It was built in 1923 in an eclectic style somewhat reminiscent of 17th and 18th century Dutch classicism, maybe in remembrance of the 17th century origins of Stille Veerkade.
Stille Veerkade (“Silent Ferry Quai”) was built as an extention of Amsterdamse Veerkade in the second quarter of the 17th century to expand The Hague’s commercial harbour facilities.
Today the harbour has been filled in, and both Veerkades have become an access road for traffic to and from the town centre.
Suppose you open the bedroom door, because you need a little siesta.
Just to switch off the thinking and the senses for fifteen minutes.
Everything around you sleeps with you.
Works of art are packed and rest until they have to manifest themselves again to a viewer.
Receipts and other printed notes hang silently and harmlessly on the wall, and a cartoon character also takes a nap, while the titles of restful works of art lie, lean or hang here and there.
There are also books, and yes, they are about resting, sleeping, dreaming, but you cannot read them, because you sleep yourself; that’s okay, because you can’t open or browse them anyway.
Even the storage space is allowed to rest, as the packaged artworks have been moved into the bedroom.
Sifted light caresses through the room so as not to wake you from your slumber.
There are pillows and a little further on, the Goethe fountain is sleeping wrapped up near the place where once its water flowed.
Even the packaging of your lunch is lying dormant.
While you and everything around you in the room are in a private no man’s land, the rest of the world chirps, stumbles, mumbles, knocks and rustles steadily; sometimes you can still hear some vague fragments of it.
Alexandre Lavet (1988) is currently letting you experience it all at Dürst Britt & Mayhew under a title that cannot be pronounced, because the letters are also temporarily asleep.
Lavet himself is also represented at rest by his pyjamas and slippers, and of course throughout the installation, where even his humour sleeps in more and less inconspicuous tromp l’oeils.
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The pictures here can be seen as additional to the VLR article. As I’ve written quite extensively about the exhibition I leave you here with these pictures without comments, except that I warmly recommend the show to you.
Surely, it is to be hoped for that this exhibition will end not even half as catastrophic as Goethe’s Elective Affinities.
It must be said though that many in this sheer infinite abundance of drawings by Paul Klemann (1960) and Cedric ter Bals (1990) at Galerie Maurits van de Laar are quite inauspicious. Perhaps that is less so for Klemann’s drawings with their surrealist scenes, although you never know in surrealism.
There is always a double entendre and objects and situations in these drawings may not always be what you would wish for. The sweetest desires may turn out to be as hot as a Madame Jeanette pepper.
In Ter Bals’s drawings it is more a matter of re-living a catastrophe, in particular World War I. That catastrophe was indeed death ridden to the utmost.
Millions of soldiers died quite for nothing and military heroism became not much more than a mockery (as it so often is).
In Ter Bals’s work it is both mockery and seriousness, well, they are not even two sides of one coin, they are both sides in one.
Apart from a plethora of drawings – varying from monumental to small and cartoonlike – he also shows pages of the sequel to his 2019 comic book Tagebuch Oskar von Balz (Oskar von Balz’s Diary), about which i wrote quite extensively in Villa La Repubblica (in Dutch; click here).
The elective affinity between the two artists is that Ter Bals saw work by Klemann and immediately saw a kindred spirit in him.
Such that he wanted to be coached by Klemann, who has of course an artistic experience of quite a few decades, in which Ter Bals succeeded with the help of the Mondriaan Fund.
There are indeed similarities between the works of the two artists in spite of the generation gap.
Both artists are uncompromising in what their unbridled imagination forces them to draw. One could describe it as an amoral stance towards imagination.
However, that is one thing, another is that the imagination has to be presented on a piece of paper with pencils etc.
So, the imagination, unbridled and amoral as it is, has to be moulded such that it has a maximum impact on the viewer. Both are masters in doing so. But indeed a younger artist always needs support in it.
There are however great differences as well. For instance Klemann uses space in quite another way than Ter Bals does.
Klemann’s space is usually quite well defined although it is also elastic like in a dream, while in Ter Bals space can be quite flat or non-existent if there is no need for it.
Also Ter Bals usually has well defined personalities who tell part of the same story if you see more of his works. His works can stand on their own, but become more meaningful in the context of the rest of his work.
That even counts for his more monumental drawings which try to be so comprehensive. A lot more could be said about the works of both artists, but i leave that to others for the time being.
If you have no ability to put things into perspective, or if you have no sense of humour, this show may be a challenge which i heartily recommend to you.
But even if you are less disabled you should take enough time to see everything in this exceptionally full exhibition. Enjoy, and be moved and astonished!
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Narrow building with ornate shopfront and elegant extension with balcony, Wagenstraat. It was built in 1911 in the elegant style of the period with obvious Art Nouveau influences.
The ground floor used to house the locally famous lunchroom “Klink”. In the 1980s i lived round the corner and i was a regular guest, as it also served dinner at an extremely reasonable price. The dishes were decently old fashioned Dutch with pork or beef, cooked vegetables and either boiled potatoes with gravy or baked potatoes with mayonnaise. Most famous however were their fantastic rolls and buns.
Today there is an Asian take-away. Maybe someday i should give that a try…
For people who lived in countries occupied by the Germans during World War II, that time became a trauma, which became hereditary for generations to come. In fact, those who deny this or do not know it, understand little of the society they live in.
As the generation that lived through World War II becomes smaller and smaller, that war period is increasingly becoming a myth. In the process, it is forgotten that there was also an everyday life.
For instance, there was an anonymous photographer who took pictures of the landscape, objects and things from everyday life. The negatives were collected by artist Rein Jelle Terpstra (1960).
The negative images are presented as a kind of dream images; knowing that in dreams, any obviousness can turn into doom or open-endedness. At the same time, enlargements of front pages of the Algemeen Handelsblad – a daily newspaper during the war – are exhibited as if to illustrate the doom lurking behind the pictures.
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The new cultural season has been opened last weekend in different venues in The Hague and especially at Boekhorststraat, where two galleries opened a new shared space.
Gallery Nono mainly existed on line until now and SinArts Gallery had a temporary space at Korte Vijverberg (as regular readers of Villa Next Door may know).
They now settled down in this lively street in the city centre, in the same street where 1646 and Page Not Found are.
Nono and SinArts will alternate their exhibitions but last Sunday they opened with a shared presentation.
It is a group show with works by some nineteen artists in a space that is both small and spacious.
The two wide and welcoming, early twentieth century shop windows will guarantee a very public view of the exhibited art that will hopefully intrigue the passers-by.
Personally i’m very much looking forward to the exhibitions that will follow and Villa Next Door wishes both galleries a happy and inspiring future in their new place!
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