Basel was a city against me from the start. To start out the story correctly though, Sunday morning woke up in Luzern. Beautiful long early morning walk above cemeteries and along the river, hearing the omnipresent Swiss church bells celebrate the Sabbath, approaching a castle on a hill and running through an outlying turret. Some disappointing modern architecture around the train station, two very early unrefined Calatravas, and John Nouvel anti-urban monument. While the
Bibleotheque Nationale
certainly has it's air of lofty remove (I think quite perfectly resonating with the feeling of intense research and attention in a communal setting inherent in the library) this monster, similar in it's void surroundings, is not placed in a derelict if developing almost-suburb - it is in the heart of a charming medium-large Swiss town, facing competition in grandeur from the lake and mountains (or concept of them nearby) and dense urban fabric. It's admittedly beautiful perfectly smooth glass cubes and glazed boxes and geometrically shaggy metal louvres were badly counterbalanced by the solid smooth overhang, an awkwardly high jutting plane of ego forcing its weight onto the plaza below and over the whole view. eh... train to Basel after just long enough of a morning and some wonderful pretzels.
We were anticipating a wonderful side diversion to Ronchamp to flesh out our day. Encouraged by an earlier pay phone call to the Ronchamp office, we hopped into the first taxi that would take us (it should have been a warning that several would not - and non of them spoke English). As the tolls mounted quickly and our man stayed on the phone and asked to borrow our map while stopped in the road, we realized Ronchamp was not meant to be achieved that day. Sadly forking over our lost 20 euros we realized the taxi had been more efficient then we had thought, and we wondered the considerable distance back, defeated lost and swearing, through this jarring mundanely contemporary landscape under flat skies that refused to lift all week.
Smarmy hostel man dealt with, and the rest of the group happily and unexpectedly met, fortified with a necessary local beer, we tried out Basel again, this time hopping a bus to a Botta building - the Tingley museum.
A simple effective building of sumptuous materials - should be read as pretty high praise for the museum. The dynamic red marbled sandstone, smooth beyond the grainy surface sandiness... a wonderful texture, wrapped the exterior smoothly. The lenticular tripartite roof was exaggeratedly large - justified by the symmetrical views out from inside though.
Tingley was a whimsical sculptor, mechanical assemblages moving and creaking and spinning. Dynamic, fubared kinetics, the most effective taking up a gym-sized room, walking through and activating it was fun. Otherwise many of the just seemed tired. Whimsical but not enacted with a nearly childish enthusiasm for play that such whimsy needs to pull itself worthy. Eva Mattox exhibit, effedup, skulls and quilted puppets, creepy obsessiveness is not art. Gallery overlooking the Rhine was lovely though, sloped wood floors and views, despite the mechanical-horse Lorelei grating song.
Walking down the Rhine's Solitudplatz at dusk - much less enchanting then Paris' river overlook, but dusk water walks are always lovely. Lost, looking for cheap food Not by or in a strip joint (they are very common in Switzerland, or at least very visible) Refusing to go into American-themed restaurants... wander to a too-expensive (not really, it was VERY appreciated after frustrating day) movie in a converted theater. Munich by Steven Spielberg, not particularly noteworthy, nice to know I am not inured to violence by TV anymore, eh. Wander home without supper, Basel signal tower by HDM in the streetlights, crash....
