Rijksmuseum Moments

We spent the better part of a day drinking in the marvels contained in this lovely Dutch pile of bricks.

A Franz Hals portrait of a couple reminded me of Rose & Freddy West. We didn’t think much of the Night Watch, we have to admit, preferring Rembrandt’s Denial of St Peter with its third-degree searchlight from nowhere. Rembrandts in wonderful abundance, recalling Wyndham Lewis’ observation that “No serious artist thinks or propagates the notion for his own use that anything better can be done than such works as hang above Rembrandt’s name in Amsterdam or the Hermitage.”

Corot never sold a painting. I wonder why? He spent two years getting the light right. It explains the trees. His use of mauve has been corrupted beyond measure; in his case, first was best. Then we took a canal cruise past Anne Frank’s house. There were folks from the West Country, who asked among themselves ‘Who’s Anne Franks?” in rich, mellifluous tones and gave the answer that she was some kind of Nazi. ‘He who forgets the past is condemned to repeat it…..’ On a roll, TVC saw the Van Gogh museum and then smoked crack with some hookers.

[Update: “The Times” reports that Rijksmuseum has airbrushed some of its inappropriate titles and descriptors, so that Young Negro-Girl by Maris becomes Young Girl Holding a Fan and “negro” becomes “black” in notes to the paintings.  The Dutch of the golden age were not so sensitive but ’tis a different world now, of course.  Whether effecting changes in mores retrospectively is to the good can divide opinion.  Micro-aggression is (by definition) a small thing, but work at it and watch the growth.]