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Travelogue E4

June 18, 2015

I took the long way about the grounds in an effort to find some means of ingress, coming at last upon a gate to this, the city’s art museum, within the thick belt of parks surrounding the city center. From a bench, I watched the goings-on and the passersby including today a hunt for a lost earring directed by people wrapping their mouths around not wholly familiar tongue and words. At last, security retrieves the earring, the parties separate. The guards retreat to smoke a cigarette while mean-spirited comments about the Chinese silently pursue the tourists, comments of the kind omnipresent on the continent.

Having come in from the back, I saw that the grounds themselves sweep down to the front gates, a small pond at their center and an impressive beech at its side, flowerbeds and benches interspersed throughout. Before the museum, a rolling photolab, as per the signage, has set up shop to welcome those photographers desperate to bring out still more rapidly the uncanny eternity of the ephemeral scenes that they have captured.

Off to one side of the museum, between fence and wing, I find a bronze centaur. Entitled simply Zentaur, the bronze sculpture proves slightly futurist on closer inspection, for the lines are clean and minimal, the planes smooth and unbroken, the joints between plates visible and letting through the light, such that the whole rather recalls some purified, mechanized version of the myth, armed with ruler and compass, neither bow nor spear in sight. Indeed, I saw in its glossy aspect, the head more helm than head, the intersection of Daft Punk and the Greeks.

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