Page 216 - The Secret Museum

from sliding racks were an early portrait by Edward Munch of the Swedish writer

Strindberg, and an early Picasso. Fresh Window – a blue window, with leather
instead of glass – by Duchamp, had just been returned to the museum by Tate Britain,
London and so was in the stores, propped up against L’Enigme de Guillaume Tell by
Salvador Dalí, which was on its way to a show in Malmö.

In the conservation studio Lars showed me a small painting by Mondrian, called
The Rocky Coast of England. It’s a very straightforward painting of the coastline,
and is so unlike his later work that the museum has never exhibited it, as it doesn’t fit
in with the vibe of the modern art on display in the galleries.

There are stacks of paintings in the studio, but one in particular stood out. It is

called The Acrobat (1925), and it’s a collage by Francis Picabia (1879–1953), a
poet and painter born in Paris. It’s of a man doing a handstand, on a wire. On both
sides, Picabia has made a shadow out of painted cellophane. In the blue sky fly two
white doves, and tiny blue birds, swooping among pencil stars. The curators at the
museum love the painting, and I can see why, but they can’t display it, as the
cellophane will degrade in the light.

Exploring the colourful treasure box of ideas that is the backstage area of the
Moderna Museet was a lovely contrast to climbing down into the hull of the

salvaged, dark warship Vasa. As I left the vibrant storage behind and came out into
the dazzling sunshine of Stockholm I could see its mast poking out of its building, a
hint of the secrets inside, dredged up from the deep.