© Richard HuangIt was already noon when we arrived in Madrid. That afternoon, we went for a stroll in nearby El Retiro Park (Parque del Buen Retiro). The park lies in the heart of Madrid, close to the Prado Museum and the Puerta de Alcalá. Once a royal garden, it was first laid out in the sixteenth century during the reign of Philip IV and covers 130 hectares. The first landmark we encountered was the Monument to Alfonso XII, with its semicircular colonnade and central lake.
Alfonso XII was a much-loved king of Spain, and the political system he established remains in place today—hence this monument in his honour. The central lake is now a popular place for visitors to go boating, as well as a training ground for rowing clubs.
© Richard HuangThe park contains more than fifteen thousand plants. It also has expansive flower beds and a rose garden, said to be especially beautiful when the flowers are in bloom.
© Richard HuangThe park’s Spanish name, “Buen Retiro,” means “an ideal retreat.” It was opened to the public free of charge in the nineteenth century and has since become both a favourite place for locals to exercise and relax and one of the city’s busiest tourist attractions.
© Richard HuangThe park has an avenue of statues and numerous fountains. One sculpture, inspired by Dante’s Inferno, depicts the Fallen Angel and is said to be the only known public monument to Lucifer. I have no real memory of seeing it; regrettably, we must have missed it.
© Richard HuangEl Retiro was where the young José declared his love to the writer Sanmao. A poignant love story has grown up around that moment. José said to her in the park: “Wait six more years for me—four years for university and two for military service. In six years, we can get married. All I want in life is a tiny apartment with a wife like you in it, while I go out and earn enough to support you. That is my lifelong dream of happiness.” Sanmao made no promise. Six years was too long, she said; anything could change in that time. During those six years, she had little contact with José. Then her fiancé in Taiwan died unexpectedly, and, devastated by grief, she returned to Spain. At a friend’s home, she saw José again and asked, “Six years ago, you asked me to wait six years. If I say yes now, is it too late?” José took her to his home and showed her the photographs of Sanmao covering the walls…
© Richard HuangThe birds have long since flown, and that poignant love story now belongs to the past, preserved in works of literature. Back in the present, street performers of every kind provide visitors with plenty of entertainment and have become a sight in their own right. The park is said to be even livelier at weekends, with street theatre, open-air concerts, and all sorts of other events.
© Richard HuangStreet performance takes a surprising number of forms. This performer was playing the harp. Elsewhere, we saw three people typing on old-fashioned typewriters by the roadside. We went over to see what was happening and discovered that they were composing poems for visitors. Give them your name, and they would type out a poem for you, letter by letter.
© Richard HuangI had seen people make music with drinking glasses on television, but this seemed to be my first time watching it live. It was quite fascinating.
© Richard HuangA young woman was taking photographs with an enormous camera that looked like a large-format model. Just as we were about to go over for a closer look, she took our picture, then turned to her large trunk and pulled out an “old newspaper” bearing our photograph. It seemed like magic. I guessed there must have been a printer inside the trunk, with the image sent to it wirelessly.
© Richard HuangWe were so delighted that we each had a picture taken. When we asked how much it cost, she told us to pay whatever we liked. That pay-what-you-wish arrangement earned her considerably more than a fixed price would have. I later learned from their website that the project operates at scenic destinations around the world.
© Richard HuangBefore long, we reached the Crystal Palace. Built in 1887, it is made chiefly of glass and steel and was modelled on London’s Crystal Palace. A fountain stands in front, while swans and other waterbirds frolic in the pond.
© Richard HuangI had heard that sunlight makes the interior of the Crystal Palace especially beautiful. The sky was overcast that day, but perhaps the park, unwilling to disappoint its visitors, had filled the building with mist instead, giving us an unexpected surprise. Inside, it is essentially one vast, empty glass hall. Several mirrors stood in the centre, their reflections making the light seem even more magical. It was easy to imagine how beautiful the space must be in full sunshine.
© Richard HuangThe dense mist created an entirely different atmosphere. A young couple began to dance in the haze. How romantic.
© Richard HuangAnother young man struck a flamboyant pose for the camera. Ah, the energy of youth—being young is an asset in itself.
© Richard HuangNot far from the Crystal Palace stands the Velázquez Palace.
© Richard HuangIt now serves as a temporary exhibition space for the Reina Sofía Museum. At the time, it was hosting Manolo Quejido’s retrospective, The Immeasurable Distance.
© Richard HuangBorn in Seville in 1946, Quejido is a painter and graphic artist. Influenced by artists including Andy Warhol, R. B. Kitaj, and David Hockney, his style moves between Pop Art and Neo-Expressionist painting. His work is distinguished by vivid colours, a mood of joy and celebration, and an ironic, provocative stance.
© Richard HuangThe exhibition surveyed the many facets of Quejido’s work, revealing both the clarity and rigour of his practice and his radically critical approach. It urged us to reconsider how we think about and look at painting.
The exhibition brought our leisurely walk through the park to a perfect close. Madrid’s Golden Triangle of Art consists of the Prado, the Thyssen-Bornemisza, and the Reina Sofía museums. We had spent so much time at the Prado that we skipped the Reina Sofía, missing Picasso’s Guernica—a lingering regret. Visiting one of the museum’s temporary exhibition spaces at least allowed us to fill in a tiny sliver of that missing corner.