rembrandts – the tiny early self portrait, and the Biblical series. I wonder what he saw in the darkness which surrounds the image?
To the cafeteria for a quick cake and coffee – the latter very Italian, tasty. Once again, I find a Munich gallery good but rather unsatisfactory. It doesn’t really hang together. The National Gallery is far better balanced – but then Munich is not London.
Over to the Neue Pinakothek. It is everything that the Alte Pinakothek isn’t: light, friendly, busy in the right way. A few comments. I must just note a masterpiece by a minor painter: O. Achenbach’s “Italienischer Park” – the effects of light are gob-smacking – a beautiful Tiepolo pink, but so true it emphasises how rarely other pix achieve this justness. Also “Don Quixote” by Daumier here, and very noticeable how utterly English Constable looks. Beautiful metaphorical landscapes by Caspar David Friedrich. Looks daft to see “Strasse in Upper Norwood” by Pissaro… Another pic I remember well: Segantini’s “Das Pflügen” – though before it was upstairs by a stairway (in the Alte Pinakothek?)
Along to the Staatliche Antikensammlungen. I pass through an open space I have vague memories of: that of the Staatliche Antikensammlungen and the Glyptothek. I remember things as grander, perhaps raised up more. It looks more like Downing College…
Lovely and light inside. Greek things now send a certain frisson through me. The stone facing of the halls reminds me of Khufu’s tomb… This place is beautiful, partly because it is so well designed. The floors are black stone, the walls pitted and creamy, the chairs butterscotch – the perfect match and background for the red and white patterns.
Downstairs, totally mind-blowing gold crown – so delicate and well preserved. I don’t normally go a bundle on earrings, rings, bracelets, etc., but this lot is gob-smacking: I have never seen such workmanship – and from 700BC sometimes. In fact, I’ve no idea even how some of it was done, the tiny weaving of gold braids together – these were hardly primitive civilisations. This is quite simply the best collection – and display – of ancient treasures I have ever seen.
To the Glyptothek – a name that has been floating in my brain for 12 years. Hall XI: a sea of bobbing Roman heads viewed from the ramp. Magic. All of them looking out to the courtyard, as if yearning for Rome…
Great use of the same blistered stone as a partial lintel. Otherwise lightly whitewashed bricks. Very cool spaces. Perfect. Amazing mosaic: not only does it have a Möbius strip, but also a portrait of Hitler…
Again, this really is the perfect example of how this museum should be done. I sit now in the lively café – brill coffee and cheesecake, spoilt by the smokers around me. I sit in a canvas and wood chair. Selig again. Very attractive women about – art certainly does it…
The Glyptothek reminds me of something out of Piranesi, of the yellow church by Sangallo outside Montepulciano (when was that…?). High barrel vaults and Pantheon-like corner rooms – all very appropriate, perfectly classical, perfectly muted. Collection well-spaced out as it should be. People sketching, sitting on thoughtfully provided stools (canvas again). Also a book showing how Eduardo Paolozzi and others exhibited here, stimulated by the works. Great idea. Should do in the UK.
Happily, this trip seems to have panned out well.. This is a great ending. I have got the hang of Munich (only 12 years late), and discovered the Neue Pinakothek, the Antikensammlungen, and – vor allem – the great and glorious Glyptothek.
A fine Weston differential pulley hangs over the eaters, drinkers – and smokers. Its massive coiled chains look almost alive. But what is it used for? [The pull of the pulley…] It is amazing how national characters linger. A man next to me sports a monocle; elsewhere, I have seen many people in ankle-length leather coats – à la Gestapo. Surely this stuff is still loaded…
Once round as fond farewell, then outside into the gentle drizzle. Across to the Propylaea, which reminds me of Dendera. To the U-bahn.
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