Photo Pest: Home of the Monks

I can't believe I never knew Munich meant "home of the monks" before now! What would those eighth-century fellas have thought of the "Endless Staircase?" I sought it out to see if the Germans were more relaxed about allowing people to ascend than they find when they visit the Vessel in New York City, now off limits because of multiple suicides. Surprisingly, they aren't. A chain blocked the entrance.

Nearby, the statue of Bavaria towers over the Oktoberfest grounds.

You can climb inside her head to get a view.

Tired of his homeland being shuttlecocked between Napoleon and the Hapsburgs, King Ludwig I erected the monument, one of three, as a showcase for accomplished Germans in the mid-19th century. Walhalla is more inspiring for my money. The busts here are added a little haphazardly.

Did you know Diesel was a man before a fuel? Rudolf died mysteriously as World War I approached. Some speculate Germans murdered him because he was en route to England to show its navy how to adapt his engines for use in their submarines.

Security guards prevented me from entering the Oktoberfest grounds which were being struck like a stage set. The festival ended shortly before my arrival. I was not disappointed.

Scaffolding enveloped the exterior of the Asam Church, named for the two brothers who built the late Baroque chapel, my next stop. Once inside, you don't know quite where to look because there's so much to see.

Believe it or not, the Asam brothers--a sculptor and a painter who appear to have been tripping--designed the chapel as their private place of worship, although they did encourage the neighborhood kids to use their seven confessionals.

Once word got around about the beauty of the interior, the Asams were forced to open the chapel to the public.

A Deutsche Post employee delivered the mail on Sendlinger Strasse. Energy efficiency in motion--just look at those calves. He's no kid, either.

Ersatz can be lovely.

I had half an hour to kill before the noon chiming of the Marienplatz glockenspiel so I headed to St. Michael's, a church, where Ludwig II, was interred at the age of 40. Die young, stay pretty, although not as pretty as Helmut Berger who introduced me to the Mad King of Bavaria in a 1973 Luchino Visconti biopic.

According to Empty Theatre, a terrific novel about Ludwig and Sissi, the Empress of Austria, his slightly older cousin, the young king wasn't crazy so much as a repressed gay man who preferred the arts and sciences to politics.

More ersatz, this time Renaissance .

I gripped an angel before entering.

It cost three euros--money well spent--to enter the crypt. Ludwig's design sense--which can be boiled down to more IS more-- resulted in two of Bavaria's most visited tourist destinations, Neuschwanstein and Linderhof.

Still time for a selfie before the glockenspiel.

It probably helps to have been born long before the smart-phone era to appreciate its slow-moving charm.

En route to Kunstareal, Munich's museum quarter, I came across an imposing Jewish monument.

Built in 1826 by King Ludwig I to house the Wittelsbach collection of Old Masters paintings, the Alte Pinakothek has some excellent new graphics.

The huge canvases of Peter Paul Rubens fill an enormous gallery but his work just doesn't do it for me. I headed straight for the Dürers, knowing that I soon would be visiting the home of Germany's da Vinci in Nuremberg.

"Portrait of a Young Man" by Albrecht Dürer (1500)

There was one of those, too.

"Madonna of the Carnation" by Leonardo da Vinci (ca. 1475)

Some of the other works were familiar from a "Northern European Painting" course I took in college.

"St. Luke Drawing the Virgin Mary" by Rogier van der Weyden (after 1484)

You can't beat Bruegel's depiction of peasant life.

"Wedding Dance in the Open Air" by Pieter Bruegel (1614)

This looks like folk art to me. Not that there's anything wrong with that!

"The Birth of Christ" by Stefan Lochner (1445)

I never would have guessed who painted this self-portrait. He reminds me of Tintin.

Rembrandt Self-Portrait (1629)

More recent works were on display, too.

"Don Quixote" by Honore Daumier (1868)

The man at the admissions desk seemed surprised when I asked him where to find his favorite painting. I liked it, too, but the figure in blue is a reflection not a vision.

"Morning After A Stormy Night" by Johan Christian Dahl (1819)

The Neue Pinakothek is just across the street. I explored only the entrance and the lobby, but I love how each of these four photos anticipates the next.

European Union passports comprised the exhibit beneath the atrium.

I saved the colorful Museum Brandhorst for next time, too.

BMW isn't the only German brand name with an ugly past.

Yesterday's ticket to the Residenz included admission to the Cuvilliés Theatre, good for a year so I went back to check it off my list with barely enough battery juice to get this shot. The red velvet and gold decor of the place--completely rebuilt after the war--reminded me of the Hungarian Opera. It's still used for concert and stage performances.