You can almost always tell what part of a museum you are in, or what kind of museum you are in, when you hear the disembodied voices speaking somewhere.
They’re usually eerie and disconcerting, almost unintelligible due to a harsh overlay of static. They’re supposed to be these things, I guess. As I consider it, I’m not certain if there’s more to what the artist is doing, or if the base feelings they evoke are enough. The voices are often speaking of something but I’m impatient and bored don’t want to listen, and usually just move on.
This morning that was the case at the Museum of Contemporary Art, and the feel of the voices will stick with me. Modern art is polarizing, and it’s supposed to be. Sometimes it enthralls me, and others it doesn’t connect at all. This was one of the “not connecting” times.
This museum was honestly at a disadvantage because I love photography and had started the morning at FOMU (Fotomuseum Antwerpen), the photography museum just a few steps down the road
There’s something about photography. It’s, quite literally, a moment captured from time; in every sense, it is a snapshot.
But it can transport us to to other worlds and times in ways other media can’t touch.
It’s both unreal and super-real.
And when well curated, it just sticks with you. During today’s visit FOMU had an exhibit organized by a British-Kenyan artist, Grace Ndiritu. She narrated the audio, requesting that we remove our shoes and wander the museum in our stockinged feet. And I did so, feeling the plush acuity of the carpet shifting gradually beneath the soles of my feet with each step, and the fibers of the carpet squishing into the space between my toes.
I think more museums should invite us to remove our shoes. It was a liberating and somehow more immersive approach to padding through the rooms of the special display.
Back outside, I enjoyed the crisp sunny November morning, strolling through the streets of Antwerp. Today might have been my day to visit Brussels, but I wanted to see Antwerp on a beautiful day like today, to feel the rhythms of this place, the rolling of her hills and see things that I might not otherwise.
The de Koninck brewery tour was one of these places. Over a decade ago I went on the Heineken brewery tour in Amsterdam. It had been highly rated, but those rating were probably biased by teenagers enjoying the free beer. Honestly, it was lame.
I had a few hours today, so decided to try this one. It wasn’t perfect, but was better, as they still make beer here. Seeing the process and hearing the history was enjoyable.
As the tour concluded, the afternoon was fading so I bought more walking-around chocolate and walked to the train station.
I hadn’t seen Antwerpen Central yet, but it was high on my list, being rated as one of the most beautiful stations in Europe.
After seeing it I would at least concur that it is one of the most beautiful that I have seen, with her ironwork ceiling towering above.
And her, delicate, filigree clock stands proud at the end wall, creating the sense of a grand temple to travel and the connections that trains build between us.
Outside the night was quickly darkening as I walked past a giant Ferris wheel to the tram that would take me back to my hotel.
Later in the evening I found myself in a neigborhood bar enjoying a local beer that I had seen but not yet tried. All around me gamers sat at tables laughing and strategizing and thinking and drinking.
And on a Friday night in November, halfway around the world from home, I had found my people.
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