Meditations at the Rijksmuseum

Something unusual happened to me while in Amsterdam yesterday. After a lovely lunch with friends who I hadn’t seen in a while, I decided to take a short visit to the Rijksmuseum and the Van Gogh museum. The latter I had booked in advance, but I got lucky and was able to enter the Rijks on a whim.

I’m not sure what I was expecting from my visit. Often when I go to a busy museum which attracts a lot of tourists, I just get mildly (or severely, depending on the day) annoyed, and am not able to spend as much focused time with the works as I would like. While both of these museums were quite busy, and while I did get mildly annoyed with some of the audiotour groups blocking works - even more with people who would only look at the paintings though their iPhone lenses - I still had a profound experience in connecting with the works.

The funny thing is that I am normally not the biggest fan of the classic Dutch oil painting, with its dark colors and stark contrasts. I tend to prefer paintings that offer breathing room, light and bright colors - hence why I booked the Van Gogh in advance and not the Rijks. But this time, I got quite emotional while standing in front of the well-known Dutch art history classics.

There are two reasons for this. The first, I think, is quite easy to understand. It took place on the level of how these paintings were made. I felt this especially while looking at the still life paintings. The finished works are a testament to the amount of love that was put into creating them. Because what is love if not awe, and undivided and careful attention to detail? Feeling that loving attention for the subject radiate from those works, seeing the subjects through the eyes of the painter, made me acutely aware of the tradition that I have placed myself in line with. When I decided I was going to paint, I don’t think I fully understood why that’s what I wanted. Sometimes I still don’t fully understand it, but the urgency to do it never truly goes away. The deep respect I have for these craftspeople who came before me used to scare me and make me feel inferior. This time around, it kindled the fire in me, made me motivated and enthusiastic to keep the painting tradition alive, and to make my personal contribution to the field.

Seeing the world with the eyes of a painter, meaning: with humility, awe, and undivided, careful, loving attention, is what makes me enthusiastic about life. Beauty is everywhere all the time, and that also means that it can be anywhere, at any moment. All you have to do is pay attention, and it can really take you by surprise in the most delightful way.

In connecting to Van Gogh’s works, I have always been able to feel his humility and appreciation for the world around him. I had the same experience this time around. It has also become clear to me that his still life paintings are my true favorites. Additionally, his perseverance is always inspiring, and his previously unacknowledged genius is a reminder for an artist to always stay true to your own craft. It doesn’t matter whether or not you get recognized for what you do, all that matters is that you should be genuine.

The other way in which I was moved by the paintings at the Rijks was subtly different from the first one. This was more about the Dutch landscape paintings, which are painted with the same kind of attention to detail as the still life paintings. Throughout my life, I have felt quite disconnected from this country. This probably has a lot to do with the collective identity struggle, the parts of history that I don’t want to identify myself with, and the ways in which I don’t feel accepted in this society. However, undoubtedly and irrevocably, my being is somehow connected to this country. I was born and raised here, it is part of who I am. However flawed it is, it’s home. Looking at the landscape through the eyes of these painters, with love, with attention to detail, awakened the connection that I feel to this soil. Not to any fictional collective identities, not to my passport or citizen status, not to the narratives that are pushed upon us about what it means to be Dutch; it had nothing to do with that. Rather, it awakened a tender love and appreciation that I carry within me for the being that is this little patch of Earth that I am inseparably linked to.

These are the soil and sea that nurtured me, that I have had a profound connection to since I was a child. When I was touching the grass and plants as a toddler in my father’s garden. When I found sticks in the forest as a child. Picking berries and flowers. The car and train rides I have taken throughout my life, looking out on this strange, flat piece of Earth. And my times spent at the sandy beaches, many kilometres of sea disappearing on the horizon. Solid color planes of grey or blue in the sky. Touching the salty water with my feet. Wherever I go or end up, this connection can never be broken.

I guess this is all a bit out of character for me to write, but it was profound and important enough for me to share online. Hoping this may inspire others to look for new inspirations in witnessing these existing works. Maybe even to connect to the being of wherever you find yourself at this time in your life.