Munich Layover – Part Two

Six hours in Munich. That was my opportunity as I flew home from my long weekend in Latvia. Never one to leave a crumb of vacation on the table, I decided I would again head into the city, just as I had three days prior.  This time, though, I was more efficient (and did not get lost looking for the entrance to the S-Bahn).

Getting out of the station at Marionplatz, this time I turned left instead of right and wandered down a big pedestrian street, popping into a café and a church (the Frauenkirche).

The boulevard was busy with leisure seekers, sipping coffee and shopping. Buskers staked out their places – my favourite being a young kid playing an upright piano with the skill of a trained classical composer. I watched him for some time and was dismayed by all the people who video recorded him and did not give him a cent. I over tipped him, which both compensated his talents and made me feel like a superior person in comparison to those who gave nothing. (I’m sure there are plenty of time I don’t give money, but this time I did.) Money well spent.

I popped into a bright yellow church: the Theatin Church of St. Cajetan (built in the late 1600s). I’ll pretty much poke my head into any old church. I generally know they will either be dull or beautiful and occasionally they will be jaw-droppingly opulent, like many of the orthodox churches in Russia. This was something else. While the outside was brightly hued the inside was a monochromatic pale grey. It was extremely decorative in its carved ornamentation, but every bit is it was this pale grey. It looked like someone just turned the color off and left it in monochrome, like an optical trick. I thought it was extraordinary.

Feeling elevated by the street music and the architectural design I set off to see some visual arts at the Haus der Kunst, which was a pleasant walk through a park.

The Haus der Kunst was built by the Nazis to show its collection of dull, rural, Aryan art, but now features art that represents diverse groups and challenges. I hadn’t been there before, but picked it because it is fairly small, so it seemed perfect for my short stopover.

I don’t know what they normally show, but when I was there, they had all installations – light, sound, and fog. Many years ago when I first heard of a light or sound art installation, it thought it was stupid. Some kind of pretentious scam. I later realized they are legitimate and can be amazing. But when I heard of a fog installation, again, my first reaction was scepticism. “That sounds stupid,” I thought, as I entered a large, high-ceilinged room with a long pool of water down the centre and taking up most of the floor space. We all stood around, waiting, then there was an almost imperceptible sound. Was it a rumble or a tone? And then fog started to rise from one end of the pool and it rolled in a controlled way down the pool to the other end, filling the room with haze until the figures around me nearly disappeared. Subtle lighting gave everything a blue-green tint. It was eerie and beautiful and menacing. And then it was over. I was converted. I know it sounds stupid, but it was great. (I should say that the artist is Fujiko Nakaya from Japan and this is what she does.)

There were also excellent installations where record players on pedestals filled a room and randomly turned on when a shaft of light fell on them and each would play its record, each of which was a soundscape of a different city. Calls to prayer, traffic, overlapping conversations.

Another favourite was a room then enveloped the viewed in a swirl of sounds and words.

The experience of all of these things left me feeling full of emotion and conviction that art (be it music, writing, architecture, or even bloody fog) is the most important thing we do and makes the world a better place. I mean, I do feel this way generally, but sometimes i get kind of swept up in it all.

With my heart full and spirit uplifted, I made my way back to the train station and the airport and returned with plenty of time of time.  I understand why one might not like to leave the airport with a six-hour layover, and this may seem obvious, but I am amazed at what one can do and experience in such a short time.  It was a wonderful end to my already great Latvian long weekend and left me feeling satisfied. I would be happy to see more in Munich, but I can’t believe all I enjoyed in my two layovers.