Architecture of Happiness

Allain de Botton visits the artificial residental island of IJburg outside Amsterdam.

Rain (Joris Ivens, 1929)

Ah yes, Amsterdam in the rain. Very relaxing. This city is as beautiful in black-and-white as it is in colour.

Jacques Brel – ‘Amsterdam’

He sure sings it like he believes it. But I heard the story that he actually wrote this as tribute to the ports of Antwerp but then ‘Amsterdam’ just fit better.

Previously:
Brel Under A Bridge

Breakfast Machine

via videosift.com

Mmmm. Breakfast.

Creative anatomy

There is a new virtual museum dedicated to the Amsterdammer, Dr Frederik Ruysch (1638-1731), who is regarded as one of the greatest anatomist and preserver of body-bits of all time. But he was not just content with potting parts in brine and suspending Siamese twin foetuses in solution. Artistic compulsion led him to construct moralistic panoramas of bone and tissue. He started simple: an ornate box of fly eggs labelled as being taken from the backside of ‘a distinguished gentleman who sat too long in the privey’. Another had a mounted baby’s leg kicking the skull of a prostitute. But these were tame next to his later work which oozed with baroque extravagance: gall- and kidney-stones piled up to suggest landscape, dried arteries and veins weaved into lush shrubs, testicles crafted into pottery, and these whole scenes animated with skeletal foetuses who danced and played violins strung with strings of dried gut.

A visiting Peter the Great (1672-1725), who was passing through to learn shipbuilding and how to build a city on a bog (which would inspire his pet project St Petersburg) became fascinated with this collection of preserved freaks — not surprising for a seven-foot giant of a man. After kissing the forehead of a preserved baby, Peter paid Ruysch f30 000 for the complete collection and brought it all back to St Petersburg with him.

You can still get a flavour of those heady times by visiting the Waag which once served as Death Central as the place where criminals were executed and later dissected in its Theatrum Anatomicum, a spot immortalized by Rembrandt as the setting for his goriest paintings The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Tulp (the guy who had Ruysch’s job before him). You can also check out the painting The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Frederick Ruysch by Jan van Neck (pictured) at the Amsterdam Historical Museum. And for another impressive collection of dead bits, be sure to visit the frolicsomely named Museum Vrolik that is located in the Amsterdam’s largest hospital and features a bona fide Cyclops in brine.

War criminals of yesteryear, part 1

Ten years ago Serbian warlord Željko ‘Arkan’ Ražnatović was shot dead in the lobby of a Belgrade hotel. He was a gangster. He was a nationalist. He was the Mr Clean of ethnic cleansing. I wrote about him in ‘Arkantecture: A Field Guide to Serbian Gangster Kitsch‘.  The picture on the left is of his former home in Belgrade where I believe his widow, the turbofolk queen Ceca, still lives. Apparently a movie about Arkan starring Vinnie Jones will be released later this year.  Ouch.

In Search of Blue

As previously mentioned last month, I interviewed the artist Pieter Paul Pothoven about his trek through Afghanistan in search of Lapis Lazuli for PRESENTeert, a “pamphlet about painting”. I have now pasted it below. What a story!

If artist Pieter Paul Pothoven was a rock, he’d be Lapis Lazuli, the blue rock used to make that extremely colourfast pigment ultramarine favoured by Vermeer. Pothoven has just returned from the remote Hindu-Kush mountain range in North East Afghanistan where he visited the mines from which this iconic rock originates.  

So when did this rock start to roll for you?
Since graduating from Rietveld Academy three years ago, I’ve been researching various subjects related to the Middle East. For example as a pseudo-biologist, I recorded bird and frog sounds in marshes in Lebanon, Iraq, Iran and Israel. I guess I was attracted to the romance of hiding in war zone marshlands.  

I’ve also always been fascinated about the idea of fleeing and caves, especially those in Afghanistan (Bin Laden in Tora Bora and all that) and as mysterious holes from which evil seems to escape — if we are to believe the media. Then I heard about these caves where for the last 6500 years they’ve been mining the highest quality of Lapis Lazuli as probably the world’s oldest still-existing commercial mining venture. So immediately I wanted to go…  

Was there was a magical moment where you connected the paintings of Vermeer with a cave in Afghanistan?
Well, I immediately liked the idea that this blue is very colourfast — uninfluenced by light. Here you have this stable blue coming from a rather unstable country. However when I returned, conservators of the Rijksmuseum and the Mauritshuis told me about the “ultramarine sickness” that has the pigment fading somewhat due to acids in the air. But it’s nothing like the other blues available. Just look at Rembrandt who used the cheap stuff and all his blues went brown.  

Tell me more about the stone’s history and magic…
They can tell the age of the mines because of artefacts found from as far back as Babylonian and Mesopotamian times. The death mask of Tutankhamen includes Lapis Lazuli, Cleopatra used it for eye shadow, and many think that they are also the “sapphires” referred to in the Old Testament. As for spiritual healing, it is said to be good for wisdom and beneficial for your throat chakra — whatever that means. Maybe it’s good for smokers?  

In painting?
Since the early Renaissance it has been coming to Europe via the silk route to what is now Lebanon and then over the sea — that’s why it’s called ultramarine (“from over the sea”) — to Venice where it was grounded down and then sold through the rest of Europe. It was extremely expensive, often more so than gold. In the Renaissance, it was only used in paintings to highlight Jesus or the Virgin Mary but by the Dutch Golden Age, it had become a symbol for wealth. For example, Pieter de Ring’s Still Life with Lobster from around 1650 uses ultramarine for the tablecloth. It’s actually a painting without any meaning — it’s just about money.  

But Vermeer was the ultimate crackhead for the stuff?

He was totally obsessed. He even used it as an under layer. Even his white walls usually have some ultramarine under it.  

So how is Lapis Lazuli prepared into pigment?
Cennino Cennini in his Libro dell’Arte, a 15^th century handbook for painters, describes the procedure and it involves a lot of grinding. The funny thing is that he recommends giving the job to a young woman because they are home all the time and still have nice hands. He warns against old women doing it…

So why haven’t we heard more about this great story?
The primary written sources are extremely rare and often contradict each other. And usually it’s only mentioned and not described in any detail. The area is also very hard to get to: physically and bureaucratically.  

It is Afghanistan after all… And in a place where neither the Russians nor the Taliban ever influenced?
Yes and as a mine, it has always been protected. I guess from our perspective it is run by corrupt warlords but they just see themselves as old soldiers protecting their investment. In fact selling Lapis Lazuli across the border in Pakistan was one of the “documented” ways the Mujahadeen supported their fight against the Russians. But of course most of their money came from abroad, for example from the CIA.  

So how did you manage to get there?
I had an army of angels on my shoulder and a grant from the BKVK fund. Afghanistan is not part of the global village so you have to think hard. It took me three weeks to arrange by starting with one contact in Kabul and doing everything in small steps. For safety you should always have a contact or relative to fall back on in case something goes wrong. But it really came down to having bribe money and some very lucky contacts. The commander Assad Allah who is in charge of the area turned out to be the brother of the neighbour of my guide. I paid him 500 dollars — which was very inexpensive.

Small world!
Yes and suddenly everything was also much cheaper and easier.  

Tell me about the visit.
I only spent three days (plus three to get there and three to get back) because of tensions with the various people protecting their interests there. But thanks to being a “relative of the commander”, I was allowed. So there I was the only Westerner with just one guide and no protection. I was walking around with a money belt filled with 7000 dollars in a place where people earn two dollars for a twelve hour day. The village itself was a cross between a Neolithic settlement and a Hollywood Western town. The ground is covered with blue debris, and the villagers even use the rock for their huts which makes the village fade into the natural landscape. The mines themselves are death traps. I used my scarf as a dust mask. While I was making notes the ground trembled with dynamite explosions.  

So how did you get your collection back?
The Dutch army. And thanks to them I did not have to pay import or export tax. The diplomatic suitcase covered a lot of costs for me. So you could say this project is co-sponsored by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.  

So, um, how did you manage that?
Every Wednesday the Dutch embassy in Kabul hosts a borrel for Dutch people. There I spoke with an Embassy guy who said “no problem, we can bring them back for you.” So I brought my 60-kilogram bag of rocks on the back of my bike. It was too heavy for him to bring himself so he found another guy who could arrange it with the army. It took four months, but I finally got them!  

What are you going to do now?
I’m digesting everything: old documents, maps, photographs, texts and, of course, the stones themselves. As a pseudo-geologist, I’m mapping the origins of ultramarine, the different kinds of Lapis Lazuli, and the mines where it’s excavated. After this, I’ll start grinding the stones which I guess will take some weeks…  

Great. Perhaps I’ll come back and score some off you. A story like this makes me hungry for more than just lobster.

City in Lights. Red Lights.

London’s National Gallery now features its own bit of Amsterdam Red Light District. The Hoerengracht is a life-size installation of some winding streets by Ed and Nancy Kienholz.

But ironically in Amsterdam itself, it’s more about dismantling the Red Light District in the name of frumpification — in particular in the area directly around the Old Church (famed for its massive organ). For example at Oudekerksplein 20, Super Sex Cinema Venus’s days are apparently numbered and that inspired the excellent FOAM to put on an excellent exhibition by photographer Jan-Dirk van der Burg on the subject (picture). It’s a shame that this cinema, the oldest in the district, might be bought out by the city since it is very old school: playing very old Super 8 films for an even older trench coat-wearing clientele.

This place also used to be one of my two standard stops when hosting visitors who desired a quick taste of the Red Light District. Because I had seen it all often enough, I strove to make these tours as short as possible. My technique was simple… Upon entering Venus, I’d lay out some Dirk van der Broek shopping bags, I had especially brought to protect my guests’ bottoms from whatever nasty germs may have gotten into the chairs. I would then quickly rationalise the watching of these colour-faded Super 8s as an excursion into global kitsch. After all, you haven’t seen wallpaper until you’ve seen the stuff that decorated the walls of Danish hotels back in the 1970s where a lot of these flicks seemed to have been filmed… And the German over-dubbed grunts worked a treat as well…

And then as sure as clockwork, within seven minutes my guests would greet my suggestion to move on with great enthusiasm. I would then lead them down the incredibly narrow alley Trompettersteeg which has traditionally always tended to specialise in anorexic-types. While this action can be interpreted as kicking someone when they are already down on the ground, afterwards my guests would then actually be grateful when I asked them if they wanted to move on to another neighbourhood with a more traditional brand of dive bar.

In the end everyone was happy. My guests had their Red Light District story and I didn’t have to spend more than 10 minutes there. Win-win.

Les Danza des los Meurtos

My pals, the Anacondas, just released this great new video that comes backed with a heart-warming story from the world of subsidies. After trying to get a relatively straight arts subsidy to make this video, they gave up and instead got one that ties in art with education — apparently that’s where the funding money is these days. For a week, the band worked with teen students building props and filming stock. The results speak for themselves as another solid bit of evidence that — yes indeed — the kids are alright…

PRESENTeert

The fine artiste Aquil Copier, friend and cherished ex-Weekly collegue, has just started a pamphlet about painting: PRESENTeert.

Track down a copy (he’ll even send you one…) and check it out.

I interviewed the artist Pieter Paul Pothoven who has just returned from the caves of Afghanistan where he visited the mines supplying the Lapis Lazuli that formed the basis for Vermeer’s blue. What a story!  And a story I will probably post here once the hard copies run out…