Today has been a good day.
I am gradually feeling more comfortable with travel again. A quick jog around
the city helped me orientate myself. Leon is divided into blocks, much like the
US. As an English person used to windy roads, I find blocks difficult as they
all look the bloody same. Hettie, Iona, Ava and I - along with a couple of
Scottish boys - climbed the cathedral to the roof. it is the largest cathedral
in Central America, a huge white domed building showcasing spectacular views
across Leon, with volcanoes in the distance.
I have spent most of the
day drinking smoothies and strolling through the streets, wandering in and out
of churches, taking pictures and enjoying the city. I haven't found Leon to be
the colourful, revolutionary extravaganza as described in the guidebooks. It is
interesting and unique, but it doesn't have a pulse that makes me want to stick
around for much longer. My camera, however, certainly found love with Leon.
One spectacular aspect of
Leon is the Ortiz Guardian art gallery. It is a stunning labyrinth of rooms,
interlaced with courtyards and gardens. There were even turtles swimming in the
atrium pools. The artwork was of a huge variety; ranging from renaissance and
evangelical paintings from the 1600s, modern pieces from all over Central
America and collections of Miro and Picasso. I felt a palpable connection to
Barcelona upon seeing these latter paintings, remembering a perfect holiday of
cobbled streets, art and Spanish culture.
There was even a Henry
Moore sketch, who seems to crop up whether I'm at a gallery in Copenhagen,
Nicaragua or Wakefield. Each time I see his work, I find it increasingly
mesmerising. I used to hate his sculptures, finding them ugly and meaningless.
However, it took a wise art teacher to point out the smoothness and fluidity of
the sculptures juxtaposed with the cumbersome body they depict. The Henry Moore
sculptures displayed outside at the Louisiana Museum of Art in Copenhagen they looked
so striking set against the Nordic sea. I've grown to discover art should be
viewed in three dimensions, and I find the energy of the gallery a key factor.
The terracotta rooftops and open courtyards of the Ortiz Guardian were so
romantic, so integral to Leon, the setting itself brought the paintings to
life. I felt I had stumbled on somewhere very special in this gallery.
The Miro and Picasso
pieces were a remarkable reminder of how the Spanish roots stretch across Latin
America and unite the countries. Yet the centuries old catholic paintings
remind us how the Spanish took this land by force and made their mark,
enforcing their religion and colonial buildings onto the indigenous people. I
saw hundreds of years of conflict unknowingly etched in these beautiful
paintings. It gave me very mixed feelings enjoying something so beautiful and
cultural but knowing at what cost.
The modern pieces from
Central America consisted of many abstract human figures representing despair
and anguish. The paintings were bright, bold and striking, echoeing the
vibrancy of Latin America. Some, especially the ones from Honduras, were dark
ad disturbing. It's an astounding collection, the gallery strives to allow
lesser known artists to display their work. It was a very peaceful afternoon,
complete by walking back past the cathedral to market stalls and eating
Nicaraguan street food; chicken off a barbecue, gallo pinto and spinach
patties, in the late afternoon sun.
Imogen
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