Bilbao

 Blog 07-18-22 Monday Bilbao

Bilbao

I left the (air-conditioned) hostel at 10:30 last night. The street thermometer said 45 degrees (113 degrees F). I almost believed it, but three other such indicators read 41 degrees (105.8 F), more believable. 

I tried to beat the heat by getting out early today. At 8:30 it was 29 degrees (84.2 F) but by 11:30 it was well over 100 degrees. I gave up and retired to my hostel for the rest of the day. For three days it’s been like this, pushing 110 F at its peak, never below the mid 80’s. Walking drained me in minutes. 

Thus I have failed at being the tourist in Bilbao. I did get to the Guggenheim, which has a story to tell that is crucial to the city’s history. 

This is Basque country, a place that celebrates its resentment toward the Spanish. Like Scotland and Quebec and numerous other domains around the world this region has carved out a measure of independence from the central authority. Madrid, smartly, has kept a light hand on the tiller, allowing the Basques to feel their racial oats without pushing things to violence. 

This city was etched out of the surrounding mountains by the Nervion River. At some point the British noticed that the land hereabouts was rife with iron ore. They set up shop and hired the locals to mine the mineral, which, ultimately, enriched some of the locals, too. But mining is a labor intensive job and China’s cheap workers were able to ace out the Spanish in the years after WWII. The local government was desperate for a way to provide some economic activity. They, luckily, had a treasure trove of cash accumulated during the high times. 

The Guggenheim

Serendipitously the Guggenheim Foundation in NYC was looking for a place to site a new museum in Spain. The Basques jumped at the opportunity. They gave the museum a deal they couldn’t refuse, a structure built entirely with Bilbao money. All Guggenheim had to do was bring in the art and collect the proceeds. It was a gamble, but it worked like a charm. Viewed from abroad the only raison d’etre for Bilbao to exist is as the homeground of Guggenheim. There apparently is other industry here now (the inevitable ‘tech’) but tourism is the real cash cow. 

The Guggenheim is one of those rare museums where the building is as beautiful as the art it houses. The permanent collection from what I saw is less than robust. Like many places I’ve been they try to have ‘one of everything’ (except impressionists, which they wisely leave to Philadelphia and Paris, among others). There’s one Rothko, one De Kooning, a couple Rauschenbergs, etc. It’s all post WWII which helps narrow the focus. To bring folks in they do the usual thing, crafting special exhibitions by borrowing abroad. This month they had a tandem of Frank Stella and Richard Serra. I’ve seen a bunch of Serra’s over the years and liked them, but this exhibit made me realize I enjoy his dark charcoal pieces as a contrast to more colorful artists. Here, next to the equally-achromatic Serra I was underwhelmed. I’m an ignoramus when it comes to modern art though I keep trying. (After years I’m finally beginning to like Rothko). I’d love for someone smarter than me to explain Serra’s beyond-abstract scratchings. 

I’m guessing that the Guggenheim people noticed the apathy of people like me towards the majority of their art. To satisfy the small minded like me they devoted a third of the museum to automobiles.  I didn’t want to admit that this excited me for two reasons.

1936 Chrysler

First it revealed my plebian tastes. After wracking my brain in front of a recondite sculpture it felt great to swoon in front of a 1936 Chrysler that I absolutely loved. Overall the exhibit was predictable. The cars you would expect to see were here, though it was interesting to see how few American models made the cut. 

The auto show provided me with one nice realization: museums don’t criticize. I’d never really thought about that before. After they cajole artists and museums to provide the art it would be bad form to tell us bad things about the artists and/or their work. 

But wouldn’t that be interesting? I think I should set up a new kind of museum where I show art…….and trash it in the notes on the wall, or at least point out what the naysayers have said — there are always naysayers. 

Inside the Guggenheim

Which brings me to my second reason for feeling my visit to the Guggenheim was hypocritical. 

The theme of my trip to Europe, to these particular places in Europe, was to see things I’d been exposed to on YouTube, mainly things about the livability of European cities compared to the U.S., and especially the pleasantness brought about by disenfranchising the automobile!  One of the things I’ve learned from my Covid isolation (and passion for YouTube videos) is that the Europeans have created cities that a sensible person might like to live in; and that the U.S. has created cities that people tolerate living in, mainly because of the depredations brought on my cars; loud cars, noxious cars, speeding cars, aggressive cars. 

Five weeks into my trip I have satisfied my curiosity. Places like Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Bordeaux, and Bilbao are paradises for the residents compared to virtually any U.S. city. They did it over the past 30-40 years after they realized that the auto was destroying their metropolises. They built good mass transit, especially the delightful trams; they banned cars from large portions of their inner cities; and they adopted traffic calming measures (too many to mention here) that made their streets safe and appealing to the general public. Every time I visited a city on this trip I made sure to take a bicycle tour, and in every case first thing that the guide mentioned was how their place had woken up to the horrors of unmitigated automobile traffic and made their homes places they loved to live. 

Traffic calming: kids can play on this street, cars cannot. 

Tonight at midnight I board my bus for Porto, Portugal. Google says the temperature will be 23 degrees Celsius!!!!!!!!