On almost any trip, there's going to be a rainy day. When we find one in the forecast, that's when we schedule our museumdag (museum day).
Brussel (Brussels, pop 1.25m in 2024) has no shortage of museums, but the big ones are on the campus of the Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van België (Royal Museums of Fine Arts, 19th century). They offer a lot to see, and it's about a half hour walk up the hill, so we leave early.
Our walk takes us through the Kruidtuin (Botanical Garden). Unfortunately, our exit gate is shut, and we wander the paths under a threatening sky. The oranjerie is not yet open; we cross the long, ramping bridge and find an open gate on the other side of the highway.
The underpass is flooded, and we must time our crossing to avoid the traffic and the spray. We emerge on the other side in a land of office blocks; these are the generic government buildings we drove past yesterday.
Unexpectedly, the Kathedraal van Sint-Michiel en Sint-Goedele (Cathedral of St Michael and St Gudula, 11th to 15th centuries) sits within this endless sprawl. As we make our way up the hill, the construction barricades force an exit back down the hill. We climb the stairs on Kunstbergstraat, where we find the Beiaard von de Kunstberg and its arrangement of figures and bells.
At the top of the hills is a wide plaza with a fountain, an amazing view of the city, a sculpture titled 'Het Wervelend Oor' (Whirling Ear, Alexander Calder, 1958), and a lot of tired tourists. Across the street, a group of facades stands upright, turns the corner, and marches toward the temple front of the Koudenbergkerk (18th century). Among them are the wiry canopy and the gable-dome of the Muziekinstrumentenmuseum (19th century), which may help explain the 'Ear'.
The Musea in the main campus include: the Museum voor Oude Kunst (old masters), the Magritte Museum, the the Fin-de-Siècle Museum (turn of the century). As we buy our tickets, the docent explains that the Fin-de-Siècle is closed for building repairs, which is fine given our visit to the Vila Empain yesterday.
We begin with René Magritte and take the elevator to the top of the complex.
The exhibition is organized as a series of descending, chronological levels, with a timeline at the entrance of each area. To help us get acquainted, it includes many pages from journals and publications along with some of the paintings – and we being to connect the objects with ideas.
An object does not care so much about its name that we cannot find another one that suits it better …An object meets its image, an object meets its name. Sometimes the image and the name of this object meet …We see the images and words differently in a painting …Or the opposite …
The first section concludes with images of the famous pipe and bowler hat.
In the between-war years, he joins the Surrealists in Paris and expands his vocabulary of object-words with playful themes and variations.
Often, the language of the work reflects Magritte's experiences with the graphic arts and advertising.
During World War II, Magritte remains in occupied Brussels, and his focus switches to figurative paintings, though with his Surrealist sensibility: nudes in which bodies melt into the horizon, or a Fauvist portrait in which the subject licks her shoulder.
After the War, Magritte continues to juxtapose or recontextualize the familiar. He begins to deconstruct the human form as well as landscapes to 're-see' what we see and 're-think' what we think.
After our re-wiring, we return to the main gallery, and nothing seems quite the same. It's time for lunch. The temperatures are cool now, thanks to the rain, and we take or meal outside.
After lunch, with clearing skies, we stop at the Kleine Zavelsquare (Hendrik Beyaert, 19th century), a small park encircled by sculptures. Figures surmount the wall and seem to represent the typical roles of the locals – people carrying tools or market goods identifying different jobs.
A formal garden spreads around a central fountain with a statue of a pair of noblemen (the Counts of Egmont and Hoorn). Other Belgian heroes surround them, arranged on a semi-circular stair, and include Corneille De Vriendt (with mallet) and Gerard Mercator (with globe).
Opposite the square is the Onze-Lieve-Vrouw ter Zege op de Zavelkerk (Our Lady of the Sablon, 15th century). Admirably compact, the facade is less severe and chunky than the Kathedraal or St Bavo's, for example. Female saints in the archivolts welcome visitors, while male saints in the tympanum attend 'Our Lady' wearing armor and wielding weapons.
The lateral facade of the church makes a wonderful backdrop for the square.
The interior is full of light from the lovely stained glass in the aisles and the clerestory. This is a noted example of the Brabantse gotiek, with the pointed-arch vaults along the nave landing on round columns rather than bundled piers – though piers remain along the side chapels.
Interesting to note the Gothic era continuing here in Northern Europe into the 15th century, and the architectural integration with the Baroque sculptural elements.
As we head back to the Musea, we enjoy the carved saints among the buttresses and the gargoyles overhead.
Around the back of the church, the flat arches and spiky motifs remind us of the Portuguese Manueline. This is offset by the verticality of the tall windows in the apse.
The Museum voor Oude Kunst occupies the large Neoclassical block of the complex. The side galleries are filled with intimate scenes and portraits by artists such as Jacobus Vrel, Rembrandt van Rijn, and Frans Hals.
It's an inspiring slice through the Dutch Golden Age. These are typified by a glowing light and a sense of reserve, scenes of daily life meant to be consumed by the bourgeois, and not necessarily by the nobility or the church.
Arriving at the upper level, we see a large map-like landscape of the city (Gezicht op Brussel, Jan-Baptiste Bonnecroy, c1665), which presents the Flemish quality of light and fascination with detail to a different scale.
The main galleries along the upper courtyard feature collections grouped by theme or artist. We are surprised to find the five o'clock closing-time approaching, so we head directly to The Bruegels Room. Here, we are confronted by De val van de opstandige engelen (Fall of the rebel angels, Pieter Bruegel de Oude, 1562), an astonishing image of evil beasts and malformed people; at the center, a calm Archangel Michael slices through the ghastly mass. Another visitor insists the armored figure is St George because his shield has the red cross, and that the large angel with the sword is Michael – and that makes sense as it leaves seven trumpeter angels (vs eight) announcing the Apocalypse.
As we make our way through the galleries, we realize that many paintings of the Northern Renaissance carry a darker message of humanity, from Adam en Eva (Adam and Eve, Lucas Cranach de Oude, 1537) to the Het laatste oordeel (Last Judgement, Lieven van den Clite, 1413).
Other images include: Gerechtigheid van keizer Otto (Justice of Emperor Otto III, Dirk Bouts, c1473-75), De Annunciatie (Mérode Altarpiece: Annunciation, Meester van Flémalle [Robert Campin?], 1415/25), and Calvarie met schenker (Calvary with Donor, Jhieronimus Bosch, 1495-1505). These are crafted, vivid vignettes of wretched wailing and unavoidable doom.
Another featured painting is the Antonius-drieluik (Temptation of St Anthony, Jhieronimus Bosch [atelier], 1520/1530). The original triptych is in the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga in Lisbon. The images tell the story of St Anthony the Great (not António de Lisboa): his 'flight and fall', his 'temptation', and his 'contemplation'.
Thus, the panels contain a continuous landscape, shadowed in black smoke, with the church in ruins and a village burning in the center. All manner of fantastical creatures and chimeras inhabit it. St Anthony, in his dark robe, is left to fend off their mischief and neglect.
Depictions of the Via Crucis are on the reverse of the wings, in grisaille: Christ 'arrested' and 'carrying the cross'.
The docents begin herding visitors to the doors, and we emerge to an ordered, rational view of the Tuin van de Kunstberg (Garden of the Mount of Arts, 1956). Fascist facades of the museum frame the formal plant beds and focus our view to the spire of the Stadhuis. And turning to look uphill, we notice it works for the Koudenbergkerk in the other direction.
The gardens end at the Putterij, a parking garage entrance disguised as a neighborhood green space. Across the street is the Maria Magdalenakerk (Mary Magdalene Church, 15th century). We have time for one more stop before dinner.
The Maria Magdalenakerk is another modestly sized church in the Brabantse gotiek lineage, with an exterior in brick – a study in stone quoining. The surprise is on the inside, where a well-coordinated, contemporary cycle of Gebrandschilderd glas (1957-58) bathes the space in a cool luminescence. The image of Mary Magdalene at the Cross on the door astragal is echoed in the altar glass.
This marvelous convergence of old and new continues in the larger side chapel, Sint-Annakapel (Baroque facade, 17th century, relocated during construction of Putterij parking facility). On a marble column, above a ring of roses and a grid of candles is 'Santa Rita a Cascia' holding the Crown of thorns. On her left, a ghostly, grey-toned (grisaille-like), wall graphic shows scene from her life.
On her right, in a similar tone, are the figures of 'S Nicolaus a Tolentino' (holding a lily and Crucifix) and 'Santa Clara a Montefalco' (receiving the Cross from Jesus). Through so many eras, so many artists, and with such a broad range of imagery. The Vlamingen are modest, cerebral, and passionate, but also artistically competitive; each artist raises the stakes.
Yet, the day's theme is painfully clear and leaves us conflicted about their aspirations: greater torment bestows higher salvation. Maybe it's just the weather.
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