There is also another side to Middelheim Museum, which has to do with the plight of works that live outside. They, being exposed the elements, can suffer in ways that may or may not be expected.
Take Per Kirkeby’s Zonder titel, Antwerpen Middelheim / Untitled, Antwerp Middelheim (1993). The structure was once accessible to visitors, but not since it was damaged by a falling tree. As is visible in my photo, the damaged area is being protected by a waterproof tarp. What cannot be seen are the entry points, which have been sealed.
Having asked about this work, I learned that it is to be restored. But when? The nature of the structure precludes that from happening soon. Somehow, bricks and mortar which match the materials Kirkeby used in this work must be found or made. The thing is, it’s not just a matter of getting new ones; they must convey the age and weathered appearance of the existing elements. It’ll be great if that can be accomplished, but that also leads to another concern. And it’s: How will the new bricks and mortar age? Some years down the road the new and original materials may begin to look dissimilar. Then the issue of how to make adjustments—or if it’s even worth the effort to do that—must be considered. Perhaps it will just be left as is. After all, the best justification might be that it’s part of this history of this work.
Here is another example of a work in need of repair. Including the elements in this two images plus the one heading this is post, it is Berlinde De Bruyckere’s 3-part sculptural installation, Onschuld kan een hel zijn / Innocence can be hell (1993). These oversize replicas of Morning Stars—just one version of several styles mace that was said to have appeared in early 14th century Germany—sit relatively close to each other in a stand of trees. It was expected that the bands, which did and do secure them to the trees, would fuse with their hosts. But that clearly hasn’t been case. Perhaps the trees slow growth overpowered two of them by causing them break. See more here: An artwork like a hammer blow.
This is one of the wonderful aspects of Middelheim Museum. It makes you aware of how things change. That’s something often hidden more easily by work that resides indoor—historical paintings or carved portrait busts, for example—which not only happen to be made from different materials, but are also smaller in scale. Lighting, their position, and the ability to fine tune repairs and retouching all play into how they look.
Here we see two views Chris Burdon’s Beam Drop Antwerp (2009). What a lovely collection of rusting I-beams protruding from the concrete base in the ground! The museum’s postcard reveals how much more colourful it look when originally installed. Do you think the average viewer can accept both versions? It’s said that he used the beams like Jackson Pollock used paint. Viewers were able to watch the performance-like process of its making. Here’s a bit more info on Beam Drop Antwerp.
While I had also wanted to see Didier Vermeiren’s Place (1993)—the third work that, for some unknown reason, was made during 1993—fortune was not on my side. In other words, I did not come across it. It is not listed on the current version of map printed for the visitor’s use, which seems to have been designed to promote independent exploration. This paper guide only provides the locations of buildings, plus a meagre selection of eight works.
While this is understandable, given the months-long reorganisation of the museum’s displays, it does encourage viewers to take it easy. There is much of interesting waiting to be discovered. But I did stop in the museum’s book shop / info point to inquire about Vermeiren’s work before leaving and learned that it, too, like Berlinde De Bruyckere’s trio of maces was in need of repair.
And now I come to the fourth work made in 1993: Harald Klingelhöller‘s Die Furcht verlässt ihren Gegenstand und geht über in Hass / Fear leaves its object and turns into hate. This, like the Vermeiren, I also hoped to see—and I did, though it had already been taken off view. Luckily, it resides in the museum’s open air storage area.
I think it is a wonderful assembly of abstract shapes and letters. While one can see that the uppermost element of each stack is a letter—one is an ‘E’ and its companion is an ‘H’—there’s no way of parsing the rest.
Here is a second view of Klingelhöller’s work and its current neighbours. Quel mélange! / Wat een mengelmoes! This is intriguing. It places the work in a distinctly new light. This is the nature of collected works when assigned to storage. It presents a hearty mishmash of artists’ materials, scales and styles. This image also includes Chris Burdon’s work, which is visible through leaves in the top right corner.
Here is a second detail of Middelheim Museum’s open air storage. Since all the work figurative, I am wondering if this area may have been curated. What they all are, I don’t know. Not all works are identified. But the circular tablet supporting four old men holds a quartet of composers.
Facing me is Jacques De Braekeleer’s Ludwig Van Beethoven (1874) and directly behind him is his version of Gioachino Rossini (1873). To the left of Beethoven—this is my left (not Beethoven’s left)—is Jacques De Braekeleer’s Albert Grisar (1873) and to the right of Beethoven is Eugène Joseph De Plyn’s depiction of Johann Sebastiaan Bach (1879). One can easily imagine these four figures popping out of a music box and turning, while a selection of their music plays.
This final detail image of a shimmering metallic column—a kind of prison in which souls, let’s say, have been trapped—is pockmarked by an array of irregularly shaped openings in which assorted body parts are highlighted. In this outdoor setting, this fantasy work or bit of surrealism makes an impression that is decidedly different had it been displayed in the so-called neutrality of the white cube. Here, its reflective surface—the swirl of colours and textures—emphasises the contrast between what it contains and its surroundings. I think this, therefore, makes it a much more powerful work.
The ragtag assortment of sculptures on show in this storage area is a treat to encounter. It is a place for lingering, for contrasting and comparing, for seeing work when not in a theatrical space, which has been chosen space designed especially for their presentation. It was where a group of scattered artists added to the variety on view. They were quietly sitting with drawing boards, pads of paper and pencils drawing whatever, I assume, must have struck them as being worth drawing. Clearly, another good reason for lingering among the sculptures on Middelheim’s grounds…
This is the current, temporary and printed version of the Middelheim Museum plan available to visitors. The earlier version of the map listed the locations of dozens of sculptures. Added to the end of the previous post (Middelheim Museum: Not just a walk in the park), it is available for comparison with this one. As you can see, the current plan only lists the locations of buildings and a few of the works that are on view.
Eyeballing art 