Breda

A glorious day: blue sky, sun and around freezing point. Such a bonus after the months of darkness, drizzle and misery. I had promised myself a day out, and it was the perfect day for it. I love medieval choir stalls with the misericords carved out of oak, and had been to several towns in Belgium to admire them, but I had never been to the church in Breda, which is a beautiful example of Gothic architecture of the Netherlands, and has wonderful misericords. 

One of the modern misericords

Admittedly many are defaced, either by iconoclasm which also struck here in 1566, vandalism or negligence, but they are worth seeing. There are even several modern ones, added much later.  Apart from the choir stalls, there is a magnificent organ built against the west wall. 

Details of the pipe organ

As the church is no longer regularly used for worship, the nave is empty and the beautiful blue floor tiles add character to the interior. Breda was the seat of the Princes of "Orange-Nassau", the forebears of our Dutch royals, and many of those princes were interred her. So the church also houses many elaborate tombs. In the sixteenth century a special chapel was built, the "Princely Chapel". The vaulted ceiling was beautifully decorated in blue and gold. 

A tryptich by the well-known Jan van Scorel which is still present was situated behind the altar. The monument  was built for Engelbrecht II of Nassau and his wife, by his son Henry III of Nassau. To me it seemed unusual that the couple is lying there in what looks like simple shrouds instead of formal and ornamental attire. Is it because they wanted to stress that we are all equal in death and that neither rank nor wealth makes any difference?

Since it was such a sunny day, the church was flooded with light which showed off all the subtle colours, the gold and the blue.

Another place worth seeing is the Beguinage. 

 Below: reflection of the church in a window of one of the houses

 Just an picturesque corner in the Beguinage

It is walled in, and so protected from wind. There are regular services in the little church or chapel, but when I was there in the early morning, I could only see the interior through a glass partition. The pictures are not much good, as I could not avoid my reflection in the glass. It is quite a large Beguinage, with several water pumps. It must have been good to live here, protected and well cared for. And I guess it still is. The Eglise Wallone is also part of this Beguinage, but the oxblood red doors were firmly closed and I could not even peep through a glass door or window. The history is rather fascinating. The Eglise Wallone originally was the church of the Beguinage. But it was taken away, and the entrance was moved to the street, the original doors walled in. 

Eglise Wallone. The white blob is smoke coming from a hidden chimney

In fact it left the women living in the Beguinage without a church. Their new church which now forms a focal point dates from 1838 and a priest, Pater van Zon,  was the driving force behind the building plans. He had a vicarage built next to the church in 1850. So over the ages quite a lot has changed here.

Another corner in the Beguinage

It was difficult at any time of the day to take good pictures, as the contrast between light and shade was so stark.

My next stop was the Museum of Breda, just outside the centre, to see an exhibition of paintings by Petrus van Schendel (1806-1870), a Dutch romantic artist and  a master of night scenes, especially outdoor markets which were lit by candles. Light and shade fascinated him. He was internationally famous, won many prizes during his working life, and even kings and queens bought his paintings. I never knew there were night or evening markets in the Netherlands in the nineteenth century, or at any other time. But the backgrounds were realistic, and can be traced to market squares in Rotterdam, Amsterdam and The Hague, towns where he lived for some years. 

 Two of the paintings by Petrus van Schendel, from the flyer.

The paintings were very atmospheric, but after so many candle lit market scenes, I got a bit tired of them. Nevertheless it was an exhibition well-worth seeing, even a revelation.

I retraced my steps and had something to eat and drink in an amazing cafe-restaurant in the market square. Apparently that too had won a prize, for its remarkable and attractive interior. It is in an old building, and as the Christmas trees and decorations were still there, it looked very festive indeed.

 The exterior of the church, and the tower seen from one of the narrow shopping streets.

Days are not very long at this time in January, which is just as well, as my feet needed a rest, and the battery of my camera died on me, just when the light faded. Time to take a train back home and relax.

Some details from the church in Breda:

 Painting on the ceiling

below: detail of a wall in one of the side chapels

 St. Caecilia, on the banister of the stairs to the organ console

New Year resolutions

2013, a new year. Why do we celebrate the new year in the middle of the year? And what is so new about it? For people who have always been involved in education, as pupils and students, and later as teachers and lecturers, the change of year takes place in the middle of the educational year. School years are planned from September to July. September being a new year, a fresh start, new faces, both of pupils and teachers, and colleagues. Why doesn't the new year begin in September, just after the summer holidays, or on the first day of Spring, or the day after the shortest day, December 20^th or 21^st?  At university budgets have to be ready before January 1^st. Funds are granted for a period of a calendar year, starting on January 1^st. Targets have to be met, money which hasn't been used, can't be saved for the next year when it may be badly needed, but is taken away. It is a peculiar system. For the new year is just a continuation of the year which began in September of the "old" year.

I have never felt any pressure to decide what I am going to change in the so-called New Year. All through the year I might promise myself to do better after I have failed, or said something wrong, or made a mess of things, or have had too much to eat or drink. After such a day or time I evaluate what went wrong, what changes I have to make, if any. Not especially on New Year's Eve or January 1^st. This also saves me the heartbreak of disappointment, as it is well-known that New Year Resolutions have a very short sell-by date, usually less than a week if statistics have any truth in them, and they are certainly forgotten at the end of January. Nevertheless I do use this slack time well. Christmas has come and gone, meals are frugal to make up for the bounty of December, there is no more singing, there are hardly any choir rehearsals nor Christmas concerts. There is no excitement over frozen canals, no feverish hope of skating on natural ice. It has been far too mild a  winter so far. However, there have hardly been any sunny days. Instead it has been dark and gloomy and wet for weeks, with only the minimum of daylight hours and very long and dark mornings and evenings. Now that I have taken down the Christmas lights and decorations, it seems even darker. Tracks are very muddy, so walking is no pleasure. Instead I have made the most of it and have cleared out kitchen drawers and wardrobes, and gone through piles of magazines. I have boxed things which I no longer need or never needed in the first place, ready to go to a second hand shop – or the dump. I have bought  matching containers which stack neatly in my kitchen cupboards, thrown away foodstuffs which were not in view and so had lived on my shelves for years and years. As the weather is still miserable, I may do some more clearing out and cleaning. No New Year resolutions for me, but boy, do I feel virtuous!

Haarlem and Rafael

Early in the morning I went to Haarlem to see another exhibition, drawings by Rafael. Fascinating! The drawings and sketches, - studies most of them for the paintings and frescoes - are so minute and so detailed, it is just unbelievable. Every scrap of paper is used. And the drawings look very modern, especially the different expressions of the male faces. Such a contrast with medieval art when people were just types. In these drawings individual characters are represented. The women were more idealised, I think, with mostly a very serene expression, fit for the Madonna, who was in fact most often pictured when it came to women.

We – I and a friend who is an art historian - entered the museum as it opened, which was just as well because it became so busy that people were only allowed in piecemeal, one by one, when somebody else left, a slow process. By the time we left there was an enormous line winding its way through the museum and all the way to the front door. Without realizing it, we had spent two hours at the exhibition.

After "loitering" in front of showcases and glass framed drawings, It was very relaxing to sit down and have lunch in a cafe on the market square, with a view of the imposing Bavo church. Time for a chat and for – mild – gossip!

 

The rising sun reflected in the windows

The beauty of being in Haarlem just after 9 o' clock in the morning was that at that hour the city is still rather quiet with little traffic. The early morning light made everything look fresh and new. Fortunately I had brought my camera, so I tried to capture the atmosphere of the city, which with its many waterways and canals is very picturesque in places. For a change there was no wind, the air was clear and the sky cloudless.

After lunch I took a train to Amsterdam because of some errand and since I now had a camera with me, I went back to the museum Ons' Lieve Heer op Solder to take better pictures of the pipe organ and the interior of the church. Fortunately there was hardly anybody around, totally different from Saturday. Here are a few pictures of the interior and the small pipe organ.