Art – Page 3 – paralyzedbynotcaring

Sex, drugs, and black cats

Today my priorities were getting packed and buying more cheese. What a compelling first sentence. Any second now you’re going to make me smoke tobacco and-and have drugs.

First though I went to a cafe ruled by a cat.

This black cat’s reign of terror included the whole bar. No one’s seat, once warmed, was safe.This guy literally took his beer outside in the rain to finish. When I left, I passed him, and said “Cats, eh?” He said, “There’s nothing I could have done.”

Some of you may know that, in addition to legal sex work, Amsterdam also has legal drug use. It’s not the same for the rest of the Netherlands, but Amsterdam remains special. I went into a coffeeshop, which here means drug store, and asked for the mildest brownie. They suggested this space cake.

I bought it with cash, and when I passed a walking policeman down the block, I avoided eye contact. I don’t really need pot to be paranoid.

(Half of this brownie has been eaten, but I am experiencing no noticeable effects.)

After the coffeeshop I popped into the Sex Museum for lessons, but I’m afraid most of the information there was unenlightening.

As societies have progressed, their art related to sensuality has become coarser. Around one corner, a mannequin prostitute jumps out at you from behind a curtain. Fun times.

Tomorrow I travel to Berlin. I have only a bus to a train to a train to a train to a taxi to navigate, so it’s like a totally easy day.

I am reading Catherine the Great and The Stand.

“Your wit makes others witty.” C the G

(Entire brownie has been eaten per MP)

Probability

I think the weather station here should just say winter is coming and leave it at that. Yesterday the forecast was 0% chance of rain and it rained. Today had a 90% chance and there was no rain. Two things: one, stop with the percentages. You don’t understand probability. Two, I was not prepared for how winterlike summer in Europe can be. Barcelona was scorching hot, but everywhere since has had more than enough rain/wind/coldness. KB tried to tell me to bring a jacket, but that sounded like such nonsense to my California brain. Now I’ll probably have to buy one when I head further north. 90% chance of that happening.

Because it was supposed to rain I didn’t plan all that much to do today. I went to the Hermitage Museum, which had a Catherine the Great exhibit and a Dutch People in Large Groups exhibit. Here is Catherine the Great’s everyday outfit.

Just a FEW layers there. Here she is posing with a pimp cane.

Just put that vat of diamonds over there, please.

She apparently was large and in charge and liked snuff quite a lot.

The other exhibit was literally a bunch of huge paintings of groups of Dutch men looking around for wine and/or women. Observe.

What the hell is happening here. They came, they ate, the looked around. They put on their knee ribbons and got all fancy. But where are the women? I can’t decide if they are anxiously awaiting them or resigned to keep eating and drinking until it doesn’t matter anymore.

Outside where it was 90% not raining there were some statues of a few favorites, starting with this party animal.

In vino veritas, right?

And of course, my astrological ruler.

Goddess of love, beauty, victory, and other important things like prostitutes.

Getting a little hungry? I found the restaurant I had been looking for yesterday and ordered this pizza.

I had to cut it myself because everything and I mean everything is eaten with a knife and fork here.

Now, you may be thinking, no rain, good art and food, seems like a perfect day, right?

I thought that too.

Until.

The Return of the DEMON.

The “Diemen” stop is just a few before mine, and guess how Diemen is pronounced?

Demon. I’ve been riding his train this whole time.

Mind. Blown.

Thanks, Obama.

0%

Today weather dot com said there was a 0% chance of rain for Amsterdam, so I put on my sandals and walked about town. First I went to the Rembrandt House Museum. This is his actual house before his debtors made him move into more humble accommodations, and it is full of many of the things he hoarded, such as busts of famous men, art, and taxidermy.

Here are some of the heads he had staring out into space. Perhaps one or two look familiar?

This is a pile of books. He read a lot about art.

The house itself is a normal Amsterdam tall-and-skinny affair with a narrow spiral staircase and large rooms with lots of windows. He had his own studio and another studio for his students. Every room had paintings; he was a collector and a dealer as well as a painter. I am not sure if this one is his, but it is in his entry way–a room that served as a gallery for what he had for sale.

I particularly like this Jesus picture because the puppies seem to be totally feeling the divinity and Jesus looks like he is failing at trying to get some coffee incognito.

Some people say that Rembrandt couldn’t draw, or else why are his brush strokes so messy and wild? Well, actually Rembrandt did a metric ton of sketch work and drawings. His painting style was just that, rough around the edges but exact where it mattered.

Here is one of his drawings.

Those strokes outlining the leaves are pretty frickin precise.

After Rembrandt’s house I decided to get some cookies I read about on Pinterest. It was quite cloudy but I persevered and found the most perfect chocolate cookie ever made.

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It might not look like much, but it was still warm.

Does this picture look blurry to you? Well that is because this cookie was so good I started shaking. Look at that vanilla creme filling–also still warm and extra sweet. I had to sit down to eat it because my knees were knocking together.

I somewhat recovered from eating this cookie by eating a second. By now it was starting to get a bit blustery and the clouds moved quickly across the sky. That is what 0% looks like here, I guess. My plan was to go to dinner at the place the Pinterest lady who recommended that cookie liked (clearly she and I have compatible taste), and after examining my map I took off.

Along the way, can you believe it, I found a canal! Here is a picture. Later I came by a tall tower and just as I was deciding which way to turn, it clanged into action.

I did that thing I do where I run away from loud noises. Unfortunately I ran (slash shuffled along at my unique walking pace) about eight blocks in the wrong direction. it was raining steadily now, and the wind had picked up. Taking out my map resulted in flapping futility. I took the first tram that said Centraal Station and just ate a snack at the station before catching a train back to my room.

0%–bah. Always bring your umbrella!

XXX

The city’s coat of arms, or what I would call a logo, is XXX. Apparently it does not refer to the liberal attitude towards sex workers here, but rather to the three disasters the city has survived: water, fire, and pestilence. So when you see a pole with XXX on it, like this one

it just means you are in Amsterdam. It has NOTHING to do with the lady who was just sitting in this nearby window.

I also learned that you are not allowed to take pictures at the Van Gogh museum, so these three that I took are ILLEGAL.

The first one is of a peasant lady working her ass off. A lot of his paintings are rural. Most of the people working in the paintings are women, whereas the people who are sitting around doing nothing are usually men. I was going to take more pictures to illustrate this point, but I got in trouble with the museum anti camera campaign.

Just look at this workin girl. Bent and dark and almost moving.

Now look at this guy.

Chillin smokin a pipe.

I actually took a photo of this painting because the subject looks JUST LIKE my airbnb host. There were several other paintings that better proved my point about the female vs male subjects, but I didn’t want to get escorted out. Imagine the page 17 headline, “San Mateo Co. Resident Kicked Out of Most Accepting Country on Planet.”

Here is the final picture I took before the axe came down. It is called “The Potato Eaters.”

Earlier in his career, VG thought this was the one that was going to make it for him.

I’d never heard of it before.

Not that I know much about art, but when I thing of VG I think of flowers and landscapes and his self portraits and oh yeah idk a starry night sky? (Starry Night is actually in NCY right now so I didn’t get to see it).

I did see his famous “Almond Blossoms,” which KB and I did excellent copies of a few years ago at a wine-and-paint event, and the sunflowers, and the smoking skeleton. Also about 500 others. VG did sketching/drawings, was a prolific letter writer, and he spent a bit of time in an asylum. Also, those blue irises on all the greeting cards? Yeah they used to be purple. The more you know.

Outside the VG Museum is the Iamsterdam sculpture/sign, so I took this obligatory shot.

It wasn’t raining yet, so I walked to the Heineken Experience, which is an interactive tour/museum/tasting at one of Heineken’s original brewery locations. No brewing happens there anymore, but a lot of the old equipment was there. I don’t really drink much beer. That’s a lie. I never drink beer. But the tour was right there and I had a discount card and when in Rome/Amsterdam. Well, today I drank more beer than I have had in the last ten years and I think my stomach is dying. I learned that I have been drinking beer incorrectly in that you must not drink the foam. What did we learn about beer? FOAMY!

Probably a bit more than 99 bottles of beer on this wall.

To settle my stomach, I had some ribs.

I ordered these based on a yelp review, and then people at the tables on either side of me ordered them also.

I think these ribs cured my beer disease stomach problem and would prescribe them to anyone with a similar or dissimilar ailment. By the time I was done with dinner, it started raining. Luckily there was a tram stop nearby and I was able to figure out how to get back to the train station. Navigating Amsterdam isn’t easy because the bikes are everywhere. I read that there are a lot of bikes here, and I thought well I’ve survived Davis, CA, how different can it be?

Very, very different. The city is basically designed for bikes, so pedestrians just have to look the hell out for their lives. Suddenly that cheery brrring-brrring of a bike bell becomes the sinister sound of death by pedals. I already hate crossing streets–I know everyone is out to kill me–but here each intersection involves cars, taxis, rickshaws, stoned pedestrians, city buses, motorcycles, trams, double-decker tour buses, tourists, and a swarm of bicyclists. It is a total circus and when the rain started, complete with tent-like umbrellas. Bikes have their own lanes, but they share them with motorcycles. It’s just all a little too much sharing for me. I was so paralyzed at an intersection, a bicyclist pointed at me and then motioned for me to go. I clearly need assistance.

You have probably long since figured that out.

The three big ones

Today I went to the Rijks (rhymes with bikes) museum to see the famous art. This Monet I recognized immediately, though we’d never been introduced.

This VG also needed no introduction.

And finally, the large and in charge Rembrandt, “The Night Watch.”

For the watch. For the watch. For the watch.

This painting is famous not only because of the artist, but also because portraits of militia had all been posed before. This one had action, including a gun going off, a dude cleaning is gear, conversations, and a little girl with a dead chicken. Genius. A rumor says that the half face peaking out from behind the guy in the upper left with his hand out as if to say BUT SOFT WHAT LIGHT THROUGH YONDER yadda yadda is Rembrandt himself. This painting is huge and overwhelming. I moved on to art I could digest without the madding crowd.

I found a few gems. Here is a drunken couple getting robbed.

Here is a landscape with animals.

Such a sweet scene with a camel, some goats, an elephant, a stag, and a–

Hold. The. Bus. I think that might be the last unicorn, right here chillin with grown up Bambi. How is THIS not the main attraction? HALF the “Night’s Watch” is just dark background nothing. This is pure magic.

Art is hard to digest to I went to the Pancake Bakery and ordered the apple pancake.

Yes, the pancake is bigger than my plate. Yes, that is ice cream and powdered sugar. Yes I made the right decision in ordering only one.

Can we talk about condiments for a second.

Cuz America has a lot of condiments. But we do not have a pot with a wooden stick at every table like this.

I don’t know what’s in there. My pancake didn’t need anything else on it, and no one else was using their sticks at their table, so I just stared at it for 20 minutes like a normal person.

I’m guessing it’s nutella? I don’t know! How is it not congealing! This is going to keep me up at night.

After a pancake that I swear was bigger on the inside, I took a walk down a canal. The pancake place was near a semi famous house.

This is the door to the house where Anne Frank was in hiding with her fam. The line to get in to the museum was reminiscent of the line at Disneyland to go see Anna and Elsa, only this line didn’t end with warm hugs. People were lined up as if Anne was going to do a signing. Now, it’s time for some truth telling. Forget all the lies you’ve read so far. The fact is that I have not actually read Anne Frank’s diary. Gasp. Cry. Lookit, I got through school without it ever being assigned; I have had only an obligatory desire to read it; and I’ve read many WWII books, fiction and non, that I know how draining it can be to get in that head space. And, spoiler alert, Anne is definitely NOT doing a meet-and-greet.

So I didn’t go in the museum. Honestly, I think I can do only one museum per day. It’s like looking at a bunch of 14th, 15th, or 16th century buildings. The more you see, the less impressive they become.

“I am not performing miracles. I am using up and wasting a lot of paint.”~ Claude Monet.

Lists, pt. 3

Things I miss
My bed
ice
extra ice
napkins
extra napkinsbeing able to drive places
Diet 7up
regular internet access
English

Things I did today
canal tour (I hate boats)

Walked down the city’s narrowest street

Saw more canals

Decided that traveling with old people is the way to go

Why traveling with old people is the way to go
Reasonable walking speed
Interest in culture and history
Chill attitude about resting
They don’t miss buses (see above)
They don’t mess with their eating/pills schedules
They go to bed early
People get out of their way
Cars stop for them
They never get arrested

Fries and Waffles

Lookit, it is impossible to tour Bruges without fries and waffles. They are practically forced on you.

You. Will. Succumb.

So with that out of the way, my first order of business was to send a post card to Daddio. The post office in the main square was closed for renovation, so I did a walking tour to the temporary location. I note this only because the post office worker had no qualms about reading my post card in front of me. He read it, laughed, looked up at me, and then read it again.

Glad I could brighten your day, sir. Or reinforce stereotypes. Or both.

I have learned that there is nothing sacred here.

Then I went to the Church of Our Lady, which houses one of the few works of Michelangelo outside of Italy. This is the Madonna with Child (center).

The statue is smaller than I expected, but very beautiful. There was also of course a lot of stained glass, ornate molding, and famous crypts.

The outside of the church was being renovated, so any picture would be of tarps and scaffolding. And I’m above that sort of of ridiculousness.

Oh, I also saw more soccer maths.

1+1=-0.2 folks. Note that.

You may know that Bruges has a lot of canals. “Bruges” means bridges. The canals are somewhat stagnant and not overly glorious for the most part. I did take a picture at the most photographed bridge in the city. I’ve done my part.

That leaning tower behind me is the belfry I summitted two days ago. It is leaning, too. About a meter, but I can’t tell in what direction.

You will notice that it is SUNNY. The sun was out and devastating people with its merciless monstrosity. People had to eat a lot of ice cream. I mean a lot.

I also went to Groeninge Museum and saw a lot of Flemish artwork. There were the usual upsetting paintings of Christ, capturing either his interrupted childhood or his untimely death. What caught my attention was this saucy piece called “Serenity.”

From what I can tell, the painting suggests that looking at breasts and perhaps touching breasts together is calming.

This one also made me laugh. I believe it is titled “Sheléne’s Former Jobs Now that She’s Gone.”

My favorite painting is called “The Invention of the Art of Drawing.”

Look how intent they both are.

The final room held the most modern pieces, the last of which before you exit is a sculpture of a young woman, clothed, wigged, and painted to look real, sitting on the floor with her head down like she’s crying. I had to skid passed before I became life imitating art imitating life. I can’t get stuck in that post-modern tautology. Not again.

Tomorrow ladies and gentlemen it will RAIN. And also the next day. And the next. And possibly the next. So I will leave you with this healthy dose of anti-rain medication.

Enjoy!

(PS No Demon spotting today)

I am injured

I think with all the running around I did when I traveled from France to Belgium I must have broken my left knee. This knee is making some double cracking noises now at every opportunity. Oh, and it hurts to bend it. Yesterday I took a bus tour of Bruges as a bit of a rest. Twenty euros for a 45-minute ride was a bit much, but as it was raining and the museums were closed, there wasn’t much else in the way of indoor activities other than eating and drinking or climbing to the top of the Belfry. Even though the rain blurred the view from the bus windows and the breath of the passengers fogged the rest, the bus tour was still worth it.

Happy to be on the bus almost seeing the sights!

I considered attempting the Belfry. There was no line. But my knee being broken led me instead to get some fries and waffles. I did a bit of window shopping–there are a lot of shops selling very beautiful, detailed lace works–but in the rain everything becomes a drag and I came back to my airbnb and took a four hour nap.

After a nap and then waking up so I could put myself to bed, I caught the train to Bruge (I’m staying one stop away). Look how cute and put together I was.

My knee felt a bit better, so I stared this behemoth down.

For 10 euros I was permitted to attempt the 366 steps to the top. I started counting but lost track around 7 when I wondered if it was the noun or the verb I was supposed to be counting. A few steps later (nouns) I came upon some descenders and I asked if I was almost there. That made their day and possibly their lives, judging by their screaming hysteria.

Here is the staircase.

Luckily there are a few rest stops along the way to the top. The stairs get more and more narrow and I think a bit steeper as you ascend. A few rooms branch off the stairs and you can sit your ass down and remember you gave yourself asthma and TB just two days ago.

By the time I got do the top I had stripped off both my sweatshirt and my blouse and was wearing my undershirt as an outer shirt and did not care. Everyone else kept their jackets on because they are pod people.

Here I am enjoying the view from the top/dying.

My hair is out of control, makeup long ago sweated off, and I can’t feel the lower half of my body. Look at me at the train station. Now look at me at the top of the Belfry. Don’t tell me exercise is healthy.

Here is the other view you might be interested in.

I took several more but they are pretty similar. Reddish tile roofs coming up to a jaunty point. Charming and picturesque. Like I used to be back at the train station. One thing I didn’t read about beforehand was that there are arrows carved along the outer molding indicating where other cities are.

Now I know which way to go to get to Klemskerke.

I was able to descend the stairs without much incident other than telling all the people I passed they were almost there. An older gentleman responded with “I can’t tell if you are an angel or a devil.” Another good subtitle for my autobiography.

After that, my legs had turned to pudding, so I rolled into a tea room for a steak and some booze. The food was great, though remind me not to sit down to a meal if I’m in a hurry.

I didn’t feel like doing a lot more walking. I have TB, after all, and jello for joints, so I decided to save the museum for tomorrow. I did see the outside of St. Salvator’s Cathedral, but as per usual I couldn’t find the door to get inside. Here is a lovely crucifixion statue on the outside.

Oh, and in case you are wondering what shoes to wear here, I took a picture of the most flat and walk-friendly sidewalk I’ve encountered so far (other than the people movers–more of those, please).

(PS I have not forgotten the DEMON, but I saw no signs today)

(PPS I am reading The Stand, Europe Through the Back Door, and How to Not Be Wrong: The Power of Mathematical Thinking)

Walking around and looking around again

I lucked out with the weather today and was able to walk the streets without having to avoid the rain. My first stop was the Musée des Beaux-Arts; as I descended the bus at in front of the museum, I was overwhelmed yet again by soccer fans.

Broken Heineken bottles were all over the sidewalk. Men dressed in green were yelling and singing and eating pizza. That guy on the right was hell on wheels. Finally I escaped into the museum where, for 4 euros, I could sit and stare at art.

Here is some art to star at.

I believe this is baby Jesus pretending to be happy to get flowers when what he really wanted was a bottle. He really was a saint.

Here is another one I couldn’t stop narrating.

What the hell is going on here. I think it might be from Greek mythology or General Hospital.

Center Man: This dress is hers. I was just modeling it to amuse her child.

Left Man: This doesn’t seem on the level. I’m out.

Right Man: I thought we were going to get lunch…?

Woman: MY child? I should have swiped left.

Baby: I just want a head in proportion to my body!

Honestly with so many Jesuses out there, all these pictures start to look pretty similar. I started to skim over the paintings until I came upon this masterpiece.

That is MEAT! Meat, glorious meat! See, people have been capturing images of their food since long before Instagram.

Here are some modern images of food.

I found a bakery.

What’s that? You want a side angle?

This is me enjoying the view of all the sugar.

After I was sufficiently sugared I walked around and looked around. It miraculously wasn’t raining and I managed to see the cathedral, which is massive.

There are also a bunch of archways throughout the city. Each one seems to commemorate a victory of some kind. You’d never know the French had ever lost so much as a bet with all these arches standing around.

Yes that is actual honest to god sunshine. I was very happy as evidenced in this picture.

Feelin pretty good, walking up Victor Hugo Street and feeling all smart until I see this.

On the one hand I appreciate that it’s in English…

Until I see THIS

THE MARK OF THE BEAST! THE BEAST IS FRONT-FOLLOWING ME!

(Front-following is when someone copies what you were clearly going to do had you had the time to do it yet, as in when a former classmate front-followed me into writing a gothic romance novel. It’s very annoying and almost impossible to prove as the very nature of front-followers is to make YOU look like the stalker. Infuriating.)

So, as I pack up for tomorrow’s journey to Bruges, Belgium, I have to wonder where the beast is lurking. I will be ever vigilant if one can be vigilant with this much wine.

Category: Art