Going Somewhere
Art & Coffee
 January 10th 2023

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On my very first night here, wandering the old thieves' island, I found a striking curved building of wood and glass by the shore. It had banners outside with names of artists I never heard of, so I put a pin in it.

Today, with nothing much else to do, I'm coming back to that:

Almost immediately after entering the Astrup Fearnley collection, you'll find yourself facing a crucifixion scene that commands the entire room: Three vats of deep turquoise formaldehyde resting on white marble pedestals, each of them home to a sheep carcass, arms spread wide, ribcage torn open, skull dangling to the side. One pedestal reads BE NOT AFRAID, and I'm trying, I really am.
A triptych of room-height white-framed glass boxes filled with turquoise liquid. In each of the boxes floats a crucified sheep carcass, rib cage torn open and skull hanging to the side. The boxes rest on marble bases engraved with the words "HERE IS THE NIGHT / IT IS A REFLECTION OF THE HOPEFUL TERROR OF THE DAY / BE NOT AFRAID"
here is the night / be not afraid
This work in the entrance hall feels emblematic for the entire collection: It's visceral and beautiful and terrifying — more so than any other museum I can recall.
Close-up view of an artwork consisting of a white background on which black particles have been deposited to form text reminiscent of a book page. Most of the words are nearly illegible due to dust and residual particles. The words 'pleasure', 'feel' and 'souls' stand out as being among the more legible.
pleasure
A white neon art installation in the corner of a dark room. The text 'AMERICA' in large, serif neon letters is mirrored across the horizontal. The upper version faces the room as usual, while the lower, mirrored version is mounted to face the wall, creating backlit black letters.
america
A Coffee Date

While I was busy looking at art, some of the postdocs I'll be working with have invited me for the 'world's best' coffee the next afternoon. Looking forward to a nice tea and a cinnamon bun or something, I accept and go to sleep.

When I awake around noon, the promised rain has already materialized, and the streets fill with snow-sludge.

The coffee place turns out to be pretty elitist about the whole coffee thing, selling literally only that. No food, no tea. Even milk in your drink is a novel concession. So much for a hot tea & bun.

Well, at least they won the world coffee championship for six consecutive years — dropping out of the contest afterwards to make it less boring. The trophies are lined up on the wall next to the custom-designed cups tailored to each different roast.

I get a cappuccino, which is bearable I guess? I still don't get the fuss.