TRAVEL DIARY

A weblog regularly updated by Jodi Rose.

Friday, February 3, 2006

9:55 PM
Posted by jodi rose

You may know that the town where Andy Warhol's parents were born Mikova, is in North-East Slovakia, near Kosice. I contemplated going to visit the 'Warhol Family Museum of Modern Art', in Medzilaborce... but it is 10 hours by train from Bratislava. Maybe if i have a pop-art moment - can relate to his 'i am from nowhere'.

I've been given my Hungarian name: Rosa Judit, or the familiar/nickname version which I prefer is Rosas Jutka. That's how Gyuri plans to introduce me at what they are now calling my 'action' since I explained it is not going to be a concert, more a happening.
This will take place in the Vadas Thermal Hotel conference room on Friday 24th February, in case anyone feels like dropping in. Drinks at the Green Pub afterwards!

Speaking of which, I seem to be wholly cured of my recent addiction to the place. Wandered in to pick up a CD, and my favourite bartender is flirting outrageously with me again. Luckily I am immune to these blandishments. There's a very brief window for these things, and it's closed now. Either that or the slow burn subterranean passion... but get back to me in three years or so for an update.

Today I did visit the Tekovske Muzeum in Levice, which features an exemplary collection of relics from the stone, bronze and iron age. Amazing series of roman coins - every empororer from Claudius to Nero and Marcus Aeurelius was represented (23 all together) - I was completely fascinated. They are all from this area - it really is one of the 'cradles of civilisation' as they say. Some beautiful mammoth tusks also, and a tiny but very moving stone age carving of a pregnant madonna. Also a recreated 18th Century pharmacy - which reminded me of the Damien Hirst chemist room in the Tate Modern - and some wild medieval fighting gear - crusaders helmets and armour, scary looking wristbands with stirrups and kick-ass long swords and axes.

There is also an art gallery in the building - it's some 16th century castle next to the ruins of a 13th century castle - currently showing paintings by a local artist, who has chosen to copy well-known images from van gogh to rembrant and that national geographic photo of a girl in Afghanistan. They had a strong presence and were well-executed, I thought it almost worked as a post-modern ironic statement, but would prefer to see the artist making portraits of people in the village, or her block of apartments. It's sad that the world we live in everyday is so taken for granted, while the fragments that make it into the canons of classical art or culture become so much more important than they need to be. The same with the music school here, they don't teach any folkmusic or traditional hungarian or slovak music - only 'classical', and some jazz, blues etc. I guess it's harder to see the value of something that is so familiar and seems very old-fashioned or normal, when to an outsider this is exactly what intrigues and draws you in to a place, or a culture, and also makes it unique.
The exhibition at the other end of the museum was spectacular - all works by 11-15 year olds at a local elementary school (from a few villages away 'jur') they could have been in a contemporary art gallery anywhere in the world. Stunning, personal, vivid, each artist had their own palette of expression, colour, subject, form - some were tiny mosaic-like brushstrokes, others cut out from coloured fabric, one beautiful group work was a series of brilliant-hued peacocks on black, and another very fun piece had 5 kids plastic toys all stuck to a board and painted blue/silver with two of those circular fan-things you get at the easter show protruding from it. The teacher is a 70 year-old retired school controller (inspector I think it means) who now teaches art as a hobby - and apparently many of the children are from gyspy families.
I would love to hang out with some Gypsies, but it's harder to arrange than you might think, as there is still an incredible prejudice about these people, who live outside the bounds of 'normal' society. I had an image of a campfire under a bridge that I wanted to use for a piece I'm collaborating on, and as we drove I saw a group of people by the side of the road, pitching straw onto a fire under the bridge. Magic.
We couldn't see the nuclear power plant as the fog was too thick.

A friend wrote to me yesterday and said, I'm tired just from reading your diary - you must be exhausted! Yeah, it does get tiring sometimes out here living this vida loca, but it's also exhilirating, inspiring and replenishing, dancing on the edge of the ice.

Speaking of which, I walked down to the Danube this evening and mused on the shimmering golden reflections of the Basilica, and tiny string of gold lights flickering along the bridge. Something about the world of reflections, how it is there but not there - reminded me of a moment in the film last night where the corporeal romantic hero touches the hand of our romantic heroine in the spirit world, and later she doesn't remember him but feels like something's missing.
damn, I've had that all my life.

ahh well, then there are those times I don't write about, like: I sat and gazed out the window daydreaming for an hour today.
Or: walked aimlessly around town, had coffee, came home. It's not all high adrenaline and go-go dancing. so to speak.