On thresholds (Ortved)
Having promised myself to get at least a glimpse of what the cities I visit have to offer besides tango, this morning I postponed my departure from Copenhagen to visit the Danish State Gallery of Art. I could choose between that and an exhibition at the National Museum, titled Who Are the Danes, both being extremely accessible by bike and the free admission. After some contemplation I decided that I was more in the mood for art. I am happy that I did, as although I am no great art expert, it gave me some food for thought.
The museum itself was an easy 10 min bike ride from my hostel (indeed, almost everything in Copenhagen seems to be!), so I decided to visit it the last thing before heading out of the city. I am quite a short-tempered art-viewer though; if a painting does not attract my attention, I will walk past it without a second glimpse, and this time too, ended up walking past lots of canvases. However, there were also pieces that really moved me, and I found myself thinking about them during the day's bike ride.
The one artist (whose name I have blissfully forgotten although I made a conscious attempt to memorise it) that really caught my attention was a representative of the Danish Golden Age of painting (around 1800-1850) who focused on natural thresholds in human life. These thresholds, transition periods from one stage of life to the next, may seem obvious: from childhood to youth, from adolescence to adulthood, from old age to death etc. In the paintings on display, he had depicted a pregnant woman contemplating the future, a young man painting an old woman's house, an old, sickly and tired woman sensing the approach of death. But the more I thought of it, the more such thresholds I could think of: reaching puberty, starting to earn a living, having your first child, getting a divorce, changing careers, moving house, embarking on a journey to the unknown... In fact, anything that involves the (more or less) conscious recognition of an end of a life stage and the dawn of another one can be such a threshold, and they hold enormous value in our lives.
And why did this topic catch my attention so much? Obviously, one reason is that I find myself on just such a threshold, and this trip (and countless others before it) have probably been my way of trying to come to terms with it. Having spent over half of my life either planning a trip or on the road, often for months at a time, it has become my way of dealing with the pressure of such transitions. On the other hand, travelling has also been a way to POSTPONE makig conscious decisions about my life. The tango aspect in itself does not change the fact that at the age of 40, I am still very undecided about what I will do with my life. I even admitted it to in the beginning of this trip that I hope to find some clarity on the lonely stretches of road.
Another thing that I realised is that many of my closest friends (that means you, my dear readers!) also find themselves on such thresholds, and I am fascinated and excited about observing the impact they have on you. At times, it can be really frustrating, watching helplessly as you (and I!) fumble in the dark without any clear idea of where we are headed. It would be so lovely to be able to ease the transition, to reach out a helping hand, to give some answers. However, I don't think that there really is anything we can or should do for others in this respect. We can show them our love and appreciation, but everyone has to step over their own threshold at their own pace. For my part, I have always found confusion, unanswered questions and genuine puzzlement far more endearing than the quick, ready-made answers of those who know it all.
After the museum, it took me a long while to get my things together and hop in the saddle. Thus, today's ride did not get me too far from Copenhagen, as I am now at a small campsite about 60 km South-West of the capital. It was an enjoyable ride though; despite a moderate head wind and a drizzle, the gently rolling countryside and the almost deserted backcountry roads had me in good moods. For only the second time on this trip, I was listening to tango on my MP3, singing out aloud my favourite lyrics, letting myself be carried away by the powerful tunes of Osvaldo Pugliese, my favourite composer.
Tomorrow, I hope to be able to get quite close to the German border, as that would get me within reasonable distance of the Saturday milongas in Hamburg. Getting accommodation there has proved a bit problematic though, as basically everything (within my budget that is) seems fully booked. However, I do have a plan about how to solve this...will let you know if it succeeds.
The museum itself was an easy 10 min bike ride from my hostel (indeed, almost everything in Copenhagen seems to be!), so I decided to visit it the last thing before heading out of the city. I am quite a short-tempered art-viewer though; if a painting does not attract my attention, I will walk past it without a second glimpse, and this time too, ended up walking past lots of canvases. However, there were also pieces that really moved me, and I found myself thinking about them during the day's bike ride.
The one artist (whose name I have blissfully forgotten although I made a conscious attempt to memorise it) that really caught my attention was a representative of the Danish Golden Age of painting (around 1800-1850) who focused on natural thresholds in human life. These thresholds, transition periods from one stage of life to the next, may seem obvious: from childhood to youth, from adolescence to adulthood, from old age to death etc. In the paintings on display, he had depicted a pregnant woman contemplating the future, a young man painting an old woman's house, an old, sickly and tired woman sensing the approach of death. But the more I thought of it, the more such thresholds I could think of: reaching puberty, starting to earn a living, having your first child, getting a divorce, changing careers, moving house, embarking on a journey to the unknown... In fact, anything that involves the (more or less) conscious recognition of an end of a life stage and the dawn of another one can be such a threshold, and they hold enormous value in our lives.
And why did this topic catch my attention so much? Obviously, one reason is that I find myself on just such a threshold, and this trip (and countless others before it) have probably been my way of trying to come to terms with it. Having spent over half of my life either planning a trip or on the road, often for months at a time, it has become my way of dealing with the pressure of such transitions. On the other hand, travelling has also been a way to POSTPONE makig conscious decisions about my life. The tango aspect in itself does not change the fact that at the age of 40, I am still very undecided about what I will do with my life. I even admitted it to in the beginning of this trip that I hope to find some clarity on the lonely stretches of road.
Another thing that I realised is that many of my closest friends (that means you, my dear readers!) also find themselves on such thresholds, and I am fascinated and excited about observing the impact they have on you. At times, it can be really frustrating, watching helplessly as you (and I!) fumble in the dark without any clear idea of where we are headed. It would be so lovely to be able to ease the transition, to reach out a helping hand, to give some answers. However, I don't think that there really is anything we can or should do for others in this respect. We can show them our love and appreciation, but everyone has to step over their own threshold at their own pace. For my part, I have always found confusion, unanswered questions and genuine puzzlement far more endearing than the quick, ready-made answers of those who know it all.
After the museum, it took me a long while to get my things together and hop in the saddle. Thus, today's ride did not get me too far from Copenhagen, as I am now at a small campsite about 60 km South-West of the capital. It was an enjoyable ride though; despite a moderate head wind and a drizzle, the gently rolling countryside and the almost deserted backcountry roads had me in good moods. For only the second time on this trip, I was listening to tango on my MP3, singing out aloud my favourite lyrics, letting myself be carried away by the powerful tunes of Osvaldo Pugliese, my favourite composer.
Tomorrow, I hope to be able to get quite close to the German border, as that would get me within reasonable distance of the Saturday milongas in Hamburg. Getting accommodation there has proved a bit problematic though, as basically everything (within my budget that is) seems fully booked. However, I do have a plan about how to solve this...will let you know if it succeeds.
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