More November pieces

Here are two smaller pieces I wrote for the 'Totally Non-Boring Museums' feature in our November issue. To be fair, this first one did not actually appear due to space constraints. Here we go:

Hemp Gallery

While the ever-popular Hash, Marihuana & Hemp Museum Amsterdam is getting an overhaul so that it might become a bigger, badder, hashier version of itself in February 2011, its adjunct Hemp Gallery (owned by the same folks) provides a nice alternative high for those still burning with cannabis curiosity.

This cosy ground-floor-only extension showcases hemp’s many uses through the centuries, though the tour can be a bit disorienting. Ostensibly, it tells the story of hemp’s utility from braids of hemp that served as ship hull caulking between 400BC and the 19th century, to elixirs and tonics based on hemp oil (a spoonful of one was known to cure a horse of colic). A laminated guide, available in seven languages, describes the corresponding objects in the vitrines. That said, its numbering system doesn’t actually give you a logical tour of the gallery, so it’s almost better just to wander aimlessly.

The far-out trance soundtrack and laid-back ticket-taker set the mood in this surprisingly well-lit gallery. The main draw (taken both ways), though, is the popular attraction on loan from the Hash Museum: the vaporiser. Live demonstrations are offered by a lanky, bearded Ohio native who identifies himself only as Joseph, who tends to the conical metal machine six hours a day, five days a week, giving visitors a chance to take in THC vapour under the pretext of historical research. In between puffs, he’s happy to talk weed politics (i.e. current developments on the legalisation front) give tips on chemicals used for growing, or just blow some smoke.

De Pijpenkabinet

When is a pipe not a pipe? When it’s collected, fetishised and displayed for its artistic, cultural and historic value; when it becomes an artefact.

Some 2,000 local and international pipes fill grand wooden display cases lining the pristine sea green-walls in this circa-1680 canal-side time capsule. The Pijpenkabinet, with its worn wooden floors and burgundy ceiling beams, contains a collection of pipes that narrates the story of smoking in style. For those touring: smoke ’em if you got ’em (that is, if you brought ’em) but don’t think about lighting up one of these beauties, they’re just for show.

The museum really comes alive when you’re greeted by the lone tour guide Benedict Goes, a lean silver fox from the southern Netherlands, whose crisp tenor voice practically sings the history of each of the museum’s objects. Follow him up the steep, creaky stairs and emerge, face to face with some rare gems of Dutch history: dozens of meticulously arranged white clay long-pipes dating back to 1600, made of clay imported from Belgium. As we make our way through the exhibition, Goes comfortably rambles off topic but re-situates us in our tour with the refrain, ‘Back to the pipes…’

In the next room, there’s a long formal dining table surrounded by rigid, high-backed chairs that suggests a guild hall with regal airs – but which apparently isn’t much used. Each cabinet in this space houses hundreds of pipes, organised by specific region and time period, from rare cactus-shaped bowls made by Mexican Indians dating back to 500BC, to ornate Chinese opium flutes decorated with hand-painted floral designs. Additional trophies include hard-edged pink agate pipes from Austria and pearly luminescent seashell-based pipes from Australia.

However enamoured Goes is of these as objects, he’s more interested in talking about how each one was used in its society, for ritual, political purposes and expression of personal style. This month, the museum hosts a mini exhibition from New Zealand’s Maori tribe: 12 wooden pipes carved with tattoo designs from 1900-1920. You can look, but no smoking the artefacts.

Cello-brate good times

Yes, that is actually the title that I half-jokingly proposed for this story, and that actually ended up running in the November issue of the magazine. Here is the text:

The cello is not exactly a spotlight instrument. But at this month’s third Amsterdamse Cello Biënnale at Muziekgebouw, its rapidly growing solo and ensemble repertoire is getting an overwhelming amount of play, quite literally.

‘You may only hear a great cello soloist a few times a year,’ says Maarten Mostert, the event’s founder and artistic director. ‘Suddenly in one week, we have 36 top soloists and ensembles.’

When he was a student, then later professor and performer, Mostert always felt his instrument was getting short-changed, in spite of the skill and music acuity required to play it. There have been national violin and viola competitions in the Netherlands for years but nothing for cello; even at the IJsbreker Café, Amsterdam’s one-time primary (albeit tiny) contemporary music performance hall and predecessor to the Muziekgebouw, the visionary Jan Wolff programmed highlight weeks focusing on different instruments other than the cello. For its 2006 inaugural run, Mostert called in all the friends and favours he could manage to create a weeklong cello-bration so epic it would need two spotlights.

‘Everyone knows the cello but they don’t realize how beautiful it is,’ says Mostert. ‘It’s close to the human voice, has a great range and a warm sound. You can love the flute but you can also hate flute at times. There’s not so much reason to hate cello.’

This Biënnale will give listeners 37 reasons not to hate the cello. It will show off the cello as an artistic, virtuosic and versatile element in its own right, from its warm, croaking low notes to the silky smooth upper range that retains a cool, dark character.

The staggering number of performances and master classes jam-packed into nine days and nights (5-13 November) span generations and genres, from an evening with Beethoven’s ‘German dances’, performed by the Frans Brüggen-directed Orchestra of the 18th Century, to an afternoon with Melo-M, a Latvian cello trio that plays special arrangements of pop songs. From respected classics to freshly inked experiments, the theme this year is maximising exposure to all styles of music for cello ensemble, including brand new commissions.

Since its 2006 inaugural iteration Mostert has just about doubled the composition premieres every two years: 4 the first year, 8 in 2008, and this year 15 brand new pieces. ‘I’ve dared to programme more of them, knowing the audience is there,’ he says (2008 saw roughly 20,000 visitors). ‘Now that we’ve been around, I have the confidence to go there.’

One world premiere is by Chiel Meijering, a 56-year-old Amsterdam composer who’s credited with more than 700 compositions. His piece ‘Arco Arena’ is scored for two solo cellos and a full mini orchestra of ASKO | Schönberg ensemble members. The soloists are meant to be ‘fencing’, metaphorically competing as their two parts overlap to create the piece’s central melody. In the piece’s second part, ‘The actual fight is the most noticeable: who has the smoothest muscles, best conditioning, endurance, etcetera,’ explains Meijering. ‘It’s the moment of truth.’

In addition to new compositions, the Biënnale’s inner series of ‘Take Five’ concerts is intended to showcase the festival’s spiciest modern music, each evening at 5 pm. Otherwise, Mostert’s structure remains largely unchanged, apart from a few critical upgrades: a hot meal (included in ticket price) offered before each morning’s ‘Bach & Breakfast’ performance of a single, unaccompanied cello suite and an open lounge following each evening’s final performance, at Muziekgebouw’s Star Ferry restaurant.

‘The atmosphere was good the past two times,’ says Mostert. ‘But how can you keep it from going down? Like Nero: give the people bread and games.’