After my train from Brussels pulled into Luxembourg’s central station, I eagerly made my way through the city streets with my backpack in tow, but quickly sensed something was amiss. Shops were closed; flags were all lowered to half-mast; a police/military presence manned barricades near the Palais Grand-Ducal. I eventually discovered that a few days prior to my visit, Grand Duke Jean, who ruled Luxembourg from 1964-2000 until he abdicated the throne to his son Henri, had passed away at age 98. The Grand Duke was incredibly popular with the people and his coffin was being moved into the royal palace that afternoon for twelve days, over which time, mourners could visit and pay tribute to the former monarch. World leaders from all over the globe were set to descend upon the capital for the royal funeral that was to be held at the end of this period of bereavement.
Why am I bringing all this up in my post dedicated to art in Luxembourg City? In the nearly two decades Jean lived after he gave up the throne, he worked tirelessly to promote Luxembourgish contemporary art both at home and abroad. Back in 1989, the Grand Duke was miffed that there wasn’t a single contemporary art museum in all of Luxembourg. A foundation tasked with amassing contemporary pieces was promptly established and plans to display the ever-growing collection evolved throughout the 1990s. When the MUDAM (Musée d’Art Moderne) finally opened in 2006, Jean was not only the guest of honor, but the MUDAM officially became Musée d’Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean in recognition of his efforts to support the arts, and contemporary art in particular.
How refreshing it is to see a head of state place such an emphasis on touting the artistic achievements of his people. I can’t imagine any politicians in the United States opining on the importance of multi-media art installations during their bids for office. I hope to infuse this post with Jean’s enthusiasm for the arts and will dedicate its contents to his memory.
Villa Vauban (Musée d’Art de la Ville de Luxembourg)
The Treaty of London was signed in 1867, which required Luxembourg to completely dismantle its fortification system known as The Bock, thus creating real estate opportunities in the Ville Haute upon which private citizens could commission their new homes. One such estate was the Villa Vauban, built in 1873, that was home to several wealthy families until the city purchased the villa in 1949 and converted it into a museum a decade later. Since then, the Villa Vauban has specialized in collecting Luxembourgish and European art from the 19th and 20th Centuries.
The permanent collection, whose rooms were under construction when I visited, contains a large sampling of the two major movements in Luxembourgish modern art. The first, led by Joseph Kutter and Nico Klopp, was known as the secessionist movement. Their works, which were displayed during the interwar salons held in 1927, 1929 and 1930, broke with classical techniques and embraced expressionism and abandoned more traditional, literal styles of painting. The next evolution in Luxembourg’s artistic community came in 1954, when the “Iconomaques” left figure painting behind entirely and brought abstract art to the Grand Duchy. Lucien Wercollier, who created the Holocaust memorial at Cinqfontaines, was one of the founding members of the Iconomaques, bridging the gap between abstract painting and sculpture.
Plakeg! (Naked!)
The special exhibition on display when I visited, which took up the entire first floor of the museum, was called Plakeg! (Naked! in Luxembourgish) and chronicled the changing attitudes towards nudity in turn-of-the-century art. Above is a piece by German painter, Albert Weisgerber, which is an homage to Manet’s (in)famous nude portrait, “Olympia,” from 1863. In Manet’s original, Olympia is depicted as a French courtesan, staring flirtatiously and frankly at the viewer. She is attended by her black maid, who is presenting her with flowers from a suitor. Olympia’s boldness caused a scandal in Paris at the time, even though it is now considered one of Manet’s most celebrated works.
Weisgerber broke with nearly every tradition while depicting Miss Robinson. He placed his subject in a natural environment without any artifice or physical embellishments; she retains her double chin, paunch belly and sagging breasts. There is also no religious or mythological symbolism instilled in the painting. The piece is realistic, but still influenced by expressionistic brush strokes. Unlike Olympia, Miss Robinson tilts her face away from viewer, her eyes half-closed. This is not done out of shame, but rather it demonstrates her comfort level in front of the viewer. Whereas Olympia was eroticized, Miss Robinson is almost melancholy. She is allowed to express her own emotions rather than have the desires of the (male) viewer thrust upon her. Classically, naked women were characterized as symbols of Venus. Now, females were beginning to reclaim their own identity via presentations from their points of view.
Lovis Corinth, another German, utilized a classic scene from Grec0-Roman times for “Bacchanal,” but he donned his revelers with a modern look when depicting their nude bodies on canvas. Worshippers of Bacchus (Dionysus in Greek Mythology), the god of wine, would whip themselves up into a frenzy after indulging in their beloved’s favorite beverage and proceed to have wild, ritualistic orgies in their inebriated, ecstatic states. Normally, Bacchus was drawn as a buff young man (think Michelangelo’s “David” in Florence), but here Corinth portrays him as a pot-bellied old geezer. (Drinking too much wine won’t exactly keep you slim and fit!)
Luxembourgish artist Corneille Lentz, who enjoys a room completely devoted to his works at the Villa Vauban, gives us a secessionist version of the popular Renaissance tableau depicting Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. You won’t see any trembling figures begging for God’s forgiveness here. The biblical pair are fresh-faced, modern figures and rather unashamed of their nakedness. The setting is familiar, but Lentz’ reading of it is not. Eve in particular is posed with grace and a coyness that would have been unheard of in centuries past. Lentz’ triptych was once thought lost, but his daughter rediscovered it in 2015 when she was cleaning out her attic for repairs. She has since donated it to the museum, reuniting it with the bulk of her father’s output.
The Gardens of the Villa Vauban
The grounds of the Villa Vauban were designed by French landscaper Édouard André, and the gardens- now dotted with modern sculptures- have become as much of an attraction as the museum itself. Even on a drizzly spring morning, the tulips at the Villa Vauban were vibrant and made for some fantastic photos. Who says the Dutch have a monopoly on cultivating these bulb-based beauties?
French husband and wife duo, François Xavier and Claude Lalanne, created this surrealistic sculpture of a centaur for Luxembourg City that eventually found its way to the villa’s gardens. Xavier and Lalanne were a power couple in the design world, but they rarely collaborated together on individual pieces, with Xavier preferring to use animals for subjects and Lalanne working with plants and the human form. “Centaure” presented the perfect opportunity for a partnership; Lalanne even quipped that her husband built the bottom and she supplied the top.
Writer’s Block: Dicks-Lentz-Monument and Michel-Rodange-Monument
I won’t be confining the artistic offerings in this post to those found in a museum, nor will masters of the written word be given short shrift. The Dicks-Lentz-Monument, which celebrates Luxembourg’s two National Poets, sits in Jan Palach Square and has an amusing history. Edmond de la Fontaine, who published under the pen name “Dicks” and Michel Lentz are the two most-exalted 19th-Century poets who wrote in the Luxembourgish language. Although they were contemporaries, they were rivals rather than friends- more Bette Davis and Joan Crawford and less Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. Lentz wrote the poem that later was set to music and became “Ons Heemecht” (Our Homeland) that was eventually adopted as the National Anthem of Luxembourg.
Dicks died in 1891 and a committee was formed to create a statue in his honor. Two years later, Lentz passed away and once again a new committee was formed to design a separate statue for him. Before either project moved forward, members of each committee, wanting to save the city some money, decided to merge the two groups. Despite the two writers not being able to stand one another in life, they would be eternally joined together in death by Pierre Federspiel’s statue from 1903.
Down the street in Knuedler, sits a monument and water feature dedicated to the 19th-Century Luxembourgish novelist, Michel Rodange. Known by locals as “De Fiisschen” (The Fish), this ode to Rodange and his most celebrated novel “Renert,” was designed by Jean Curot in 1932. Renert (The Fox) is a satire that pokes fun at the regional differences of the Luxembourgish people. The fox and his animal friends are all given stereotypical personality traits that match up with different cities and villages of the Grand Duchy that would have been well-known at the time. Each animal’s dialogue was written in the corresponding regional Luxembourgish dialect, engaging in witty word play that would aid in the lampooning of each group.
The two fish above the fountain spout were stolen in 1979 and have never been recovered. The pair you see pictured above are replicas added to the monument in 1981. The water is safe to drink, so step up and fill your water bottle or take a sip directly from the stream.
Saltimbanques at Place du théâtre/Theaterplaz
The Place du théâtre is home to one of Luxembourg City’s two most important theaters: Théâtre des Capucins. The theater was built in 1623 and until Napoleon conquered the city in 1795, it functioned as a Capuchin monastery. French troops used the compound as an arsenal, which is how it remained until the Treaty of London forced the local government to either tear the building down or find another use for the historical structure, and thus the theater was born.
The Saltimbanques sculpture was added to the square in 1987 after Luxembourgish artist Benedicte Weis won a contest with this design idea to bring to life a troupe of medieval dancers, jugglers and entertainers known as Saltimbanques. Itinerant performers like this would have been popular during The Bock’s heyday, thus combining an historical subject with a contemporary styling.
Hämmelsmarsen (March of the Sheep)
In 1740 a well, known as Roude Pëtz, was built on this spot to provide water to The Bock. The 64m (209ft)-deep well was seen as threat by Luxembourg’s neighbors and was forced to be filled in by the Treaty of London. (France, Germany and Belgium really wanted to take everything away from Luxembourg City, didn’t they?) In 1982, the Hämmelsmarsen sculpture and fountain was erected where the former well once existed, which is why it is sometimes referred to as the Roude Pëtz Marker.
Wil Lofy drew inspiration from a local tradition when he designed the fountain. The Schueberfouer is a children’s fair that has taken place every summer in the Ville Haute for centuries. To kick off the festivities each year, a group of musicians will lead a parade of sheep through the city’s streets until they reached the Roude Pëtz. This tune, with lyrics added by Michel Lentz, is called The Mutton March. In the photo above, you can see two kids with an umbrella guiding the sheep to the fair with the help of the musicians playing The Mutton March.
Architecture of the Kirchberg Plateau
The Kirchberg Plateau, to the east of the Alzette River Valley, doesn’t receive as many visitors as it should, despite containing two fantastic museums and some interesting modern architecture. Luxembourg, as one of the six founding members of the EU, hosts several important institutions related to the organization. The Grand Duchy not only facilitates much of the EU’s banking needs, but it houses the European Court of Justice, the highest court in the EU.
The Court of Justice was founded in 1973, but as the alliance has grown, expansions to the courthouse have been required. The latest additions, completed in 2019, are these golden twin towers, designed by Dominique Perrault. The court has 27 judges, one from each member state, and all rulings, documents and announcements are published in 23 different languages. 600 translators are employed by the court and each nation’s judge has a staff in the hundreds. The two tours were designed to house the myriad of workers who keeps the courts humming.
Perrault has commented that he chose the tower’s golden color because when the light hits the buildings just right, it makes them look like two giant candles on the skyline. The courts are not criminal courts and they don’t hand out prison sentences. They deal with matters of policy and unifying regulations across the EU (fun stuff!). As a New Yorker, you’d think I’m pretty immune to staring up at a skyscraper, but Perrault’s towers are worth a gander.
Nestled amongst the EU buildings, you’ll find the Philharmonie Luxembourg, which was designed by French architect Christian de Portzamparc and officially opened in 2005. As one of the few non-EU/financial institutions in Kirchberg, Portzamparc wanted the distractions of the Philharmonie’s surroundings to be blocked out when patrons entered its grounds. His initial idea was to place a ring of trees around the concert hall, but there wasn’t enough room and the trees wouldn’t have been tall enough anyway.
Portzamparc found his solution in the 827 vertical metal columns that encircle the Philharmonie in rows of three or four. The idea was to create a filter that people had to walk through to gain admittance to the building. The columns allow light to reach the main lobby, but they obscure the images of the neighboring buildings outside. The pipes are functional too: the outer rows support the roof of the structure, the middle rows filter air and disperse it throughout the lobby and the inner rows transport oil up and down the columns that absorb the vibrations and maintain balance with the acoustics of the main concert hall. (A chamber music hall is located underneath the white metal “petal” that rests against the main structure.)
MUDAM (Musée d’Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean)
Now we have finally reached MUDAM, Grand Duke Jean’s greatest contribution to the contemporary art world and a top-notch museum to rival any out there. If I had a four-hour layover in Luxembourg and only had time to see one thing? Forget The Bock. Forget Grund. I’d make a beeline for the Kirchberg Plateau and spend every minute at MUDAM.
Fort Thüngen (modeled in black above) once stood on this spot overlooking the Alzette River. Cue the Treaty of London and it too had to be dismantled in 1867, save for the entranceway and Dräi Eechelen (three acorns, from which the towers derive their name). This portion of the ancient fort has been renovated and transformed into a history museum, but this accounts for only a small portion of the fort’s area. I.M. Pei, who is perhaps most famous for designing the glass pyramids in front The Louvre, was commissioned to “complete” Fort Thüngen with a modern structure that would house the Grand Duke’s contemporary art passion project.
Upon entering MUDAM, the first pieces of art you’ll encounter are the portraits of the Grand Duke and his wife, Josephine-Charlotte. Stephan Balkenhol works primarily with wood, creating both life-size figures and block portraits like those seen above. He prefers not to sand down his carvings, but rather leave the grooves and cracks exposed, revealing his process for the viewer. Balkenhol’s medium allows his subjects to appear both lifelike and inanimate at the same time. The Grand Duke’s portrait was ready for the museum’s grand opening in 2006; Jean unveiled his late wife’s portrait himself after it was completed in 2010.
The most stunning aspect of I.M. Pei’s design, is that of the Grand Hall and it’s dazzling 33m (108ft) tall glass-paneled roof. This was inspired by the original stone turret that rested atop Fort Thüngen, paying homage to Luxembourg’s history, while transporting it into the modern area. The different levels and exhibition rooms of the museum can all be accessed from the Grand Hall, weaving you in and out of the space and allowing you to see the roof and the light it refracts from different perspectives.
Nairy Baghramian created a series of sculptures called “Beliebte Stellen” that dot MUDAM’s grounds; one of these “Privileged Points” is on display in the Grand Hall as well. The heavy bronze pieces have been carefully painted to allow gobs of the the coating to harden while dripping on the frame, as if it were frozen in time. This gives the mass a feeling of weightlessness; the piece appears to be hovering just slightly above the ground. The shape is that of a proofreading mark, enlarged and twisted in its 3D-state. The piece is still in the process of drying just as we are always in the process of editing our works/lives. (Trust me, I can relate to this on a very literal level as I write these posts!)
Born in Luxembourg City, Su-Mei Tse is arguably the nation’s greatest rising star in the contemporary art world. Her video installations have won numerous awards, but it’s her bubbling fountain of black ink that takes center stage in the Grand Hall at MUDAM. The Baroque-style fountain symbolizes the process of creating speech and then turning that language into the written word. You first hear the sound of the inky water as it recycles over itself; this manifests as the spoken word which only requires a written utensil to record it. The spring also symbolizes the renewal of creation and the infinite possibility of words and sentences that can be formed with the confines of a language. At MUDAM we have advanced from the very literal monuments to 19th-Century writers in the Ville Haute to a metaphorical approach in the contemporary art world.
Jutta Koether Retrospective “Tour de Madame”
Born in Köln, Germany in 1958, Jutta Koether is one of the most exciting abstract painters I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing, all thanks to MUDAM’s first-ever retrospective of her work. Koether has been keenly aware of the struggles one faces as a woman in the male-dominated world of modern and contemporary art. She often uses bright colors, and in particular red, as a prism to view the world of female representations in art, pop culture and the media. Her four decades of paintings exist as a “counter-history” to the male-centric modernism that fills so many museums and galleries.
Koether’s paintings are a swirl of lines and shapes, layered one on top of the other. At first glance it’s all scribbles, but then as you peer closer, figures and images begin to come into focus. A woman’s face; a cityscape; plants and animals; hands and arms; pockets of text all fill up the page. The canvas is bursting with life and vibrancy, all the while placing the viewer in a hypnotic trance the more one is drawn into each painting.
Koether moved to New York City in the 1990s and has divided her time between Berlin and The US ever since. During this decade, Koether’s color palate expanded, as did her methods when creating these mammoth works (from left to right above: “Anti-Body I” (1993), “Mède” (1992) and “The Inside Job” (1992)).
“The Inside Job” morphed into a blend of composition and performance art for Koether: She placed the canvas on the living room floor of her tiny New York apartment, leaving almost no space to walk around the edges, and booked appointments for spectators to come observe the work in progress two at time in her home. Visitors were sometimes forced to walk over the canvas, adding their own imprint to the work. There was a guest book in the next room where people were encouraged to write a message stating their opinion of the work so far. Koether would allow both the praise and criticism to influence how she would continue adding to the piece the following day.
Bert Theis
If Su-Mei Tse is Luxembourg’s future, Bert Theis (1952-2016) certainly produced the greatest post-war oeuvre of any Luxembourgish artist. He saw himself as an “artist activist” and strove to create philosophical art. The themes of ecology, urbanization and gentrification were never far from Theis’ works. While many of his pieces took the form of site-specific urban installations, Theis did produce some prints, like the Aggloville series, which is sampled above.
In these digitally-altered city panoramas, Theis took the concept of a “concrete jungle” to its most literal conclusion. The ecological destruction that must occur before a city is built has been reversed and these metropolises, which are normally saturated with stress and frantic energy, have been replaced with peace and calm.
In 1993, Theis bought a residence in Milan and ultimately took up an artistic residence in the Isola neighborhood, of sorts, as well. Wedged between two train stations, the Isola district is populated with a vibrant community of artists and working-class folks, but it was also a rundown section of Milan that became alluring for developers wishing to cash in by gentrifying the area. Theis founded the Isola Art Center in 2001, a sanctuary for the underfunded artists in the district, and spent the remainder of his life fighting city planners who attempted to destroy the fabric of the neighborhood.
Theis and his followers didn’t win every battle. Some old buildings were torn down and replaced with high rise condos, but many of his efforts garnered international attention and more was saved than not.
In the foreground of the above photo you can see one of the white benches that is typical of the “platforms” and “pavilions” he was famous for installing in cities throughout Europe and Asia. Theis found that too many urban spaces were privatized by corporate interests and taken away from the everyday person. He attempted to reclaim these urban spaces by adding platforms and pavilions- benches, stages, little huts, etc- and encouraging people to gather at the spots and exchange ideas, rest and/or sit in quiet contemplation.
Theis represented Luxembourg at the 1995 Venice Biennale, where he built the “Potemkin Lock,” a small, wooden pavilion painted all in white and sandwiched between the more ostentatious Dutch and Belgian exhibitions. Visitors were invited to enter the abode and simply take time to relax. Another popular installation called the “Philosophical Platform” was put up in a Münster park in 1997. It was simply a wooden stage, painted white and left for the people of Münster to do with as they pleased. Citizens began gathering on the platform everyday, chatting, getting to know one another, building community and camaraderie.
I was quite taken with Theis’ “Text Works,” where he found a way to place words in glass, metal or wood and then install them somewhere in an urban landscape. The bridge above is in Gdańsk, Poland in the Dolne Miasto district, which is home to many Romanian immigrants. The area, undergoing gentrification at the time, attracted Theis’ attention; the railing across the bridge reads Ślepi Urbaniści/Korore Architekty or Blind Urban Planners/Blind Architects in Polish and Romanian respectively.
This railing, which spans 31m (101ft) along a highway in Italy overlooking the Tuscan countryside, states, “It is not up to us to provide reality.” Theis is asking us if art can really transform reality as the viewer looks out over the splendor of the Italian mountains and hillside towns. Theis is constantly begging us to be aware and consider our surroundings, and not just passively either. He took both aspects of his self-anointed title, “artist activist” very seriously. Sitting on the sidelines is not an option. If you’re not helping, you’re harming. Theis wants to provoke thought, yes, but the action must follow that thought, or what is the point, really?
I will leave you, after this whirlwind through Luxembourg’s cavalcade of art history and current offerings, at Theis’ “European Pentagon, Safe & Sorry Pavilion,” which rests near the Philharmonie Luxembourg. This five-sided structure is made of steel and translucent glass and has the letters that form “safe” and “sorry,” from the phrase better safe than sorry, swirled on the outer walls. The text is only readable from inside the pavilion, which has a bench for contemplation.
The beauty of Theis’ work is that you can create your platform and pavilions anytime you want, anywhere you are in the world. Shut out the world around you and connect with yourself or another person in a space where you can freely share your thoughts and ideas. Who knows what wondrous thoughts might pop into your head…
