Had a few confusing conversations just outside the Museum Ludwig today.
After striding purposefully into the entrance, I found myself wandering aimlessly around the lobby for a few moments, then very suddenly I was back outside.
“What happened?” I asked whoever would listen. Turns out I was the only one listening, so I answered myself, “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of confronting unfamiliar art and being unable to contextualize what I see.”
There are few things that annoy me more than fear of the unknown. “Are you serious?” I asked, exasperated. “You’ve been confronting unfamiliar art all your life!”
“Yes,” I answered. “And all that experience has taught me the wisdom of fear.”
“Fair enough. Try again.” And I went back into the ticket counter, only to find myself outside once more a few moments later. Turns out they wouldn’t take my credit card, so I had to go find a geldautomat.
“Now I know what I was afraid of,” I told myself as I crossed the street to the railroad station. “I was afraid of feeling like an idiot.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, exasperated. “You’ve been feeling like an idiot your whole life!”
“Yes,” I answered. “And all that experience has taught me the fear of wisdom.”
Fortunately, I was able to find some cash, make a third entrance, and spend the next few hours conversing with art, which is ever so much more satisfying than the loopy conversations I have with myself.