Ach, Bruegel!

My second day was spent at the Kunsthistoriches Museum in Vienna. It was cold, it was rainy and staying inside a warm, dry museum seemed like a good idea. Besides, the museum is the place where, in 1986, I learned to like art. My friend Ingrid, an art history major, took me to the museum and patiently explained to me a lot of what I was seeing. It opened my eyes, got me reading about art, rid me of many of my preconceived notions and introduced me to a new and wonderful world.

This is also the place where I met the work of Pieter Bruegel the elder, a Flemish painter from the mid 1500s. I don't know what is it exactly that drew me to his work. If I had to guess I would say that it is because he chose to paint the everyday; not the saints, not mythology, but normal life, such as a peasant wedding or a farm dance. He also chose to use his canvas as a reporting tool, filling it with detailed presentations of activities from his time, such as his famous "Games Children Play." How the average person lived always interested me, and through Bruegel I got to experience some of it.

So it was with happiness and expectation that I found myself in line, waiting to buy tickets for the museum. The line was not too big but it was slow, and the Brazilians in front of me (they seem to be everywhere) decided the visit was not worth the wait. I tried to dissuade them, mentioning the Rembrandts, Titians and Tintorettos in the collection but to no avail, they chose a carriage ride in the rain over great masterpieces.

Walking through the museum was wonderful, even though my legs were still a little achy from other times. Met some paintings I remembered, others I'd forgotten and got to know a new one that impressed me. Hans Baldung is the name of the painter, if I remember correctly, and the painting was called "The Three Stages of Life and Death." What got to me was his representation of death: not the skeleton covered in a hood, but a corpse, still with flesh on it, but that clearly indicated it was decaying. Skin gone here and there, a gaunt face with a rigid grin, enough to make you feel very aware of the effects of death, and a little bit uncomfortable.

Eventually we made our way to the Bruegels and the moment I saw the first one I could not stop smiling. Really! I entered the room, I felt my cheek muscles contract and I was suddenly very happy, seeing in person those paintings from a long time ago, paintings I'd revisited many times in books I own, used as desktop background for my computer, talked to friends about. Two of them were missing, though, Games Children Play and The Fight Between Carnival and Lent, but I was happy to find out they had only been moved to another room, to take part in a special exhibit.

After the Bruegels the jet lag seems to have hit me and my energy level dropped down really fast, and with it an acute sense of missing Sharon. I had talked to her about those paintings, shared with her my enthusiasm about them and had looked forward to showing them to her. Not having her there, not being able to hear or guess what she would say about the actual paintings made the pain of her loss loom large for a while. I was surrounded by friends though, and with coffee, cake and good conversation at the museum's cafe I was soon back to being my new self.