I loved the old Brussels Museum of Modern Art (modern in this sense roughly 1789-1939) which had 6-8 wonderful Magrittes on its walls

I loved the old Brussels Museum of Modern Art (modern in this sense roughly 1789-1939) which had 6-8 wonderful Magrittes on its walls; but then they decided they would take over all the space of the Museum of Modern Art and turn it into a Magritte Museum only; wall to wall Magrittes, complete Magritte overkill. Milking the Magritte cow for all its worth. Devastating. The Belgian Government it seems has forced Brussels city to put back all the other pieces in the original building—criminally all the wonderful treasures have been IN STORAGE, hidden from view, all these years. They did open a Fin de Siecle Museum down in the basement levels, appallingly lit, appallingly laid out, like a Token Afterthought Museum—it pains me to go there despite the wonderful works of art it contains. The old Museum of Modern Art was one of my favourite places in all the world, its continued closure is an open wound, and I look forward impatiently to its resurrection—but things move slowly in Brussels.

I really do miss my old days of travelling when I used to do something cultural every day

I really do miss my old days of travelling, when I used to do something cultural every day; it was the centrepiece around which the naughty things radiated. Nowadays I just relentlessly focus on the drinking & the porn & the whoring & whatever. My trips have lost something because of this. I have no desire to go back to Cine Paris today and see the same films again; no desire to go back up & along Rue d’Aerschot again, as stunningly beautiful & sexy as the girls are. No desire to go back to Fifth Avenue (no money either). So perfect opportunity to do something cultural—except my old beloved Museum of Modern Art (modern in the sense of 1789-1939 sort of range) was broken up, scandalously, years ago and replaced by a Magritte Museum instead—wall to wall nothing but Magritte for room after room is too much. The 6 or 8 or 10 Magrittes on show in the old Modern Art Museum was perfect. No doubt putting a Magritte Museum in the halls that used to house the Modern Art collection has been a massive cash cow for them, with the token Fin de Siècle Museum tagged on underneath it like an afterthought, with its ridiculously low ceilings & APPALLING lighting, but it has deprived us of so many of the great treasures of the Modern Art that I loved so much, the Paul Delvauxs uppermost amongst them. He does not fit into the FDS timeframe so that is it, hidden away in storage! It crosses my mind to finally go to —— and visit the Delvaux Museum, or Namur and finally visit the Rops Museum, but I cannot be bothered and I can scarcely afford the train fare or museum admission charges. I could go back to the Wiertz Museum after many many years. We will see.

So start my last day thinking about food, nothing about anything dirty, as always

So start my last day thinking about food, nothing about anything dirty, as always. I have to do something on my first or second days; it is too late after that as I become too sodden by drink, and too familiar with all the girls on offer in the clubs or on the streets, and familiarity has already bred contempt. If I didn’t feel like doing anything with them on day 1 or 2, I’m very unlikely to on days 3 or 4, let alone 5 or 6. Anyway, a long relaxing 6 days out of London. Some minor titillating pleasures, some minor erotic memories to take home. I’ve not done anything cultural and doubt I will until they reconstitute the old Museum of Modern Art (Modern in this case roughly meaning 1789 to 1939) as they have just lately announced they are to do. Should never have been broken up. Will the wonderful erotic Paul Delvauxs finally be brought out of storage, the Dali Temptation, the Bacon Pope with Owl, the Genie du Mal, the Alfred Stevens Salome; will La Figure Tombale be removed from her corridor and put back in a room full of treasures as she used to be. The loss of the old Brussels Museum of Modern Art is a wound in my soul that still bleeds. No doubt the Magritte Museum that took its place is a massive cash cow they are still milking, but it still should not have been allowed to happen. Open your Magritte Museum somewhere else and leave us our Museum of Modern Art. A disgrace. A disaster.

No desire to go to any museum. If the old magnificent Museum of Modern Art was reconstituted I would

No desire to go to any museum. If the old magnificent Museum of Modern Art was reconstituted I would, but no desire to return to the Magritte or Fin-de-Siecle. How I loved the old Museum of Modern Art; in one place Alfred Stevens’ Salome, Le Genie du Mal, La Figure Tombale, Death of Marat, Tresors de Satan, Magritte’s La Goulue and Lola de Valence, the room FULL of Paul Delvauxs. It was a special place; destroyed, broken up, most of the pieces I mention now locked away in storage with no place to show them. Fuck the Magritte Museum—a little Magritte goes a long way with me. A museum full of them is way too much. Milking the Magritte cow for all its worth they have killed the goose that lay the golden egg, to mix my metaphors. Ah fantastic (talking of milking cows), I just saw Beatrice and two friends crossing the road under my hotel window and walking towards her place! I see a lot of the street girls passing through this little alleyway and past the Plaza to their spot; maybe they all live together just to the east of the Rue Neuve?

Just 2 beers in the Dome then to Fifth Avenue

Just 2 beers in the Dome then to Fifth Avenue. 2 or 3 very nice big girls in the Rue des Commerçants, and 4 or 5 very acceptable big girls in Fifth. I know I say 5th is bad these days, but I find it hard to ever leave the place. I always stay for just one more, one more. I was, however, very tired after so long without sleep, and after 5th I just came back to hotel to sleep and that was my first day in Brussels. Ina didn’t arrive till after 7pm I think and instantly was the sexiest girl there. 1055am and I am in the hotel lounge for my first beer of the day. Already I look forward to getting back to 5th later. First I will see if Ciné Paris’s films are as abysmal as the last 3 or 4 visits, then perhaps get the metro down to Le Coin. Every time I came to Brussels I used to to to the Museum of Modern Art, I never tired of it. Now that has gone, its space given over to the Magritte Museum and the Fin de Siecle Museum, neither of which I wish to visit again. Better when the few Magrittes and various fin de siecle treasures were in the mix of the old all-encompassing Museum of Modern Art. A disgrace.

Just thinking about taking my love to the Neue Pinakothek and showing her Die Sünde

Just thinking about taking my love to the Neue Pinakothek and showing her Die Sünde, and incredibly there are tears in my eyes as I think about showing her THAT picture. How can a PAINTING bring tears to your eyes, have this much of an effect on you? I saw it first at a particular time in my life, and it knocked me for six. I just literally wiped a tear off my cheek.

It seems to me most of the greatest art is about sex

It seems to me most of the greatest art is about sex, most of the greatest philosophy is about sex, most of the greatest classical music is about sex. People think oh, art, philosophy, classical music, is so old, dry and dusty, and boring; but when you realise most of painting, philosophy and classical music is about sex, then it opens up to you like a flower, and you can see how rich and fascinating it is. And then I sit there in a classical music concert lusting after the violinist on stage with a swelling in my trousers, I walk around art museums almost always with an erection. Eros is all around us.

When I used to come to Brussels I would go to the Museum of Modern Art on every visit

When I used to come to Brussels I would go to the Museum of Modern Art on every visit. Now that has gone, replaced by a Magritte Museum and a Fin de Siècle Museum, neither of which I have any desire to return to. Please give us back our Museum of Modern Art. The Delvauxs, the Genie du Mal, the De Chirico, the Temptation of St Antony, the Alfred Stevens Salome. 110am the barman has turned all the lights off in the bar. We carry on drinking in semi-darkness. My love affair with the Ibis has resumed.

Yes, let me re-base myself around the Ibis on my next visit

Yes, let me re-base myself around the Ibis on my next visit—the Ibis bar, the L’Orient Express bar, the chicken & chip shop next to it, only making brief visits up to Cine Paris for 10 minutes, 5^th Avenue for one drink, Le Coin for one drink; not expecting anything from them; anything good I may find treat as pleasant surprises and icing on the cake. Treating them as the be all and end all has put too much weight on them, a weight they could not sustain for long. Culturally, I will never go to the Magritte and Fin de Siecle Museums again; I must wait till Brussels comes to their senses and recombine the old Museum of Modern Art with all their treasures in one place. I will not hold my breath. Perhaps time to go on that trip to the Delvaux Museum in Saint-Idesbald and the Rops Museum in Namur. Already I am looking forward to coming back to Brussels! But it is the Ibis bar, the Orient Express and the chicken & chip shop that I am looking forward to! Not the naughty places! I just wonder what else I will discover missing when I get home—my computer? My passport? My sense of decency & integrity? No, never that!

Gustav Klimt really was a beautiful painter

Gustav Klimt really was a beautiful painter. He was also a massive shagger I think. He would f—k the women he was painting, go back to his painting, f—k them again, go back to his painting. And I think you can see that in his pictures. His women are so beautiful, so sexual. This painter really f—king loves women, and really loves f—king women. All the painters I love seem to have naked women in nearly all their pictures, like Felicien Rops and Paul Delvaux, who I revere. The only two Magrittes I loved in the old magnificent Museum of Modern Art in Brussels were his Lola de Valence and La Goulue, both paintings of naked women. His other paintings generally bore me. For Brussels to close the Museum of Modern Art and give all that space to a Magritte Museum is a bad joke. Probably they will point to the fact that the visitor numbers have increased; I don’t care. Magritte is boring as hell; 5 or 6 of his paintings is enough in any museum. A massive disaster.

Citroen showrooms opposite Fifth Avenue that Brussels want to turn into their new Modern Art Museum

There is the incredible situation in Brussels now where the Brussels City Government want to build a brand new space for their superb collection of modern art

There is the incredible situation in Brussels now where the Brussels City Government want to build a brand new space for their superb collection of modern art (modern in this sense meaning roughly 1789 to 1939) but the Belgian Government which officially owns the art says no way, it must go back in the old building where it always was. Brussels had a wonderful Museum of Modern Art, containing its entire collection from those 1789 to 1939 years, but then they decided to break the space up into two new Museums, the Magritte Museum containing nothing but Magrittes and the Fin De Siecle Museum containing nothing but art from the 1890s, and everything that did not fit into these two narrow bands disappeared back into storage never it seemed to be seen again! Some of my absolutely favourite pieces, David’s Death of Marat, Geef’s Genie du Mal, Dali’s Temptation of St Anthony, the entire room of Paul Delvaux’s, all therefore vanished. They have been planning to open another Museum, the Modern Museum, to put back on display everything pushed out by the Magritte and the FDS but that meant finding a brand new space for it: for a while they were going to put it in a building by the Grand Place, now they say they are buying the old Art Deco Citroen showrooms by the canal (opposite Fifth Avenue hooker bar, an interesting idea); but the Belgian government has said no, over their dead body, they will not countenance the sublime modern art collection going on display anywhere except in its original location, under the same roof as the Magritte and FDS, and Old Masters. So essentially Belgium wants their entire collection of modern art, Magrittes and 1890s included, all in one building—why, just like the original Museum of Modern Art! Why on earth they destroyed and split up the original Museum of Modern Art I will never know. It was a desecration. And now the Belgian Government is insisting it all goes back under one roof again. Well there is no space for any new rooms, so does this mean the Magrittes, 1890s and everything else is going to have to be mixed again? We are STILL waiting to find out. And meanwhile all those incredible treasures from 1789 to 1939 remain in storage and we are left with the desperately boring, samey, Magritte after Magritte after Magritte (a little Magritte goes an awfully long way with me; too much of him becomes boring incredibly quickly) and the scandalously awful anaemic, appallingly lit Fin de Siecle display (how on earth they can make the Fin de Siecle seem boring is quite a wonder in itself). Give us back our original Museum of Modern Art please, with the 6 or 7 Magrittes that it always had, yes, with its wonderful 1890s treasures, yes, but all mixed into the one collection that it used to be. You had a wonderful Museum of Modern Art about 5 years ago; why on earth did you fuck it up? Oh yes because you wanted to milk the Magritte cow for all it was worth, and in the meantime killed the goose that laid the golden egg to make room for it. Disgusting!

After my first visit to the new Fin de Siecle Museum I declared it “a triumph”

After my first visit to the new Fin de Siecle Museum I declared it “a triumph”; and yet even at the time I felt troubled by my words, and felt in fact it was NOT. This second visit confirmed my doubts. There was no sign of Le Genie du Mal, Alfred Stevens’s Salome, Death of Marat or ANY Paul Delvauxs! (Because I now realise they nearly all fall outside of the Fin de Siecle’s 1890s time frame). All my favourites from the old Modern Art Museum missing from the new collection. Le Tresors de Satan is there but stuck all on its own in a corner against a white wall; a totally unsympathetic and undramatic setting. Similarly, La Figure Tombale seems plonked down in the middle of nowhere like an afterthought. In the old Modern Art Museum there was a fantastic nexus where you could see the Figure Tombale, Le Genie du Mal, Tresors de Satan and Alfred Stevens’s Salome all from one spot. The pieces had a relation to each other—now what is left is spaced out and sits forlornly all on its own. Their exhibits need repositioning; otherwise the FDS is an underwhelming and unaffecting experience—how can the art of the Fin de Siecle be unaffecting! The FDS is not a triumph; it is a failure. It needs to be rethought and relaid out. It is a BORING museum; which is incredible when the art is so fantastic. The Old Masters, too, did not affect me like it did the first time. My general low mood no doubt partly responsible for that. Peak Brussels has truly passed. The only good thing was the discovery of how much bustier the girls of Le Coin are compared to 5^th. The environment is smaller, cheaper looking; like a greasy spoon café rather than art nouveau bar. A very down to earth knocking shop, and all the sexier for that. And the girls are really busty. I will return. Indeed the events of these 4 days make me think it is time I started staying in the Ibis opposite the Gare du Midi again. From there I can walk to Le Coin.

Louis Artan de Saint-Martin, La nuit, 1906

Great paintings absolutely obliterated by the lights; Louis Dubois’s La Roulette Table de Jeu, 1860

Charles Hermans’s A l’aube (At Dawn) 1875 ruined by the lights in Brussels Fin de Siecle Museum

I have exhausted the vending machine’s supply of Stella and am now on the Jupilers

I have exhausted the vending machine’s supply of Stella and am now on the Jupilers. The 14-18 Brussels on German Time exhibition will have to wait for next time (it runs until May), and I will have to go back to the Old Masters Museum too. For some reason I don’t feel any desire to return to the Fin-de-Siecle Museum. I liked it less than the old Museum of Modern Art, even though it contains pretty much exactly the same pictures & sculptures. The layout at the old museum seemed far more intense—in one spot I could see Alfred Stevens’s Salome, Tresors de Satan, Figure Tombale AND le Genie du Mal (the Genie not even in the new museum?) and there is no spot like that in the new place. I will give it another try to see if my first impressions were wrong. Three days in Brussels is not enough for me now—I could easily stay for 5 or 6 days at a time. It is like sinking into a warm bath on a cold day.

Culture means high culture

Culture means high culture. Yes, your Beethoven 5th Symphony, yes your Michelangelo Sistine Chapel ceiling, yes your Mona Lisa, etc etc etc, but the Bangles Eternal Flame is an example of ‘low culture’ that stands up there with them. And yes, I find myself overwhelmed by the opulent sensuousness of the oil paintings of the KHM, only to then find myself overwhelmed by the porn films on the screen of the Fortuna. One is no different from the other. What really moves us is on the same exalted level (as far as this English gentleman is concerned). And an eye contact and smile with a beautiful girl in the street is above them all.

Young English Gentleman overcome by drink in the Gurtel, Peter Paul Rubens, 1614

Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien

In the old days my holidays were a three-way battle between Love, Art & Eros

In the old days my holidays were a three-way battle between Love, Art & Eros; but I found the one person I can love and so now I never fall in love with anyone on holiday. The trips therefore just become about A&E. And drink and food; more than anything drink and food. My trips are all like La Grande Bouffe these days, with the emphasis increasingly on the drink & food. 230pm on my first day back in Brussels, and annoyingly it is hot and sunny. Rain is promised for the next 2 days. It had better not let me down.

I managed to catch the last day of the Paul Delvaux exhibition

I managed to catch the last day of the Paul Delvaux exhibition at Blain di Donna in Mayfair. An absolute pleasure. All his paintings have naked women in them and it makes you think he must have painted with an erection all the time. In the sweltering heat back to the Abcat Cinema in Caledonian Road where I was dismayed to discover they no longer show scenes from lots of different films—which was the main attraction of the Abcat for me—but just whole films like everywhere else, at the Council’s insistence apparently. Why the Council would interfere in this matter is beyond me. They also now are not allowed to put their rubbish out before 9pm which is rather unfair as they close at 8.

Gabriel von Max’s Anatomist, 1869

In Moloch it is Sylvia. As I ascended the steps to Antwerp’s Old Masters gallery I was thinking I do not really like these old pictures

In Moloch, it is Sylvia. As I ascended the steps to Antwerp’s Old Masters gallery, I was thinking I do not really like these old pictures, as they seem so alien to us today. We cannot see ourselves with them as they are so unrecognisable from people as we are today; but every so often you will see an old picture that looks so startlingly modern—like Caravaggio’s Victorious Cupid in Berlin’s Gemaldegalerie. And no sooner had I thought these words than I entered the first room and saw staring me in the face Madonna Surrounded by Seraphim and Cherubim, 1452. How can you believe that this picture was laid on this canvas 554 years ago? I was pleased while walking around the Royal Art Gallery to get so many erections. Especially in the room with the George Breitner, and Paul Delvaux’s De Roze Strikken. Standing amidst all this Belgian and Dutch art to come face to face with George Grosz’s “Portrait of the Writer Walter Mehring”—you look at it and see Berlin. The same way a Francis Bacon will stop me in the tracks because it is London.

The beautiful Belgian girls keep me in a state of some permanent excitement

The beautiful Belgian girls keep me in a state of some permanent excitement. They are all so voluptuous and ripe, in soft wool cardigans & jumpers, they come bouncing along. I became turned on several times while walking around the Royal Art Gallery, which is always my sign that it is a good museum. There were some real treasures there. Cleopatra by Cabanel, however, is the absolute centre of Antwerp. I had no idea it was here, so to see it was an emotional experience. It is tucked into the corner of a wall, high up. How long I’ve known & loved this picture.

Richard Gerstl always remained a loner. Provoking the Viennese establishment with his impetuosity

Richard Gerstl always remained a loner. Provoking the Viennese establishment with his impetuosity. Oscar Kokoschka’s Tiger reminded me of Alfred Bester’s Tiger Tiger, making me want to buy the book. Richard Gerstl’s The Sisters, reminding me of Gormenghast from BBC TV 1999. The Kiss, Vienna’s Mona Lisa, perhaps. But not for me. Ferdinand Khnopff’s Vivien reminding me so much of Brussels. The Belvedere was the home of Archduke Ferdinand. Amazing to think I am walking in his footsteps, in his house. The man whose death changed the world. In the Belvedere, the smell of putty is overwhelming. Arnold Bocklin’s Sea Idyll 1887 the sister of his Meer in Berlin. Max Klingor’s Judgement of Paris, which started the Trojan Wars, as Ferdinand started the first world war. How similar Giovanni Segantini’s The Evil Mothers of 1894 is to Franz Von Stuck’s Lost 1891, his poor cloven-hoofed devil, freezing, lost, in the endless snow. Emil Schindler’s Pax 1891. Adolf Hiremy-Hirschl’s Die Seelen das Acheron 1898 I have not seen before. “In many landscapes the emotional relationship of man with his environment is taken as a subject. Motifs like solitary graveyards, eerie gorges or tranquil bays become metaphors of emotional states. The viewer can often discover thoughts of solitude, desolation, of being at the mercy of the elements in these pictures.” Lovely to see Hans Canon’s The Recovery of Marat’s Corpse 1875 after Death of Marat in Brussels. His extraordinary Putti Building a Railway (1876). “After 1869 Makart rose to become the city’s ‘painter prince’. In the same way as Franz von Stuck in Munich, Makart held court in Vienna.” Makart’s huge triumph of Ariadne, so much less exciting than his Summerhouse. Something of a treasure, Anselm von Feuerbach’s Orpheus & Euridice 1869. The light pouring in from the windows often makes the pictures impossible to see. And Medea by the Urn. 1873. Hans Makart’s Five Senses always used to bore me: till I now remember this is the Hans Makart of Summerhouse in Berlin, and Bachanal and Vestal Virgin in the Leopold. Painting is great because it expresses what it is like to live at a certain time. All people feel this spirit, as they go to work, but never express it, never record it, never let it out. That’s why I go to art galleries. After Menzel’s two Altars in Berlin, every Menzel is now a treasure to me—Early Mass 1852—almost as mysterious. Carl Muller’s Nefusa.