Barcelona, Espana (02/03)

Easy-everything.

That’s just how it is.

Before I present you with a summary judgment of this Catalunyan city…let me rip off a few complaints. Hostelling is for the birds. Hostel kids are a joke and a half and seeing as though I have volunteered to be a member of this righteous crowd, I am quite embarrassed. They are a jeering gregarious type who adores attention and thrive on constant empty conversation about things like “this is what I studied in uni…that is like college in the united states, isn’t it?” and “well in Brasil we can party much better than you in the united states.” Maybe I am being a little harsh and maybe I just dislike boring
people…either way hostellers are a dime a dozen and if you come across one who can do more than compare the differences between where he’s from and from whence you hail…you’ve got a winner…I think.

Right…enough about that.

Last, I left you, having disembarked the ever-so-slow train to Barcelona from Paris with little more than my butchered Spanish and a feisty, but annoying Japanese chick named AI. Since then I have, I can proudly say, done Barcelona…the parts of it that appealed to me at least.

The first few days consisted of covering my bases…Gaudi, Parc Guell, Museu de this and Museu de that, the Palaus, the Jardims, the Catedras, the Roman walls, las Ramblas, Custo, camper the super trashy Spanish Mango-MNG…etc. It was, gasp, a disappointment, at best.

I arrived in Barcelona expecting sex in the city chock full of design, style and pretty people…a euro-Rio if you will and all I saw were fugly Catalunyans, Barceloneses or whatever they are speaking their messy lingo and eating all of those itty bitty tapas. And, there was no appealing art or architecture to speak of–not yet at least…segue to Gaudi. This piece is titled: if you like Gaudi your judgment is quite cloudy (you like that rhyme, right?)

Many people assumed I´d LOVE Gaudi. I didn’t. I did appreciate Gaudi’s interior design, most of that is top notch; I think it is a great representation of the confluence of influences in Barcelona with the Mediterranean, the mountains, the rest of Europe etc. His use of material is really inventive and luxurious and as some guide said somewhere he offered interesting solutions to design problems. As for the exteriors of his building, you can have them. Except for the Casa Bail, all of the exterior stuff makes me want to wretch, its gawdy, egotistical, so natural that its nasty and overbearing. There was no harmony, I felt, between the city and Gaudi, he just plonked his monstrosities wherever the richie Eusebi Guell told him to–here, there, everywhere. Its all rude to me.

It wasn’t until Saturday that things started to get interesting. Luck would have it that Friday night landed me in a bar (initially I mistook this so-called bar for a prison cell as its dimensions were a measly 10 X 10) with a bunch of hostellers, kiddies mostly. I tried to make the most of the night by talking to one of the oldies– a strapping 28-year old Zimbabwe-born, Jo’burg raised resident of London about building cpus and broadband in Europe vs. other countries…interesting right? When his speech started to slur…I peeled out leaving this extremely tall toe-head to his own devices.

Back to Saturday. So Saturday I set out on the expedition that is climbing Mont JÜic (literally, Jewish mountain). I kid you not this was my largest European hiking endeavor ever! The fun started when I came across my first graff spotting on walls surrounding a school. Anyway as I scrambled for my camera and began snapping a million shots a minute when, I spotted something special. Around the next corner, a lone grafitero was starting a lovely Barcelona wildstyle piece. He writes Montan and his crew is 220. My impression: ballsy. Boy is surrounded with aerosol cans and his is wearing white tennies. Whatever he was a looker–what do I care if his adidas concords get splattered.

Anyway we talked a bit about the scene in the city–which according to him is only about a decade old and he said most of the writers are kiddies with little skill. He’s been doing it for 5 years I think and he is all about having the skills and the style at once…never separately. It was funny I was trying to explain to him that I can dig a simple stylized piece and the ones that are mega complicated as long as they’re “limpia.” On that note I asked him about stencillers and scrawlers…he, predictably had no patience for those—to easy to “spray and go.” whatevs…he told me to scurry back down the mountain and
he would show me around but alas…I missed him, but saw the finished piece, a sweet hunk of Barcelona wild style.

Before I start on the hike up mount Jew…I have to add a little about the graff here. There are a few scrawlers, it seems like there might be a few different people who stencil and then a bunch of graffiti writers and crews. On two separate days I spotted three groups of boys in three different parts of the city doing all kinds of stuff…most of it was crap. it is sad because a couple of the guys who were essentially doodling had been doing it for like 6 years in Menorca…who does that in Menorca…if you live in Menorca, don’t you go to the beach? Anyway, I do like the good pieces in Barcelona; I wonder if many of the guys study Miro, Gaudi and Picasso and are influenced by them, anyway the pieces remind me of a circus, a scary circus.

While the mountain is covered immaculately manicured parks, museums and all kinds of other nonsense, it is all about the Fundacion MIRO!!! Miro was a complete nut. No joke the man had some wild ideas about people and how to represent human fundamentals on paper-canvas. I loved the work that he did when he was hanging out with Mirat (sp?). A lot of collages and curvaceous line drawings. Also he did a lot of dark pastels, I think, anyway they were all very ominous and interesting. What was a little absurd was that he said that they were spawned from a feeling that he had that something bad was Going to happen. He then declared that he was right because something bad did happen…the
Spanish civil war. WHO SAYS THAT??? Anyway, the paintings are one thing, what he says is another…obviously I am taking it out of context and the translation is probably butchered to hell, but still.

Anyway I climbed down the mountain to see the costumed carnavellers parade down the street. As I watched I chomped on chocolate and churros and not soon after I came upon all of that fun modern architecture and about 2 dozen skateboarders tooling around on their little four-wheeled decks. Nothing better to follow an afternoon of amazing art with architecture, pastry and pretty boys on boards in the park. Lovely.

That was Saturday….I AM STILL NOT FINISHED.

Sunday…the quick run through as my time at the internet place diminishes. Sunday was museum day. The Picasso Museum for the caricature exhibit. Loved his work from the 50´s when he was observing the middle class stroll along St. Michel and St. Germain. They are mostly ink drawings and mostly mahhhvelous! I do love Picasso. Especially his study of Helena Rubenstein. There were four frames, two of her withered face in the exaggerated but simple Picasso style and then two of her jewelry, her jewel encrusted cuffs and rings…ça c’est tres magnifique. The blue period was missing and just like it, I was sad, but it must be on tour…I do love the girl in the window painting.

From there it was the industrial design museum, clothes from the 7th century up until last week. Too fabu for words. Okay maybe a few words. First: Pedro Rodrigues…designed imaginative coats for women, I don’t know when but they are spectacular.

I headed straight to the MACBA and the CCCB. Saving time, the acronyms mean A LOT OF MODERN ART. MACBA- one thumb down for the art and one thumb up, enthusiastically, for the building. CCCB, the reverse. At the CCCB, they had an exhibit about the divide in views of the old harem how Europeans depicted them versus how they were shown in the Arab world. And for the conclusion they showed modern art made by Iranian and Iraqi women…there was a lot of political portraiture which was breathtaking. Overall the exhibit was interesting and with the war sentiment in the states who knows if it will ever pass through DC.

For any who have made it down this far. The antiwar sentiment is strong as is the anti-American sentiment…nuff said. Barceloneses are much more about making love and not war.

Now it is Monday and I depart in three hours (back on the ever so slow train to
Paris)…I have to get dinner. Thanks for reading. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.