I almost don’t know why I bother to visit museums any longer.  I take so little notice of most of the exhibits; take in so little of the factual information about them.  Such is my ennui, that I have had to consciously adopt a fresh strategy when visiting museums, which is to focus on just a few very niche elements at the exclusion of everything else.

At the Royal Armoury of Turin, part of the Musei Reali di Torino, located in the Royal Palace, the objects that caught my eye turned out to be ones entirely unexpected to me: three, metal masks, displayed across two mantelpieces, close to the centre of the long exhibition chamber.  I knew the museum was famous for its large collection of weapons and impressive suits of armour, but these three masks––there are actually four, but the fourth one I didn’t like as much––did not seem to easily fit into either category.  Decorative more than protective; comic rather than capable of causing injury.  I found myself thinking of Don Quixote––the moustache possibly.

The three masks had a touch of Steampunk about them––a retrofuturistic pathos, which I found rather compelling.  Who had ever worn one of these masks?  And had it been donned in anger or amusement?  Not questions that the museum could answer for me but, more at home in the realm of fiction than that of fact, I was quite content to make up answers for myself.

© E. C. Glendenny

E. C. Glendenny finds some peace in the Royal Armoury of Turin.