Ode to an Artist in Museum Belvédère

I run regularly, and last year, I kept seeing a small entrance to a nature area next to my track. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but over time, I realized this area had been closed to the public… until now. The owners had decided to open it up for everyone to explore, from sunrise to sunset.

A New Discovery 🌿

So, one day, I decided to check it out. The place is tucked away in the polder, just around the corner from where I live. At the entrance, there’s a wooden fence and a yellow sign that says Swamp and Forest. Beyond it lies a quiet, almost secret swampy landscape. It is a beautiful, small area, although I did not feel the need to take any pictures the first time I was there.

A Surprise Invitation

Then, earlier this year, I found a parcel in my mailbox. There was a small board and a picture of a painting by Jan Mankes (1889-1920) inside. It was from Museum Belvédère, where I had participated in an exhibition the previous year. The museum invited over 130 fellow artists and me to create an ode to this painting (A Ditch with Overhanging Heather, 1914).

The museum had recently acquired the piece, which was the reason for this project. The ode had to be the same size as the board in the parcel, which was also the original size of the painting, 29.5 x 23 cm. The new works would be displayed alongside the original painting, and afterward, they would be auctioned, with the proceeds going to the museum.

Finding Inspiration in Nature

When I saw the image of the painting for the first time, I felt a sense of connection to the way Jan Mankes approached a subject like this. There is so much to see and experience in simple things like this ditch, which shows the beauty of everyday nature. It is a ditch around the corner from where the painter lived at the time.

That’s when I decided to make my ode in the almost hidden ‘Swamp and Forest’ landscape around the corner from where I live. At sunrise, I put down a pinhole camera (my usual homemade black box with only a tiny little hole in it) at the edge of a small pond. I placed it in the middle of the waterfront vegetation to hide it a little bit. It almost felt like trespassing since it was a private area, and I didn’t put a note on the camera as usual.

Developing the Image

When I returned to pick up the camera at sunset, I found it had sunk deeper into the vegetation. I considered the image lost, but I went ahead and developed and scanned it anyway. It turned out differently than expected, but to my surprise, I wasn’t unhappy with the result.

However, I put the image aside for a while and looked at it again every now and then. Slowly, I began to truly appreciate it. The path of the sun appears almost horizontal, the broken line hints at the passing clouds, and you can see the chaotic vegetation in the foreground. This photo was the perfect ode.

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