Schiele was born in 1890; his father died when he was young. Neither his mother nor the uncle who was his principal financial supporter wanted him to become an artist. It turns out Schiele had substantial mother issues that became evident with much of his work. She was a cold woman who never should have had children. We are grateful she had him.
What impressed me the most was the way he created faces, but more specifically, his choices of color. Two portraits in particular used shades of oranges and turquoise not only around the complexion, but in folds by the nose of each. One was the self-portrait that identified the show.
Egon, an Austrian, was a protégé of Gustav Klimt after he showed the famed artist some of his sketches to evaluate. Klimt became his friend, but later in Egon’s life he moved on with his own style distancing him from Klimt’s work. Interestingly, he had numerous pieces completed, both sketches and paintings, but the artist died of the Spanish flu at the age of 28 years old.
Leaving the museum, it seemed like a short ride to Kika, home decorating store where sheets were on sale. I have been hunting down a drip coffee cone for a single cup of coffee everywhere without luck, so thought I may get lucky there and kill at least two birds. Right outside of the museum is the bus that to go there. Looking over the four bus routes, all stop at Robert Karóly where Kika is located. Bus number 30 arrived; I jumped on.
Six stops later, I could see Kika in the distance, but still too far to walk. Ten stops more; I realized this was a serious mistake. According to the bus route sign, one stop marked Deák should have been where tram 14 stopped. However, it was the stop before, but I had already missed it. Bus 30 does a circular route so if I stayed on, I could have returned back at the museum in time for dinner. I decided the next stop would be my last, but then realized that the bus stops in the return direction were not across the street. They are on other streets, explaining the strange little arrows on the route sign. Three stops later, there was a stop where I could cross the street to retrace my trail.
Finally, Kika at last. It was like finding water on an oasis. Before any shopping commenced, I had to hydrate. First stop was the restaurant for a soda. When I found the sheets advertised as being on sale, they were not the sizes we needed. They didn’t have the coffee cone either. The trip was a waste of time. As I rode around the city in districts I never actually wanted to venture before, I was so pleased with myself for having a transport pass. With it, I can ride the wrong routes until the line stops for the night and still not have to worry about buying another ticket.
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