Lest you think that my life post-Keewi-visit is utterly bereft of fun, here's my costume for a Faschingsparty I went to with a couple of friends:
I like to think of this look as "Wolverine gone a bit to seed," with an incipient beer belly and (slightly) less impressive musculature than in his youth. A few more photos, particularly for the amusement of the YSSPers:
Anybody recognize the guy in the Hawaiian shirt? (I know lots of you recognize Snow White :->)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Vienna Post-Keewi
Keewi and I had one more day together in Vienna, which apparently was not photograph-worthy (we may have spent it watching Nip/Tuck episodes, actually; the friend I'm subletting from has five seasons of Nip/Tuck on DVD, and it has proved an adequate way to pass the time when it's too cold or foul to want to go outside). Then she flew out very early the next morning.
And now I am in a post-Keewi world. Here's what it looks like:
That's right: stark, bleak, cold and heartless, empty and cruel and barren. Seriously, where was everybody that morning?? The later photos are in Augarten, a park near where I live that's populated by old WWII-era flak towers for shooting down Allied bombers. It's a thought-provoking place. I wrote a little haiku, after an earlier meditative walk in Augarten:
Eloquent concrete
Looming monuments to hate
Augarten in fog
I think it's my favorite place in Vienna; I like very much that they haven't torn down the flak towers, although I hear that that isn't due to a lack of desire to do so; they just can't figure out a safe way to demolish them, because they're so huge. So I'm told.
And now I am in a post-Keewi world. Here's what it looks like:
That's right: stark, bleak, cold and heartless, empty and cruel and barren. Seriously, where was everybody that morning?? The later photos are in Augarten, a park near where I live that's populated by old WWII-era flak towers for shooting down Allied bombers. It's a thought-provoking place. I wrote a little haiku, after an earlier meditative walk in Augarten:
Eloquent concrete
Looming monuments to hate
Augarten in fog
I think it's my favorite place in Vienna; I like very much that they haven't torn down the flak towers, although I hear that that isn't due to a lack of desire to do so; they just can't figure out a safe way to demolish them, because they're so huge. So I'm told.
Vysehrad
After that amazing museum, we took the subway clear across town to Vysehrad, the old fortress on the south side of Prague. It probably dates back to the 10th century, but apparently nobody is sure. We walked around in the fortress looking at things, and eventually ended up at the Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul, which I had seen from the outside in the summer but had not been able to enter (I got there rather late in the day):
That's one of its doors (go back to my summer photos for a picture of the whole thing). This might give a hint of the whimsical, modernist style of the interior, but only a hint. It was really amazing; I've never seen a cathedral like it. Sadly it was too dark inside for photography, but the whole interior was done in an Art Deco style (in the 1930s, perhaps?) by famous Czech artists of the era. I wish I could show it to you.
Beside the Basilica is the Vysehrad cemetery, a rather nifty cemetery:
I stumbled upon the grave of Karel Capek completely by chance:
Yep, that's a little toy robot next to the tombstone. (Capek coined the word "robot", back in the early 20th century.) Upon seeing that, we did a little research and also found the tomb of Dvorak:
That was particularly special because we were going to a concert that evening with music by Dvorak, in Prague's Dvorak Hall, in the Rudolfinum. We also heard a piece by Sibelius. Here's what I wrote at the time, on Facebook: "I don't know much of classical music this modern, so all the music was new to me, but I liked both, particularly the Sibelius piece (Concerto for violin and orchestra in D minor, Op. 47). It featured a solo violinist, Nikolaj Znaider, who was really quite spectacular. The Dvorak (Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70) was quite nice too, very dramatic with lots of action in the cello section."
But before going to the concert, we needed dinner, so we went to Pivovarsky Dum, a place somewhat near the Vysehrad (well, towards the south, anyhow) with great beer (didn't see that coming, did you)? They had a tasting selection of perhaps eight different beers, some traditional, some with very unusual flavors like nettle (this one was green), sour cherry, and coffee (both of those last two were quite tasty). They also had a "classic old Bohemian mead" that was just wonderful; we bought a bottle of that from the bartender for a ridiculously low price, and it is now back in Montreal. The service was ludicrously slow; it seemed like there was one waitress for two large rooms, and we waited nearly an hour to even order our drinks. We made it to Dvorak Hall just in time, after rushing along on ice-covered streets (it had been putting down layers of frozen rain while we were having dinner). I slipped on the ice and bruised up my knee pretty good, but the music was so enjoyable I hardly even noticed.
And that was our last day in Prague; the next morning we just muddled around a bit near our hotel, and then got to the train statin and came back to Vienna.
That's one of its doors (go back to my summer photos for a picture of the whole thing). This might give a hint of the whimsical, modernist style of the interior, but only a hint. It was really amazing; I've never seen a cathedral like it. Sadly it was too dark inside for photography, but the whole interior was done in an Art Deco style (in the 1930s, perhaps?) by famous Czech artists of the era. I wish I could show it to you.
Beside the Basilica is the Vysehrad cemetery, a rather nifty cemetery:
I stumbled upon the grave of Karel Capek completely by chance:
Yep, that's a little toy robot next to the tombstone. (Capek coined the word "robot", back in the early 20th century.) Upon seeing that, we did a little research and also found the tomb of Dvorak:
That was particularly special because we were going to a concert that evening with music by Dvorak, in Prague's Dvorak Hall, in the Rudolfinum. We also heard a piece by Sibelius. Here's what I wrote at the time, on Facebook: "I don't know much of classical music this modern, so all the music was new to me, but I liked both, particularly the Sibelius piece (Concerto for violin and orchestra in D minor, Op. 47). It featured a solo violinist, Nikolaj Znaider, who was really quite spectacular. The Dvorak (Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 70) was quite nice too, very dramatic with lots of action in the cello section."
But before going to the concert, we needed dinner, so we went to Pivovarsky Dum, a place somewhat near the Vysehrad (well, towards the south, anyhow) with great beer (didn't see that coming, did you)? They had a tasting selection of perhaps eight different beers, some traditional, some with very unusual flavors like nettle (this one was green), sour cherry, and coffee (both of those last two were quite tasty). They also had a "classic old Bohemian mead" that was just wonderful; we bought a bottle of that from the bartender for a ridiculously low price, and it is now back in Montreal. The service was ludicrously slow; it seemed like there was one waitress for two large rooms, and we waited nearly an hour to even order our drinks. We made it to Dvorak Hall just in time, after rushing along on ice-covered streets (it had been putting down layers of frozen rain while we were having dinner). I slipped on the ice and bruised up my knee pretty good, but the music was so enjoyable I hardly even noticed.
And that was our last day in Prague; the next morning we just muddled around a bit near our hotel, and then got to the train statin and came back to Vienna.
Veletrzni Palace
The next day, and our last in Prague, we went to Veletrzni Palace. Which I guess is a palace, by some technical definition, but it doesn't look like a palace, and it is in fact a modern art museum. That's right — you get another museum tour! Back-to-back museum tours! Lucky you.
Being a modern art museum, it has a certain amount of this sort of thing:
However, it's really quite huge:
so it has a lot of good stuff too. (Well, that may not follow logically; but in any case, it does.) A few that I liked:
Then I discovered a new entry in my List of Favorite Artists, Frantisek Kupka. This guy is amazing:
He also did paintings that weren't abstract, and a fair bit of political cartoonery, and so forth, but I'm showing just his abstract stuff since that's what blew me away. The first couple in the next batch may also be Kupka, I'm not certain; but then we move on into lots of other stuff, some of which you'll doubtless recognize:
What a museum! By the way, if anybody is looking for a most excellent present idea for me, a coffee-table book of art by Frantisek Kupka would be quite pleasing, if a good one exists.
Being a modern art museum, it has a certain amount of this sort of thing:
However, it's really quite huge:
so it has a lot of good stuff too. (Well, that may not follow logically; but in any case, it does.) A few that I liked:
Then I discovered a new entry in my List of Favorite Artists, Frantisek Kupka. This guy is amazing:
He also did paintings that weren't abstract, and a fair bit of political cartoonery, and so forth, but I'm showing just his abstract stuff since that's what blew me away. The first couple in the next batch may also be Kupka, I'm not certain; but then we move on into lots of other stuff, some of which you'll doubtless recognize:
What a museum! By the way, if anybody is looking for a most excellent present idea for me, a coffee-table book of art by Frantisek Kupka would be quite pleasing, if a good one exists.
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