Self-Willed or Superfluous? Art in Public Space in the Netherlands

Self-Willed or Superfluous?

Art in Public Space in the Netherlands

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People driving along the A27 highway near the Dutch town of Almere - to the east of Amsterdam - cannot help but notice five concrete elephants. The animal sculptures have no tusks or tails, and only the rough outlines of their ears and z trunks can be seen. With their big round bodies, they look more like huge cuddly toy animals than jungle giants that have somehow lost their way. At this location a with lots of roads in the heart of the Netherlands, drivers cannot stop or get out of their cars for a closer look at this monumental yet touching sculpture group.

Elephants by the artist Tom Claassen is one of the Netherlands' most apprecix ated and striking works of art to be found in public space. The sculpture group was commissioned by the Dutch Ministry of Public Works, which stipulated in

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the contract for the construction of the highway that a work of art be created, and also earmarked a percentage of the construction costs for this purpose.

The art consultancy Kunst en Bedrijf provided advice on how to go about the project and organised a closed competition for 24 artists. Out of the three artists short-listed the jury picked Claassen and his proposed five elephants, citing the large dimensions of the sculpture group (which fit in well with its surroundings), the eye-pleasing shapes, as well as the comical and mysterious aspects of the work. The jury expected these big jumbos to surprise and intrigue the passing motorists time and again, and so it has turned out.

Public interest and artistic adventure Half a century ago, it would have been difficult to imagine that the venerable Ministry of Public Works would ever fork out a substantial sum of money for this type of autonomous sculpture, which, except for its size, lacks grandeur and does not in any way refer to the Ministry. Traditionally, many works of art in public areas commemorate historical persons or events - just think of the statues and other memorials to be seen in almost every town and city - or represent a theme chosen by the commissioning party. In this particular case, the theme could have been 'infrastructure in the Netherlands' or something more abstract like 'connections' or 'dynamism'. It appears that, in this assignment, the artist was given a free hand to come up with something inspired by this particular

Location. Claassen has created other animal sculptures for public areas: a stur-

mm Claassen. Elephants.

dy horse in Utrecht; in Apeldoorn a drooling dog and, next to an old people's

2000.

home, three outsize sparrows, one of which is wearing a pearl necklace! In

Near Almere.

Concrete.

other words, he is the type of artist who should be given free reign to express Photo by P. Post f HH. himself in a three-dimensional manner instead of being put in the client's straightjacket. Over a 50-year period, those who commission works of art have become much bolder and more daring in their choices.

The period following World War II saw a strong demand for monuments from a whole range of clients: central and local government, companies, non-profit organisations and wealthy private individuals who had the necessary financial resources. They wanted to commemorate events and honour people etched in the collective memory, and were supported in their efforts by the general public. As a result, artists trained as sculptors were in great demand. As the general public became increasingly familiar with contemporary sculpture, people demanded higher quality and more originality. All in all, sculpture received a considerable boost and developed to a higher level.

One of the best-known Dutch monuments connected to the Second World War is the War Monument on Dam Square in Amsterdam's historic city centre, where every year on May 4 the National Remembrance Ceremony is held in the presence of the Queen and other prominent citizens. But perhaps an even more impressive war memorial is the sculpture The Dockworker (1952) by Mari Andriessen.

This powerfully built male figure with his sleeves rolled up and ready for action symbolises the 1941 February Strike by workers in Amsterdam protesting against the Nazi persecution of the city's Jewish population. The ingredients of art in public space can be seen here: the desire to give expression to public sentiment or public interest; a commissioning party that knows what it wants and has sufficient funding; and artists who have developed their full creative potential (the previous generations of sculptors could be better described as artisans). The interaction of forces that comes into play in realising commissioned art in an outdoor public area (client, artist, consultancy, location, budget and the general public) differs sharply from the mechanics of other art-creating processes.

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With the increase in assignments, artists grew concerned about the commissioning procedures and quality control. The Dutch Sculptors' Association feared that in the wake of the Second World War the Netherlands would become dotted with mediocre war-related sculptures. To prevent this the sculptors proposed using open competitions, with the various designs submitted being put on show to the public and assessed by committees of experts. These committees included not only the client's representatives, but also often artists or professional art critics. Since then, a similar system in which two to three artists are invited to make sketches of their designs to be judged by a broadly based committee has become commonplace. This method aims to ensure that the commissioning process is fair and untainted by cronyism and other forms of favouritism. Also, this method gives the client more choice; there are so many ways of translating an assignment into reality. On top of that, this approach enables an external expert to examine and assess the various proposals, including their feasibility.

Later on, these committees also consulted the future 'users': local residents or employees of the company commissioning the artwork. Some people oppose giving ordinary people a say in the decision process, fearing that 'the common man' will only accept easily recognisable, figurative art. They are also conMari Andriessen, The Dockworker. 1952.

Bronze. Amsterdam.

o

SABAM

Belgium 2006.

Silvia B, Ultra. 2004, Groningen.

Photo by H. Cock.

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cerned that public consultation is a recipe for mediocre artworks, all much of a muchness. There are plenty of these around; just look at all the small-scale bronze sculptures on pedestals that take centre stage in shopping centres and residential areas. But it is not so much the general public who should be blamed

for these omnipresent bronzes (usually one member on the commissioning committees represents the public). Often the client lacked the courage to go for a more adventurous option. In actual fact, it is possible to use public consultation to drum up broad support for an artwork. After all, it is often the most active and enthusiastic residents or users who volunteer to sit on the art committee.

After getting a close-up view of the entire commissioning process, the public representatives often evolve from being detached onlookers into passionate proponents of the artwork and the artist.

Deploying a crane Sometimes an artwork is commissioned before the construction project has been realised. As a result, there are no residents to be consulted. A case in point was the assignment to create Ultra - a striking female figure by the Rotterdam artist Silvia B. Ultra marks the entrance to a large building complex that comprises offices and an apartment building in the city of Groningen. The companies who were to move into the offices knew about the art project and paid toward its cost, as did the local government. Not until the building complex and the design for the work of art were completed did the focus shift toward the residents. Understandably, the citizens were wary of the plan to install a grotesque female figure in front of their building. The art commission bent over backwards to inform residents and remove any lingering doubts. It even chartered a crane to hold a piece of cardboard at the spot where the head of the Ultra figure would appear, to reassure a female resident fearful that the head would block her view. The woman has meanwhile become one of the artwork's biggest admirers. Using a crane to win over a single person may seem an over-the-top and costly thing to do. But it was precisely this tremendous effort and its positive outcome that created confidence among residents. Disaffected locals can create a lot of disruption and even start legal procedures that can slow down or wreck an art project. So there is every reason to involve them in the whole endeavour.

Particularly in the case of government commissions, the process has become increasingly professionalised over time. The government tends to opt for specific battle-tested procedures, with proper contracts and permanent consultants who also provide advice and support to the artists. In 1951, central government decided to make art a permanent feature of building projects carried out at its behest. To that end, central government adopted the so-called percentage programme, which stipulates that between 1 and 1.5 percent of the construction costs be allocated to an art feature. Among the construction projects are new schools, ministry buildings and prisons. Central government also intended to set an example and create more support for the visual arts in our society, and many big cities did follow suit. The result was a spectacular growth in art commissions. Buildings were adorned with murals, stained-glass windows or self-contained artworks, as well as architectural or landscaping features. As regards the percentage programme, the need to involve artists in the building process at an early stage remains a topic of debate. Many artists would very much prefer to develop the art feature in close cooperation with the architect as he goes about conceiving the construction project. Unfortunately, the artwork is often added on as an afterthought because the budget is determined

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very late in the day or the client shows little interest in this particular aspect.

Not every construction project is well suited for a work of art. Moreover, the mandatory inclusion of an artwork may stifle spontaneous cooperation and creative choices. Even so, the percentage programme, which is still being used by central government, has greatly increased the number of art commissions in the Netherlands.

In 2001 the percentage programme had been in place for 50 years. To mark its anniversary, many publications dealing with half a century of governmentcommissioned art appeared. Among them were beautifully designed and richly illustrated books. A great deal of effort and money must have been put into these books - for their promotional value, among other reasons. After all, a city can use public art to raise its cultural profile. At times, municipalities appear to be competing with eachother to realise the largest number of artworks as though quantity trumps quality. Clearly, commissioned art has become a highly developed business and is no longer seen as the bastard offspring of studio art. The commissioned art sector has its own trade publications, subsidy programmes, consultants and specialist artists. Having reached this elevated status, commissioned art is, naturally, subjected to criticism. Critics grumble about clients who have exaggerated expectations for artworks and about politicians who only value art as an 'ornament' and ignore its deeper meaning. The artists, too, come in for criticism. It is said that they merely churn out objects and show little interest in how public space is used. Another criticism being levelled at artists is that they are unable to compete with the existing urban 'visual violence'. The degree to which you share these sentiments very much depends on how much appreciation you have for the modest or striking contributions that artists have made to public areas.

Landscape design These days there is a great diversity of art commissions. If we look back at previous decades we can discern specific trends, some of which have withstood the test of time while others have been consigned to the dustbins of history or even been literally wiped off the face of the earth. One such development - landMarinus Boezem, The Green Cathedral.

1987-1996. Flevoland.

Photo by G. Schutte.

Marinus Boezem, The Green Cathedral.

1 9 8 7 -1 996. Flevoland.

Photo by J. Linders.

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scape design - deserves special mention. It came to the fore in the late 19605 and 19705 and aimed to strengthen the connection between a building or location and the artwork. Artists specialising in this area were sometimes charged with designing pedestrian areas in shopping centres, playgrounds for schools or urban green areas. One example is the Waves project in Arnhem, designed

by Peter Struycken. Covering almost 260,000 square feet, it consists of an undulating landscape covered with blue-white pavement. Before its metamorphosis, this area beside the River Rhine had become user-unfriendly and inaccessible because of the various roads crisscrossing the location. Using a pattern of waves, Peter Struycken has created a sense of unity and a spatial experience by covering the whole area with a fluid wave-pattern crossed by a system of broad blue and white paths as though the waters of the Rhine were flowing over the land.

Far removed from the urban areas appeared entirely different forms of landscape art, better known as land art. Marinus Boezem began to work on his

Green Cathedral project in 1978, planting 178 Lombardy poplars in the shape of the floor plan of Notre Dame in the city of Reims in France. He used this gothic building as a model, regarding it as an architectural highlight and as a powerful symbol of the human quest for spirituality. Only when the poplars have reached their maximum height of 100 feet will they match the towering French cathedral. The Province of Flevoland - which consists entirely of reclaimed land - is home to The Green Cathedral and other large-sized landscape artworks by internationally renowned artists such as Robert Morris, Richard Serra and Daniel Libeskind.

Please, no more forgettable art!

The trends to be seen in the non-commissioned art sector are echoed in the commissioned art business. For example, some new-media artists who earned their spurs in the museum world have also made forays into publicspace art. A case in point is Marijke van Warmerdam, whose film clip of a man taking a shower premièred at the prestigious Biennale art festival in Venice.

From 1995, Shower was then shown for a few years at the underground railway station serving Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport. The absence of daylight in the station facilitated the projection of the film on a wall. It was a beautiful, surreal and also refreshing sight for passengers arriving at Schiphol sweaty and jetlagged after a long flight: an almost motionless man with water streaming down on him uninterruptedly. Various other art projects have meanwhile taken shape at Schiphol, giving an artistic cachet to the Netherlands' international gateway.

Some artworks in public areas are meant to serve a social purpose, as part of the ongoing move by central government and municipalities toward greater democratisation and public involvement. Often this type of 'social art' is very practical and serves a specific target group. Examples are benches where elderly citizens can sit back and relax, as well as sheltered areas where youngsters can hang out without being a nuisance to local residents. In these cases clients sometimes have unrealistic expectations of the projects. Indeed, one 'social artwork' was expected to reduce school truancy! In projects of this kind the artists often work together with municipal departments. At times, their design

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Marijke van Warmerdam, Shower. 1 995.

Schiphol Station.

Photo courtesy Galerie van Gelder, Amsterdam.

even forms the foundation for the whole plan. But it also happens that their designs are simply pushed to the margins.

More recent years have seen the emergence of 'interactive social art,' which seeks to engage the public and reflect 'real life'. In many cases, this art form does not even produce permanent physical structures. Here it is not so much the government who is driving this trend but the artists themselves. Their art often does not fit into museums, galleries and sculpture parks, and is more suitable for outdoor areas. Ida van der Lee, for example, organises projects about events that have a strong impact on society, such as urban renewal or the closure of a neighbourhood bar. In the Hang Out Your Washing project, she strengthened social cohesion in an Amsterdam street called Vrolikstraat; she had called on residents to hang colourful (clean) laundry on washing lines strung across the street to give it a Venetian feel.

Interestingly, art in public (outdoor) areas can benefit the artists in many ways: adequate funding, an open space to work in and a much wider audience.

It can also be extremely liberating for artists to be no longer confined to museums or hemmed in by museum culture. However, the artist must, of course, still comply with the client's requirements and go through the commissioning process.

It is good that artists now help to give shape to our public space. However, you can have too much of a good thing. With the mushrooming of art in public areas over the past 50 years and the related stifling red tape, a lot of forgettable or even downright disastrous art now takes pride of place in public areas. What

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ida van der Lee. Hang Ow Your Washing.

Amsterdam.

Photo courtesy of the artist.

we need is clients who get closely involved in the project, are audacious in their choices, formulate a clear assignment and then give the artists the artistic leeway to do their work. In return, artists need to take into account the social function that public areas have, while retaining their own distinctive artistic approach. Neither side should underestimate the general public. People do want to be part of this artistic adventure, and they are not content with just having an equestrian statue of a prince or a prime minister in bronze. •

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