An Interesting week
I vowed to do something interesting or new each week. I got more than I bargained for, something interesting or/and new almost every day!
Friday March 25th
As every Friday evening choir practice with our church choir, a collection of interesting individuals representing many different nationalities and each one being a little bit odd in his or her own way, slightly autistic, extremely gifted musically, high in IQ and low in EQ, in all sizes and shapes and colours. Although an English church choir, one of our sopranos who has been in the choir for ages can't resist remarking regularly in a very clear and loud voice that she is the only English singer in the choir! She seems to resent this, but we just smile and bear with her. But one can't but conclude that each of the choristers is rather special. And we never start with all the singers present, they come in one by one like Agatha Christie's Ten little Niggers in reverse, till some twenty minutes after the practice has started we are at last all there. Although "all" is the wrong word, since the number of choir members who can come fluctuates from weekend to weekend. Wisely our choirmaster starts with the easy music, the hymns and as the case may be the dreaded gospel songs, and does not tackle the more difficult anthems and canticles till everybody seems to be present. It is very hard on her, but she is too nice and modest to be able to say much about it. So I think it is about time for me to send out another pastoral letter to the choir this coming week. Oddly enough some members try to improve on the conductor and beat their own rhythm, not even watching the choirmaster. This is rather annoying for the people sitting behind such a person, as two arms waving a different beat is distracting and confusing. There are quite a few professional musicians amongst the singers, and most of them are modest. The semi-professional ones seem to know best and want to instruct and correct the choirmaster. It is really very funny. Choir practice offers an excellent study of human behaviour. Although during the practice we honestly expect Evensong on Sunday to be a total disaster, nobody singing in tune, everybody following their own devices (biblical?), it actually goes very well. Probably disastrous practices result in more concentration on a Sunday, and on actually watching the choirmaster. We sing our good byes to an embassy member who is sent back to Brasilia and has been in the choir for almost ten years. It sounds just awful, as if a bunch of strangers picked randomly from the street has suddenly decided to give it a try. But Luis is moved anyway, if not by our awful singing, as by the fact that this is his last Evensong with us.
The Horsten and High Tea
On Saturday I shared a high tea with the other board members of the "Volksuniversiteit", the cultural institution for adults. I missed part of the walk, but know the estate quite well and have a season ticket. Besides, the weather wasn't exactly inviting, and who wants to get wet? The park or estate is quite unusual, an oasis in this big city stretching from Amsterdam to Rotterdam and even far beyond that to Dordrecht. It is called the Horsten, and belongs to the royal family. There used to be several castles and mansions, which were mostly broken down except for one or two. There are several farms, as well. Our prince royal and his young family have a mansion there, the Eikenhorst, but that was built during my adulthood, so relatively recently. What formerly was a hunting lodge of King Frederick, and later a playhouse for the young princess Wilhelmina, is now a teashop and lunchroom. It is a Hansel and Gretel house, a true gingerbread house. Nearby is a dilapidated mooring place for Wilhelmina's rowing boat. The estate also boasts an artificial hill, with a wooden hut on top, which has fantastic views towards Leiden and The Hague across the fields and pockets of woodland. As an adult Wilhelmina used to paint here. The hill is planted with lilacs, and when they are in bloom the perfume of the flowers is quite intoxicating, especially on a warm and sunny day.
I already mentioned Evensong on Sunday
Belgium 3
From then on every day of the week has been different, with a third visit to Belgium one day. This time we head towards Hoogstraten, a very small town or village, with a magnificent church, built of brick, which can compete with any cathedral. It is amazing to find such a church in a very small town. Apparently the inhabitants of the moated and impressive castle nearby, provided the money for this church. They were count Antoon de Lalaing (1480-1540) and countess Elisabeth van Culemborg (1475-1555). The church was supposed to be their place of burial. The inside of their castle is unfortunately only open to delinquent youngsters – one way only - , so out of bounds for us. There is a surprising number of penitentiary buildings near Hoogstraten, as we discover later. And a cemetery for vagrants, who used to live and work in a "Kolonie" which was a sort of prison.
But back to the church: it was almost totally destroyed in the last days of the war, except for the choir, as a last act of vengeance. The beautiful windows had fortunately been taken to a safe place during the war and were unscathed. The church and tower were rebuilt. The church houses a wealth of art. Especially the carved wooden choir stalls are the most wonderful I have ever come across. They were also damaged but carefully pieced together again. There are medieval Flemish tapestries, amazing altar pieces, sculptures, another smaller set of choir stalls, all carved from wood.
The other thing worth seeing is the "Begijnhof" or "Beguinage". Beguinages were founded in most medieval cities of the low countries at the time of the crusades. A lot of women had lost their husbands and wanted to live in protected communities. Most of these women, however, did not want to join a convent or a monastery, where they had to make vows. In the beguinages, the ladies could live like nuns or sisters, without having to make vows that would tie them for the rest of their lives. The system of beguinages continued to exist in the low countries until this century. Most beguinages consisted of a group a small houses, which, together, formed a little separate village inside a town or city. In Hoogstraten the church in the middle dominates the small, whitewashed houses, which have no house numbers but saints' names. It has another interesting carved wooden pulpit. It must have been wonderful to live here in uncertain and turbulent times. There are a number of water pumps, an orchard, a well, and what looks like plots for a kitchen garden. Nowadays the houses are rented out to locals. It is an oasis of rest and peace, and I can easily imagine myself living there.
Lucas van Leyden
After a physiotherapy session the next morning I had lunch with friends in Leyden, followed by a visit to the "Lakenhal" to see the impressive exhibition of Lucas van Leyden, an early Renaissance painter who knew Holbein. The exhibition features prints, drawings, paintings and altarpieces, and highlights the exceptional position Lucas held in the Northern Netherlands during the Renaissance. Works by internationally renowned contemporaries, such as painter and printmaker Albrecht Dürer from Germany, landscape painter Joachim Patinir from Flanders, the Italian printmaker Marcantonio Raimondi , and the Leiden painters Aertgen van Leyden and Cornelis Engebrechtsz are also on display. Especially the drawings seem very modern and true to life. In one part of the exhibition prints by Holbein and prints by Lucas van Leyden depicting the same subject are placed next to each other. It is a delight to compare the prints, see the similarities, and yet the differences in style as well.
Amsterdam and Pipe organs
The following day I went to Amsterdam with my organist friend from Scheveningen. After a leisurely dinner in a trendy place in the centre of Amsterdam, we walked to the Orgelpark, a former protestant church made famous by one of its preachers, Geelkerken, who denied that the serpent in Paradise had really spoken. Because of this the synod banned him which resulted in a schism, a well-known phenomenon in Protestant churches. The banisters along the stairs are formed by two rattle snakes, a reminder of that historical event. The church is now transformed into a concert hall, which houses four pipe organs from different periods. We enjoyed an interesting and varied recital on each of the four instruments, with music appropriate for the individual organs: from the baroque, the French romantic period, to Italian Renaissance music, etc.. The aim of the "Orgelpark" is to show that an organ is not just a church instrument inextricably bound up with religion, but can be used perfectly well for secular and modern music, often in combination with other musical instruments. Even so, it is housed in a former church which seems rather ironic. However, it is a marvellous way of conserving a building which is very characteristic of the period it was built in. Inside the church the bricks form very interesting and decorative patterns. Too many churches which are no longer in use are simply pulled down.
Electronic organ
On Thursday the electronic organ my father owned was delivered to my house. So all morning I moved furniture, not exactly knowing where the organ would fit. The hall? The living room? I would have liked it on the second floor and make that space into a music room, but that is out of the question given the spiral staircases in my house. Too bad, as I had imagined making the second floor into a library cum music room and writer's den. I would like to line the walls with bookcases, put the organ there, have cases for the sheet music I own and my flute. Besides the book press could be stationed there so that I can bind my own books again. I would then make the room opposite my bedroom into a spare bedroom. It is not big, but big enough. And the second floor room is spacious and very sunny which I like. I could write books and stories, daydream, read and play the organ. Alas, it is far too expensive to have the organ hoisted to the second floor. Perhaps, if I inherit some money, I may decide to do so. For now it is taking pride of place in my living room, which seems considerably shrunken in size. But it is good to have something which was so much part of my father's life. I took some interesting pictures of my father playing the organ a year or so ago. He seems happy, his fingers gnarled by arthrosis. I may frame one of those photo's and put it on top of the instrument.
It has nothing to do with Lent, but I have promised to teach myself to play again. 40 odd years ago I gave up. I had played the organ since I was 14. When I enrolled at university, I had no access to an instrument. Besides, life was far too interesting and exciting. Am I motivated enough to practice regularly every day? We'll see. But since there is no husband to distract me, it may be possible and certainly will keep me out of harm's way.
Friday April Fool's Day
The first day of a new month, another Friday and fortunately no practical jokes! Instead a morning of household chores and the weekly shopping. Later in the afternoon a friend from the choir, the conductor and I study Palestrina's Jesu Rex admirabilis, a very short piece for three voices which we are supposed to sing on Saturday April 9th in church at an evening of Music and Meditations. I did not know about it till I saw the programme, which gave me a fright as I am not very confident singing in public, except in a choir, however small that may be.
Later in the evening we have our regular choir practice in The Hague, a rather fruitful one which isn't always the case. It being the first practice of the month, it is followed by drinks, and "bitterballen", lovingly prepared for us by Brenda, the wife of one of the choristers.
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