A couple of years ago, on our epic voyage across Scandinavia, we visited Oslo and the big museum there. We were going to see Edvard Munch's The Scream. But we couldn't. Because the museum was closed that day. I pressed my little disappointed face against the locked doors. The other exhibit I wanted to see in central Oslo museum was the
Christian Leden ethnographic collection (his memoir
Across the Keewatin Icefields is one of the best books I've ever read) but just months before our visit the collection had been sent to Toronto - permanently. So, we went off to see the
shed museum of Norway instead. If you like sheds - they got 'em.
About six weeks later, The Scream was stolen from the museum. I thought I'd never get the chance to see it for real. I felt like art thieves and the museum board of Oslo had conspired against me ever seeing that painting. But
now it's back.
Checking the story, I now also see that we didn't actually go to the right museum. We went to
this one. The Scream was housed at
this one and it's open on Mondays. Two years later and Norway's joy is my
d'oh.
Screamy guy realises he went to the wrong museum
1 comment:
One actually becomes tired of that particular painting, ripoffs and variances of it living in this country. It's common decoration, and I'm beginning to even forget it's here.
We remember the heist well - sadly enough, one of the ones responsible is a brother to a friend of ours. Sigh . . .
Post a Comment