Basel is full of surprises. And it is fitting that one of the twentieth century’s most surprising artists, Jean Tinguely (1925 – 1991), grew up here. Known for his avant garde sculptures that mock the machine age, Tinguely was also a painter and something of a philosopher in the “Dada” or surrealist tradition. His work is playful, ironic, and at times, menacing. Mostly, it simply delights.
When I suggested a visit to the the Kuntsmuseum, Basel’s main art museum, I could see Mohammed’s eyes glaze over. So, the Tinguely Museum in Klein Basel seemed a better choice. It proved to be a completely joyful romp!
Designed by Mario Botta, an architect from the Ticino, the Italian-speaking part of Switzerland, the building itself is a work of art. Set on the banks of the Rhine River, it perfectly showcases the “metamechanics” Tinguely created – everything from chairs, to chandeliers, to roaring racing cars, to cannons, and perhaps most famously, fountains.
We arrived at the same time as a little boy and his grandmother, and he dashed through the galleries, deftly pushing the floor pedals that operate these whimsical creations. Once a pedal is pushed, the sculpture roars to life, and it cannot be restarted for a fixed period to save wear and tear. So we followed in the boy’s footsteps, led by his laughter and sing-song Basel dialect as he exclaimed over each new delight.
When the hammer came down on the head of the furry blue creature, we all cracked up. One of the guards alerted us when enough time had passed so that we could have a turn pushing the pedals and bring the kinetic sculptures to life. Mohammed was entranced. We went from gallery to gallery playing with Tinguely’s strange creations.
At last, we made our way to the cafe, where the waiter suggested a wonderful wine from the Ticino – a white Merlot – not something I’d ever run across. It was lively, fruity yet dry, and absolutely delish!
A transplant from Sicily, our waiter now lives in Basel with his wife and six-year-old daughter, and he insisted on giving us a precious little panna cotta topped with raspberry glaze. And so we had dessert before dinner. Yum!
Thus fortified, we walked across the bridge and returned to the Gross Basel side of the Rhine. There, we found ourselves inexorably drawn back to the Goldenen Sternen for dinner on the outside terrace. Mohammed had the lamb, and I had the plate of the day, veal with traditional spatzle, a wonderful egg pasta with herbs.
We walked back to Adlerstrasse in the dusk, through St. Albans Tor, and then on the gravel path of Gelertstrasse, where Baslers walk their very well behaved dogs. Walking everywhere during our stay has taught me so much I missed about Basel in my initial year abroad. Back then, I usually took the tram. One of the delights of this trip in addition to great food, great art, and great company, has been getting lost in this delightful city.