RTW ’25 Leftovers

Posted on June 12, 2025 by admin

Summertime, and the living’s not bad. Pretty good, really. But those aren’t as catchy as the actual lyric. Time to pause posting for the summer holiday string: Flag Day, Juneteenth, Canada Day, Independence Day and Nunavut Day. Come to think of it, that’s an exceptionally representative run of holidays for North America. Back around July 13.

The flight from Chicago to Tokyo took us far north, as that flight path usually does. There was more light than I thought there would be, looking down at this moment on the February snows of the Yukon or Alaska; I’ll never know which. I could have been eying the border, for all I know, which suggests that borders are a gossamer fiction at these latitudes.

Japan

It was a happy moment when we ate at Mos Burger. One of these days, I’m going to dig out my paper copy of an article I wrote for Kansai Time Out in 1993 about four varieties of Western-style fast food chains founded in Japan, and post it. Today isn’t that day. But I can say that Mos Burger was the best of them.

As good as I remember it from 25+ years ago, the last time I went to one.

In Enoshima, near the ocean, this fellow hawks soft serve ice cream. Goo goo g’joob. Look but don’t touch.

The handsome Osaka City Central Public Hall, completed in 1918. Amazing that it survived the war and urban renewal 20 years later, those forces that generally gave modern urban Japan the boxy concrete character it enjoys today.

India

A monumental monument in New Delhi: India Gate, which honors more than 74,100 soldiers of the Indian Army who died during the Great War, and a number more in the Third Afghan War a few years later. They did their part. One of the larger relics of the Raj, unless you count things better described as legacies, such as railroad lines, parliamentary government, and the bitter feud between India and Pakistan.

While we were looking at India Gate, a group of about a dozen uniformed schoolboys, who had detached themselves from a larger group, approached me and asked where I was from. They were gleeful to hear “America,” a reaction I didn’t know anyone would have anymore, but I suppose they’ve seen a lot of our movies. A middle-aged male chaperon appeared in short order and shooed them away, while giving me a sidelong glance with a hairy eyeball, though I hadn’t precipitated the encounter in any way. I was just a suspicious foreigner, I guess.

The Taj Mahal has a fair amount of parkland around it. That means a population of monkeys, too. I spotted more monkeys in urban India than I would have anticipated. These didn’t seem to be bothered by the men, the dogs or the motorcycle.

On display at the Ghandi Museum: a Marconigram. I don’t know that I’d ever seen one of those before. Or maybe there was one on display at the Titanic Museum in Branson. Anyway, that’s one good reason to go to museums: for things once common, now curiosities. Safia Zaghloul was an Egyptian political activist of the time.

United Arab Emirates

In Dubai it seemed like there were more men at work sweeping, mopping and other cleaning of floors and other flat places, per square meter, than anywhere else I’ve ever been. There are worse things to do with cheap labor.

Not sure exactly where this was, except somewhere out on Palm Jumeirah. Must have been a wall, or like a wall, in one of the posh retail corridors winding through one of the posh resort properties amid the poshness of the island.

Note: White on green is common indeed around the world.

Desert flowers. Of course, sprinklers water that bit of terrain at regular intervals.

Germany

What’s Berlin without currywurst? They say it came into style soon after the city was divided.

What would Germany be without Ritter Sport? A giant stack of them can be seen, in their great variety, at the Hauptbahnhof in Berlin. Later, I bought about 10 squares of RS at a discount price at a Netto grocery store near our hotel. Think Aldi or Lidl, but more cluttered.

Views of the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas, near the Tiergarten in Berlin. It wasn’t there in 1983.

Czech Republic

Not calling it Czechia. Or, if it ever comes to it, not calling India Bharat, either.

St. George’s Basilica. I admired the nearby St. Vitus Cathedral. That’s a grand edifice. But St. George’s has that human scale, and echoes of an even earlier time. It was completed during the time of Good King Wenceslaus.

Vladislav Hall. The site of centuries of Bohemian parties, banquets and balls, me boys. That and affairs of state.

The Dancing House. We rode a streetcar line out of our way to see it, though not that far. It wasn’t there in 1994.

A sidewalk golem in the old Jewish Quarter of Prague. The Sidewalk Golems was a relatively obscure band who sometimes toured with Irwin Hepplewhite and the Terrifying Papoose Jockeys.

This could have been over Spain or Portugal.

The last image of thousands that I took, a staggering number in any context except digital images that take practically no time or effort to make.

Rosehill Cemetery: Stones Among the Green

Posted on June 10, 2025 by admin

Something I didn’t expect to see Sunday before last at Rosehill Cemetery – which is surrounded by the densely populated North Side of Chicago – were deer. But there they were, peacefully munching on grass, living the unusual life of urban deer on the cemetery’s 350 acres. By acreage, Rosehill happens to be the largest in the city.

I dropped Yuriko off at her cake class in Humboldt Park that morning and headed north to visit the cemetery. It was a fine, warm day. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been there, but I knew it had been too long, since Rosehill is one of the great metro Chicago cemeteries, in the same league as Graceland, Bohemian National, Mount Carmel, Oak Woods and Forest Home.

Of all those, Rosehill has the grandest entrance. Once upon a time, trains brought caskets to a station nearby, and hearses would take their funereal loads through the limestone gate, designed by William Boyington (d. 1898), who is better known for the Chicago Water Tower. Just based on those two examples, seems like he was partial to crenellations.

Boyington is also buried in the cemetery, but I didn’t look for him. There was too much else amid the greenery to track down everyone notable. I did make a point of finding the mausoleum of Charles G. Dawes, 30th Vice President of the United States, who served during Coolidge’s full term from 1925 to ’29.

Rosehill doesn’t have a vast number of mausoleums, but there are some others.

Hey, it’s Darius!

In his Egyptian-style tomb. One for the ages. As a baby name, Darius had a vogue just before and after the turn of the 21st century, when as many as 0.06 percent of babies born in the U.S. received that name. Mostly boys (as you’d think), but a few girls. It would have never occurred to us to append that name to either of our daughters during those years, which happened to be prime child-naming years for us.

I liked this memorial – a path to the water feature, shared by the Weese and Meyer families.

Mausoleums are well and good, but the main reason Rosehill is among the Chicago greats: a rich variety of memorials in a lush setting.

This is Francis Willard, founder of the WCTU.

A wordy memorial, though I’m sure with fond intentions on the part of his family. Here is an obit. Sadly odd that for an expert in eldercare, he only lived to be 66. Not terrifically old, in my current opinion.

Most permanent residents were not notable in life, something almost everyone could say at any point in history. What remains are stones old and worn or merely simple. The most affecting ones, in some ways.

For the affluent who don’t want a mausoleum, there’s always a bronze. Good to give living artists some work, if you or your heirs are going to spend money that way.

Charles J. Hull (d. 1889).

I had to look him up. As this article says, an unusual sort of man. Even for the 19th century, when odd men aplenty could be found in the young Republic. Eventually he made his fortune in Chicago real estate and was a major philanthropist, but I enjoyed more reading about his young life. As a teenager – a term no one would have used at the time – he ran an unlicensed tavern in Ohio for three years. That came to a bad end, and he not only became a teetotaler afterward, he eventually was a temperance activist. Not that I’d want to have lived then, but I feel a sneaking admiration for the lax rules of the time.

The Bridgehouse Museum, Chicago

Posted on May 28, 2025 by admin

Vexillologists, I understand, are fond of the Chicago flag. So are the people of Chicago. I’ll go along with them on that.

Walking along the Chicago Riverwalk last Friday, how could I say no to this?

By happy chance, I’d arrived at the Bridgehouse Museum, whose entrance is on the Riverwalk level on the Chicago River next to Michigan Avenue bridge, on a free admission day.

Actually not next to the bridge. The museum is part of the bridge, consisting of one of the four bridgehouses at each corner of the Michigan Avenue bridge, which houses the Machine Age equipment that raises and lowers part of the bridge. In full, it is the McCormick Bridgehouse & Chicago River Museum.

The museum tells the story of the bridge, completed in 1920, and the Chicago River, which has the distinction (among others) of having its course reversed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1909, during the heroic age of American civil engineering. The story arc of the Chicago River is that of a modern urban river beginning as a sluggish, marshy stream in pre-settlement times that gave way to periods as an open sewer and home to a welter of commercial docks and warehouses; long periods of unhealthy levels of pollution and its abandonment (mostly) as a working river; and more recent efforts to remediate the waters.

Mr. Dooley on the river as it was: “Twas the prettiest river f’r to look at that ye’ll iver see …. Green at th’ sausage facthry, blue at th’ soap facthry, yellow at th’ tannery, ye’d not thrade it f’r annything…”

The challenge posed by the river to the free movement of vehicles and pedestrians in downtown Chicago was solved by a raft of bridges, most of which are bascule, as is the one at Michigan Ave. The river sees the life of the city along its shore and on its bridges, and it has seen death, such as the almost comic collapse of the Rush Street bridge under the weight of cattle in 1863 and the nightmarish capsizing of the pleasure vessel Eastland in 1915.

The museum consists of five floors, each a smallish room connected by concrete steps. Brick walls and battleship gray floors form the dominate color palate of the place. There is a fair amount to read and images to see, with each room covering a different subject, such as the bridge itself and the ecology of the river.

A door from the first-floor room leads to a view of some of the steel equipment that makes the bridge move, such as this massive pinion.

Not everyone likes reading at museums, but I do. You just have to be selective. Some bridge facts.

A display about a time the Chicago River caught fire. Cleveland shouldn’t be the only place known for that, though of course the incident at the Cuyahoga was recent enough to be on TV news.

Antique bridge equipment.

Small windows in the bridgehouse offer large views, especially from the top levels.

The other three bridgehouses are visible, for one thing. Then I wondered: why four and not two, since the bridge has two leaves that are raised and lowered? Later, I found out that each leaf is actually two separate sections, divided in the middle of the road, so in fact there are four parts being raised and lowered in unison.

There are two reasons, I understand. One is that each quarter section is lighter, and thus easier to move. Another consideration is what happens when a ship hits the bridge — an incident apparently more common in the 1920s than now, with a higher volume of ship traffic on the river in those days. Even if the damaged section has to be raised for repair, its companion on the same side of the bridge can (probably) stay in place, so the bridge wouldn’t need to be completely closed, which would be disruptive indeed for the city.

All in all, a good little museum. I made a small donation. One complaint, though — and I see this much more than I used to — no postcards at the gift shop. Note cards, yes. But not postcards. If there had been reproductions of this one, I would have bought at least one.

Raj Ghat, Delhi

Posted on May 22, 2025 by admin

Still a chill in the air here in Illinois, but a bit warmer, so we’re on a slow climb back to real spring. Back to posting on May 27. In its float around late May, Memorial Day is four days earlier than Decoration Day this year.

Chilly, maybe, but that hasn’t discouraged the back yard irises.

A gift from a neighbor last year – some bulbs that we planted in the patch of land that, decades ago, had been a garden. That isn’t quite what I’d call it now. More of a back yard feature whose greenery towers over the ordinary lawn grass.

Not just irises. On the other side of the yard:

Raj Ghat was one of the first places we went in India. Its centerpiece is a memorial dedicated to Gandhi, in the middle of a large green square surrounded by walls. The black marble platform marks the spot of his cremation on January 31, 1948.

Outside the walls is more green space. A popular spot for school groups, looks like.

Nearby is the National Gandhi Museum. Considering that he’s Father of the Nation, not many people were there, but I suppose school groups show up regularly to enliven the place. Overall, the memorial seemed to be more of a draw.

On the grounds of the museum.

The plain rooms of the museum featured a lot of photos of Gandhi and text to go with it. For someone who lived before digital photography, his image was certainly captured by a lot of cameras. There were also a few artifacts, including one large one.

The vehicle used to carry his remains to Raj Ghat for cremation. I thought of the wagon I’d seen in Atlanta used for a similar melancholy purpose.

I can’t leave it at that.

Seen at the museum’s entrance.

Amer Fort, Jaipur

Posted on May 21, 2025 by admin

Something that greater Jaipur had that Agra and Delhi didn’t seem to: hills. Impressive hills.

The thing to do with a hill, at least in pre-modern times, is to build a fort on it. Or perhaps a fort with palace-like elements, or a palace with fort-like elements. In any case, Man Singh I, Maharaja of Amer (or Amber), a Rajput princely state, ordered the construction of Amer Fort (Amber Fort) in the late 16th century. He wasn’t a Mughal, but worked for one: Akbar. When the emperor needed an enemy crushed militarily in pursuit of imperial expansion, Man Singh, a Hindu devotee of Krishna, was his man.

Even arriving by car, the uphill trip took a while, winding along narrow, busy roads to a place without enough parking. That was the driver’s concern. He dropped us off and we walked a bit further to the fort.

It’s expansive.

Amer is in fact one of six forts in the area that form a World Heritage Site.

“The series of six massive hill forts are architectural manifestations of Rajput valour, bravery, feudalism and cultural traditions, documented in several historic texts and paintings of the medieval and late medieval period in India,” UNESCO notes.

“Their elaborate fortifications, built to protect not only garrisons for defence but also palatial buildings, temples, and urban centres, and their distinctive Rajput architecture, are an exceptional testimony to the cultural traditions of the ruling Rajput clans.”

Amer displays the kind of intricate work one comes to expect after seeing a half-dozen monumental Indian structures. It seemed like much of the rest of India had come to see the superb craftsmanship, too.

Something I didn’t expect: Amer Fort toilets.

Remarkably, there is information online about these and other toilets for the relief of important people of the Indian past: “An Insight Into The Royal Mughal Toilets” by one Dr. Atul Kumar Singh Parmar.

Fatehpur Sikri, Uttar Pradesh

Posted on May 20, 2025 by admin

Here we are, in a cold May. Cold and today, rainy. Cold in April is one thing, but in May? Not wintertime freezing cold, of course, but nearly refrigerator chilly. Too cold to lounge around on the deck, which is pretty much my definition of atmospheric chill.

The cold came after considerable warmth last week, even a day that felt hot, during which a dust storm blew through northern Illinois. We didn’t feel the brunt of the storm, just a gusty and dusty edge of it. In all the years I’ve been here, I don’t remember any other Chicagoland-spanning dust storms. Odd.

Out of curiosity, I checked temps in Agra and Jaipur today. At about 2 am IST – the middle of the night – it was 90° F. in Agra. Tomorrow: Abundant sunshine. Hazy. High 106° F. Winds light and variable. As for Jaipur, middle of the night temp, 93° F. Tomorrow: Sunny, along with a few afternoon clouds. Hazy. High 112° F. Winds WNW at 10 to 15 mph.

Zounds. Between Agra and Jaipur, on National Highway 21, is the border of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. This is what it looked like, leaving Uttar Pradesh, headed for Jaipur.

Behold, the National Highway system of India. Infrastructure, by the looks of it, that is reaping enormous economic benefits. The roads were renumbered in 2010. News of that didn’t reach my part of North America, or if it did, it was a squib of an item, lost in the news churn. Under the new(ish) numbering scheme in India, east-west highways are numbered odd, while north-south ones are even, the opposite of the U.S. Interstate system. The numbers increase as you go west or south. Again, the opposite.

Imagine the government committee meetings, the endless, hours-long committee meetings, that must have gone into renumbering the roads. Was there a bureaucratic faction that pushed not to be like the Interstate system, as a matter of national pride?

Near the border along NH 21, but still in Uttar Pradesh, is Fatehpur Sikri, which Akbar, the third Mughal emperor, made his capital for a little more than a decade in the 16th century. A short-time capital it might have been, but Akbar didn’t think small when it came to developing Fatehpur Sikri – Mughal potentates never thought small, it seems – and so left behind some World Heritage-class sites (and indeed, it is on the UNESCO list).

When we arrived, temps were nowhere near 100+ F. Maybe 80° F. or so, which I count as pleasant.

Turn up the heat another 20° or so, and those broad stone courtyards wouldn’t be that pleasant for tourists or touts.

The stonemasons, as usual, did wonders with red sandstone.

Unlike any other big-deal historic site we visited in India in February, roving vendors were allowed inside the complex at Fatehpur Sikri. The vendors tend to swarm, especially if you buy anything from anyone at any moment – as I did, a necklace for Yuriko. I might as well have painted a DayGlo rupee symbol (₹) on my back.

Never mind, Fatehpur Sikri was up to high Mughal standards: a splendor. In one courtyard, an array of Mughal tombs caught my attention, marking resting places on a less grand scale than the likes of the Taj or the Baby Taj.

Royalty gets royal treatment after death, but so many other people were involved in running a court, and they deserved dignified entombments, too. Such as, for example, the overseer of the royal flyswatters. (Servant jobs were very specific in those days.)

I hope our guide for a couple of hours at Fatehpur Sikri got a cut, one way or another, of what we paid to hire the car and driver, on top of the tip we gave him directly. He told us a good many interesting things about the town and its history, but nothing quite as interesting as how an uptick in tourism — mostly domestic tourists, I bet — had allowed him enough money to buy a motorcycle a few years earlier. “Changed our lives completely,” was how he put the impact on his family.

His brother had a souvenir stall near the historic sites, and a clubfoot. We drank tea with them, and in lieu of buying something, I gave him a tip as well. Could be he’s saving for a motorcycle, too, or needs gas money if he’s got one already.

The Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah

Posted on May 19, 2025 by admin

As a tourist in Agra, the thing to do is visit the Taj Mahal last. Anything seen after the Taj will pale in comparison, however grand the edifice. So after the Agra Fort, and toward the end of our first day in that city, we visited the Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah, with Taj Mahal slated for early the next morning.

Go through a finely styled gate.

From there, it isn’t far to the mausoleum.

An exquisite work. How is carving in stone like that possible? It’s impossibly intricate. It’s also always compared to the top masterpiece that is the Taj, which is not far away. More modest than the Taj, but with some clear similarities. This tomb came first by a few decades, so it would be the inspiration. There is a reason the Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah is also called “Bachcha Taj” or the “Baby Taj.”

“What makes the tomb of Itimad-ud-Daulah stand out from its contemporary structures, undoubtedly is the overwhelming decorative technique that was used — its polychrome profuse ornamentation consisting of intricate florals, stylized arabesques, abstract geometrical designs, mosaic kaleidoscope techniques enriched with splendid ornamentation in semi precious and rare stones inlay and exquisite carvings that resembles the finest of lace,” explains Outlook Traveler.

“All these were mostly inspired by plant studies and motifs of vivid flora and fauna with a distinguished influence of Persian heritage drawn by masterful artisans and craftsmen of Persia who worked at the Mughal court.”

All that made me think of the outline for a bit of sketch comedy, though a bit that assumes that most people have heard of the Baby Taj, and how it compares with the regular full-sized Taj. So not a realistic idea for a sketch that North Americans or western Europeans might respond to. Still, imagine Mitchell and Webb doing the following. Or rather an Indian comic duo equivalent, to abide by modern sensibilities. Say, Mitchell-like and Webb-like. There must be someone.

The setup would be the architect hired to design Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah has submitted plans – which are visible to the audience – and they look suspiciously like the Taj Mahal as we know it. The architect meets with the Grand Vizier to discuss the plans (would that actually happen? Never mind, the rule of funny). I imagine Mitchell-like would be the architect, Webb-like the Grand Vizier.

Grand Vizier — We rather like your design, but we want a few tweaks.

Architect — Tweaks?

— Yeah, you know, little things. But we do think your design is wonderful. Too wonderful, in fact.

— What does that mean? What do you want to change?

— Well, it’s a bit large.

— Large?

— Yes, the building. The main one. We were hoping for something, you know, a bit more modest. Yes, that’s it. Modest. Scale it down.

— But it wouldn’t be the same.

— And the dome. That’s a little much, don’t you think?

— No dome?

— Well, something should be up there. Let’s call it a roof element. Your dome’s just a little grand.

— But this is going to be the tomb of the great I’timād-ud-Daulah! The father-in-law of the emperor! Grand Vizier before you!

— And don’t we know it. A great man, for sure. But do you know how much stonemasons cost these days? I mean, really good ones. Oh, and don’t worry, we like the four minarets. That’s a classic. But those should be smaller too.

— Grand Vizier, I object. If I do say so myself, I’ve designed one of the greatest buildings in the world! If we make it smaller, it wouldn’t be that. It would be just another tomb.

— Well, now. Who is it that is paying you?

— You are, Grand Vizier.

— And who could, let’s say, make things pretty uncomfortable for you? We still have some space in our dungeons.

— You could, Grand Vizier.

— So…

— Smaller it is, Grand Vizier. More modest. Yes.

Agra Fort

Posted on May 18, 2025 by admin

“The sky turned the colour of molten copper,” wrote William Dalrymple in City of Djinns. “The earth cracked like a shattered windscreen. April gave way to May, and every day the heat grew worse.”

February, clearly, was the time to visit north-central India, basking in warm but not oppressive sun.

The first place we went in Agra wasn’t the Taj Mahal, which we would visit the next day, but Agra Fort, a massive red sandstone and marble complex associated (of course) with Mughal emperors, especially Humayun, who seized the site of an older structure, and Akbar, who put the structure in its current form, more or less.

“Akbar arrived in Agra in 1558,” says the Archaelogical Survey of India. “He ordered to renovate the fort with red sandstone. Some 4,000 builders daily worked on it and it was completed in eight years (1565-1573).”

The wall circumscribes sizable edifices on sizable green spaces.

Marvel at the detail.

Inner courtyard splendors.

“The walls of the roughly crescent-shaped structure have a circumference of about 1.5 miles (2.5 km), rise 70 feet (21 metres) high, and are surrounded by a moat… ” notes Britannica.

“Many structures within the walls were added later by subsequent Mughal emperors, notably Shah Jahān and Jahāngīr. The complex of buildings — reminiscent of Persian- and Timurid-style architectural features — forms a city within a city.”

Through a window, something familiar. At least from pictures.

Our first glimpse of the Taj Mahal.

“In addition to its other functions, the fort also served as a prison for Shah Jahān,” Britannica continues. “Aurangzeb, his son and successor as emperor, had him confined there from 1658 until his death in 1666.”

The story is that the deposed Shah Jahān spent his time gazing at the Taj Mahal, where his wife was entombed and, when the time came, he would be as well. There are worse places to be under house arrest.

The splendor continues under elegant arches.

No matter how grand, however, time will have its say, and the splendor we see is just a fraction of the total across the centuries.

“Abul Fazl, a court historian of Akbar, records that 5,000 buildings were built here beautifully in Bengali and Gujarati style,” says the Archaelogical Survey. “Most of these buildings have now disappeared. Shah Jahan himself demolished some of these in order to make room for his white marble palaces. Later, the British destroyed most of the buildings for raising barracks.”

Ancient Roman Sculpture from the Torlonia Collection

Posted on May 15, 2025 by admin

Go to one of the newer galleries at the Art Institute of Chicago, at least until June 29, and these figures will greet you. Or at least stay still while you take a good look.

Marcus Aurelius is front and center, looking rather stoic, or should I say Stoic, with some contemporaries near him.

He doesn’t look that much like Alec Guinness. Or rather, Sir Alec doesn’t look much like him. Long ago, I watched The Fall of the Roman Empire in Latin class, one of those last week of the school year sort of activities, finding it a ridiculous mess, despite a stellar cast that included Guinness as the last Good Emperor, and lavish production values.

Also, as a fellow named John in the class pointed out, the movie left out good old Pertinax in its depiction of the events after the death of Commodus. “Where is he?” John said. “Pertinax came after Commodus.” Latin students were the sort likely to notice that kind of omission.

There’s the seed of a series of counterfactual novels: Pertinax survived for some years, re-establishing a chain of Good Emperors, thus preventing the chaos of the 3rd century and hey – Rome didn’t fall. Or something like that.

We’d come to the Art Institute, a few weeks ago now, to see Roman sculpture.

After spending time in Berlin seeing the same sort of ancient art, I couldn’t very well miss something so close to home. The collection owes its origin to Prince Giovanni Torlonia (d. 1829) and his son Prince Alessandro (d. 1886), who bought ancient works when the getting was good, and dug up other pieces at their extensive estates.

“The Torlonia Collection is not only the largest private collection of Roman marble sculptures in Italy, but it is also arguably the most important of such private collections in the world,” the Art Institute says. “Comprising 622 works and a wide range of sculptural types and subjects, its holdings rival those of major institutions in Europe, including the Capitoline and Vatican Museums.

“Nearly half of these sculptures, which range in date from the 5th century BCE to the early 4th century CE, have not been publicly displayed in more than 70 years and have been newly cleaned, conserved, and studied specifically for this exhibition, making for a spectacular opportunity to experience their first public presentation in decades.”

For once, a curated experience that reflects the actual meaning of that now abused word, since I’m assuming expert curators were involved. They had a great deal to work with besides imperial portraits.

Such as a sarcophagus depicting the Mighty Hercules at his Labors.

Its lid.

Makes you wonder who the last person was to see it, who knew the people depicted. A grandchild perhaps, now nearly as remote in time as sarcophagus itself. After that person was gone, the figures might have been revered as Noble Ancestors, but increasingly distant ones. Eventually — who were these people again? And so no one minded as the object slipped out of sight, only to be found much later by antiquarians of a remote posterity.

The exhibit included more than people in stone.

The signage for the exhibit included information I’d never seen depicted in quite this way.

Part of the history of these works now includes restorations done during centuries previous to ours, but still comparatively recent. That’s more information that you usual get at a display of ancient art, and I compliment the curators on it.

Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin

Posted on April 30, 2025 by admin

I’m not sure exactly what “Hey, this is a World Heritage Site! Show some respect, wanker!” would be in German, but I suspect in German you probably could shout just the right mix of threat and shaming.

Spotted in March on Museum Island (Museumsinsel) in Berlin.

Note that the red-letter headline is in English. I think of that as more of a function of English as a ramshackle world language than the propensity of Americans, Britons or Australians to use bullhorns while peeing on World Heritage Sites from their bicycles or scooters. Well, maybe Australians would. (I trade in that stereotype with abiding affection for that nation, since the Australians I know would sound right back about Americans). To be honest, it also sounds like something Florida Man would do.

We were in the vicinity of the Alte Nationalgalerie.

Make it a Greco-Roman temple, at least on the outside, King Friedrich Wilhelm IV must have said, though he didn’t live to see its completion in 1876. August Stüler was tasked with the design, but he didn’t live to see it done either.

The museum complex on Museum Island certainly deserves to be on the UNESCO list. A detail from the museum’s tourist leaflet shows the Old National Gallery in relation to the others, and the fact that the Pergamon Museum is “closed for refurbishment.” Dang.

We didn’t go directly to his gallery up on the third floor, but I knew the Casper David Friedrich was a priority at Alte Nationalgalerie. Like visiting an old friend. They say maintaining social relations is important for one’s health in older years, and maybe that’s so. But I’m sure visiting old friends makes your life better in the here and now. Mine, anyway. Including mainly people, but also places and favorites in art or entertainment.

My old buddy Casper’s canvasses are usually good for more than one detail. Such as “Abtei im Eichwald” (1809/10), sporting a good old Casper David Friedrich moon.

Or “Eichbaum im Schnee” (1829). The man had a gift for trees too.

This one is CDF and it isn’t, since it is a copy of one of his paintings, “Klosterrunie im Schnee” (1891), by an unknown artist. The original didn’t survive WWII.

There was even an appearance of CDF himself, at work, in a portrait by colleague Georg Friedrich Kersting (d. 1847).

There probably would have been more CDF on display, but as it happens, the place to be right now to see many of his works is the Met, which is hosting Caspar David Friedrich: The Soul of Nature until May 11. Seventy-five paintings, drawings, and prints by Friedrich are in that show.

No matter, the museum offers plenty else to see, with a collection of European art roughly from the French Revolution to WWI. The place wasn’t crowded, but a fair number of museumgoers were around.

We spent a while looking around ourselves.

Detail from “Die Pontinischen Sümpfe bei Sonnenuntergang” (“The Pontine Marshes at Sunset”) (1848) by August Kopisch, which has a Chesley Bonestell vibe.

Detail from “Doppleporträt der Brüder Jacob und Wilhelm Grimm” (1855) by Elisabeth Jerichau-Baumann.

Detail from “Tükische Straßenszene“ (1888) by Osman Hamdi Bey.

Detail from “Porträt Kaiser Wilhelm II” (1895) by Vilma Parlaghy.

Tough luck, Willie. But at least your hope didn’t end at the end of a rope.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: History