Wondering revelations: the Kröller Müller museum
Sometimes rich people do good things, or at least leave worthy legacies. The Kröller Müller art museum in Otterlo in the Netherlands is one of these rare examples which I am grateful to have had a nibbling taste of during my oh! too brief European excursion in August this year.
This institution is most famous for having the second biggest collection of Van Gogh paintings in the world, but it also has one of Europe’s largest and most thoughtfully designed sculpture gardens, with over 200 pieces set in a wooded area of a nature reserve, De Hoge Veluwe National Park. I could spend days, weeks, months at this place, not just the few hours which were all I had. Not only is it very pleasant to wander through the woods, but the sculptures on display span an impressive range of eras, styles and art movements.
The first piece which compels my attention is an interpretation of Judith beheading Holofernes carved in limestone by Italian sculptor Arturo Martini, most productive in the period between the two World Wars.
The goddess of memory, Mnemosyne, is honored in a series of circular pieces set into the earth by contemporary Brazilian multimedia artist Ana Maria Tavares (b 1958).
My host and personal concierge has a favorite sculpture. Of course it involves rocks.
So of course we spent some time, first finding the favorite piece in the meandering paths and sculptures thoughout the woods, including some rhodendron groves, then admiring its sinuous, gravity defying curves and sheer monumentality.
Another installation probably requires a bit of athleticism (and sturdy knees) to fully experience. Though I have neither, so what am I saying?
After one ascends a very steep and very tall set of stairs there is a very narrow platform at the top where, if vertigo hasn’t completely claimed your consciousness, one can look out over the nature reserve. At least that is what I think is the view. Descending was almost worse than ascending.
After this exhilarating physical feat I was glad to stumble on wobbly legs into the restorative serenity of an audio installation where eerie sound plays continuously. It’s not music really, unless one thinks of music of the spheres kind of sounds.
Though a chair is provided, my instinct would be to lie flat on my back and surrender completely in shavasana (corpse pose) on that carpet of leaves, under those trees.
But I also get why my host finds the piped sound meh if not irritating. In true Shinrin Yoku, the bliss and restoration one gains from bathing in a forest doesn’t need electronic sound. In fact, electronic sound can detract from a full sensory experience of nature.
Not far from this sound installation is the little Temple of Daily Life (1986), possibly my favourite sculpture in the park. It transported me back to India and especially roadside shrines, though with less offerings of ghee and garlands of marigolds.
The little stone temple piece is one of three related sculptures collectively called Myn Paradis/My Paradise by Dutch contemporary sculptor, stonemason and environmental artist Pjotr Müller.
Nuraghe (1986) the structure in the centre above explores construction techniques of ancient Sardinian megalithic edifices.
Another view of Temple of Daily Life (above) and Nuraghe (below)
The third component of My Paradise is the domed Soleares Tristes (2002)
More than in the sound installation, I felt I could spend a long time in the presence of these three soulful constructions being restored, re-created, made whole, put back together. All brokenness fixed.
There was much, much more in this wonderful sculpture garden but time is fleeting, both then and now. We still had the indoor galleries, including of course the vibrant and energetic Van Gogh paintings, to experience, somewhat sustained by sandwiches and coffee in the museum cafeteria.
As an incidental aside it was a relief to hear Van Gogh pronounced as I learned it, in the Dutch manner, rather than in the monolingual, culturally imperialist, educationally impoverished United States way.
See van go. Go van go. See Spot run. Run Spot run.
My poetry is the world.
Three days later, boarding an aircraft, I was still feeling the stairway to heaven climb in my grouchy knees.
Glad I got to do it. Thankyou.
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