A bullring full of blood, a house full of sweet wrappers, a power station full of sculpture, a roundabout full of plants … Hilton Als, Mary Beard, Russell Tovey and more pick their alternative favourite museums
Jessie Burton, novelist
A tourist might more prosaically call this the world-famous bullring of Seville. I lived in Andalucía in my 20s and the culture of bullfighting was unavoidable. I had a kid in my class who, at 16, was a trainee fighter. Whatever your thoughts on the ethics, I defy you not to be captivated by this building and the exhibits within its corridors. It’s a living museum, as bullfights still take place. Standing in the middle of the empty 12,000-seater ring is a hair-raising experience, especially when you notice the wooden panels scarred by horns. The toreador costumes – all camp and skintight glory, butterfly colours and braiding – belie the fully equipped emergency room, a place of blood loss and death since 1749. The matador prayer chapel, the equipment, the bulls’ heads and the black and white photographs seem like relics of a faded world – until you leave and see posters advertising the next fight.
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