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life is a banquet – and most poor suckers are starving to death…

Not my line.  You can thank Patrick Dennis.  According to Wikipedia, he had a life almost as interesting as Mame’s.  If you haven’t already discovered Mame, I highly recommend you do so.  Apparently she was the Fifty Shades of Grey of the 1950s.  Mame is way cooler from what I can gather, since I refuse to actually read Fifty Shades… but, like the Kardashians, you can’t escape it even when you’re trying to…

Anyway, let’s talk about Mame!  And the brilliant Patrick Dennis.  I first stumbled across Auntie Mame in my early teens.  Especially interesting because it was supposedly out of print then.  But I read it – and the sequel – with great delight.  My recollection is that it is well written.  And Mame is a character who should be as famous as Scarlet O’Hara.

When I read the original novel, I related to the nephew.  To have a worldly aunt who would show me the world and shake up my boring “Little House on the Prairie” everyday life seemed a dream too big to actually dream.

But that is the wonderful thing about reading.  You can transport yourself into all sorts of worlds for which you have in reality neither the means nor the social skills to actually enter.  You can pretend to be all sorts of different people and lead all kinds of interesting lives.

If you aren’t a reader, Mame also made it onto Broadway and apparently there are two different film versions.  But the one to see is the 1958 Warner Brothers version with Rosalind Russell.  I was looking for something to entertain me in the background on Christmas Eve and that is how I saw it for the second time.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051383/

Not everything is better the second time.  But it is one of my favourite films.  It’s fantastic – and not terribly realistic.  But highly entertaining.  And with a social message that still resonates today – and would have been shocking in the 1950s of the buttoned-up USA.

As a child, Mame was inspiring.  But now I see that I have partly turned into Mame.  And it’s not a bad thing.  She is resilient, resourceful, independent, entertaining and unconventional.  As the quote suggests, Mame really knows how to live.

Apparently the book has been a spectacular hit as a reissue in the 21st century.

Check it out.  Or rent the film.  Mame was ahead of her time so her message fits perfectly into the new century.

Live your life to the fullest.  Take some risks.  Do some interesting things.  Make sure you have at least a couple of stories that will get you attention in the nursing home.

Enjoy the banquet!  Apparently the world did NOT end after all… so it’s time to embrace 2013!

Happy New Year!

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artsy stuff, life philosophy

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who is “that girl?” ;)

I am really dating myself with this reference but since I have put my age into the public record, no secrets will be revealed 🙂  A few weeks ago I stumbled by accident on TV reruns of “That Girl”.  It had a fairly short run – but obviously long enough to be in syndication 🙂

http://www.tv.com/shows/that-girl-1966/

“That Girl” never had the power or cultural prominence of “Mary Tyler Moore” but they both informed my childhood view of women – and reinforced the idea that women could be strong and independent that I was so lucky to have as my childhood motif courtesy of my crazy, think-outside-the box family 🙂

“That Girl” was a little extra special for me because the actress featured was named “Marlo”.  Obviously my great uncle Elmo must have been a secret fan of the show because he never got that my name ended in an “a”, not an “o”.  But “Marla” was a strange Martian name in the small towns of my childhood and “Marlo” was so much closer than all the other “M” names I got called because I was shy and soft spoken so I was grateful 🙂

No doubt Zooey Deschanel is referencing “That Girl” in “The New Girl”.  Almost nothing in the 21st century is as “new” as advertised – it’s most often just an update.

Shockingly to me, this is my 100th post!  So I thought it should be personal and introspective.  I am not Marlo – or Zooey – but I like to think I have updated my own version of “That Girl.”

The show was a cheesy trifle so I suspect my version of “That Girl” is a little deeper than the producers of the 60s would have been envisioning…

I think I am better at the “that” part than the “girl” part.  In my family, there were only two offspring.  Whether nature, nurture or divine intervention, I was happy to be the substitute son while my sister revelled in everything girlie.

paris early days

She embraced pink, skirts, jewelry… I refused to wear pink on principle.  I drove my mother to the edge of madness by wearing the same pair of brown sweatpants during high school so many times they started to disintegrate.  Finally, at age 31, when the man I wanted to be perfect enough to marry proved to be a bit more challenging, I finally succumbed to my mother’s pressure to pierce my ears…  I think it was my first girlie moment – changing my appearance to mark frustration with a relationship milestone…

The years go by… and all of us grow up… even if it takes a while… so I am scribbling this wearing a skirt, fuschia tights and special edition 007 Swarovski earrings cool enough to get a thumbs up from the gorgeous Parisian hostess at the restaurant.

It took over three decades but I eventually figured the “that” part of “that girl” was the most interesting part.  A four-letter word with all kinds of meaning attached.

I only saw one re-run but I think the concept is “That Girl” is memorable.  She is not lost in the crowd.  So, if you aspire to be “That Girl” you are going to have to be interesting…

I’m not sure I have totally achieved that goal yet.  But I am making progress!

As part of my spectacular 50th year (only a few months left), I relived my Hermes experience.  In the strange loop that is my life, my first Hermes visit happened when I ran off to Paris for the first time on my own just as I about to embark on a surreal love affair that would result in my European marriage.

In those days I had a regular job – or the kind of irregular permanent job that meant I worked at least 60 hours a week every week so taking vacation time was practically impossible and my best hope was over the Christmas holidays.  I had just met the German guy and we were trading emails… back in the old days when we had to write them at work on our lunch break… but it made the communication more exciting.  He had just bought an apartment and, being a practical German engineer, wasn’t ready for me to descend on the exact dates I could convince my boss to sign off on.  So I went to Paris first.

Paris in January with a strong umbrella and a good sense of humour when the umbrella just ended up in knots in the wind.  Don’t go to Paris in January!  But it was the only chance I had.  And the Australian had made me take the metro all the time while we sat underground and he dissed Paris the entire time so I knew I had to take the city back on my own terms…

I live in a city where it is famous for rain so I will always have fond memories of walking the streets of Paris in the rain with my broken umbrella…   No Aussie jackass to spoil my love of the city of light and a budding romance a few days away in Deutschland.  It could have been a film 😉

And in the photo montage, no doubt I would have been buying my first Hermes scarf.  When I was traveling with the Aussie dude on my very first trip to Paris, I was traveling on $50 a day and there wasn’t really money for postcards…  so it was a promise to myself… someday… I would return to Paris and buy a real Hermes scarf… at the shop on Faubourg St Honore.

The first experience was just OK.  I was easily intimidated by the sales associate and walked away with something… but the true satisfaction  that should have come from such an expensive purchase had always eluded me… so, in the end, my second Hermes scarf not only marked my 50th year but also bookended my European marriage – and highlighted how far I had come in the past 15 years.

This time I was confident and in charge of the sales associate, rather than vice versa, and walked away with a gorgeous scarf that should end up bequeathed in my will.

I’m not sure if I am “that girl”, “the new girl” or simply “this girl”.  But, what is clear to me is the journey I have already undertaken and the confidence the “current girl” has.

It is the confidence of age and experience, worn lightly, making an Hermes scarf seem heavy by comparison.

This trip was practical.  I wasn’t a tourist.  There was no requirement for stories or adventures.  And – compared to most of my travels – it was pretty low-key.  But, in an effort to stay awake and combat jet lag on Friday night, I wandered into one of those bar-lounge-bistro-etc type places that only exist in France and was rewarded with more than just a 3 euro glass of great Cote du Rhone.

They had seemed determined I should sit… so ended up at a table almost in the lap of the guy strumming guitar and singing the kind of French chansons you would normally hear on the soundtrack of a film festival selection at Cannes.

I was happy to just listen but he kept smiling at me… in that come hither way that Latin guys have that is deadly… and he was a shaggy haired piece of French manhood with a great voice and a seductive delivery…

I gathered the table next to me was composed of his close friends, who spoke almost no English.  I really need to work on my language skills!   It was all not very clear… but it seemed I might be being set up with one of their friends who spoke English… Chanteur guy seemed sad I was leaving… and there may have been an interesting story there if I had stayed but sometimes you have to be the girl who knows what she really needs is some sleep!

Don’t worry… it doesn’t happen very often 🙂  My goal is to make my real life surpass all the treacly TV episodes and prove that real people are cooler than anyone on TV – fiction or reality TV fact…

Stay tuned! 😉

 

 

 

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my love affair with airports…

At some point I may actually finish my thoughts on my last trip to London but I have been working every minute to get to this point so no time for fun stuff like writing.  I am sitting in Terminal B of Frankfurt airport as I write this.  It’s almost 11am in Germany, 2am for me and I got more or less zero sleep on the ugly flight over.  No crush on Lufthansa.  Not quite sure why I couldn’t choose my seat ahead or why they changed it to the worst seat on the plane I think, amidst crying babies with not even a seat pocket to call my own.

But now I am here… in one of the many airports I know like a second home.  This one is likely the most special one for me.  A lot of interesting events in my life have transpired as I transited through Frankfurt airport.  I’ve never even been to Frankfurt.  But this airport…  I knew we would be landing in Terminal B and I would have to transfer to A.  I noted the really cool boutique where I once bought a pair of shoes now has an accessories shop as well.  Apparently I am not the only one who shops at the airport 🙂

I think some people find airports stressful… or boring… I do enjoy the final destination more but I am rarely grumpy in an airport.  And love just watching the action while I wait for my flight… airports are never dull.  Why I have a soft spot for the film Love Actually.  Four Weddings and a Funeral in my top ten but it was what Richard Curtis said about airports that really resonated with me… especially about airports and love stories…

I don’t make it a policy to date long distance… it just seems to happen… so I definitely know about airports and love stories… it’s one of those tales that is the reason I am in Frankfurt this time but that story will be told a bit later when its storyline has been satisfied.  Right now I am thinking of other airports and other stories…

The very first airport I ever entered was in Winnipeg.  And I was flying to Ottawa.  On my own.  I was a teenager and it was my first flight ever.  It was exciting and scary all at the same time.  Luckily for me, they were both super easy airports.  No one brandishing a gun at me who didn’t speak English very well.

plane landing serengeti

That was in Kilimanjaro.  Last year.  The point at which I thought airports were a piece of cake and if you dropped me off at one, all I had to do was follow the signs to get from the domestic terminal to the international terminal.

And had I been in Dar-es-Salaam it likely would have worked that way.  But Kili is a small airport, international only because of all the tourists flocking in to climb Kilimanjaro or see the Serengeti.  The tour company had offered to take care of me but I knew that would not be happening for free and I thought it would be dead easy…

Not so much… getting dropped off was easy and it was clear I was in the domestic “terminal”… but there were no signs for the international terminal where I was supposed to be going to catch my flight to Amsterdam.  And I had hours to kill…

I asked at least five different people, following the directions I got without any success… which is how I decided to walk around the building to the other side.  But that’s when the guy pulled the gun on me so I didn’t push it and went back to try for a sixth time.

And finally – success!  I DID need to walk around to the other side of the building – but I had to go THROUGH the building via an unmarked maze rather than follow the perimeter.  There was no lounge or duty free shop and they didn’t open the small, non-air-conditioned holding area until about an hour before the flight.  So I ended up on a cultural adventure.  There  were two open air spots outside to hang out and wait.  I had a packed lunch from my luxury tour company so I ate that and ordered a local beer.

The price came down each time I ordered another as I became a “local” instead of a tourist and I observed people coming and going.  It was fascinating.  It became obvious why I had confused everyone trying to find the international terminal.  Little white girls did not just wander around the airport on their own…  All the white people came and went in packs, wearing their shiny new safari gear, led by their local guide, until he had placed them safely on the plane.  More interesting were the local people who showed up, dressed for a special excursion, sipping Coca Cola out of vintage glass bottles and talking on their mobile phones.

Hanging out at the airport isn’t always such a fascinating cultural experience and many of my best memories are tied together with the early stages of grand passions.

My new NYC investment banker boyfriend driving my car to the airport on his first visit to Vancouver.  We were so wrapped up in our passionate good-bye I forgot he had my car keys!  So, just as he was about to go through security, I yelled, “you have my keys!”  In those moments in life you are oblivious to the greater world but obviously some people had been watching because, as he handed me my keys, the guy at the gate said, “you’re going to have to kiss her again now.”  And we obliged 😉

Equally memorable was my sprint through Frankfurt airport almost ten years ago.  It was the kind of passionate affair you know can only really last in a bubble and isn’t a realistic view of romance unless you think you are a vampire 🙂  But it’s really worth feeling like that at least once or twice in your life.

It was another long distance thing so he could only meet me in Vancouver for a few days after my business trip to Germany so getting on the plane seemed critical.  First he called me long distance from North America to make sure I didn’t miss my wake-up call… when we got to Frankfurt the plane was late and it looked likely I would miss my flight… but if I ran at high speed through the airport I just might make it.  And I did.  And seeing him smiling and sweeping me off my feet at the final destination made the airport marathon totally worth it.

I totally appreciate that I have watched too many films.  I treasure a dramatic arrival or departure.  I spend most of my time in airports alone watching the human condition.  But being one of the stories to watch.  Anyone can have a moment worthy of the cinema.  I think some of it is the magic of climbing into a giant bird and flying vast kilometers in a way that until about 100 years ago seemed as impossible as a man on the moon.

Sure it’s cool to send your mother in North America a text to tell her you have arrived safely in Tanzania.  But it lacks all the drama and romance of your actual arrival and departure from Kilimanjaro International Airport.  Armchair traveling will never compare to hearing the wheels roll up or down and the plane glide into the air or clunk onto the ground.  And then navigating your way through the maze of people and services that will take you from the plane through the airport into the real world.  And, if you’re lucky, someone will be waiting at one end to scoop you up and kiss you just like they do in the movies.  Keep it dramatic – but not gross… and you will be the envy of the other passengers 🙂

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what turns you on? ;)

You will either be relieved – or disappointed – but this is a G-rated post.  We are finally back in London.  At the rate I’m going I will be hitting Frankfurt airport again before I have dispensed with London… but I try to squeeze in some thoughts when I can…

So… the header relates to the small epiphany I had while I was roaming the cobblestones in East London, frequently lost or disorientated, but enjoying even those moments.

I live in a city where sport rules.  People are fit.  People do sport.  People watch sport.  People talk sport.  I’m not anti-sport – and fitter than the average North American – but I always feel like a freak in my hometown.

Cause sport just doesn’t turn me on the way art does.  I do enjoy the endorphin high from a good run – or the wonder of the landscape when you hike here in nature’s wonderland – but I am equally thrilled by a great building or awed by a visually and intellectually challenging piece of art.

So, without question, London turns me on 😉 Architecture, art, theatre, music – and some of the greatest intellectual achievements of mankind.  Each trip is different – but I always come away knowing a little more – and having my worldview challenged – and reshaped.

There were a number of intellectual experiences on this trip to London but this post will be about the Tate Modern.

http://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern

I’m not always sure what to make of modern art.  There was a time when it seemed to be following the “Fifty Shades of Grey” route… it just needed to be shocking, not necessarily great art.  I saw quite a few head scratching exhibits and came away convinced there was no way the general public was going to walk away enlightened and I just decided it was stupid art…

As this blog demonstrates, I am not afraid of having an opinion 🙂 And I am a huge fan of making the world a smarter place, but elitist bullshit designed for a clique that excludes most of the population… you will not be getting a “like” from me on facebook.

And art straddles that complex space.  It is meant to be more than just pretty pictures.  So, I will always be enamoured of the Impressionists… and they were shocking in their time.  But I also love the idea of art as a vehicle to ask questions about – and hopefully change – society.

So I try to understand modern art.  And definitely toss myself into its wake to see what happens…

And at the Unilever Series at the Tate stuff does happen!  Sadly, this is the last year of it.  And I just realized it was happening.  I went to see some exhibits in the Tanks… hey, it sounded intriguing 🙂  They were OK – but what was more interesting was the history of the Unilever Series at the Tate.

A number of years ago now I went down a slide at the Tate.  Not exactly what you usually do at a museum!  And I tried to avoid it! 🙂  Because it wasn’t a slide made by an engineer… it was a slide made by an artist… so it looked like my cashmere sweater was not going to make it out alive…

But I had met these cool English guys at Whistler.  One was an artist and the other an art aficionado so that was how I ended up at the Unilever Series.  And they graciously offered to hold my sweater so I could go down the slide…

At the time I didn’t realize I was part of art history – and the Unilever Series!  But it was one of the puzzle pieces in helping me understand modern art, the idea of conceptual art… The slide was meant to have people participate in the art… and you did… it was rough and not terribly slidey… German engineers would have designed it so that you went from the fourth floor to the ground in a couple of seconds!  But then it wouldn’t have felt like an experience… worrying you might get stuck in the tube – and having to push yourself through at points – made it an experience… both for you and for the spectators watching you…

While I might have entered the slide reluctantly, this time I was trying to find the Unilever art… it’s meant to be conceptual and maybe not so obvious…

I had noticed on the way in there was a lot of movement in the Turbine Room… and some of it looked choreographed… but not in an obvious way… but after I’d spent my time in the Tanks, I stood and watched for a little while…

Obviously that was the “art” for 2012… random groups of dancers who looked like art students but then would spontaneously combust in a modern dance piece that had them moving fluidly amongst the crowd… being disconcerting but never actually touching someone.

I was thinking about trying to photograph it so was standing still for a while… when some older gentleman approached me…

Strangers talk to me all the time so I was suspicious right away… it was more like an actor’s monologue than a conversation.  Apparently he and his wife had just moved into this “ready-made community” and they wanted them to join the local council.  He went on for quite a while and it was strange – but entertaining.  I wondered if I was being filmed 🙂

Finally he asked what I thought about “ready-made communities”.  I think I might have made his day 🙂 I live in a city where planning is an important foundation of the metropolis so first we discussed that.  The concept of zoning and approving development to “create a community” a concept I am very familiar with – and have seen work well.

But the most interesting part of the conversation was when I talked about the sense of community I experienced as a child growing up in a small town.  It’s a genuine community.  And, if you don’t want people to know your business – or expect you to participate in the community – a bad choice.  But it also means the community keeps tabs and knows what is going on in a way that is really difficult in a large city like London.

So… in the end… he thanked me for the conversation… I walked away having not only SEEN the art – but having BEEN part of the art… and – most importantly – we agreed, if you want to be a badass criminal, you better move to the city… in proper communities, you will be sanctioned by your peers to behave better… kind of like how you can’t steal from your own grandmother… food for thought… what all great art should be…

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apparently misery DOES love company

This all started when I was browsing in the shops seeing if Swedish fashion would entice me to part with some more kroner.  But the palette made me feel kind of depressed.  It seemed to resemble the weather outside.  I wondered what came first…  and if, between the challenging weather patterns and all this black and grey clothing, the Swedes were depressed.

But I just thought it was more of my silly black humour.  I didn’t buy anything though.  It was all too shapeless and dark.  I guess Swedish women are so gorgeous they can wear a potato sack and look good.  Most of the clothing seemed to be working on that model.  Along with an awful lot of parkas!  If you need a black parka, this is your paradise 😉

I tried to like Acne – but it just looked mostly weird and I didn’t think it would look terribly flattering on me.  I am more a Dolce and Gabbana kind of girl.  I like it when French guys young enough to be my son come up to me and shyly tell me in broken English that they like my dress.  I didn’t think Acne was gonna get me that kind of attention…  I realize I don’t look very hip.  But it seems that looking sexy means I meet a lot more strangers – and my travel stories are better 😉

After my Swedish shopping experience I was reading a novel on the plane home called Delicacy by David Foenkinos.  It’s definitely worth reading.  But he’s French and I thought he was really picking on the Swedes with the Markus character.  And there was this big emphasis on the Swedes being suicidal.

I am a woman who enjoy facts more than chocolate so I had to get some info before I wrote about the depressing clothing in my blog.  Apparently, the Swedes ARE famous for being suicidal.  But the average Swede… pretty happy.  It would appear that really cool happy places make the unhappy people more unhappy.  Not enough other people around to commiserate with apparently.

So it would appear Sweden is a kind of Disneyland.  So, if you are more a Sartre Nothingness kind of person, you should likely hole up somewhere like the Democratic Republic  of Congo.  Lots of miserable people there to make you feel better about your lot.

Or you might just try not caring so much what other people think…

Personally I would be really happy in Sweden 🙂  But then I am pretty happy everywhere.  You make your own happiness – and a lot of your luck.

I was definitely happy when I was observing – or learning about – Swedish design.  They may dress like shapeless goths – but they like their interiors full of colour, shape and function.

I won’t bore you with all the details of everything I learned about Swedish design.  One of the coolest things I saw was the dollhouses at the Nordiska Museet.  What was especially fascinating is that they weren’t all for kids… and normally children were not allowed to play with them, just to observe.  But some of the early ones were to show people how to apply interior design in their homes.  An early version of the Home and Garden cable channel 😉

Another highlight for me was tacking on the Architecture Museum to my Moderna Museet tour.  Not only an entire history of Swedish architecture but some of the key architectural wonders happening all over the world at the same time.

One of the most interesting things I learned about was the One Million Dwellings Programme, an ambitious housing project implemented in Sweden between 1965 and 1974 by the governing Swedish Social Democratic Party to make sure everyone could have a home at a reasonable price. The aim was to build a million new dwellings in a 10-year period.  At the same time, a large proportion of the older housing stock was demolished.

In the end, about 1,006,000 new dwellings were built, which accounts for 25% of Sweden’s housing. There was criticism that the new apartments were ugly but they were modern and well-designed and generally the people who got to live in them were thrilled.  Yet another example of rational thought by the Swedes as to how to make the general society a better place.

The other interesting fact that I learned – both in Stockholm and in London – was the impact of the first World’s Fair at the Crystal Palace (London) in 1851.  I’ve been to the Crystal Palace – and to the shells of a few other World’s Fairs over my travels.  There were some interesting aspects to most visits but the importance of the concept was lost in the abandoned look of the sites.

But this is why it’s good to keep travelling… and learning stuff.  In Sweden, design is life it seems and the very first World’s Fair had a huge impact on Swedish society.  And the world in general.  Back in those days when google wasn’t a verb and the internet had not yet been invented – by either Al Gore or Tim Berners-Lee – information didn’t travel very far so the World’s Fair was a revelation… and all those interior designers selling themselves on reality TV should be eternally grateful to the Brits for kick-starting their careers generations before they were even born 🙂

In 1930, Sweden hosted the Stockholm Exhibition and introduced the world to Swedish functionalism.  Ingvar Kamprad was only 4 so I doubt he attended but the rest of the world who didn’t attend would learn about Swedish functionalism via the little company he started in 1943.  He called it IKEA…

So… it would appear the Swedes are mostly really happy, they like to dress in dark colours and they have a sense of style that is world-famous.  All the Swedes I met seemed pretty sunny… and the sun does pop out from time to time and – thanks to that Nordic light – when it does, it’s spectacular.

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from the power of horses to the horsepower of the internet

The magnificent 20th century… OK, so there were a couple of world wars, we built an atomic bomb, communism in practice was a lot less successful then communism in theory, terrorism went global – but I am a glass half full kind of girl and the 20th century also improved the lives of a lot of people.

I guess it started with the millennium.  It’s not too often in your lifetime you can celebrate an event like that.  But the first 900 years compared to the last 100.  Now that’s a hockey stick in biz speak.  Human development in the 20th century looked like the sales charts for iphones at apple 🙂

I am fascinated by the twentieth century.  Part of it stems from the fact that both of my grandmothers were born within the first decade of it and lived just shy of their 100th birthdays so their lives spanned the entire 20th century.

Of course, those were the people who grew up in the era where personal information was horded like a stack of dollar bills in an airtight safe.  And both my parents were the youngest in their families so there were several generation gaps between us and I didn’t have the vision as a teenager to ask them, “what was it like?”

Because it must have been a wild ride!  To be born into a world where electric power was new and the automobile a fairy story, the airplane an impossibility.  And then to die in a world connected by bytes of magic that meant you no longer needed to get on a plane to have a face-to-face conversation with someone on the other side of the globe.  Oh, electricity, thou art a goddess at whose feet we should all worship 😉

As I’ve already mentioned, I was really impressed by the intellectual content of Swedish museums.  So, intrigued by an exhibit entitled, “Picasso vs. Duchamp” at the Moderna Museet.  Apparently the Moderna Museet has a very large Duchamp collection.  And Picasso painted enough stuff every major museum in the world has some Picasso.

Apparently they were great rivals.  And very important figures in the history in modern art.  This may well be blasphemy but neither has ever done much for me.  So I had underestimated their importance.  But the museum’s exhibition was clever enough to get its point across… really modern painting or more or less the creation of the idea of conceptual art.  Paint all the time and promote yourself as some kind of art whore who might be better at being famous… or produce so little art infrequently that you might come across as a bit above the whole idea of art as a business…

Personally I was far more intrigued with the WHEEL!  Picasso and Duchamp met for the first time in 1912.  They are definitely two of the most influential forces in modern art in the 20th century.  The museum suggests that the 20th century saw more major changes in both historical events and art history quiz items than any century before.  To help support the point, a giant wheel was created with each year of the last 100 labeled and one art event and one historical event for that year cited.  Visitors are encouraged to carefully turn the wheel to follow the history of art and of mankind in action…  For history geeks like me, wow!  Better than either of the artists’ stuff 😉

http://www.modernamuseet.se/sv/Stockholm/

Apparently when the Moderna Museet opened in 1958 it was one of the world’s most groundbreaking contemporary art venues.  It introduced Swedes to all kinds of crazy art that at the time was being questioned as to whether it was really art or not?  Now it’s modern art collection seems a bit more like a museum piece but the building is great and the collection is well organized and worth checking out.  Probably better though not to go to the Tate Modern first 🙂

And, even if the permanent collection seems a bit tiny compared to the Tate or MOMA, the special exhibition was definitely worth seeing… if only for the wheel of history.  So much more interesting than the Wheel of Fortune.  Spin this one and you might just learn something…  😉

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the modern Swedish metrosexual…

During my mini tour of my Swedish roots and a few centuries of Viking history, I learned that the Sweden of my grandfather and the Sweden of the 21st century are very different places.  He was one of the many who emigrated at that time.  Sweden was poor and ruled by a class structure that favoured the nobility over the peasants so lots of Swedes emigrated to the new world for what they hoped would be a better life.

Somehow my grandfather ended up in small town Manitoba.  How he got there is not very clear.  That he was an adventurer and a maverick is part of the family folklore.  I’m not sure what the Swedish men of the poor late nineteenth century would have to say to the Swedish men of the prosperous early twenty first.

One of the cool new tourist attractions in Stockholm is the Fotografiska.  I am a big fan of photography but have only recently started going to photography museums when I head to cities.  The Fotografiska is popular with both locals and tourists and got me to Södermalm and a more “real” part of Stockholm.  Unfortunately I didn’t have enough time to explore the neighborhood but the museum is definitely worth a visit.

http://en.fotografiska.eu/f

There doesn’t seem to be a permanent collection, just a series of rotating exhibitions.  All were worth viewing – and made me feel bad about my tourist shots 🙂  But the one that intrigued me the most was Maria Friberg.

Apparently in 1995 she had met with a businessman in conjunction with selling some of her art work and they got into a philosophical conversation about the role of men in modern Swedish society.  She grew up on a collective in rural Sweden that was a matriarchal haven where the women worked and the men tended to domestic duties.  So the businessman was a novelty to her 🙂

There were two series of paintings – Almost There and The Painting Series.  There was also a video showing how she shot the photos for The Painting Series.  The commentary noted how her photography had been influenced by the working styles of Jackson Pollock and Yves Klein (my Alexander McQueen pumps in Yves Klein blue are one of my most prized possessions 🙂

Both the process used to create the photographs and their conceptual content really impressed me.

per the info at the museum….

Maria Friberg’s oeuvre is an investigation of male identity in today’s period of gender transition, as visualized in her signature series Almost There from 2000 and The Painting Series from 2011. In Almost There, we see a group of men, white men in suits, floating in a pool. Their homogeneous appearance is suggestive of the Western patriarchy. A patriarchy is formed when men are at the top of a societal structure. Clustered together, the pack of men appears to be in their mid-thirties, at the peak of their careers. They do not interact, but gaze instead into the distance. The image implies that they are rivals thereby reflecting the competitive nature of business. This is also suggested by the title, Almost There. Yet Friberg manages to disclose their vulnerability, by depicting the men straining to hold their heads above water. Accordingly, theseries coincided with the burst of the dot-com bubble in 2000 – 2001. The male dominated IT industry sustained devastating losses after its stocks were grossly overvalued. In its aftermath countless men were stripped of their financial status. They found themselves in a vulnerable position, much like the men depicted in Almost There.

In both series the figures float within a pool; however, in The Painting Seriesthe liquid is comprised of water mixed with various colored inks. In fact, the method for creating The Painting Series is based on a performance that can be likened to “action painting.” 

A short while later I stopped in a tourist shop and bought some gorgeous glass by Mats Jonasson.  The work was beautiful and as creative as Maria’s photography so it seemed the perfect souvenir for my trip.  And the shop owner told me the story of the glass factory and how Mats had saved it in the 1980’s and kept alive the glass traditions in the town, which had begun when my grandfather was still living in Sweden.  The past and the present perfectly conjoined.

http://www.matsjonasson.com/

We also had a conversation about Maria’s work and role of Swedish men in 21st century Sweden.  I didn’t talk to enough Swedish men in four days to draw any definitive conclusions but my non-scientific sample suggested that Swedish men are very articulate and very cool.  I don’t know much about my grandfather but my father apparently inherited a lot of his genes and my father possessed those same qualities.  So, the clothes and hairstyles may have changed, but the charming Swedish metrosexual seems to have been with us long before the word was coined to describe him 😉

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