Tag Archives: beach

Panorama Mesdag – favourite museum

Panorama Mesdag, Scheveningen village with The Hague in background. Credit: T Duijndam.

Recently two friends were over from the UK – a Seville reunion. They stayed at Scheveningen, minutes from the beach and boulevard. It was mostly sunny. I pointed out some sights: the red lighthouse, the building with the green shutters, and Seinpostduin – the high dune on which the painter Hendrik Mesdag sat in 1880 to make the preliminary sketches for the commission he’d received for a 360-degree painting.

At one time there were many panoramas. They were expensive to maintain and once photography and film were available, people’s interest declined and most were demolished.

Panorama Mesdag, The Hague (1881) is the world’s oldest surviving panorama in its original location. The painting is over 14m high, has a diameter of 40m and the circumference is 120m2. That makes it the largest painting in the Netherlands.

Scheveningen was then an independent fishing village with its own clothing and dialect. There were about 500 houses and people lived from herring fishing.

When he got the commission, Mesdag was already well-known for his seascapes. Several of these are shown at the Panorama. He wanted the sky to look as though it was the weather on one single day. He made many sketches, also of the houses which were transferred to canvas using a grid. The original glass cylinder in which he sat is shown at Panorama Mesdag.

The Panorama commission was a massive job and Mesdag was fortunate to be able to put a team together: his wife Sientje Mesdag-van Houten who was an established painter in her own right, Théophile de Bock who painted the sky and dunes with broad brush strokes, Bernard Blommers, and George Hendrik Breitner who specialised in painting horses. Mesdag himself focused on the sea and the flat-bottomed boats on the beach.

It took them four months to complete the work. Instead of a signature, Mesdag painted Sientje. She sits on the beach painting under a white parasol. Panorama Mesdag opened on 1 August 1881.

It’s an astonishing experience – come up the wooden staircase and suddenly you stand on the viewing platform: scenery all around you. There is so much rich detail: dozens of boats, horses pulling in the boats, cavalry horses, the sky, the women out with their washing, bathers, the steam train on its way from The Hague, birds.

Because of the glass roof, the weather changes as you are there, and the illusion is complete because the platform is surrounded by real sand with objects on it. You are standing on Seinpostduin, more than 140 years ago.

My thanks to David Cooke, Editor of The High Window, where this poem first appeared.

Panorama Mesdag

Invisible skylights let through the light.
Just as I arrive upstairs, the sun comes out
across the busy beach I know so well.

All those horses. In two neat columns,
the cavalry on exercise, heading south.
Other horses pull the flat-bottomed boats
onto the sand. Fish is being sold straight
from the boats. Women are repairing nets.

Mesdag’s wife has been included.
I know where to look for Sientje, painting
in a folding chair, striped sunshade.

Am I hallucinating the sound of gulls?
I see the seams in the canvas, and I don’t care.
As I go round the wooden platform, here
is the washing laid out on the grass,
a plume of smoke, the empty clog.

Congratulations!


Congratulations to Orbis Quarterly International Literary Journal and Editor Carole Baldock. The 200th issue has just arrived. It is a bumper bundle and I look forward to getting stuck in.


Orbis is not just a poetry magazine, it is an international community of poets: each issue carries Lines on lines – brief communications from readers and I particularly like the Readers’ Award. Each issue readers can nominate up to four contributors whose work most appeals. A sum of money goes to the poem(s) that get the most votes and a similar amount is split between the runners-up. I find that I read each poem or prose piece with more attention – to have a rationale for my choices and votes.

I appreciate that my work has been featured in orbis three times. Below are two poems which featured most recently.

Credit: Steven Hill via Pixabay

The fire in Sydney

We’ve been out in the harbour
to get our Lifeboat Certificate.
The only woman, too feeble to row,
I had to steer the lifeboat
alongside SS Oronsay. First time
I didn’t manage to line it up.
Passengers lean over the railings,
watch us circle for a second attempt.

A fire on board has cut the electricity.
Our lifeboat cannot be winched back up.
The small, wizened Australian examiner
stares straight ahead. A passing ferry hoots.
From the galley portholes drifts
the smell of freshly baked bread.
The ferry hoots again. We dare not wave.
We don’t know yet if we’ve passed.

The last dogs

are running along the flood line.
Visitors are leaving for home, vacating the boarding houses; hotels.
A few people sit outside their huts: Parnassia, Shangri-La, Paradise;
grand names for a row of painted wooden boxes
which will be taken apart, then taken away at the end of the season.
The last dogs of the day are running along the flood line.
Gulls are scattering. It’s still warm. Somebody is singing a Beatles song.

World Poetry Day – a poem

Credit Skitterphoto on Pixabay – Scheveningen Pier

Greetings on World Poetry Day! At the 30th General Conference of UNESCO in Paris, 1999, it was decided to mark 21 March as an annual celebration. Poetry has “the unique ability to capture the creative spirit of the human mind”.

I’ve chosen a poem with international connections, a lot of people, fruit – a festive gathering on a Dutch beach. It’s from my collection Nothing serious, nothing dangerous.

On the beach
after My boat by Raymond Carver

Bill’s last words were always Have fun, so I will.
He was a very good father, Bill, though he wasn’t my father.
Liz will be there too. And Mary and Brian, the Como couple.
Seville will be there, all the places I ever fell in love with.
We’ll be on a beach, a wide sandy beach with small white shells,
large white gulls and far off, in the distance, the red container ships,
nothing dangerous, nothing serious.

At the flood line broken razor clams crackle under our feet.
There is Dick, almost 80, and Miep, their cycles parked up
against the metal wire by the marram grass dotted on the dunes.
Esther, Peter, Theo, Ancilla on their e-bikes, they love this beach.
Skewered fruit, Water Melon Men and the three Irish men I loved,
and the others, the artist with one eye has come back from Hungary.
Boats will be there, beached. We’re all beached.
My UK friends have come by ship, a ship with starched officers,
a ship from Southwold that I specially chartered.

I invited J S Bach, Schubert and anyone else whose names I am forgetting.
I have been given dispensation – hey, that sounds medical,
nothing dangerous, nothing serious, the friends who are
no longer friends, what’s rejection, abandonment among true friends.
Apples, oranges, enough grapes to count in the new year,
fresh figs, plums, peaches, kiwi fruit for sleep, passion fruit.
With all that fruit we are fit to count our blessings, our nine lives.
Have fun. The tide’s out, and it is a long time before it’s coming back in.

Credit Cocoparisienne on Pixabay

Vlieland – Birthday island

 

Vlieland island

 

Earlier this week I celebrated my birthday. Up to 10 visitors are now allowed onto the camp site for parties and birthdays. However, I decided to celebrate over a 10-day period: some days the weather has been autumnal – cold, wet and windy. Inside the caravan I wouldn’t have been able to guarantee the 1m social distance. Besides, after months of social isolation, lockdown, shielding, I was desperate for proper contact and conversation with family and close friends. It was a marvellous extended week!

I vividly remember another birthday. With a close friend I had an overnight stay on Vlieland, one of the Frisian Islands in the Wadden Sea. We travelled by ferry from Harlingen (a peaceful 90-minute journey), stayed overnight in Hotel De Wadden that once was the island’s marine college, rented bikes, ate fish and chips, bought cranberries which grow there. We were blessed with the weather: sunny and a breeze.

 

A major storm in 1296 separated Vlieland from the mainland. It’s hard to imagine how important the island once was: in the 17th century hundreds of trading and whaling ships would have been afloat nearby. The tides and winds have shifted and changed the shape of the island. Now, it is only about 12 kms long and 2 kms wide at best and, mostly dependent on tourism. Visitors are not allowed to bring a car across – bring your own bike or rent one!

Vlieland ferry

 

Vlieland

Empty days
cycling on white paths
crushed shells
bless the lighthouse
on this island

Full nights
dreams of fishes
frogs, berries, seals
the white ferry
resting

Birthday
blessed July
sky, salt breeze
You look younger
on this island