Madrid in August is much more than the lesser capital of Spain. It was Saturday. That means a free entrance in the Centro de Arte Reina (Queen) Sofia museum after 2:30 p.m., and someone told me or I’m telling someone, ‘do buy a recuerdo from the shop when you leave, leaving a gift for the gift you will receive freely and for free.’
The museum is built around a fresh courtyard in which olive trees exhibit their lonely beauty before being seen as a source for their precious oil. Or is it the central fountain and its sprinkled moist which lend another dimension to these trees, these natural survivors under baking sun? Yet the courtyard -- which could be Muslim, could be Andalucía itself -- is a premonition of the museum's inner juices. Or of the Queen’s, if she forgives me such an expression. Somehow I feel like having a Bourbon now. *
"Yes, I’ll shut up in a minute, Sovereign Sir."
One of the first sightings was a lifesize puppet singing with David Byrne's voice. The public is supposed to be impressed by its mechanized facial movements. Movements so precise that would make Da Vinci’s mechanized armour wonder if mankind’s ingenuity fell asleep with the long sleep of its inventor. A temporary contemporary exhibition it was, installed in the ground floor for some mysterious reason. But modern is interactivity too, and the good surprise came with two pieces of art which shape themselves to what their cameras catch, and they could be catching you, capturing you into art for a fleeting moment. Modern.
Free to choose, I chose to get lost in the museum holding a plan in my hand. I climbed upstairs. Without surprise my first sighting was Picasso’s, a statuette. I could almost feel the closeness to Guernica. It’s not the Spanish civil war and its atrocities that draw me to such a work. It’s rather the daily exposure to it when we went to play in my father’s office after his last client left. And it could well have been one of those clients who paid in chicken for a lawyer's service they couldn’t otherwise afford.
It wasn’t long before I found the painting. I was not disappointed. To its left, many studies of each figure present in the main painting. Close to it, the photos taken from time to time showing the painting evolution as a work of art. Picasso was a good general too as he changed his first plan without apparent remorse, and to obtain better results.
Such an encounter was an appetizer for André Breton and his Surrealism and real mates. In a small dark adjacent room, recovered films of the duo Buñuel and Dalí were being played non-stop. They produced a Nadja on film too. It’s their (re)creation. I left.
For food? Always. But it was getting closer to 6 p.m.. It was still Saturday, Madrid still. El Prado museum was soon free of charge as well. Until 8 p.m. Two hours for a visit. It was enough for Velásquez, El Greco and Goya. Don’t forget the gift shop. Keeping art alive requires financing too.
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* The current Spanish dynasty is Bourbon, or rather Borbón. And I don't like whiskey.
