Art instead of nostalgia
Since my father's death, one of the lovely traditions I have cultivated with my mother is that we visit art exhibitions together. Although I come from a culturally-minded family, my own enjoyment of these outings amazes me a little. Because as much as I love art, it can also be exhausting.
I felt the same way as a child: when we went camping in Greece or Spain, the educational programme was never neglected. We children were regularly told that we were about to go on a trip to a cultural site, although our interest in trudging through crumbling ruins and exploring ancient temples for traces of a bygone era was still barely developed. Our parents enticed us with the promise that we could let off steam on the beach afterwards.
«By upholding traditions, we are also remembering my father, her husband, whom we both still carry within us and miss.»
The years of my childhood are now almost as lost as antiquity itself. My penchant for nostalgia is not particularly pronounced, I rarely visit the places of my childhood or youth, it makes me melancholy; I only encounter the merciless indifference of advancing time and the arrogance of a present that feels superior to the past, even though it will suffer the same fate.
So instead of visiting the places of my childhood, I prefer to nurture my nostalgia through contemporary events, such as an art exhibition I visit with my mum. They take us not only into the artist's past, but also into our own. Art is our time machine.
Visiting art exhibitions - a unifying family tradition
Together we travelled around the museums, these cathedrals of modernity, and saw the most important exhibitions of the season. Even today, this is sometimes exhausting, because not every exhibition is a pleasure. But of course, these excursions are about much more than art. We can meet in a way that goes beyond our relationship as mother and daughter. By upholding the tradition, we also commemorate the past and, in a way, my father, her husband, whom we both still carry within us and miss. But the shared experience also nurtures the present and points to the future, because the next exhibition is sure to come.
«We can meet in a way that goes beyond our relationship as mother and daughter.»
Our last visit was to the Picasso exhibition at the Fondation Beyeler, one of my favourite museums. To my great delight, my daughter was also motivated to accompany us. While my mum and I wandered through the halls as devoutly and intently as first-year students, discussing certain paintings, she galloped through the exhibition at breakneck speed. My mum and I hadn't even reached the halfway point when she said goodbye again.
She probably found it exhausting and would have preferred to have fun on the beach if she'd had the chance. But I was happy anyway. And I hope that one day a shared tradition will grow up for us too.
