| Dear Anneke |
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Dear All, I'm delighted to welcome all of you here today, and I'm sure you won't mind my addressing a few words to Anneke van Brussel. Dear Anneke, The problem I encountered when trying to write down this speech was that I didn't know where to start: should I go for the poetic aspect of your work, for the meaning of the feathers and sea shells, the handkerchiefs and the dresses, or for the inspiration you derive from those ancient Italians, Piero della Francesca and Leonardo da Vinci? You know how pig-headed I can be, and so I took a cat as my point of departure, and a yawning one at that, or that's what the title of the painting in question has since been confirmed as by experts, although of course I see it quite differently. So why does the invitation feature a solemn little portrait in the top right-hand corner which with a bit of imagination could be you while there's this cat with its jaws wide open on the left at the bottom, and more or less in the middle, a glove, which in Dutch parlance has such a weighty role to play? It's because I feel that your work enables me to compile a kind of portrait of you. Which implies that I am taking the liberty to disclose a part of your character that not many people know, both because there has never been any reason to get to know it and because you only draw on it when you have no choice, but more than anything it is this aspect too that lies at the heart of your paintings. The cat, you see, isn't yawning at all. What it is doing is lashing out at injustice, crudeness and stupidity. It is showing that he who dares take you on will be torn to shreds, and not because of any thirst for blood on your part, but simply to make room for quiet thoughts and contemplations so as to vet the very personal against the values of the outside world as a way of discovering beauty, and it's beauty that keeps us alive, after all. You'll have to admit, won't you, that I've phrased this rather neatly. I'm appreciating more and more that the magic you wield precludes my penchant for words, unless you'd derive enjoyment from them. And so it seems to me that leaving aside the use of all of this, while working we are dancing life's dance for the sake of sheer beauty and satisfaction. We take room and make room to enable others to share the secret in so far as they wish to. Please beware, for the last thing I'd do is compare myself with you, but if I'm permitted occasionally to recognise something of your secret, I'll now happily declare this exhibition open. |