Voces del Prado

No harsh feelings but not the best ending

Alicia Quintana Martínez, Head of the Education Service, 1983-2007

The last months before retiring, I used to walk through the halls, that's all I did, through the galleries, looking at all the paintings in the different halls, saying to myself, "The things I've spoken of in here." I didn't take it to the extremes of an Argentinean colleague, Isabel Caride, who when we went out the door would say, "Go on, I just got called by a painting." So she'd go back in to look at the painting that had called her. I got calls from so many paintings those days.
It was so important in terms of personal growth. Teaching helps you grow an awful lot. There comes a point when the lack of interest on the part of your students seeps in. I have learned so much about the history of art in here, because I didn't come from the world of art, I wasn't able to major in Art, there was no such specialisation, I was strictly a historian. I have met so many interesting people, so many different ways of working, and I've especially become close with Goya, with Velázquez. Walking through the halls, especially when they are empty, is a priceless reward. Those final days before retiring, I was called by the paintings, and by all the things I've spoken about, but I wouldn't stop before a painting as if I were looking at it for the first time.
I've become distanced from the Museum, they've called me countless times to give lectures, and I know I've given quite a few, and the audience follows me, but I haven't accepted. I've stayed away from institutional events. I sort of left through the back door. I was the Head of a Service. It became an Area, they appointed a Head of the Area and she ignored me altogether. I would come in to read the newspaper.
I arranged going away parties for people who were retiring, with lots of joking and partying, I left one summer, in September, right after the vacation period. It's true that I was ill, luckily I'm better now. I have a chronic intestinal disease, something quite serious. There were times that I was drained. Now I get special shots and I'm surviving. Why come in every morning, when I sometimes had to stop and park the car a few times to be able to use a bathroom before arriving, and then I got to read the newspaper or put brochures in envelopes. Finally one day I asked myself what was the point so I left for home.
It wasn't the ending I wanted but I try not to get bitter. I simply became detached from the Museum but I do come by to see my people. I come to exhibitions, I enjoy walking through all the halls, but it's no longer institutional. And then I see all the different guards in the halls. But what are you doing here?" I'm here to learn. And a sister of mine, the last days of hr working life, had to give up her business and ended up working as a guard in the Museum. She lives upstairs from me. Sometimes they'd tell her, "Your sister knows so much about everything," and she would answer, "That's why we sent her to study at the University." We were wealthy merchants and we were famished as far as culture was concerned, "That's why we sent her to study".