The houses we
live in say a great deal about who we are and what we value. From the choice of
construction and decorative materials, to how rooms are divided and used (both
spatially and temporally), to how our living spaces are maintained, houses are
much more than shelters. Consider for example traditional Newfoundland saltbox
style houses. Characterized by its two-storey center hall and parlour plan and
a flat roof, few of these houses that pervaded rural Newfoundland throughout
the twentieth century remain today. Of those that remain, they have been
extensively renovated to incorporate modern features. And before this blog post
begins to resemble a term paper rather than the ramblings of a curious
perma-student, I’ll get to the point.
Though Newfoundland
houses have changed considerably, it does not mean that the spaces are used in
completely different ways. The kitchen is still the heart of the home and
continues to be the most public room and chosen place of social activities.
Gatherings of friends and family often center around the kitchen. Similarly, I
was surprised to find during my MA fieldwork that in my hometown, modern houses
continue to be cleaned by women consistent with the traditional methods and
techniques. As times (and houses) change, we change too, but perhaps less
drastically than we think.
I must admit
that it has only been in the last two years that I’ve become interested in
architecture. In fact, in high school, I remember my classmates and I having a
grand laugh at our teacher Mr. Hicks who had taken what he called a very
interesting course at MUN called Vernacular Architecture. I suppose putting
one’s foot in the mouth years later is never too late, as I’ve gone on to study
this genre within Folklore at the Graduate level, even attending the annual
Vernacular Architecture Forum's conference in Chicago this past May! During our field school
in Folklore, the introduction to our MA studies at the Department of Folklore,
we were taught not only how to properly draw floor plans that document these spaces, but also how to talk to the folks that use them. It’s very rewarding and
interesting work! (You were right, Mr. Hicks.)
Although my
interest lies primarily with contemporary uses of space (such as how houses are
cleaned and decorated), I’m still fascinated by historical architecture. We’ve
yet to see inside any modern Dutch houses (something we plan to remedy soon!) but
have seen some really incredible buildings:
On Tuesday, Ryan
and I finally got to apply for our residence permits and are now legally allowed
to stay here for the Fall. We DID see Mr. Grump at the IND Reception desk, much
less grumpy once we told him we had an appointment. By mid-morning, we had
applied for our permits, been photographed and fingerprinted for our residence
cards, and left unscathed. With no set agenda, we flipped through our trusty
Amsterdam guide book and decided to visit Museum Van Loon, conveniently located
on the Southern Canal Ring.
Built in 1672,
the museum house is the only complete canal house replica in Amsterdam. Its
elegant yet subdued sandstone façade welcomed us inside, where I quickly found
myself transfixed by the entrance hall.
After changing ownership several times (including extensive renovation throughout the second half of the eighteenth century in the fashionable Louis XV style), the house was gifted in 1884 as a wedding present to Willem Hendrik and wife-to-be Thora Egidius by Willem’s father, Hendrik Maurits van Loon. The influential Van Loon family (who, in their lineage, can boast connections to the cofounding of the Dutch East India company, various high political positions, the Royal Family, and several business ventures) has owned the house at 672 Keizersgracht ever since.
Despite its many
alterations and renovations in its 400-year-old history, the house has been
extensively restored to offer an impression of the Van Loon’s family living:
The Dining Room
The Red Drawing Room
(#swank)
The Drakensteyn Room
The Red Bedroom: Hidden staircase located behind this wall
The Bird Room: Used as a nursery and children's bedroom. Walls conceal built-in bookcases added in eighteenth century
View of the back of house and garden
Strolling
through each of the rooms, I felt a little like a detective. It’s really quite
interesting to discover the little hidden gems in each room.
Sneaky way to conceal something (couldn't open it!)
Leading down to the kitchen
Of course, as
with any museum—and particularly one that involves extensive and costly
restoration—several important decisions have been made. The uppermost floor,
for example, is closed off to the public. Formerly the servants’ quarters, it
has now been renovated as a living space for the current Van Loon family. The
work kitchen in the basement is a replica, as the space was used as an art
gallery in the 1970s. It was restored in the 1990s based on photographs of what
it would have looked like.
It is perhaps no surprise that the servants’ work and living spaces were not as prioritized in the restoration. If looking at buildings tells us anything, it is that we ornament the spaces we value most. These particular rooms would not have boasted the elaborate detailing of mouldings and ceilings seen on the main floors. They are obviously less grand and magnificent. And yet I was sorely disappointed that we could not, as we so easily were able with the Van Looms, to imagine how these invisible servants would have lived. Just what was it like during an important meal to be the person to bring plates of food from the busy kitchen, up the staircase to the main house, along the entrance hall, and finally into the dining room? What did the journey look like for the chamber maid, who daily would have used the hidden staircase that linked the servants’ quarters to the impressive red bedroom?
It is perhaps no surprise that the servants’ work and living spaces were not as prioritized in the restoration. If looking at buildings tells us anything, it is that we ornament the spaces we value most. These particular rooms would not have boasted the elaborate detailing of mouldings and ceilings seen on the main floors. They are obviously less grand and magnificent. And yet I was sorely disappointed that we could not, as we so easily were able with the Van Looms, to imagine how these invisible servants would have lived. Just what was it like during an important meal to be the person to bring plates of food from the busy kitchen, up the staircase to the main house, along the entrance hall, and finally into the dining room? What did the journey look like for the chamber maid, who daily would have used the hidden staircase that linked the servants’ quarters to the impressive red bedroom?
Upon finishing
our tour, we strolled hand in hand along the canal ring chatting about the
museums we have seen since being here. As we’ve written, they’re very
interactive and engaging, at times both profoundly moving and surprisingly
refreshing. As I begin my own research, I keep puzzling over our love of
museums and what it is we look for in them. For me, I’m never quite sure if I
look to find the exotic “other” or if I look to find myself: that connection to
people, places, and things that transcend categorization. As of yet, I’m still
left with more questions than answers.
Not a bad place
for a perma-student, I think.
Stay tuned!
xo
kc
kc
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