At the Carlsberg Art Museum, I almost missed the paintings on the wall

At the Carlsberg Art Museum, I spent most of my time looking down at my feet. It’s not the kind of beauty that demands your deliberate “appreciation,” but a calm, pervasive background that fills your entire field of vision. Every time you enter an exhibition hall, the floor changes, and the exhibits are like chess pieces, with the floor acting as the chessboard. The floor here is very special; it’s a mosaic from the ancient Roman period, in calm ochre, black ink, and terracotta red colors, inlaid with ancient mythological patterns, branches, leaves, and birds and beasts. When you look back at the great paintings and sculptures, they are not floating in the air; they are rooted in this ancient and beautiful land beneath your feet. The grand staircase connects the old and new buildings naturally and solemnly, with a huge ceiling height and light pouring in, giving a sacred feeling. The central greenery brings vitality and spirit to the museum, and sitting among it, you don’t feel like you’re in a quiet, ancient art museum, but rather in a small park, drawing nourishment. If you go, don’t forget to look down. That feeling of directly facing history is very special.