Jan Van Eyck, the Christkind and the Third Reich.

Wake around five thirty needing the toilet and then creep back into bed until eight, when I get up Graham and Lilliane have made breakfast and much needed coffee. The after effects of the wine are not too bad and after showering and changing, Graham and I take Frankie, his border collie, now almost a year old, for a long walk. It is another clear, bright and sunny day, and we weave our way past the gardens, allotments and numerous water filled dykes, that separate Capelle an der Ijssel from the river Maas, passing under the motorway that carries eight lanes of traffic into and out of Rotterdam. By the side of the river is a woodland walk, where we throw sticks for Frankie to fetch, the trees bare of leaves, as nature settles into hibernation, with the approach of winter. We walk for a couple of hours, my brother stopping to chat with other dog walkers in fluent Dutch, the conversations seem to be mainly about the dogs, I can't be sure, but they feel like the same kind of exchanges that dogwalkers on the Westwood share. I am struck by the wildfowl, the occasional heron swooping, pterodactyl like, over the water and a group of striking looking geese, that Graham tells me are some sort of egyptian duck. The three of us, Graham, Frankie and myself, arrive home around half past eleven, where Graham changes out of his dog walking gear and then drives Lilliane and I to the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen to see "The road to Van Eyck", exhibition. Dutch ingenuity is a constant delight, even the cloakroom is innovative, a cluster of coathangers are suspended from the ceiling and accessed by releasing a pulley with a key. The hanger is lowered, your coat draped over it and then pulled back up to a secure height, and locked into place with a numbered key that you then take with you. Simple, brilliant and effective. The gallery is in the shape of a labrynth, at its centre are the actual artworks by Jan Van Eyck, The Crucifixion, The Three Mary's at The Tomb and of course The Annunciation. There is something about the androgynous angel Gabriel, in the Annunciation, that is strangely familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it. The rest of the exhibition is mainly about the position of late medieval religious art in the period preceeding Van Eyck and a few paintings in the period following, that show the influence he had on the northern renaissance. I wander happily round the ninety exhibits for over two hours, my sister in law, Lilliane, isn't good with crowds and so my brother takes her to the cafe, where I eventually join them for coffee and a piece of cheese cake, the Dutch apple pie having sold out. Dutch people like coffee and apple pie the way Japanes like sushi and sake. We drive home via the supermarket, where we replenish the red wine, buy a bottle of dark beer for the beef casserole Graham intends to make and some rye bread for me. Once we arrive home, Graham and I take Frankie out for half an hour, before it gets dark, standing on top of an artificial hill and throwing his ball down to a small field next to the canal for him to retrieve. Once the sun goes down, it turns suddenly very cold, and we are glad to return indoors. Graham makes the beef casserole and as he has some broad beans from his allotment defrosted, I offer to make a garlic cream sauce to cook them in. While the casserole and the beans are cooking, we discuss the exhibition over a glass of wine, and suddenly the penny drops, Van Eyck's iconic Angel Gabriel, reminds me of the "Christkind", a German folk tradition, where a beautiful teenage girl with curly blonde or gold ringlets brings presents for children at Christmas. A quick search on Wikipedia confirms the similarity of the images and the linkage from St. Luke about the annunciation of the Christ child is obvious, but the tradition of the Christkind was apparently promoted by Martin Luther, in opposition to the tradition of Saint Nicholas, and Luther is a hundred years later than Van Eyck. So is the iconic linkage from Van Eyck or did it precede him? So far limited research has failed to give much of a clue, perhaps a second visit to the exhibition and a chat with a curator, may shed more light. Dinner is ready around eight, Graham serves the casserole and beans with boiled rice, it is delicious and moreish and after several servings, we eat every last morsel. After last night's wine binge we are all ready for an early night and decide to turn in early, around nine thirty and then, somehow, we end up talking about feminism and the place of women in the Third Reich. The discussion finally runs out of steam around half past twelve again. By pure coincidence about the same time as the wine!