El Gato Viejo
Much of what museum director Pedro and his buddies dragged home turned out to have no value, even for them. A heap of castoff stuff accumulated outside of the museum. One day, the pile of old iron caught the eye of an artist.
(I'm sorry I wasn't able to get his name.)
The artist leased (or more likely squatted on) the ground next to the museum, and so was born El Gato Viejo—The Old Cat. A shack built of found materials features a confusing clutter of signs, one of which informs us that El Gato Viejo is a teatro ferroviario—a railroad theater. This characterization alone makes the place worth investigation.
A ticket window built into the shack is unstaffed, and looks like it has been in that state for a long time. A search of the grounds failed to turn up any personnel, either. I just walked in and made myself at home.
The materials rejected by the museum—wheels, bolts, pipes, springs, rusty sheet metal—became sculptures; here a crocodile.
The works inhabit a trashy space surrounded by ugly chain link fencing. One might say they're not being shown to their best advantage.
I think this one is supposed to be a stegosaur...
... or maybe something out of Star Wars.
I love the fantasy airplane with railroad handcar wheels. That's a real aircraft propeller.
A hundred yards away, on the verge of an arterial, a giraffe has escaped from the grounds of El Gato Negro. It's perhaps the most viewable of the sculptures.
If you google El Gato Viejo, Buenos Aires, you'll only find references to a bar in the up-and-coming barrio of San Telmo. The teatro ferroviario is flying under the radar.
Someone applied much energy and creativity to make these sculptures. It's odd that they now seem to be abandoned. Hardly high art, but they are evidence that in this troubled country, free spirits live. It's comforting to spend an hour with them.