Voorlinden Museum (Main course): Stilte in de Storm

 STILTE IN DE STORM - Silence in the storm 

We all know "the calm before the storm". The exhibition organisers of this exhibition in Voorlinden say that who will defy a storm must step into it - "The place where calm reigns and brightness (transparency) originates". 

It makes me think of my highly beloved story by Tove Jansson: "The Filifjonka who loved catastrophes". (Please, please read it, if you can find it!)

The exhibition asks you "to set the world on pause, step into the eye of the storm" - and feel what happens to you inside. 

Above you see the gorgeous work "L'Addition" by Elmgreen & Dragset - 1961 &1968, Denmark& Norway.

Loneliness, man and nature, tracks we leave after us - a very impressive installation. 

Arturo Herenandez Alcázar (1978)

Mexico Black Kites 

The artist shows us the violence that swept over Mexico by drug-cartels. An interesting story behind that. 

Claire Tabouret (1981)

"Weaving Waters, Weaving Gestures"

Above you see a woven tapestry "The Blue Sentinels" (I hope that I am correct here).

These are only a few samples from the exhibition - and of course there were the beloved art pieces that are always there: 

Leandro Erlich (1073): 

Swimming Pool (2016)

which you can enter without getting wet, look up and see visitors as if you dived into a pool. Stunning! 

For me there was another kind of art that remains too: 

A view from inside out into the beautiful park. 

PS: I almost forgot to mention the following installation: 

Marina Abramovic (1946):

Counting the Rice 

You as a visitor could be part of it - You get a lab coat and noise-cancelling earphones, 500 gram lentils and rice, an hour and a task: to count them. 

Now: being a grandmother with a wide knowledge of fairy tales, of course it reminded me instantly of ??? 

You will have the answer! 

 

The museum Voorlinden (hors d'oeuvre)

 For a wonderful week I was in the Netherlands. And it was sunny!! I had the chance to bath in culture! 

E.g. we visited Voorlinden (Wassenaar, near Den Haag) - the museum which always entchants me. The modern building is surrounded by a beautiful garden designed by the internationally famous garden architect Piet Oudolf. Three seasons in the year this garden is blooming! 

I think it is a sympathic trait that most Dutch people are very fond of eating and conviviality - "gezelligheid" - and they not only call delicious eating "lekker!" (which means "yummy!") but people, situations, things or conversations are "lekker!" too. 

Thus we visited the Landhuis Restaurant first, a pure English brick manor house (1912),  part of the Voorlinden country estate of  40 hectare. R.J.Johnston built it together with the geometric garden. 

We got a very refined version of the Dutch Apple tart - an ignoramus might  say: "very manageable" - it was the first time that I met this tiny sister of my beloved  common Nederlandse apple tart (which is so satisfying, especially topped with cream on the huge cake slice).   The sophisticate and very delicious petiteness is only topped by its  price.   

The museum Voorlinden was opened in September 2016 by King Wilhelm Alexander. 

Come on, stroll with me the few steps from the manor house to the fascinating modern architecture of light!   

I'll add another blog, "Morsels of literature"

 "Again: a new blog!", you might think, and "How long will she do it this time?" 

Well - I read a lot and sometimes want to share it with you. I am not very versed in making up a new website - I made a mistake and wrote "morselsofgermanliterature.blogspot.com" - though I will choose from every literature that pleases me. But I don't know how to change the once installed web address. Thus I started with a book I find really funny - and think that Raymond Briggs in that morsel is talking about the difficulties of "Digitalis". 

Enjoy! 

Snowdrops and I - we both have stamina!

 

Every year I am looking for the first (wild) snowdrops. 

By now I know where to find them. 

 

The snow has gone (and I am not that sorry about ist), this year it seemed  to me the longest winter we ever had. Though I know that we still are in February, and anything can happen. 

Though I love winter. My birthday at the 29th of December. 

I have very early memories of winter: 

when my sister was born - she is three years younger than I - my parents brought me to a village nearby to enable my mother to recover from birth - it turned out as not such a bright idea, as I didn't know the people where I should stay. 

I was crying and yelling all of the time, and at last, to appease me, they went out and fetched some snow in a tin, and I see still the moon standing in the sky, feel the cold and the smell of snow - and they put it on a red glowing old stove and I watched the drops dancing on the iron rings on the stove and heard the hissing of the melting snow. 

When it stopped I started crying again. 

I had stamina. 

More than the grown-ups. 

 

Finally, in sheer exasperation, one of the grown-ups brought me back to my parents, with the very last bus. 

 

 

 

Winter in Bavaria - without (many) Words

 

                                                        My balcony (with hope for spring - look at the tag)

                                                          My car  (make an educated guess!)

                                                      View from my parlour

                                                   View from my kitchen window (ravishing!)

View of the landscape 

The Berliner Fernsehturm as Model

 Dear You, 

the world seems to become crazier every day - though a glimpse into literature or history books will show us that "There is nothing new under the sun" (with the huge difference that now WE are afflicted...) 

Sometimes afflicted in a way that I can not imagine - think of Yael - I can only helplessly feel and pray for her. 

And I feel a bit ashamed about moaning in my blog about petitetesses, everyday catastrophes like power cuts or snow in masses. 

But that is my life. 

In the picture above you see my cozy Danish lamp, an orchid that will flower (again!) soon, AND if you are very attentive: a ravishing model of my great friend, THE point of orientation in Berlin: the Berliner  Fernsehturm - Berlin's television tower. 

The real one is with 368 meters the highest building in Germany, built in 1969 in East Berlin. The copy above I found on a flea market in Berlin (and willingly paid a lot) - an original, one of the models that were sold on the day of the opening of the Fernsehturm. 

You can use it as a lamp, too!  Though, come to think of it: I will - after one test - not try it again - my last personal power cut is too fresh in my mind...      

"Dancing in the Dark" by and with Bruce Springsteen - because of the electricity cut in my house!

 

IF - and that is really seldom the case - IF in the morning I do not feel like a Mexican spring bean, I have a magic cure: I watch this video and 

                             AM ALIVE! INSTANTLY! 

So sexy. So vivid. So young! 

Last week I could only dance in the dark. 3 evenings & 3 nights I had a veritable blackout in my Bavarian apartment.  

Two electricians tried to find the fault - no way. 

People joked: I just had arrived from Berlin - where (maybe even the International Press has reported it) around Christmas our Capital Berlin had for more than 4 days a total blackout concerning 49.000 people; old ones, sick ones, little babies - no heating, no warm water, no electricity for cooking, no light. Hospitals had to be evacuated, sports halls were opened to give warm shelter.   

Berlin once again learned how  very vulnerable we are - it was - not for the first time - the attack of an anarchic Left Group which calls itself Vulkangruppe, "fighting for the climate". (They shed a few crocodile tears because in one of the four affected quarters lived not "the rich" but poorer people).   

So my Bavarian blackout was harmless: thankfully the oil-heating worked, outside were minus 7 degrees! I was astonished how quickly I adapted to the situation: first night: utter chaos and confusion, second night: already prepared, torch beside my bed, coffee machine in the hall (because in the morning the electricity mysteriously worked again - though not in the kitchen), third night: I almost expected to live in this sort of routine for the rest of my life ...     :-) 

Well: now everything is working again - though nobody knew what had happened or WHY - the electricians are - metaphorically spoken - 

DANCING IN THE DARK!