The third of Madrid’s triple treat, the Reina Sofia is mainly devoted to Spanish Art of the 20th Century. The big names are there - Picasso, Dali, Miró, Gris - en masse. They are kept company by lesser known locals and a smattering of international contemporaries. There’s a temporary exhibition space, currently devoted to the works of (ho, hum) Jörg Immendorff.
You probably know the drill. Picasso is king of the castle, and Guernica is the crowd puller. Dali also has his fans, although he’s less savoury these days with his fascist tendencies. Miró is always good fun, but preferably in smaller doses. His work can get a bit noisy when there are twenty or more hanging next to each other.
Problem is, Guernica is a bit hollow in this age of Syria and Afghanistan. It could never signal enough for the horrors of the 24 hour news cycle. Another pixel in the static noise on our screens.
It’s why Goya can still get away with it. Picasso paints about an abstract nightmare. Goya paints us, or at least, a projection of us.
It is interesting, however, to see how much of the collection is focussed on the Spanish Civil War. I brought with me a copy of the 1983 five part documentary series on the war, just to answer a few questions that were bound to arise. It was an awful affair, and we’ve probably learnt nothing from it, but it’s obvious that the Spanish are still processing it. Ironically, the last time I was in Spain was two weeks before Franco died. They still can’t work out where to bury him.
So I’m not putting any images of the art up here. There was some good stuff, but it was the Reina Sofia itself that’s most worthy of writing home about. Housed in Madrid’s original general hospital, with some modern additions, it’s light and quiet, and I had many rooms to myself.
I felt I was walking through the crypt of some airborne gothic cathedral. The vaulted ceilings, I’m happy to report, lined up perfectly.
Gallery