| As we all know, it is not permitted in Amsterdam to paint the façades of
houses blue. I never know quite what position to adopt in matters like
these, for although there are a host of pleasant colours I wouldn't mind
seeing applied to the front of houses and I am moreover somewhat allergic to
the fundamental nosiness which authorities tend to display and would
therefore be inclined to accept any old colour, at the end of the day
there's always a line to be drawn somewhere. A complication in determining
exactly where to draw it is the formulation - and then there is the charisma
of the party that does the formulating. To be honest, it's the upshot of a
power struggle: who gets to decide what's in good taste and what's not?
This, incidentally, is a conclusion that applies to more than one sector in
society.
Cycling home along Keizersgracht, I suddenly observed a fluorescent indigo hue on the pillars of the Felix Meritis building, which had meekly (or did I miss something?) dropped the name of Ramses Shaffy, that extraordinarily inspiring figure who additionally, in passing, had his own flamboyant way of symbolising every artist's struggle - never hiding that he had his occasional bout with certain creature comforts but not conveying the impression that he was losing the battle. I wonder who decides as to whether to scrap such a name. I feel I have a right to be involved in such decisions. After all we're talking about someone who, as an above-average ingredient of the cultural heritage of this country, deserves to be cherished. As luck would have it, I have for some time now been carrying a camera wherever I go, which I use to chronicle things that in addition to striking me inspire texts in me. I cycled on initially, finding it difficult as I most certainly do to conquer the sense of embarrassment that quite probably affects every modest photographer, wondering as he (or she) will what in the world people will think of the intended object of his picture followed by their instant dismissal: is that all? Even though hardly anyone will ever say it out loud, it does tend to dampen down one's spontaneity. On second thought I turned my bicycle around, stopped opposite the building and made the picture you see here. After all, does it make that much difference whether you illuminate a façade in blue or paint the actual brickwork blue? Of course, I can hear you think, paint is definitive while the coloured light will be gone as soon as you pull the plug. True on one level, not true on another, for everything is relative. First, even if a façade were blue on a 'round-the-clock basis, you would only observe its blueness while actually looking at it. It can safely be assumed that even if you were to pass the spot in question every day (in both directions if you like), you'd have the blue house on your retina for no more than 40 seconds, tops. And if they decided to switch on a yellow floodlight at night, that same façade would instantly turn green. Of course you could remonstrate that you'd know the façade to be blue, but I could counter that argument by saying that you could just as easily imagine it to be burgundy in your absence - after all, people will believe all sorts of blatant untruths and unprovables, so where's the harm in adding another? But they who are not familiar with the Dutch rules of play will suddenly find themselves gasping, return home the next morning and remember forever that dark canal with its mysterious deep-clear blue, in that city where anything goes. |