Traveling for 28 hours to Stuttgart for Comedy and Modern Art

I’m not that often on the road, but when I am, it’s a highway to hell. Only comedy and modern art can cure me:
I travelled for 28 hours with a ticket, bought five months ago, to a show, that got cancelled last minute, because not enough tickets were sold. On the plus side, I would have never made it to my show anyway. Due to storm Friederike, our train got stuck in the middle of nowhere at the village Gerstungen. It’s German and means „better dead in Berlin than alive in Gerstungen“. 

Where is Wenzel (c) Thüringer Allgemeine

I was on my way to a show in Stuttgart. But instead our train stopped for three hours in Gerstungen. And eventually, me and 150 passengers got evacuated and put into the local gym hall. And the first class occupied all the comfy gym mats. No one knew if we ever get out of here. I wondered if I should settle, marry a farmer and open a corner store.  In the end, I made it to Stuttgart the next day. It took longer than a stage coach: 28 hours instead of formerly 6.

Some sketches from the train ride. Travelblog from hell.

That next day, I had another show in Stuttgart, which did not get cancelled. To kill time until then and to calm the hell down I checked out some modern art at Staatsgalerie Stuttgart. To my surprise, my train ticket saved me 2 € at the entrance! I just had to visit 25 more museums to amortize my horrible journey.

Alberto Giacometti (1901-1966) and my incredible photoshop skills.

The collection began strong with one of my favorite artists: Alberto Giacometti. Famous for his oversized, size 0 sculptures of humans, who look like they set themselves on fire, because they couldn’t take anymore shit from this world.  One figure was set on a wheeled pedestal, a prehistoric segway.  Another visitor mumbled to herself „who the hell would put this in their living room?“. Um, me! Would be perfect as a luxurious hat rack counterbalancing my craigslist Ikea stuff.

Next highlight was Mark Rothko. You know, he made those spheric paintings that look like white pillow cases accidentally washed with a blue and red sock:

Yeah so this is a different Rothko (in San Francisco) but you get the idea. Also, this is my favorite photo ever so I keep reusing it.

The next room showed an installations by Joseph Beuys. A German artist famous for using fat, enough to equip all deep fryers in the world. I inhaled a stench of mold. I asked the security guard „Is the art smelling?“ .“Yeah! it’s rancid fat!!!“, he exclaimed, „It’s worse in summer!!! You should come back“.

I always wondered if security personal had favorite art rooms. I bet the rancid Beuys room is for the one colleague who shows up late.

Beuys’ installation smelled so bad. Why didn’t they move Duane Hanson’s “Cleaning Lady” in that room?

I was dizzy from Rothko and Beuys. I tumbled into the adjacent Hans Arp room and immediately knew what his metamorphose lava lamp sculptures actually mean. One more sniff of rancid fat and I can correct the rosetta stone.

High on Rothko and Beuys, it’s easy to decipher Arp’s metamorphose lava lamp sculptures.

The next floor contained a bunch of Picassos. My goal in life is that eventually, a person writes a blog post about an art museum „The next floor contained a bunch of Wenzels“. Picasso supposedly said „I wanted to become a painter and became Picasso“. Lucky him!

Eventually, my hard disc was full. I couldn’t take any more art but there was so much more to see. The museum asked me „are you still watching?“ So within five minutes, I whizzed through the entire centuries of renaissance, baroque and middle ages. Like a cruise ship tourist rushing through Florence between lunchtime and coffee. In light speed, I saw Carracci, Corinth, Kiefer, Kaufmann and a visitor who pronounced Gerhard Richter „Gertrud Richter“.

At the end, I walked out to the hallway and a group of senior citizen mistook me for a security lady. It’s my authoritarian aura. I played along and checked all of their tickets. I can’t wait to come back for a show in Summer and see how Beuys’ fat smells. Oh, and the comedy show that night went well and even the train ride back was late for only one hour. Stuttgart is one lovely place!

 

Another highlight is Beckmann’s „apocalypse without hope“. I looked at it together with four other visitors. It is the Mona Lisa of the Staatsgalerie, so to speak.

 

 

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