Museum Reviews
Since the moment I decided to study abroad, I learned you couldn't say "Barcelona" without also mentioning "La Sagrada Familia." This yet-unfinished basilica was the most dedicated project of Antoni Gaudí, who contributed to the city in so many ways, but most notably with this towering wonder. I had heard it was beautiful and amazing and stunning. I had seen it on every brochure and tourist website and souvenir t-shirt. But I didn't understand its allure until I stepped inside.
Do not be fooled. This is a church. It has stained glass windows, an altar, and many images of Jesus and the saints. It uses the traditional cross-shaped layout of gothic cathedrals with a nave, transepts, apse, and ambulatory. (Woah welcome to art history class...) It feels like a church, and yet it is so much more than that. It is a celebration of creativity and originality. It takes staples of the traditional church and elevates them. (Quite literally, the building will be the tallest in Barcelona.) The space is lively and welcoming, yet invites deep reflection and careful pondering of the details. Truly it is an indescribable place, unlike anything else in the world. Where else can you feel like you're at the gates of heaven and inside a kaleidoscope all at once?
The statue work on the outside of the basilica is also stunning and very unique. Gaudí and his succeeding architects use modernist techniques to tell a story on each facade. Gaudí's work--where you enter the church--is the nativity scene, full of life and tiny details swirling around the baby Jesus. Where you exit the style is much different, featuring geometric statues that tell of Jesus's death from the Last Supper to the Crucifixion. Though the facades are distinct in both subject matter and style, they contribute to the eclectic nature of the building as a whole. The basilica bears the marks of seven head architects over 137 years. I believe this collective effort is what makes the church so special. Throughout the construction process, La Sagrada Familia has withstood the test of time and transition to keep moving forward and always point to God. There is a lot to be said about this sentiment, but the experience of visiting says it best. So I'll save my words and just encourage you to come see for yourself.
A huge fortress in the middle of Milan? I have questions, but I'm there! Popping up off the subway, the massive structure loomed over the square in a powerfully beautiful combination of fountains and brick. With preliminary pictures out of the way, we walked into the one of the many courtyards of the huge castle and found lots of visitors, a few statues, and a surprising multitude of cats. Beyond each large gate waited a new surprise, but the biggest surprise of all was inside the castle. A gigantic museum! It had galleries featuring everything from Egyptian treasures to musical instruments, furniture to weapons, and royal portraits to tombstones. I truly had no idea what to expect but my feet got tired before I could see it all. However, I did get to see enough of it to know what an impressive collection and historic structure the institution has in its possession.
From a future conservator's perspective, the most intriguing part was the restoration going on inside the galleries. Multiple works were being worked on in the same space where visitors were mulling around. It was a fascinating take on bringing the necessities of museum work out from behind the curtain. Personally, I loved that I got to see such preservation and protection taking place right before my eyes!
Since I didn't get to peak inside the Duomo Cathedral in Milan, the Duomo Museum was the next best thing. It featured past statuary from inside and outside the cathedral and related art as well. Having the elements separate from the structure allowed me to focus on the details of the Duomo and see it in a new way. When I left the museum, I found myself pointing out everything from the statues I had seen to the fancy drain pipes. Probably the most impressive part of the museum was the scale model of the Duomo. It was helpful for seeing the layout and how much there truly was to the massive structure. For the small entrance fee, the museum contained a much larger collection than I anticipated!
The tour also included a visit to the church of San Gottardo. This small chapel was stunning with stained glass, high ceilings, and painted frescos. In contrast to the High Gothic style of the Duomo, it was beautiful to just soak in every detail and enjoy the atmosphere of the space.
The Duomo Museum offered unique insight into Milan's famous cathedral. It featured an overwhelming collection of exquisite artifacts in a dim light for guests to reflect upon as though they were in the cathedral. The overall space was encouraged to be silent--which I found unusual of a museum--but it did contribute to the reverent atmosphere. The museum was certainly a unique way to experience the religious history of Milan without stepping foot in the Duomo itself.
Getting My Science Fix
Since I'm taking so many history and humanities courses this semester, it was only a matter of time before I ended up at a science museum. (Well, two actually.) I felt right at home with the hoards of kids running around and dragging their parents toward the cool stuff they'd discovered.
My first stop was the Museum of Natural Sciences of Barcelona, which was a very modern take on the natural history museum concept. It walked me through Earth's biological and geological record from the first fossils to the wide variety of animals, plants, fungi, and bacteria we know today. The hundreds of specimens were displayed in large glass cases--a far cry from the diorama technique used at many natural history museums. The building itself promoted quite the atmosphere of discovery with colorful projections, mysterious sounds, and random pockets of light from the unique windows. I felt free to just wander and explore, as one should in any good science museum.
Next I transported myself across the city to visit CosmoCaixa, an interactive science center more similar to some in the United States. Although the main hall was under renovation, I could still explore five swirling levels of smaller exhibits, covering everything from robots to Antarctica. My favorite part was the flooded forest which had Amazonian animals and vegetation growing inside a climate-controlled part of the museum. It was like a little zoo! I enjoyed my time meandering through this innovative space and discovering new information alongside the curious kids and families. It felt good to dig into some science in Spain!
As the Museo del Prado was a regal and traditional art museum, the Museo Reina Sofia was every bit as much a modern art museum. Converted from a hospital to a museum in the 1980s, the structure was stark and completely white-walled. While not as welcoming, this setup was the perfect fit for the modern art collection it featured. The small, abrupt galleries were able to concentrate on one style at a time and provide documents and other supplementary materials pertaining to the artistic movement on display. Even without a guided highlight tour, as I received, one would be able to use the museum as a way to learn about artistic movements throughout the 20th century.
I was very please to see some Picasso and Dali in the Museo Reina Sofia because I am currently taking an art history course on those Spanish masters. My favorite work was the museum's crown jewel, The Guernica. I just learned about this work in my art history class and it was stunning to see in person. The piece has an entire room dedicated to it, where the walls are bare except for this massive black and white composition. Created by Picasso just before the Spanish civil war, it exudes gut wrenching emotion and expressive thought. I stood before this painting for a good five minutes just studying its every line. I was by far the most impressed by this piece. Although my jaw did not hang open as at Museo del Prado, I instead strolled through the galleries with pondering thoughts and quizzical expressions. Modern art just makes you think more. It's different. I like the challenge.
The Museo Reina Sofia was the complete opposite and perfect complement to the Museo del Prado. Together these Madrilenian museums hold so much art history and creative genius. I am thrilled I got the chance to visit them both; however, I only saw fractions of each collection, so I suppose I will have to come back to visit one day. Perhaps on a business trip???
I couldn't help my jaw from hanging open as I walked around the Museo del Prado in Madrid. The museum became more overwhelmingly beautiful as I entered each new gallery. Trailing behind my tour group, I tried to soak in every last inch we passed. I don't know what was most impressive: the expansive canvases, the sturdy frames, or the feat of hanging such massive masterpieces. It was like walking through a dream of the most stereotypically perfect art museum imaginable. The hallways were endless. The benches were centered. The statues were gleaming. The paintings were hung in precise intervals along the complementary-colored walls. Though I haven't been to the Louvre, I can only begin to describe the Museo del Prado as the Spanish Louvre.
The collection was enormous, covering hundreds of years, styles, and artists. I could have spent a week in that place and still not have seen everything. Even the stairwells featured priceless works, and only 60% of the collection was on display. It was truly mesmerizing. As I rapidly passed through the galleries with my tour, I only saw beauty and creativity. It was a dream in the sense that I couldn't believe I was there and I couldn't believe I was on an educational path to one day end up working in a place like that. I just cannot justifiably describe my amazement.
Besides being able to complete my homework on investigating the work of El Greco, my favorite part of the Prado Museum was not a painting or a gallery. I really appreciated two things. First off, some of the art displayed was salvaged from the interior walls of buildings. They were able to cut thin layers of the walls so that the art could be preserved, fitted to an identical space in the museum, and appreciated after the building was destroyed. Secondly, I loved the way I could see the fine brushstrokes of each painting. The illumination and the close proximity allowed me to see how these paintings were hand-crafted centuries ago. This made my heart especially happy to see because I will one day be able to see those brushstrokes much closer--under a microscope. I will be able to clean these relics so that future generations of inquisitive minds are able to visit the museum and see those brushstrokes, just as I did as a young study abroad student in Madrid one Saturday afternoon.
Although the day of my visit was cold and windy, the military castle on Montjuïc, built in the 17th century, stood strong and tall nevertheless. The chilling air was actually quite on theme of the dark and mysterious fort, which hosted many political and military executions throughout its time as an active prison. As I wandered through the dim hallways, I noticed a number of mysteriously beautiful stone sculptures and plaques, which contrasted the starkness of the place. In the rooms off of the halls, there were even a few small exhibits providing more details on both historic and current events. Although Castell Montjuïc has a violent past, the site is now focusing on how to promote peace in the region.
The exterior of the infamous fort was nothing especially castle-like, but the views of the city from the top level were unrivaled. As any strong defense system necessitates, the sea and the land could be seen for miles. Large weapons were pointed in every direction, which is troubling for some Barcelonins because it means the fort was once used to attack the city instead of defend it.
Castell Montjuïc, with its daunting aesthetic and sweeping views, was a place to reflect on the past tumults of Barcelona. It is where Catalan leaders became martyrs for their culture and where foreign powers rose up against the city. The past events encompassed by this site speak for themselves. One is able to feel the history of the brick structure instead of reading about it on panels of text.
This government-funded “center for the image” is exactly that. It provides a beautiful space for artists to show their eye-catching, head-scratching images to the public. The collections on display this winter are works that invite the viewer to consider the challenges of others.
The first exhibition told the journey of an artist who lost his arms as a child but was determined to pursue a career in art, nonetheless, by learning to use his feet better than I can use my hands. His painting, sketches, and model work was deeply engaging yet almost playfully intense. The collection included many self-portraits and creative photos, which helped me "get to know" the artist so I could better understand his story. The works were incredible in themselves but appeared incomprehensibly more beautiful once I discovered they were created by foot. My favorite piece was a huge tapestry portrait, which I eventually realized was a collection of colored footprints, each carefully placed to form a strikingly fierce face and hair flying out from it. It was magical and perfectly culminated the feeling of the exhibition.
The other exhibit featured photos from working-class families enduring 1970's Great Britain. While no image was spectacular on its own, together they showed a way of life during that time. The images were powerfully raw and intimately detailed. I was impressed by the sheer vision it took to create the collection and the skill used to tell the collective story. Along with the photos were dialogues of interviews that expressed real circumstances of those fighting through impoverishment.
The Virreina was a beautiful building in itself, enhanced by the simple paintings and photographs hung effortlessly on the white walls. Videos and anecdotes complemented the art and brought to life the messages of the artists. With free admission every day, this space is a somewhere everyone can come to learn, grow, and find a deeper appreciation of human emotions.
Today I visited my first international museum! I was a bit surprised to find how little the concept differed from an American museum: there were traveling exhibits, interactive screens, looped videos, encased objects, audio tours, and items to assist in creating the atmosphere desired. I was also very relieved to find all the paneling and descriptions were posted in English (alongside Spanish and Catalan). Considering the challenge of displaying three languages, the simplicity, organization, and flow of each exhibit impressed me that much more.
The museum did a fantastic job of creating a complete space that added to the visitor experience. Whether the paneling was written on concrete blocks or objects displayed in shipping containers, the presence of the port and its importance to Barcelona could not be overlooked. My favorite exhibit/object was the full-scale reproduction of the Royal Galley. My jaw literally dropped when I first noticed it. The details were so minute that it seemed more a work of art than a sailing vessel. I very much appreciated the multiple levels of platforms, which allowed me to explore the ship from all angles.
The building itself was maybe the highlight of my visit. I found it absolutely stunning that the museum was housed in the actual old ship-building yards. The tall ceilings and strong stone arches really brought the vibe to life. The Maritime Museum of Barcelona took me through the ages to discover how the port of Barcelona has changed over the years, right up until present-day, which I could look out the window and see for myself.
Also I think ↓this↓ is super cool and a wonderful idea for museums across the globe. (description to left)
Preservation of Spirit and Circumstance
Friday morning I walked steeply uphill for about half an hour for amazing views of the city and a brief history lesson. With several other classmates, I hiked up to the Carmel bunkers and overlooked the city. I was surprised to not only see the abandoned air raid defenses, but also to see remnants of tile flooring and concrete foundations. The professor who was our tour guide explained that when the population of Barcelona expanded so rapidly from 1930-1970, people built homes up here, but this is all that was left of them. The cracked tiles area is all that remains of any similar housing region from that time in Barcelona. They were all destroyed a few decades ago, but the fragments of this neighborhood were left to preserve the memory of those people who risked everything but were eventually kicked out of the city.
While the local government could have made it into an aesthetically-pleasing park or garden, I applaud them for leaving it as raw and true as they could. Signs along the hill explain the history of the area and help visitors make sense of what once stood on the ground they have hiked. The bunkers gave an amazing view of the city (I'm going back at sunset some day), but they also provide physical proof of the rocky past of Barcelona. From losing independence in the Spanish Civil War to being under a dictator who removed thousands of people from the city, these ghosts of houses and strong bunkers still stand--however small--atop a city they once knew and defended. Barcelona, I see you.
