Yellow Chrysanthemums

Brugge cemetery

Yesterday, November 1st was La Toussaint, Allerheiligen, All Saints, the day of hommage to all saints and martyrs, celebrated in Rome since the fifth century and originally on the Sunday after Pentecost. All Saints, specifically a Roman Catholic celebration marked in R.C. countries like Belgium, France, Spain and Poland [and more] has dated to November 1 since the eighth century. In Belgium that means another feestdag and a strong tradition of spending some, or all, of the day with the family and in visiting family graves, bearing chrysanthemums in memoriam. November 2nd is All Souls, I think, a day to remember all the dead.

Brugge cemetery: headstone

I had not taken too much notice of it till this year but, on this week’s Wednesday morning market on the Markt here. I went to buy my usual flowers on my usual stall, a Bruggean indulgence since I have lived here. My attention was drawn to a large vase of white chrysanths with each bloom shielded in a protective cocoon of green plastic net. They were adorned with a notice saying: Promo. 1 euro each bloom. Amazing; chrysanths are never cheap in the UK and I immediately bought six and added bunches of white and green foliage. After removing the protective plastic I could appreciate the large shaggy heads.Two vases of white chrysanthemums adorn my sitting room as I write. They look wonderful and I love them but it was only as I left the market that I remembered the chrysanthemum connection to Toussaint when I noticed a number of people carrying bunches too. It seems a charming custom to me, atheist that I am; it illustrates the influence of the Catholic Church still but rather more testifies to the strong family connections customary in Belgian society. It was not until the evening with my usual conversation group at the Oud Huis Amsterdam [minus at least half of the members on account of La Toussaint!] that I was dumbfounded to discover that Belgians would never, could never, buy chrysanthemums for the house. Never, ever! It is the associations of course but still so interesting to stumble over another difference between two countries, two societies, so similar in many ways and so close geographically but with historically different national religions and the associated cultural divergences. There is absolutely no equivalent celebration in the UK to La Toussaint in spite of the fact that, no doubt, All Saints is in the Church of England calendar.

Chrysanthemums do have a special meaning for me however, associated in fact with a much-loved family member who died over twenty years ago. My darling maiden aunt Lily used to stay quite often with us and always at Christmas. She was poor and proud, and had tremendous interpersonal skills and warmth; she maintained connections between far-flung cousins and parts of the larger family who might otherwise have lost touch with each other. Her contribution at Christmas was always a superb bunch of enormous yellow chrysanthemums for our hall where there stood a low polished cupboard with a large oval mirror above, a perfect spot for an arrangement with the mirror providing the illusion of ever-greater floral power! The blooms were grown by a local retired miner, chrysanthemum-growing being a traditional and highly-regarded  hobby among miners in the area. She was friends with one such who always allowed her the privilege of buying from him at Christmas and she was very conscious of the honour he bestowed on her, and of the special beauty of her prize blooms. Her offering was always presented as if rare jewels and received as such. The ache I sometimes feel for those far-off Christmas days, when the children were small and excitement ran high, includes fondest memories of my aunt and her prize yellow chrysanthemums and the delight she and they brought to me.

Toussaint sky from my terrace.

Appropriately dramatic.

.

Brugge cemetery again.

Adriaan Brouwer

In tune with the continuing late golden weather, [Indian summer indeed though, alas, attributable to global warming.] on Tuesday October 16^th I had a lovely sunlit day out in Oudenarde with a friend. The energy ran out unfortunately before we had time to explore the town but the Grote Markt was a delight which welcomes the visitor. The journey took longer than I had expected and we needed an immediate coffee, located at one of the cafes on the sunny Markt, before embarking on the purpose of our visit: to see the exhibition on Adriaan Brouwer: Master of Emotions. Publicised as in the Mou Museum, we discovered that meant it was in the truly handsome 17^th century Stadhuis which houses the town museum. The exterior of the Stadhuis is beautiful, surely one of the most intricate and ornamental in the whole of Belgium. What impressed inside was the stylish and effective way the huge old building has been skilfully adapted to house the Museum and exhibition spaces. It is exemplary.

I am rather embarrassed to admit that I had never heard of Adriaan [also spelled as Adriaen] Brouwer but now, I am becoming an A.B. bore! He was born between 1603 and 1605 in Oudenarde, the son of a draughtsman for tapestry cartoons, a thriving industry in the town from 1368. In 1622 he moved to Antwerp and was influenced by both Pieter 11 Breughel and Frans Hals,

The Smokers.

The main figure is generally reckoned to be

Adriaan Bouwer

in one of his favourite settings.

the latter of whom he is often reputed to have been a pupil though no definite proof has emerged. By 1631 Adriaan, after living in Harlem, was back in Antwerp where he was imprisoned at one point; perhaps by the Spanish for espionage; perhaps for high levels of debt. He died in poverty in 1638 and his body was originally thrown into a communal plague pit but was soon rescued by one of his fellow artists and an admirer, Rubens, and given full burial honours in the Carmelite Church in Antwerp.

The exhibition of almost half of his known works of 60, on loan from the U.S, Europe and the U.K., traces his short but brilliant career. In fact, he became famous for his genre paintings with his work depicting, almost exclusively, low life in bars or among peasants and farmers, card players, smokers and drinkers [when tobacco was a fairly new phenomenon and very popular]. He seems to have been comfortable in such company and never painted aristocratic groups or scenes which will, inevitably, have limited his market. However his work was collected by fashionable and gifted contemporaries like Rubens, Rembrandt and Teniers. He can be seen, in retrospect, as an important transitional figure bridging the sixteenth century Brueghel tradition and the landscape and genre scenes of the seventeenth. He did, in fact, move to painting landscapes towards the end of his life.

My personal reaction to his work in the exhibition was strong; I love his faces particularly and the humour of the situations he portrays. His groups are full of assorted rough-hewn mediaeval faces and the scenes are vibrant and wholly alive as the assorted actors leer, talk, flirt, drink too much, fight and quarrel, jeer and sing. The painter shows himself as a genial lover of the company of ordinary people with their foibles and their rough and ready lives. There is always an air of everyday low life about his scenes, skilfully portrayed in the minimum, targeted strokes of genius! Brouwer was, above all, an expert at conveying emotions and moods, sometimes including grotesque features in the pursuit of truth.

Green in every way ...

"Greens make historic gains in Belgium"

Big weekend in that I was allowed to vote for the first time in the City election. Responsibility!! I took soundings and discovered that Vlaams party meant Flanders to secede from the Walloons; not economically viable at the very least. Anything with ‘Christian’ in its name, meant, of course, descended from/via the Roman Catholic church; a definite No! No! for me…. A title with ‘liberal’ in it, means ‘conservative’ so again, not for me. There were so many shades of political stance that I completed an online questionnaire to determine to which Belgian political party I was closest. The answer was the Greens so the way was clear!! In Belgium, voting is compulsory [which I applaud] but even so I was surprised to see a small queue outside Sint Leo school at ten minutes before opening time at 8.00 a.m as I returned home from my early swim. Sunday was the first time for electronic voting in Brugge; brilliant; quick, easy, no need to count votes subsequently. I had a step-by-step sheet to guide the novice through the process but still had to ask for help. Without real Dutch I removed the card from the slot too soon and was unable to proceed. Unobtrusive help was at hand and the vote cast in seconds. It is a really quick and efficient system even for beginners.

Dirk de Fauw

Flushed with my presumed sensitivity to the local Brugge civic scene, I intended to write to the Greens to suggest they nudge De Lijn, the bus company, to invest in a fleet of electric buses and use Brugge as a test run for the country. Plus, to urge it to push for restricted car use in the centre. That is until I checked and discovered that I was too late as usual! This month the decision was made by the Brugge council to close the main streets to traffic each Saturday and the first Sunday of each month, from February 1st 2019, between 10.00 and 18..00. So, well done Brugge and well done De Lijn who have invested in over 120 electric buses for Belgium, with three operating in a small test project in Brugge. Meanwhile, a larger De Lijn pilot project will begin in 2019 in Antwerp, Ghent and Leuven with wireless charging. Brugge's project is testing batteries using cable charging.

One of the electric buses in Brugge

Apparently Bruggean air is of a very poor quality in the centre. The bus routes were changed in January of this year to remove them, chiefly, from the main streets and, in addition to next February's plan, cars could be banned on certain week-days, or staggered use permitted, say each car allowed three days a week only in the centre. Publicity for electric
cars could be increased and re-charging stations begun to be established. There are numerous permutations possible. The new Burgemeester [Dirk de Fauw] and his Council will be as exceptionally conscious of the aesthetics of the city as the previous incumbents, regarding both domestic and commercial buildings; colours for houses to be painted; designs for modifications to houses and shops; rules for trash [fines

Calicarpa Bodiniere

for putting out rubbish on the wrong day; plastic blue sacks often refused because of some unknown infringement]; very strict parameters for materials for road repairs; signage. The list is almost endless and it is worthy and effective. Tourists don’t want to see the historic street-scape spoiled in any way and they are the life-blood of this town. However, tourists don’t see, or therefore notice, poor air quality but residents increasingly do and they need better!

My little terrace continues to enchant and harbour, though tinges of Autumn are beginning. Walking home along Wapenmakersstraat on Friday, I stopped at the most irresistible shop in Brugge; a plant shop which, though it specialises in cacti and often has some beautiful bonsai in the window, offers a very good range of garden plants. As I have remarked several times, I can buy no more plants otherwise there will be no room for people on the terrace; however, there was a gorgeous purple-berried beauty on display over which I dithered for seconds before acquiring! It is a Calicarpa Bodiniere, named after Emile-Marie Bodinier, a French missionary and botanist who collected plants in China in the 19^th century. One wonders if the proselytizing or the plants were his chief passion. He certainly had a good eye for a decorative plant and one such is now gracing my tiny terrace.

Beautiful boy guarding a late-flowering fuschia

Hedd Wyn [Blessed Peace]

Proud participant

I have just enjoyed an interesting, some might say, a unique and singular, evening at Langemark near Ypres when I attended a most moving ceremony at the Sportsman Bar where, every first Monday in

The Hero in the original Welsh

the month, there is a ceremony to honour the dead of the Welsh who fought close by in WW1. I had, in fact, discovered the special place which a Welshman, known by his Bardic name of Hedd Wyn, but christened Ellis Humphrey Evans, still holds in the affection of people who live there but especially of Marc Decaestecker, the bar owner and local caterer. Indeed his place is virtually a shrine to Hedd Wyn [Blessed Peace] who was killed on the first day of the Battle of Passchendaele on July 31st 1917 six weeks before he was awarded the first prize in the Birkenhead Eisteddfod for his poem, The Hero. There were countless tributes and a small shrine to Hedd Wyn in the bar and beyond in a large exhibition of WW1 material, evidence of Marc's profound interest in, and respect for, the poet and soldier who was, essentially, a Christian pacifist.

  

After the Battle of Passchendaele

The Welsh Memorial at Langemark

However, though reverence for Hedd Wyn is the basis for the evening, the ceremony of remembrance is for all the men of the 38th Welsh Division who fought and died on the nearby Pilcken Ridge. It is virtually a military-style event with readings in both Flemish and English; solemn and plaintive trumpet and bagpipe tributes; the monument, a focal point watched over by a tall flagpole with a Welsh flag breezily aloft. There are men in kilts and uniform, measured steps and sadness. It is an extraordinary ceremony one hundred and one years after the dreadful events of Passchendaele, the Third Battle of Ypres, when an estimated one million shells landed on Ypres in the three month-long conflict and the former timeless agricultural slopes were soon transformed into a hellish, extended mud lake deep enough to drown men and horses, There is small wonder that the Flemish have such strong feelings and reverence for the theatre of WW1 which transformed and degraded and robbed the lives of every family. As one man, involved in the arrangements and presentation, said to me, 'There isn’t a local family for many miles who hasn’t stories to tell.’ Faded voices;
still lives; echoes of sorrows. All of these are remembered in this simple, moving ceremony.

There are parallels between Flanders and Wales; each a small part of a larger country, each determined to retain its customs, culture and language in an increasingly homogenised world; each searching for peace and prosperity. This inspiring monthly act of remembrance acts as a tiny enduring beacon of that deep joint impulse.

The back of Hedd Wyn's Bardic chair,

draped for a year after his death 

in a black cloth.

AntwerpPhoto

Wednesday market, Brugge Markt

A very interesting day out with friends on Wednesday causing me to miss the market on the Markt and thus no flowers, fruit, salads or vegetables. That market is SO essential. So yesterday to Proxy for fruit etc and an on-the-impulse drop-in to the lovely handbag shop, Daneels, nearby to buy leather gloves. It is closing down in October after at least 30 years in its present position as the up-market, solidly reliable

Nordzandstraat, Brugge

shop for leather goods and it will be missed. It is shocking at present to see so many shops empty or about to be abandoned in Brugge, simply on the two main shopping arteries of Geldmanstraat leading to Zuidzandstraat and Steenstraat leading to Nordzandstraat. Last week I counted six vacant shops with more winding down. One hears that it is a sign of the times and changing shopping habits chiefly because of the Internet, but it adds rather a desolate touch to the bustling city we know and love.

The day out was to Antwerp to see an important photography biennial by AntwerpPhoto in the

Keith Richard in younger days.

former Pilot House, the erstwhile departure point for Antwerp’s harbour pilots. It is a protected building, normally not open to the public and is a neo-Renaissance palace dating from 1890 standing impressively on the banks of the River Scheldt. It is, in fact, greatly in need of lots of tlc and money while a decision is made about its future. However, its down-at-heel appearance and feel was splendidly attuned to the several photo exhibitions, particularly that on the ground floor; 1-2-3-4 by Anton Corbijn. It involved iconic images of world-class rock ‘n’ roll stars like Depeche Mode, The Rolling Stones, U2, Metallica and Nirvana. Corbijn moved to London in 1979 following the bands he admired and wished to photograph. There were some stunning images but the rather seedy musicians photographed in depressing warehouses, down-at-heel spaces and grimy wastelands, felt at home in the decaying exhibition space. A perfect fusion in fact.

Prix Carmignac photo of refugees, penned up.

The second exhibition was the Prix Carmignac which gave opportunity to photojournalists to explore in depth a region at the centre of global conflict where human rights and the luxury of free speech barely exist. The results were graphic and profoundly moving. The third exhibition,
Iconobelge, showed the work of 34 Belgian photographers who, each in his own distinctive manner, recorded the world around them. Although not a retrospective, nor a collection, it showed the personal search by distinguished photographers among their archives to produce an exhibition of rich imagery and powerful moments, snapshots in the purest sense. Michael Wolf, the fourth show, was an extended study in megacities documenting both architecture and local culture. His Architecture of Density showed Hong Kong’s skyscrapers as almost endless abstractions while his Tokyo Compression demonstrated human density trapped, for instance, in the metro where every centimetre of space is crammed.

Iconobelge celebratory photograph

Old Hongkong apartments

The one exhibition which took my breath away was the Prix Carmignac with its large wrenching photographs of black refugees, stripped of dignity, safety, humanity, their collective suffering vividly and individually endured stoically, fearfully and endlessly. The very worst aspects of human behaviour were generally implied; immigrants shown routinely humiliated, tortured, starved, sold and bought as animals, terrified and degraded. I have never read or seen a stronger case for both remedial and punitive action in any publication or exhibition before. The eloquence of this Prix Carmignac photography should move mountains.

Mick Jagger in drag, Glasgow 1996

Anton Corbijn

Prix Carmignac photo of 

women just sold.

Paris and Picasso

And shortly after my last blog was published, I whizzed off to Paris to meet my California-based daughter over to a medical conference in the City of Light. And a lovely interlude, that was. Super, and rare, to spend a couple of days with my darling eldest and great to return to Paris after about a quarter of a century! I shared her room in Claridges on the Champs-Elysees; a bit of a thrill to be there and more so considering the facilities and 

Fraser-Claridges Champs Elysees, 74.

Part of the main internal courtyard.

quality plus the lovely view below the balustrade down to a huge courtyard below. 

We had a gentle time, wandering, stopping to savour the view or have a coffee, checking out Montmartre, the Seine, the boulevards. Best of all perhaps, we had a long trip to the Musee d’Orsay to see the just-opened Picasso, Bleu et Rose, an absolutely wonderful and huge exhibition of these two periods of his early painting life. [A joint exhibition by the Musee d'Orsay and the Musee Nationale Picasso-Paris] The extraordinary inventiveness and richness of talent just pulsated from the many, many works of art on view from the period between 1900 and 1906. Picasso arrived in Paris at the Gare d'Orsay in 1900 aged only 18 but already a precocious and confident artist.

 The seven years, with Picasso dividing his time until 1904 between Barcelona and Paris, show a huge range of styles  with evidence of artistic experiments and explorations, emerging. His palette of bright colours, and his subjects, reminiscent of the Post-Impressionism of Toulouse-Lautrec and Van Gogh gradually shade into the blues and mauve monochromes of the Bleu period, [1901-1904] and eventually the rose pinks and reds of the 'Saltimbanques' period [1905- summer 1906] He also moved from depicting aspects of modern life, like the theatre and became immersed in representing the melancholy impoverished and inadequate like lonely absinthe drinkers and poor prostitutes.

Young Harlequin with Acrobat 1905

 It was a magical and privileged interlude for me not tainted by a last-minute dash Sian had to find me hanging around for the Thalys, from her Eurostar departure point, fortunately both in la Gare du Nord! I had claimed my passport from the room safe while the room was dark, early that morning and she slept. I had known I wouldn’t need my passport in the Schengen Area but couldn’t quite bring myself to leave it at home! So I had taken it from among a number of things in the safe and popped it directly into my handbag. Only, inadvertently, I had taken hers and subsequently, she, mine, without either of us thinking to check the name. But potential disaster was averted!

La Femme en Chemise [Madeleine] 1905

A favourite.

And a technicolour sky from my terrace to welcome
me back home to Beloved Brugge!

Triennale and Autoze Zondag 2018

The Minne Floating School

Just two days after the Triennale has officially finished, already some exhibits are being de-constructed. I am hoping that the Blue Whale continues to leap a little longer but the structure on the Burg was under attack before 8.00 this morning and I see that the external wooden staircase to the Urb Egg Cafe in the garden of the Poortersloge has already gone. Sometimes, the Powers-That-Be in Brugge get it wrong [witness the expensive facelift to ‘t Zand which looks like a big empty space without the statuesque fountain] but one has to admit that the organisation of various aspects of civic life are eye-wateringly efficient here!

Brugge Grote Markt Cultuurmarkt

Sunday 16^th September saw not only the wonderful Autoloze Zondag with its many, many external features; dancing for older people in front of the Stadschouwburg; Rommelmarkten in Hoogstraat and Langestraat; over 20 stallholders in the Cultuurmarkt representing many local groups and activities, including for children, in the Markt and in Sint Jakobstraat; mobility and traffic safety in the Burg; a dance work-out in the morning on ‘t Zand and a closing concert there at 16.30. And all beneath a cloudless sky and accommodating a veritable army of tourists in addition to enthusiastic locals.

Sunday evening, Kunle Adeyemi, a Nigerian architect responsible for the splendid Floating School at the Minnewater, gave a talk in the Concertgebouw in English. I was impressed that the large Flemish audience turned up for a lecture in English and even more impressed with the quality of what Meneer Adeyemi had to say! The Minnewater version of the Floating School was Mark 3; the first grew out of a response to the ramshackle overcrowded settlement living on a large expanse of water in Makoko, Senegal when space inland was scarce and expensive. The architect’s team had listened to many of the settlers, desperately poor but resourceful people, and in response to their comments about life on water, arrived at the first Floating School solution. Basically Mr Adeyemi is trying to provide ideas to accommodate a population explosion with a significant proportion of large towns and cities situated near water, chiefly coastline. His statistics were frightening; in Africa, 70% of large towns and cities are near water and 70% of these need only a small increase in sea levels to be submerged. He is especially interested in the impact of climate change and on the possibilities of living on water to cope with the varying demands of that climate change.

The original Floating School in Makoko,

used for many purposes like a daily market.