I WAS LAST IN THE NETHERLANDS IN 1970, an unsophisticated young sergeant just back from Vietnam. I remember windmills, tulips, canals, cheese and Amsterdam’s (in)famous Red Light District. The country has probably changed since then. I know I have.
Windmills in November Painting of windmill
There are still windmills, of course, and canals. The tulips will color the fields again in the spring. Whores still sit in windows displaying their (not so) goodies in the shadow of the Old Church. But they no longer excite me. (Truth be told, the statue of “Belle,” the unknown prostitute, is the most sensual of the bunch we saw today.)
Narrow houses on canal Belle, the unknown prostitute
I am much more interested in the cultural side of Amsterdam, especially the art of the Rijksmuseum where we spent so much time (and money!) yesterday. Long before Annie Leibovitz and Alfred Stieglitz picked up a Brownie, Dutch painters like Frans Hals and Johannes Vermeer were painting lifelike portraits of real people being themselves.;They introduced techniques never before seen . . . and seldom seen since.
"The Merry Drinker" by Frans Hals
Got milk? "The Milkmaid" by Johannes Vermeer
The true Dutch Master, of course, is Rembrandt. His most famous, though not his best work, The Night Watch, drew crowds like moths to a flame. Sadly for us, many of his other works were on loan to the National Gallery in London. But there were enough other works on display to keep us happy and out of the cold.
Rembrant as a young man by Himself
