the absolute skeppsholmen

the islet of  Skeppsholmen dangles preciously, a bejewelled drop earring from the epilobe of central Stockholm...
the lustrous breath of an autumnal sun stirs the air, sparks the waters, flecks the trees - their leaves shimmering a thousand shades of gold...

the light-dappled writhe-morphous sculptures of Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely guide the way to the lovely and idyllic Hotel Skeppsholmen...
where the dashing naval officers no longer stride down the long hallways or gaze out the wide windows, lost in reveries of exotic shores and maritime feats and clear calm seas...

we survey the gilded foliage from the serenity of room 245 [dedicated to the first president of the Swedish Royal Naval Society who had lived here with his wife from 1773 to 1776]
across the park, the Museum of Modern Art [Moderna Museet] beckons with a luminously absorbing exhibit of the later paintings of Turner, Monet and Twombly...
the darkening atmospheric sublimity of Turner's Peace - Burial at Sea drifts emotively into my painter's eye, while Monet's Matinée sur la Seine, Giverny effuses my visual field with sensually nostalgic intimations...
and Twombly's Quattro Stagioni looms grandly over my effects with the vigoroso impact of a multi-hued bloodbath...
...I eventually escape to the rational materiality of the rigidly solid structural formations in the Swedish Museum of Architecture [Arkitektur Museet] next door!

the artful light installations within the hotel's hallways lead me back to my room - without running into any of the pensive ghosts of landlocked swedish sailors, regrettably...

 Skeppsholmen, the morning after...