Noche de Fuego - by Theo

It's San Isidro weekend, which means the city is laying on loads of free events to celebrate its patron saint. I'd been meaning to go out and take some night time photos of Madrid, so when I saw one of the events was a fire display on the riverside I immediately requested a late pass from Kate and invited our photographer friend Anne along.
Starting from the beautiful old Puerta de Toledo, now pedestrianised, we walked past the Vicente Calderon Stadium (home of Atletico de Madrid) through the brand new Manzanares river park. It's very well done, with lots of interesting use of spaces (swings under road bridges) and lights, and a haven for cyclists, runners and roller-bladers. Dodging these, we finally made our way to the Puente del Rey, which is where the Noche de Fuego began.
From the brief glance I'd had at the San Isidro programme I'd thought it was going to be a firework display, but actually it was a fire show, with various arrangements of flames along the river and adjoining paths. Some large, some small, some static, some in motion, it was all very magical and photographer's dream! There were certainly plenty of cameras around, with the illuminated Royal Palace and cathedral helping to create a stunning backdrop.

For all the lack of enthusiasm for San Isidro that my students had demonstrated, the place was packed, mostly with Spaniards, who had all brought their children along, despite the fact it was getting on for 11pm. Some little girls were dancing like mad in front of the beautifully laid out stage area where two musicians were creating looped soundtracks. Their frantic movements and long shutter speeds helped create awesome photos, leaving them (as I explained to their father who was worried about them blocking my shot) as faint, ghostly images.

sunday sombras - by Theo

Rosie is a fab baby to take out and about to exhibitions, provided we time it right. In the past we've had a great time with her at the Caixa Forum, where she became delightfully engrossed by the Press Photography Exhibition, a selection of contemporary Turkish paintings and the usher's mustache (to be fair it was practically a work of art in its own right). However on another occasion I found myself weaving an odd circle through Atocha train station while trying to both admire the photographs in a MSF sponsored show and keep a steady pace so that Rosie would continue sleeping in her buggy.

Sunday's timing was spot on. After Rosie's morning nap we swiftly headed out, meeting our friend Anne at the Museo de la Ciudad near Avenida de America to see a (free) exhibit of Spanish photography between 1944 and 1954, entitled Sombras (shadows). Not actually a thematic link between the photographs, but rather the title of a photography publication extant in that period.

[Rosie trying to explain the finer points of metaphor in composition while I babble on inanely about the ickle-doggy.]

Popping Rosie in the sling, we toured the exhibit, my attention somewhat distracted by my charge - especially when she persuaded me to let her crawl about the marble floor, something she did with great gusto. She did show some interest in the exhibits, particularly those of dogs and children (a recurring theme with Rosie) but I can forgive her for not being all that grabbed by them. Given that the period in question was such a politically volatile time in Spanish history - the civil war still a recent painful memory and Franco unsure whether the victorious allies of WWII would choose to liberate Spain from the fascist yoke or not - there was little reflection of that in the arrangement of the exhibit. There could easily have been. Some of the most engrossing photographs were social portraits - of monks, of fishermen, of peasant farmers, young children fetching water or dressed up for a fiesta. Very little information was offered about either the photographers or their subjects, which was a shame as it would have taken very little to have invested a bit more life in the exhibition.

After a drink on a sun-drenched terrace, we treated ourselves and Rosie to pizza, which she gobbled down with enthusiasm before - timed to perfection - she nodded off for 40 minutes as I walked back to Pueblo Nuevo in the warm March sunshine, waking up just 5 minutes from our door.

photos of form: the Annie Liebovitz exhibition

After an excellent lunch in Artemesia, possibly the only vegetarian and no-smoking restaurant in Madrid, we wandered over to Alcala 3 to see the Annie Liebovitz exhibition. The show included photos from both the public and private aspects of her life - so photos of celebrities and the siege of Sarajevo sat alongside intimate, informal portraits of her family and friends, most notably the writer Susan Sontag, whose death from cancer was movingly documented here. At times these small, unpolished, black and white photos seemed at odds with the huge, colour prints of various celebrities posing (or, in Jim Carrey's case, mugging) for the camera, but I guess that was kind of the point: how small, unglamorous events hold just as much significance for the photographer and their craft as the large commissions that mark their progression in the public eye.

However, as a member of the public, necessarily disconnected from Liebovitz's private life, I was naturally drawn more to the pictures of people and places that I recognised. Some portraits were merely technically excellent photographs, but with little by way of narrative. Others however, through superb use of form, provided more than just a proficient portrait but seemed to deliver an opinion from the artist herself. Two marvelous portraits of the Trumps and the White Stripes spoke volumes about their subjects. Our favourite though was probably the one above, which is even better at near-life size, the subjects projecting grace and control from the print. The exhibition is open until September 8th - if you're in Madrid we really advise going to see it.

Culture Vultures

As a rule, we're not big on museum and exhibitions. It's not so much a lack of interest in art or culture (current reading- Theo : "A History of Europe" J. M. Roberts, Kate "The Master and Margarita" Mikhail Bulgakov) as an unwillingness to pay the high entry fees, when there's beautiful architecture to admire outside, or to be indoors when the weather's nice (and there's beautiful architecture). Plus, too much gallery gazing would clearly impinge on our European-wide backgammon binge.

However, yesterday we vultured the culture to the max. Picking up an Amerstdam Card each (€33 per card which included free public transport for the day) we hit five museums, as well as availing ourselves of the free canal tour, multiple tram rides and a tea & coffee the card also entitled us to. While we haven't totted it up, the card probably saved us in the region of €30 each, which strikes us as a big of a bargain and probably means we now wont feel too guilty if we don't go into another gallery this side of Venice.

As to those we visited yesterday, I think we both preferred the small Vermeers in the Rijksmuseum to the major attraction, Rembrandt's The Nightwatch, remarkable though that is. I think we both find more affinity with paintings executed according to the artist's own desires, rather than those painted in order to flatter the vanities of the commissioning patron(s). Neither of us is particularly sold on Van Gogh, though it was interesting reading about his life and seeing the progression of his style though the years; Kate found the Fauvist paintings in the Van Gogh Museum's permanent collection far more captivating. The digital map demonstrating the growth of Amsterdam over the centuries in the Amsterdam Historisch Museum was fascinating as were many of the displays, despite their obsession with cesspits. They may be archaeological treasure troves but they are still a pile of old shit. Give me maps goddammit!

In the Nieuwe Kirche - itself a gorgeous attraction - the temporary exhibition, Black is Beautiful, was fascinating from a cultural viewpoint, showing the differing roles and representations of black people in art, even if some of the art itself was fairly mediocre. Finally, we made it to the FOAM Photography museum where there was a retrospective of photos by the Dutch photojournalist Jan Van Ekom, a wonderful juxtaposition of social realism (striking builders, immigrants from Surinam), escapism (theatrical portraits) and intimacy (photos of his, apparently naturist, family).

And so ended our day of ultra-culture. We didn't think much of the restaurants offering a 25% discount with our Amsterdam Card, so plumped for a delicious South Indian restaurant instead. Yum!

Oh, and we still found time to play a few trios of backgammon. Most of which Kate won. For a change.