Culture, Leisure, Travel, Feature articles, posted February 23rd, 2007

1,600 Views

Two visions of Europe at the Spaans Gouvernement Museum.

Raindrops hit my glasses as I cross the Vrijthof square towards the Spaans Gouvernement Museum. I notice how the grey and cloudy sky provides the perfect background for the cerise-coloured walls of the 16th century residence, which brightly stands out on this corner of the square. I enter through the tiny doorway after shaking the rain off my coat. It is warm inside.

Behind the ticket desk in the cosy lobby, Ms Bertie Berendschot cordially greets me and gives me a ticket and a brochure with information in English about the history of the museum. We vivaciously chat about the building and when I tell her that I’m Spanish, she smiles and reminds me that the Spanish King Charles V stayed several times in this very same house. She insists that I shouldn’t miss the “wonderful” arcade in the inner courtyard and tells me that I can come and ask her any questions, any time.

An emperor’s residence in Maastricht
As I venture into the drawing room, full with 18th century furniture and silver articles, and stop to admire its huge glass lamp, I wonder what the twenty year old Charles must have felt when he first stayed in this house in 1520. The young Spanish ruler was about to be crowned king of Germany in the neighbouring city of Aachen and hereby assume the title of Roman emperor-elect of the largest empire the world had ever seen.

As the brochure tells me, his entrance into Maastricht was majestic. Civil and religious leaders and more than 4000 uniformed guildsmen greeted him and led him to the Spanish Government House. The town became a theatre of royal pomp and political ritual and this cosy house was at the centre of it all. The building got its name from the prerogative of the Spanish king (one of the two rulers of Maastricht at the time) to stay in this house whenever he visited the town.

When he was officially crowned Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire by Pope Clement VII in Bologna in 1530 Charles became the most powerful man in the world. By his father, Philip the Handsome, he was the heir of Burgundy and Habsburg; by his mother, Juana the Mad (Juana la Loca), he was heir to the kingdom of Castile (with its possessions in the Americas), the kingdom of Aragon (with is possessions in Naples and Sicily) and the kingdom of Granada. He became king and emperor of a vast dominion where, as the saying goes, the sun never set.

The young Charles must have appreciated the quietness and simplicity of this abode, I tell myself as I walk now into the small and tranquil courtyard. His subsequent visits in 1529, 1532, 1546 and 1550 suggest that Charles enjoyed the place and highlight the historical importance of Maastricht.

During his visit in 1546, when he met with his sister Mary of Hungary and the representatives of the German electors, the Spaans Gouvernement became Charles’ headquarters in planning the impending war against the Protestant provinces in Germany. “Such troubled times for the tiny town of Maastricht,” I think as I look at the small bronze statue in the middle of the courtyard. It depicts a mature and confident Charles, covered with the furs of royal power and sustained by the might of the sword.

I turn around and admire the patterns on the capitals of the arches. Like the provinces in Charles’ empire, each capital is unique and separated from the others, yet they are all connected by the arches that jump above the empty space. Together they form the elegant renaissance arcade that supports this side of the building. This gestalt reminds me of Charles’ vision of Europe.

Popular belief has it that Charles once said: “I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men and German to my horse.” Humorous (and pretentious) as it may sound, this assertion of multicultural expertise shows Charles’ complex identity and the way in which all the parts of his empire were connected through him. As a polyglot ruler, Charles envisioned the powerful project to create a diverse Europe united under one system of trade and one religion, yet a Europe in which its parts retained their local culture and idiosyncrasies.

Seen under this light, Charles’ rule represents one of the most interesting examples of early cosmopolitan governance. His despotic vision, however, was challenged by Luther’s reformation and in 1546 Charles unleashed a series of bloody religious wars that would be fought in the Low Countries. These wars left a broken continent whose disunity was perpetuated by subsequent political leaders. By the middle of the 17th century, with the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia, Charles’ empire had collapsed and was replaced by the nation-states that we know today.

The history of the museum
After wandering around the house, I find myself now in the living room, elegantly furnished with regency style furniture from Maastricht, Aachen and Liège. In the 18th and 19th century, the Spaans Gouvernement House, just like Europe a century earlier, underwent various reconstructions. The ground floor became a normal residence and the arcade was walled up. In 1913 the house was sold in auction. The Nederlandse Bank intended to tear the building down to build a new branch on the site. The house was saved from demolition, however, thanks to the efforts of Victor de Stuers, a Maastricht art connoisseur, who bought the house and thwarted the plans of the bank.

After restoring the building, De Stuers offered it to the municipality on the condition that a museum be established. The municipality took the building but it wasn’t until 1973, after the Wanger de Wit foundation donated its collection of furniture, that the Spaans Gouvernement Museum was created.

Monique Dickhaut, manager and curator of the museum since 1989, told me after my visit about the museum’s emphasis in organising exhibitions about themes related to Maastricht’s fine and decorative arts. According to her, the museum’s most successful exhibition was Het Binnenhuis, which was held in 2001 in the 18th century period rooms of the house. A series of concerts and soirees with actors dressed as the owners of the house in 18th century outfit attracted a large number of visitors. The rooms can now be rented for official wedding ceremonies or for business dinner parties and receptions.

In the spacious dining room upstairs, by the marble fireplace, my attention is caught by a colourful painting that seems at odds with the rest of the decoration. It shows a red autumn tree crossed by a blue tubular figure. It is one of the landscapes by Guus van Eck.

Van Eck celebrates Europe
The museum is showing a collection of Van Eck’s paintings until February 25. Born in 1958 in Sittard, a town to the north of Maastricht, Van Eck studied in the Maastricht Art Academy. After spending a few years in France and in northern Italy, near the Po Valley, he now lives in Sicily. According to the exhibition catalogue, “the man who paints everything slanting” has become Limburg’s most famous contemporary visual artist.

Van Eck’s figurative paintings are imaginative and wild. Drenched with bright colours and a child-like expressivity, they exude movement and intensity. Van Eck’s oeuvre explores different tropes, such as the painter’s studio (Studio Pittore series), the female body (Donne series), landscapes of the Italian and French countryside, and portraits of people as well as objects. Drawing a “portrait” of an object seems bizarre to me until I see a painting entitled The Painter’s Pencil Pots hanging from the wall of the room where King Charles used to meet with his advisors.

I remember van Eck’s words: “Why wouldn’t you paint a portrait of two stoves that have a dialogue together?”*. These two pencil pots, in fact seem to be having a conversation. The airplanes drawn on the pots set in front of a blue sky suggest that these objects not only allow the painter to travel through his art, but that the objects themselves feel the same need. “The young Charles too,” I reflect, “must have experienced this urge to explore his possessions.”

Van Eck’s universe links the unexpected with his steamboats and volcanoes in the same way that the city of Maastricht brought together the countries of Europe in 1992. The year before the famous summit, van Eck became the “house painter” of the town and in this function, he began working on his most appreciated and renowned series of paintings. He was commissioned to produce “a colourful and playful decoration with recognizable symbols of European capitals, drawn in the historic surroundings of Maastricht” to commemorate the historical reunion of European leaders*. Van Eck lent his “slanting” handwriting to the city and produced a series of paintings that showed twelve Europeans symbols in twelve locations of the town. For instance, the Eiffel tower appeared on the banks of the Maas, the Manneken Pis relieved himself on the Markt, and the Coliseum displayed its classical majesty on the Vrijthof.

The name of the exhibit (Van Eck Celebrates Europe) is, however, rather misguiding. The exhibition doesn’t focus on van Eck’s European series at all. The thirty-something paintings scattered throughout the house come from the two series mentioned above and particularly from his landscapes, object portraits and still-lifes. Despite this, it is worth expanding here on the importance of the European series.

Behind the visually festive nature of van Eck’s style laid the impulse to capture the vision of the Europe that was being shaped in the same town that saw the beginning of Charles’ empire.

“I read a painting, not for what it represents, but from one shape that goes towards another shape,” confides van Eck*. The events of 1992 can also be read as an encounter of shapes, ideas and countries. The signing of the Treaty of Maastricht led to the creation of the European Union as we know it today. It introduced the Euro as the communitarian currency and, like Charles’ motto “PLUS VLTRA” (still further), laid the foundation for further agreements on economic, social and political matters.

Van Eck’s European series portrayed “Europe in Maastricht and Maastricht as a symbol of Europe”*. They showed the beginning of an integration of European nations beyond merely economic concerns. “My best paintings,” van Eck says, “are ahead of me: they have a richer meaning that I could have intended.” The same can be said about the Treaty of Maastricht. The heads of state who signed it could only vaguely suspect what the real outcomes of such a treaty would be. A decade has proven that the Treaty had in fact a deeper meaning and larger implications that what it seemed at the time.

As my steps follow the patterns in the carpet in the last room of the museum, I reflect about these two visions of Europe. Charles’ vision was glamorous, decisive, autocratic and violent. That of the new united Europe seems cautious, respectful, democratic and peaceful. The former was made by one man. The latter is being built by the different states and their citizens, with their inner uncertainties and limitations. When van Eck paints “it is all or nothing at all, and that is how I want it”*. After the impasse reached when the European Constitution was rejected, that sounds like good advice for Europe.

When Ms Berendschot asks me if I have enjoyed the museum, I tell her how stimulating I found it: as a Spanish exchange student I thought it was particularly fascinating to discover a part of my country’s history in the rooms of this house.

Taking leave of Ms Berendschot, I step out into the Vrijthof. It has stopped raining. A quiet breeze makes me chilly but I walk towards my bicycle, confident that the pedalling will make me warm. Yes, I have enjoyed going into the lives and work of an emperor and a painter. Charles V and Guus van Eck appear to me transformed into two pencil pots, having a dialogue about their particular vision of Europe. A smile cracks my lips when I think about the corniness of the image.

As I ride away from the museum the town welcomes me. I like Maastricht. I’m curious about its history and the characters who have made it. Going up Brusselsestraat, I think of Shakespeare’s famous dictum: “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon’em.” With another smile I recognise that this is true, in all its forms, for the town of Maastricht.

*: source Catalogue

By Hector Pascual Alvarez

Hector Pascual Alvarez, 21, is a Spanish student enrolled at Macalester College in Minnesota (US) where he is majoring in International Studies and Theatre Arts. He is spending the first semester of 2007 at Maastricht University as part of a study abroad programme.

Further information:
The Spaans Gouvernement Museum is is located on Vrijthof 18, Maastricht. It opens Wednesday to Sunday from 13.00 to 17.00. Tickets are 5 Euros.
The Catalogue of the exhibition, Kijk! Look! Guus van Eck (144 pages, 200 illustrations) can be purchased in the museum for 25 Euros.

See also (in Dutch only):
Charles V in Maastricht, a previous exhibit at the Spaans Gouvernement Museum
A visit to the Spaans Gouvernement Museum, a short video presentation offered by television programme Lieve Limburgs.

Guus van Eck

 

Charles V

Share This

 

This entry was posted on Friday, February 23rd, 2007 at 11:47 pm and is filed under Culture, Leisure, Travel, Feature articles. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.