The Rijksmuseum

For reasons that made sense at the time, I waited until last week to visit the Rijksmuseum, and for the life of me, I can’t remember why. The building is one of the true icons of Amsterdam. When I first saw it, I tried to think of something similar in the United States. Perhaps the Smithsonian Castle compares, sort of; but otherwise I got nothin’. And what’s more, similar, massive architectural works of beauty are everywhere (Centraal Station, the Queen’s palace, churches, towers, man-o-man, the list goes on and on.)

The Rijksmuseum, circa 1895

The Rijksmuseum, then known as the National Art Gallery, was founded in The Hague in 1800. Eight years later the gallery was moved to Amsterdam. In 1863 a design contest for the museum concluded with no declared winner. Twelve years later, Pierre Cuypers’s magnificent design resulted in the current building.

The Rijksmuseum is home to a world-class collection of art including the finest assembly of the work of the Dutch masters anywhere in the world.  Under renovation since 2003, only approximately 400 pieces of the one million-piece collection are available to visitors until 2013.

2012 

(notice the Queen's Day decorations)

My favorite, far and away, is the work of Rembrandt van Rijn. With, by modern standards, fairly primitive tools—crushed pigment, horsehair brushes, canvas stretched with laced strings—Rembrandt brought to the process what the rest of humanity can only admire: a superior intellect and vision. His paintings convey emotion like very few others can.

Self Portrait with Beret and Turned up Collar, Rembrandt van Rijn, 1659

When I view his paintings, they view me back. Sound silly? Look at a few; and I mean that sincerely. The original works possess a three dimensional quality that is not often accomplished by others. My favorites are the self-portraits. Honest to goodness, I don’t see a picture, I see a man looking back.

It seems that at every museum I visit, I find a little-known (to me) masterpiece. At the Rijksmuseum, it was no different. Painted by Paul Gabriel in 1889, In the Month of July: a Windmill on a Ponder Waterway was my gift this time. When people think of Holland, they usually think of three things: wooden shoes, tulips and windmills (unless you count marijuana and the Red Light District). Gabriel’s painting says it all for me—the brilliant sky with the promise of changing weather, the peat fire burning in the cabin, and the church spire visible in the village miles away all tell ageless stories about the vastness of nature, the brute strength of the windmill, and the solitude of existence.

In the Month of July: a Windmill on a Ponder Waterway, Paul Gabriel, 1889

Man, you cannot pay too much for stuff like this.