Museums, museums, museums

Museums, museums, museums.

Rembrant's House

Susan’s I-Phone tracker says we walked over eleven miles today. My feet agree. We dodged rain showers all day long with brief sunny lapses.

From our Hotel Hoxton, we walked to the Rembrandt house with Steven, Sheryl and Mark Jacobson in tow. The old master’s original home and studio has been restored as it was in the 1600’s. The curators have furnished it with period pieces and art that appeared in his paintings and sketches so as to make the interior just as it was in his day. His studio on the top floor is just as it was when he created his masterpieces… all of them painted with ambient light from its northern exposure.  Note a faux marble doorway painted by Rembrandt in the same manner of our friend Kim McMillan. 

From there, we hiked to the nearby Jewish section of Amsterdam. First, we toured the Portuguese Synagogue that was the place of worship for Jews who fled from Portugal and Spain during another time of persecution. It is now a museum. Across the street is the Jewish cultural center that displays photos and artifacts of Jewish life in the city up until WWII.

A mile or so south are two buildings that were used as detention centers to hold Jews on their way to the death camps in Germany. All the buildings have security at the entrances and we noticed some with blast doors.  Inside are incredibly painful photos and letters of the ones who perished.  I do not mean to skip over the subject matter, but the record of the inhumanity of the perpetrators is graphic, brutal and its recital is impossible to fully convey with my poor words. We all know the story. Over 90 percent of the Jews in what was then Holland were captured and sent away to die. The Amsterdamers are honoring their history with these exhibits. Good for them.  

After lunch at corner bar, we Ubered (yes, Uber has 5,000 cars in Netherlands) to the Rijks Museum. I know, another museum? This one was happier. This structure is huge… the size and scale of a train station. We found out later, the same architect designed the Rijks and the Central Train Station in Amsterdam. I wonder if he discounted his work since the two buildings are so alike?

 We took the expedited 45 minute Rijks highlight audio tour and viewed the works of the old masters of the golden age.  We could have spent several hours. The featured piece on display is Rembrandt’s, “Night Watch”. (Some others told us that we should dash in and see it and leave, but we persevered and made the entire loop of highlights.)  

Nightwatch

Some questions occur to me as we view this wonderful work. Night Watch is an enormous work (maybe 20 by 30 feet?) that could not possibly have been painted in Rembrandt’s small studio. The blank canvas would not have fitted, much less any room to paint.  So, where did he paint it? Also, we learned that the painting’s subjects were not night watchmen, but city cops going to work in the daytime. So why that title? And, there is a cute young woman standing in the cluster of cops that the audio curator described as their “Mascot”. Mascot is a euphemism for a different relationship I am pretty sure. Any cops I know who might have a young female as a “Mascot” would have some serious explaining to do… to the Chief and at home. So, why did he place her in the scene? Is anyone except me curious about this stuff?  

Just when I thought I had had enough culture for one day, after dinner we Uber to the Debouw Royal concert hall and enjoy a Brahms performance by a wonderful orchestra from a small town in the Netherlands. The hall is a 125 year old European style auditorium with rococo white plaster and gold leaf ornamentation and perfect acoustics. I did not think we were there to hear Brahms lullaby, but as I look down the row, all my companions were asleep.

Debouw Royal 

When we returned to our Hoxton hotel room, we found a gang of hip young people in the street level club and restaurant being serenaded by a hard driving DJ. Our room is one floor above the club. The bass beat of the DJ’s sound system was throbbing though the floor of our room. “How are we going to sleep through that?” I complained.  After eleven miles of walking, two big meals, five museums and a concert, I read a one paragraph of my book before I was snoring.  

I need to work on the “Dutch” question tomorrow. I promise.