Copenhagen and Louisiana

Today we visit Louisiana.

No, silly reader. Not the state. The museum. In Humlebaek Denmark.

Louisiana is dedicated to modern art. It was founded in 1958 by Knut Jensen, who was passionate about art. He was determined to provide a place for viewing work by contemporary artists  in Denmark, believing that you have to create a context and an environment for its display, so that the experience of seeing it would be unpretentious and engaging.

Why "Louisiana?" Jensen retained a name that had been given to this country house even before he turned it into a museum. It appears that the previous owner of the estate (who was known for growing abundant fruit trees) had married three women and all three bore the name of Louise. Weird but true.

Okay, first come my Copenhagen routines: a good breakfast (which here, as at home, usually serves also as lunch)...

(beloved seeded rye bread...)

(a crossover meal: rye bread and soft boiled egg are so Danish and Polish, the croissant -- so French, delicious local berries -- a short lived season back home, abundant here.)

A quick organization of thoughts and things needed for this excursion, and I am off to meet the young family at the train station for about a half hour ride to Humlebaek -- a town (of less than 10 000) along the coast to the north of Copenhagen.

Denmark a little bit reminds me of Brittany in that the sea defines the land, even as each (the farmers and the fisher people) create their own food culture and life style. (I say this knowing very little about Danish farmers and fishermen and women, but you can tell from the pride in foods: the sea may not be far from any point in Denmark, yet it's not all about seafood here. Dairy farmers (all those beautiful pastures and meadows!), hey, strawberry growers too, have their own pride of product that is palpable. 

But on this excursion, I do want to recognize the sea. Because really, Denmark is to the sea as Switzerland is to the mountains. What you see from Louisiana is the Kattegat Sea, which separates Denmark from Sweden. I'm sure it is properly part of the Baltic, though because Denmark has the North Sea on its western shores, I think of it as being just one big body of North Sea waters.

(a sneak peak at the sea, as viewed from Louisiana, with a view to Sweden on the other side)

Okay, let's reel back to the train station and our meetup. 

(while waiting for the young family, I count the number of girls with blond braids of this kind... so many! just like in Poland!)

Here they come!

We top our travel cards, check the departure track and hop on the 11:11 a.m.

(Toddlers can be wiggly on a train. But kids Primrose's age usually lose themselves in a train trance...)

(a selfie with mom...)

If you are wondering whether the temps shot up so high that my daughter found it necessary to shed her sweater and jacket, I must correct that impression.

She did work up a sweat -- by wiping down the train floor from coffee I knocked down with my elbow. It wasn't my coffee but it was my fault. The young couple likes to leave places as they find them, so they sprung to action, gathering enough paper towels to wipe down the spill.

(arrived; back to normal body temperatures)

Humebaek, as judged entirely from the train station and the walk to the museum, feels small, quiet and bucolic. I could imagine how content people must feel living here. Close to the city, but also close to the sound of birdsong, birch trees, flowers... and great art.

(I did not expect to see a thatched roof cottage here...)

We walk to the museum...  

... and go inside. Well, first -- to the green space in the back, where you'll find most of the larger sculpture on display here.

From here, we check out the art building for kids. They can create interesting designs with pastel crayons (just two colors!) or build something out of wooden pegs.

(a quiet space for the very young...)

Primrose settles into a coloring project. I retreat to look at some of the art. I don't pause for a long time because I have only a cursory interest in painting as it developed after World War II. I'm more curious about the evolution of it than in the canvases themselves. Still, I find some rather sympathetic pieces. 

And then Primrose and her mom join me and we dig a little deeper...

(outside again)

... until hunger strikes. We head for the snack cart and pick up some ham and cheese grilled sandwiches for them and cookies (for me!) and make a picnic of it.

(I'm not at the point yet where I can get down and up easily, so I sit in the stroller... and watch Primrose climb a tree.)

We go back to one more wing of the museum (mostly for the sculptures)...

(what does your eye pick up? The sculpture? Mine is drawn to what I swear is a blue heron on the waters outside!)

And by then it really is awfully close to nap time for Juniper, even at her new European late sleep schedule. As we walk back to the station, the rain hits hard. Shoes? Wet. Hair, pants, bags? Wet. But it is a summer rain and somehow it doesn't matter. Things will dry off quickly enough. And indeed, by the time we reach the station, the rain has stopped and I even detect clearing skies.

(selfie! this time with me...)

(back in Copenhagen)

In the evening I am back at the young family's home for dinner with the kids and a babysitting stint while the parents "do the town." (Or whatever it is that young people do when they have a few moments of freedom from offspring.)

And there you have it. A day in and out of Copenhagen. And the skies are suddenly rain free which only goes to show that every place, every day come with their own surprises.

Godnat, with love!