Vienna. I know how some people imagine Paris because I know how I envisioned Vienna. In my head, when I say the name, it's a breathy exhale of overwhelmed exaltation. Vienna.
Beethoven. Mozart. Strauss. Freud, to a lesson extent but still important. I just picture brilliant people encouraging or inspiring illumination in their peers. The city itself looks like a nest for creativity. It was winter so the buildings felt closed off to the random wanderer, the humidity in the air mixing with the low sun making taking photos unrewarding for the most part. Vienna reminds me of one of those great cities in the world that doesn't need to defend itself, like how New York City calls their pizza simply "pizza."
I'm a bit of a snob (Shock). I'm a bit opinionated (shock intensifies, I am sure). I am also, for a person who appreciates metaphors as much as the next lass, quite a literal person with the creativity of some species of fish. You'd think I'd do better in maths but, alas, my lack of creativity is tied to my mediocre intelligence. Unfortunately the rule of averages means some of us have to be, you know, average. Alright. It has to be someone. Most someones.
Being a snob who struggles to appreciate art is quite the conundrum. How can I best keep up with the big kids when those high-brow conversations are deployed? So, I try. I go to art museums and talk to people who love art and blah blah blah. I found myself quite by accident (lack of research) at the Freud Museum which was both disappointingly empty (of physical stuff and conveyance of information) AND devoting 2 of the 7 rooms to modern art exhibition.
I didn't take a single photo of any of the "art" I saw, but I think we all know this "witty" cutting block could be in a museum somewhere.
Man. I hate modern art.
Modern art is the art narcissists use to get more attention. It usually underwhelms in technique in that, yeah, I can copy that. While classical art can be allegorical or symbolic, it can also just fucking stand on its own. Modern art is just so trying. Oh, you took nine photos of kids in a dress to express your... Sorrow... About the passing of a friend. Yeah, I didn't get that and your photos, just as photos, I don't want those on my wall. Oh, you Mod Podged some broken balloons to represent your views of... Don't care.
Modern art, then, is a type of therapy that best serves the creator. Some people can appreciate the process or are interested in understanding how/why how others think. Very fitting that the exhibition I saw was at the Freud museum.
I'm a snob who has developed an appreciation, and I don't mean that as a synonym of devotion but just casual appreciation, of opera. Opera--theatre as a whole but let's focus--is really classist. It's weird how broken up pricing is. T-shirts come, in many shops, S-L. Most shops go so far as S-XL. Some still do one-size-fits-all. Man, buying theatre tickets? My god. There can be eight different price points, six levels, and four different sorts of seating arrangements with those floors. And it's not just pricing, but with all snobby things, quantity matters, how frequently you attend, which pieces you enjoy... Then there is dressing for the theatre. You can wear jeans to the Lion King. You can wear a Guns And Roses shirt to see some little experimental comedy. Opera? Yeah, guys do still wear black ties and I have seen many evening gowns. The whole expensive experience also, usually, takes place in a foreign language and has an asinine story with flat characters.
Okay, all that said, I appreciate things that I can't do, so the opera with it's singers and musicians and costuming and sets... I'm floored.
Seeing an opera that actually had an interesting storyline for 3 euro with a woman who has been part of the theatre world for fifty years? That was unique.
My last day in Vienna was spent at a march and in discussion with an arrogant snot of a man. Snobbery at its worst. Now I've already written about the march on Facebook with enough detail but since attending I am just seeing so much butt-hurt whinging from everyone. I'm giving serious thought to purging my Facebook friends list again. It's easy to pick on those pink hat wearing folks for the too-little-too-late ($27 too late), but the disdain pouring from people right now on Facebook, "Dear White Women: why weren't you at Standing Rock? See you at the next Black Lives Matter march?" Jesus. Posting empty crap like that on Facebook to your circle of readers is ridiculous. You're really gonna get one of two reactions. Some will be all, "Yeah, I know! Right?" Another good chunk put your reader on defence.
"Yeah, well! Good! Be uncomfortable," you might say. But that's kinda like the classic farting in an elevator and walking away. You aren't helping, but I am sure you've relieved some pressure and feel better.
I like to fight oppression by mocking people fighting oppression who know there are problems but don't know how to fix 'em. Yeah, screw those guys. I hate that sort of laziness. You want people to have a philosophical change of heart through self-recognition and the mental exercise of critically evaluating themselves, and you want to have credit for motivating this difficult internal reevaluation without having to do any of the work. You know why marches are popular? They are fun even if they aren't terribly effective. You know why snarky status updates are popular?
Uh huh.
Also, know why the turn out for the Women's March was so high? Cause EVERY damned cause was there. That idea that women's rights are human rights was the main thing, not Trump or reproductive independence as a focus, but EVERY concern was welcomed. It was a human rights march. That's not a bad thing. When I see people grumpy fish on Facebook right now I'm just thinking, a) you're ignorance is showing or b) your unbridled elitism is obnoxious. "I was a SJW before it was cool." Good for you. Here's a vegan cookie.
Anyway. Vienna. Right.
I wish I had given myself more time in Vienna. When I left, I was ready to move on, but now I wish to go back. Vienna would be a great place to work or pursue some sort of academia with the background hum of possible entertainments always there and shifting.
I'm sure I'll flitter through again.
Onward, Scientist! You live only to pursue and I live only to lead you on!
Comments
Post a Comment