On a recent trip to Basle, on the “things to do” list was a trip here. I’d never heard of it, had never heard of Jean Tinguely either, but after stopping for a coffee on the first days sightseeing, when the young French waitress also said it was a must see, we headed off, and found the impressive building on the banks of The Rhine.
Now, myself and “art” have a fairly difficult relationship, I’ll admit. I wander round The Louvre and see beauty. I admire large, huge even, paintings, without understanding why they have less monetary value than La Joconde, (The Mona Lisa for those outside of France and Italy). I accept that art comes in many forms, but my definitions of art may not really coincide with those of the majority. Tracey Emin’s unmade bed is one that springs to mind. The Cistine Chapel absolutely took my breath away, beauty beyond compare to my uneducated, untrained eye, however, an open floor space filled with hand made sunflower seeds, waiting for you to walk across, to interact with the “conceptual art piece” leaves me less than indifferent.
And so, to the museum housing a lot of Jean Tinguely’s work.
Hmmm. I’m not sure what to think.
I understand that art takes many forms, I accept this.
I accept that, luckily, we don’t all see the world in the same way.
What I don’t understand though, is how someone could construct these machines (that in the main do nothing apart from move a bit from time to time) and then sell them. Who would buy this?
Sat over a beer in the evening, we both reflected that we were glad to have seen the museum and its exhibits, we agreed it hadn’t been time wasted, but we still didn’t understand a thing.
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