Oslo: National Museum, Opera House, Munch Museum

The National Museum in Oslo is almost beside the Nobel Peace Center where I ended my morning, so that made for a good place to start my afternoon. Plus, it has a nice cafe, which tamed the peckish feelings I had at that point.

After plodding through the National Museum, I walked over to the Oslo Opera House and then visited the Munch Museum which sits just across a short bridge over a narrow channel from the Opera House.

Onward to those sights.

National Museum

I’ve had this conversation in a few other posts strewn throughout this journal, but the National Museum in Oslo is not what I would call a museum. It is, for the most part, what I would call an art gallery. But, there you have it.

Apropos of nothing, something I first noticed in the National Museum, but have since confirmed elsewhere, is that here in Oslo they use the floor numbering standard I’m familiar with from living in Canada and from my visits to the United States, not the European standard. That is, unlike elsewhere I’ve been in Europe, the ground floor here is the first floor and the floor above that is the second floor, rather than floors zero and one.

That’s just the sort of trivia that you probably don’t care a fig about and don’t want to waste your time reading about, but you have to put up with if you read this journal. Why are you still here?

But enough about that.

Large sections of the National Museum, probably the large majority of it, are devoted to art, mostly paintings, by Norwegian artists. But not the whole museum. There are also other European artists. I didn’t notice works from other continents, apart from a whole gallery devoted to Mark Rothco, an American. I think the Rothco exhibit is temporary.

I might have missed non-European artists in the permanent collection. The gallery is huge. Its works span from about 1500 to the modern day.

The Norwegian collection has a room dedicated to the works of Norway’s most famous artist, Edvard Munch. Some of his paintings are also on a wall of an adjoining hallway.

When I entered the Munch room there was an English language tour in the room led by someone from the museum. I don’t know if it was a paid tour, so I didn’t follow them when they left, but I did eavesdrop in the room.

In doing so, I learned that I’ve mispronounced Munch in every instance I’ve spoken it before now. That doesn’t amount to an enormous number of instances but definitely greater than zero.

Until now, I’ve pronounced Munch like what you do to, say, potato chips, namely munch them. (Assuming you are, indeed, someone who munches potato chips.)

That’s not correct. The guide pronounced the “u” in “Munch” like a cross between the “oo” in the idealized cow sound, “moo,” and a hard “u.” And the “ch” is pronounced like a “k.”

I had this pronunciation confirmed by the audio guide I got at the Munch Museum later in the afternoon.

Edvard Munch is most famous for his painting “The Scream.” In fact, my primary reaction was, “Wow, he painted people who weren’t screaming? Who knew?”

Munch painted several versions of The Scream. The National Gallery has the first, which he painted in 1893.

Among the non-Norwegian art, there’s a self-portrait by Vincent Van Gogh and a copy of the Mona Lisa.

Yes, a copy of the Mona Lisa. The museum knew it was a copy when they bought it in 1837, which was not long after its founding. It bought the copy because it thought it was done by a contemporary and close associate of Leonardo da Vinci, Bernardino Luini. However, subsequent research determined it dates from the second half of the 17th century and is by an unknown painter.

Here’s the thing. If you took the real Mona Lisa out from behind its bulletproof glass in the Louvre and placed it beside the copy at the National Museum in Oslo I’m fairly certain I couldn’t guess which was which. If I got it right it would be a fluke. Experts could likely tell the difference quickly and easily. I’m sure I couldn’t. But I could get up close to the one in the National Gallery, without any glass in front of it. I’ve seen the real Mona a few times, and I’ve never been able to do that with it.

The third floor of the museum, the top floor, contains galleries with furniture and clothes. There’s also a rooftop terrace up there with a nice view of the fjord.

Oslo Opera House

The Oslo Opera House is no Sydney Opera House, that’s for sure. Then again, what is?

I read somewhere—I don’t remember where—that the Oslo Opera House looks like a ski jump. I don’t know if that was by design, or just someone’s impression of it, but I see the resemblance.

Climbable, glistening white ramps on either side of the opera house lead to the roof. The roof is mostly flat with a protective wall along the edge. The wall is low enough to easily see over and get great views of the fjord and the city, but high enough that I forgot I have acrophobia.

These judgements are subjective, but despite the guidebooks praising the design of the opera house, I thought it was meh. I don’t hate it, but I can’t rave about it either. Maybe it’s because I saw the Sydney Opera House up close and personal recently enough that the Oslo Opera House pales in comparison. But, still, that’s how I feel.

I didn’t go inside the opera house. My guidebooks said that you can go into the foyer for free and they run occasional tours. But the descriptions of the interior weren’t impressive, so I didn’t bother. My jet lag hit me hard by that time and there was one more place I wanted to visit because it was almost next door, the Munch Museum.

Munch Museum

The footprint of the Munch Museum is rather small, but it’s taller than most museums. It has 13 floors, but the top two are a restaurant and a bar. Plus, some of the floors don’t hold exhibits. I think they are administrative floors because the escalators bypass them, so it’s not as if they’re just empty spaces waiting for temporary or future permanent exhibits. Nevertheless, I forgot to count, but I think there are six or seven exhibit floors.

I’m fairly certain that all of the paintings in the Munch Museum are by Munch. If there are any by contemporaries or of the same style, I didn’t see them.

The Munch Museum had another of Munch’s versions of The Scream (just one) but, yes, he certainly did paint subjects other than someone screaming on a bridge. The museum displays self-portraits, including one of him when he was sick with the Spanish Flu. There are also landscapes, portraits of other people, and many other themes. I’m not qualified to judge, but, despite the paintings displaying a variety of moods and situations, I think I saw a lot of parallels in the painting style across most of his paintings.

One of the exhibit halls, called “Munch Monumental,” displays some huge Munch paintings. Including one of a brilliant impressionistic sun. There’s also one titled “The Researchers” (the researchers are some boys digging in the sand at a beach) that measures 50 square meters. The relevant laminated information sheet available for use in this hall says that’s about the size of a one-bedroom apartment. (I assume they mean floor space.)

One of the floors of the museum contained a temporary exhibit composed of Munch paintings not in the museum’s permanent collection, but rather on loan from other museums and private collectors.

There ya go. Day done.