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De Westelijke Tuinsteden in Amsterdam gelden als een schoolvoorbeeld van de moderne stedenbouw zoals die in de jaren twintig en dertig werd gepropageerd door de architecten van het Nieuwe Bouwen, die zich hadden verenigd in de Congrès Internationaux d’Architecture Moderne (CIAM). De ontwerper van het plan, Cornelis van Eesteren was van 1930 tot 1947 voorzitter van deze internationale beweging. De tuinsteden kenmerken zich door de toepassing van open bouwwijzen met bouwblokken vrijstaand in het groen, zonder duidelijke voor- en achterkanten. Er werd afscheid genomen van het klassieke stedenbouwkundige repertoire met gesloten straatwanden. Vlak voor de Tweede Wereldoorlog werden kleine delen ingevuld, waarbij werd geëxperimenteerd met strokenbouw. Het overgrote deel van de Westelijke Tuinsteden werd na de oorlog gerealiseerd, met door de centrale overheid gedirigeerde sociale woningbouw. Het oorspronkelijke plan werd daarbij op onderdelen aangepast en ingevuld. Daarbij werd gekozen voor meer afwisseling door strokenbouw te combineren met haken rondom hoven. In de jaren vijftig en zestig golden de naoorlogse wijken als toonbeelden voor een nieuwe manier van leven: licht en frisse lucht doorstroomden de door groen omringde woningen. In de jaren negentig leken de dromen vervlogen. Vergrijzing, het wegtrekken van bewoners, verloedering en toenemende onveiligheid leidden tot de noodzaak in te grijpen. Liberalisatie van de woningmarkt en de wens van de overheid om het aandeel van de sociale woningbouw terug te dringen, noopten woningbouwcorporaties om zich als marktgerichte projectontwikkelaars te manifesteren. Dit heeft in veel gevallen geleid tot sloop en nieuwbouw. Van enig respect voor de cultuurhistorische waarden die deze wijken ontlenen aan zowel het stedenbouwkundig plan als aan de sociale woningbouw die er te vinden is, was aanvankelijk nauwelijks sprake. Zo kon het gebeuren dat sloop-nieuwbouwplannen werden uitgevoerd waarvan de achterliggende architectonisch-stedenbouwkundige principes haaks stonden op die van het oorspronkelijke plan. Een extreem voorbeeld daarvan is de door Krier Kohl Architecten ontworpen Noorderhof (1995-1999). Beginnend met dit project komt in dit artikel een reeks plannen van stedelijke vernieuwing aan de orde die het aanzien van de Westelijke Tuinsteden inmiddels volkomen hebben veranderd. Was er aanvankelijk vooral waardering voor het stedenbouwkundige plan en minder voor de invulling daarvan met de architectuur, geleidelijk veranderde dit. In kaart wordt gebracht hoe de discussies en ingrepen het besef aanwakkerden dat deze wijken wel degelijk grote cultuurhistorische waarden vertegenwoordigen die bescherming verdienen. De laatste jaren is er weer meer aandacht voor behoud, renovatie en herbestemming van de oorspronkelijke bebouwing. Toch is de dreiging van grootschalig ingrijpen in de Westelijke Tuinsteden nog lang niet geweken., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 3

In oktober 2018 deden medewerkers van Monumenten en Archeologie Amsterdam (MA) een bijzondere ontdekking in een monumentaal pand aan de Recht Boomssloot 41 in Amsterdam. Op de begane grond troffen zij een relatief onbekend interieur aan van de Italiaanse architect-ontwerper Alessandro Mendini (1931-2019) uit 2001. Het betreft de voormalige woning van oud-directeur van het Groninger Museum Frans Haks (1938‐2006), die na zijn directeurschap in 1996 met zijn partner Johan Ambaum (1931-2018) verhuisde naar het pand. De begane grond werd door Mendini aangepast en uitgebreid met een serre-aanbouw aan de achterzijde. Haks woonde hier tussen zijn hedendaagse kunstverzameling. Ambaum woonde op de eerste verdieping tussen zijn negentiende-eeuwse kunst. Na het overlijden van Ambaum in januari 2018 als laatste bewoner van het appartement kwam het via de Stichting het Rijksmuseum Fonds in handen van het Rijksmuseum. Ambaum had dit fonds aangewezen als enige erfgenaam met als doel de aankoop van toegepaste kunst en nijverheid uit de negentiende en twintigste eeuw voor de Rijksmuseum collectie. Wanneer de nalatenschap de museumcollectie niet zou versterken, diende deze te worden verkocht ten behoeve van het fonds. Dit was het geval bij het appartement dat in de verkoop werd gedaan. Omdat het pand waarin het appartement zich bevindt vanwege de geveltop een rijksmonument is (monumentnummer 646), dienden de verbouwingsplannen te worden voorgelegd aan MA. Toen de medewerkers in oktober 2018 bij hun bezoek aan het pand daarin onverwacht het Mendini-interieur aantroffen, werden de plannen afgekeurd. Op 26 februari 2019 – acht dagen na het overlijden van Mendini – werd het appartement opnieuw bezocht, deze keer samen met conservator twintigste-eeuwse kunst en senior conservator meubelen van het Rijksmuseum en de senior specialist historische interieurs van de Rijksdienst voor het Cultureel Erfgoed. Het doel was een waardebepaling te maken met het oog op herbestemming. De interieurafwerking kreeg een hoge monumentenwaarde toegekend vanwege de structuur, de ruimtewerking, de interieurafwerkingen en de zeldzaamheid. Dit laatste bezoek en het besef van het gebrek aan kennis over het interieur vormden de aanleiding voor het onderzoek waaruit dit artikel is voortgekomen. Op basis van literatuur- en archiefonderzoek en oral history schetst dit artikel de geschiedenis van het interieur en wordt het belang ervan aangetoond. Na een beknopte introductie van opdrachtgever Haks, ontwerper Mendini en hun relatie, volgt een analyse van het kleurrijke interieur waarin de ontwerp overwegingen worden geduid. Het interieur moest een passend decor vormen voor Haks’ kunst- en design verzameling. Bovendien moest de vormgeving theatraal zijn, passend bij Haks’ uitbundige manier van leven. Het overbewustzijn van het kunstmatige karakter, de overdrijving als style statement in het gebruik van heldere kleuren en vormen, de glamour en de ironie geven het interieur een zelfbewuste neo-kitscherige lichtvoetigheid, beter aangeduid als camp. Tot slot wordt het interieur gesitueerd binnen de architectuurhistorisch interessante interieurkunst uit de periode na 1965., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 3

Boekbespreking van een boek van Tymen Peverelli, Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 3

In the southern provinces of the Netherlands and the neighbouring parts of Belgium traces have been discovered of an interesting group of 'farmers' entrenchments', small fortifications from the Early Modern Period. Between the sixteenth and eighteenth century, a period of frequent warfare. many villages and hamlets built simple fortifications as refuges for the population and their cattle. Some of these refuges were located close to the villages, other examples were built in less accessible terrains such as stream valleys. In this article, an inventory of these small fortifications for one of the core regions, the central part of the Dutch province of Limburg, is presented. Two examples are studied in some more detail: the refuges of Boshoven and Laar (municipality of Weert). At Boshoven, part of the archive still exists. This object is remarkable, as the oldest cadastral map (c.1830) still shows how every inhabitant of the village owned a tiny plot within the refuge. At Laar, a small archaeological survey was executed. following a request from the village for input for a planned restoration project., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 106 (2007) 6

Until 1577 there was a monastery of the Cistercian order in IJsselstein. It had been founded by the local lords in 1342. Subsequently, the buildings were destroyed several times by acts of war. In 1495 a new complex was founded within the town walls in Benschopperstraat. Part of this survived and was restored in 1984. During the building of the church, part of the complex was burnt down, among which the monastery church. After fund-raising the reconstruction could start in 1539. Within this scope specifications were made for the construction of a roof on the church. Preparatory to this, exploratory visits were paid to other monasteries. Of this campaign two building specifications have been preserved, one of them dated 1538. These two specifications are of importance for the building history because of some differences in the defined construction principles in the two specifications. An important difference indicates that at that time the transition took place from the spanned roof to the roof with a needle in the ridge of the roof., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 105 (2006) 3

The Romanesque sculpture in Maastricht, particularly in the St.-Servaas church and the O.L.Vrouwekerk (Our Lady's church), has been extensively and learnedly discussed by Elizabeth den Hartog. At first iconological and iconographical problems are dealt with. Against the background of historical and political developments Den Hartog has drawn conclusions that are not always shared by the reviewer. He makes critical comments on Den Hartog's interpretations and sometimes suggests different solutions. He also manages to supplement Den Hartog's line of reasoning by pointing to other monuments that may sometimes shed new light on various problems brought up in the publication. As regards capital no. 26 (St.-Servaas) the reviewer points to a relief in the Munster of Basel on which master builder and magister operis are praised as 'living stones'. The scenes on the 34 capitals in the imperial room (St.-Servaas) are convincingly interpreted as references to the battle between earthly sinners and the prospect of Heavenly Jerusalem. In some cases some scene or other should be 'read' differently from what Den Hartog proposes. The author dates the capitals in the ambulatory of O.L.Vrouwekerk earlier (1150-1160) than usual so far (1160-1167 by Bosman). According to Den Hartog this may reflect the failed Second Crusade - a pessimistic picture, as it were, in which anti-Semitic resentments are also expressed. The reviewer cannot quite follow her in this respect, because he does not always consider Den Hartog's line of reasoning convincing., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 105 (2006) 3

Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 106 (2007) 6

The house the architect builds for himself and his family can be considered as a unique, autobiographical record. Because of the twofold role of being both designer and client, the architect can seize the opportunity to conceive his house as a manifesto, a technological experiment or as a turning point in his career. Moreover, he can also deploy his house as a commercial tool to attract future clients; as a life-size business card which demonstrates his professional expertise and ambitions. Research into this specific building type has revealed over 330 architects’ houses built in the Brussels Capital Region between 1830 and 1970. A geographical and chronological analysis showed that many architects used their own home to take part in, or even to anticipate on, evolutions related to the extension of the urban fabric or the development of new architectural styles like art nouveau or modernism. To fully grasp the significance of the architect’s house as a specific building type, we critically reflect on the characteristics that distinguish this project from other buildings. As such, we have identified five inherent characteristics, namely the position of the house within the oeuvre of the architect, the relationship with the future clientele, the house as working place, how the architect engages his professional network, and finally how the house relates to an earlier or future version. For instance, the ambitions and impact of a house built at the beginning or near the end of the career will be very different. It can also be particularly interesting to see whether the architect uses the house to engage with his clients in a socio-economic or geographical way. Whether and how the architect integrates an architectural studio or office in the house is often also telling for how he practices architecture, as is the way he collaborates with other building actors during the design. And if an architect built several houses for himself, the comparison of these projects generates a deeper understanding of the personal ambitions, professional development and the different space-time contexts in which the architect operates. Through the lens of these relationships, we discuss how architects’ houses can evolve into a business card. Therefore, in relation to the architectural and professional aspirations of the architects, especially the role and impact of their own houses on their future portfolio is investigated by means of three case studies; the own house of Henri Van Massenhove (Brussels, 1894), Gustave Strauven (Brussels, 1902), and Luc Schuiten (Overijse, 1976). Each of these houses illustrates a different ambition and tells a unique story embedded in a particular context. Ranging from a model house to a personal statement, they all show the various ways in which architects’ houses can become a harbinger for the architect’s future work and how it can function as a business card, both accidentally as intentionally. As such, the analysis based on those five inherent characteristics enables us to fathom the added value of the architect’s house as a specific building type., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 2

In a double-width building in the historical centre of Haarlem a classicist painted ceiling from the second quarter of the seventeenth century was recently discovered. It is a beam and joist construction in which the beam bays have been smoothly finished, resulting in a panelled ceiling. The areas between the beams boast a painted architectural division into coffers and panels, enriched with bundles of twigs and floral bouquets, festoons, gilded rosettes and two family coats of arms. The ceiling, which has been dated to between 1635 and 1639, was commissioned by Josephus Coymans and his wife Dorothea Berck. Ten years earlier, the Coymans family had been among the earliest patrons of Dutch classicism in Amsterdam when they commissioned Jacob van Campen to design the front facade of the Coymanshuis (1625). In Haarlem a classicist decoration programme, developed specifically for use in a genteel bourgeois domestic interior, was designed for the Coymans’ Groot Salet (large drawing room). It is the earliest known example of such decoration in Haarlem. The influence of both Sebastiano Serlio and Vincenzo Scamozzi is evident in the design and in the stylistic features of the ceiling. The latter is characterized by a highly effective and painterly application of perspective and shadowing on the flat surface. As such, the decorative programme differs fundamentally from the interior decoration of richly decorated coffered ceilings like the ones used by Jacob van Campen in the grand mansions and residences he designed from the 1630s onwards. By contrast, this ceiling exhibits striking similarities in concept and stylistic execution with the classicist decoration programme for the Vredenburg country house designed in 1639 by the Haarlem painter-architect Pieter Post. At Vredenburg Post demonstrated his mastery of the classic idiom and effectively succeeded in adapting the classicist decoration programme to a genteel bourgeois domestic interior. On the basis of the similarities, the ceiling in Haarlem has also been attributed to Pieter Post. However, the more mature, more elaborate design for Vredenburg must be located later on in the development of this type of interior decoration. With a dating of 1635-1639, the Groot Salet in Haarlem is the earliest known executed work by Pieter Post in Haarlem and must therefore be considered one of the earliest known classicist decoration programmes in a genteel bourgeois interior. This finding offers a firm basis for the dating of comparable discoveries and paintings, which until now has invariably been sought in the second half of the seventeenth century., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 2

In autumn 1953, at the invitation of the American Institute of Architects (AIA), Dutch architect Willem Dudok embarked on an almost three month-long lecture tour of over thirty universities in the United States of America. It was Dudok’s first experience of America. An analysis of the archival material of Dudok’s tour, never previously undertaken, offers starting points for a deeper consideration of Dudok’s reflections on his own career as architect and urban designer, and his view of architecture and urban design in the United States. Since his earliest housing projects in Hilversum around 1920, American architects had taken an interest in Dudok’s work, an interest that only increased after the completion of the Hilversum town hall in 1931. Although Dudok had received several invitations to lecture in America over the years, it only became a reality quite late in life. The programme laid out for him was an exceptionally busy one: in the course of eighty days he covered a large swathe of the eastern and central part of the United States. He lectured to architects, students and other interested parties, was invited to several receptions and dinners, and was taken on guided tours of many buildings and cities. He also stayed for a few days with Frank Lloyd Wright. Immediately upon arrival Dudok was impressed by the huge skyscrapers of Manhattan, although it was the engineering that made the greatest impression on him. He did not regard them as architecture for they lacked the ‘beauty of proportion and mutual harmony’. Dudok had prepared two lectures for his tour, largely based on a lecture he had already given in Brussels in 1950 for the Société Belge des Urbanistes et Architectes Modernistes. He argued for a spiritual value in architecture that would be reflected in the proper structural proportions. He felt that Americans had little idea of urban design as yet, and he made frequent mention of an ugliness and chaos similar to that in Asian cities. He favoured the development of garden cities, of which Hilversum was his great example, over close-set skyscrapers. In his view, a city’s beauty consisted above all of a well-judged alternation of repetition and variation in buildings. For his American audiences of students and young architects, Dudok’s lectures were probably their first encounter with his ideas and reflections on architecture and urban design. He illustrated his lectures with a large number of slides and impressed his audiences with the breadth of his oeuvre, which clearly consisted of much more than his world-famous town hall. After his visit, Dudok’s lectures were published in the Journal of the American Institute of Architects and eighteen months later he was awarded the AIA Gold Medal, the institute’s highest honour. Dudok is still the only Dutch architect to have received this accolade., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 4

Views of twelve cities in the Low Countries by the Flemish artist Antoon van den Wijngaerde (c. 1510-1571) have survived: Amsterdam, Brugge, Brussels, Damme, Dordrecht, Duinkerke, Gravelines, ’s-Hertogenbosch, Leuven, Mechelen, Sluis, and Utrecht. Van den Wijngaerde was known for his mastery of topographically accurate and beautiful depictions of cities. The artist entered the service of Philip II in 1557 and between 1557 and 1561 he produced panoramas of cities in the Low Countries for the Spanish king. Between 1562 and 1571 Van den Wijngaerde travelled the length and breadth of Spain, depicting over sixty Spanish cities using much the same techniques. In most Spanish cities the artist was able to make his sketches from a hill or mountain, where he had a good overall view. It was a different story in the Low Countries. So how did Van den Wijngaerde manage to render the Netherlandish cities, most of them located on flat land, as if seen from a high viewing point with a sweeping view of the city and surrounding landscape? Van den Wijngaerde followed a fixed routine in setting up his city views, but he also made clever use of the local situation. He seized on any high point outside the city and allowed that to determine his direction of view. When several preparatory studies were necessary, he preferred to make them all looking in the same direction: the city roofscape viewed from outside the city, prominent buildings viewed from the city outskirts, and the surrounding area from the highest point in the city. This resulted in city views that were effectively a composite of three preparatory studies. When the local situation did not favour this approach, Van den Wijngaerde looked for alternatives, such as preliminary studies from more than three viewing points. In determining the viewing points that Van den Wijngaerde adopted when drawing cities in the Low Countries, the author consulted the town plans drawn by Van den Wijngaerde’s contemporary Jacob van Deventer (c. 1500-1575)., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 1

This article provides an insight into private building practice around 1800 in the shrinking cities of Haarlem and Leiden. Studies of private building practice in the long eighteenth century have tended to focus on the renovation and modification of substantial private homes and country houses. Interest in urban transformation in periods of decline has only recently started to grow. The archival sources consulted for this article come from Leiden and Haarlem and cover the period 1800-1810. These documents make it possible to reconstruct part of the private building practice in a period of economic and demographic decline in detail. The records contain not just requests, but also the accompanying plans and elevations. The latter were intended to give the municipal departments and officials responsible for overseeing construction an impression of the structural alterations being proposed. The request and drawings together with the inspection reports, which were also archived, provide a detailed picture of the alterations carried out on a large number of houses, warehouses and sheds in both cities, and of urban transformation in a period of population decline, the supervision of private construction, and the evolution of the domestic floor plan. Reliable plans of ordinary urban houses from this period are relatively scarce. A source analysis of the drawings (legal context, type of drawing and draughtsman) was combined with an inventory and analysis of the structural alterations described in the requests, in the context of the spatial development of both cities around 1800. The source material shows that not only vacancy and demolition, but also conversion, renovation and greening were part of the redevelopment of the urban living environment. Capitalizing on the situation on the housing market and the space in the city, property owners and building trade bosses focused not only on buying up houses and ‘knock-downers’, but also on turning houses into warehouses and cowsheds or converting houses and workshops in various states of repair into attractive residences with ‘spacious’ gardens and more ‘light and air’ thanks to the demolition of back houses. The demographic and economic shifts that had led to vacant properties and demolition did not result in stagnation, but instead generated their own lively building practice catering to modern middle-class housing needs., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 119 (2020) 1

Review of a book edited by Marinke Steenhuis, Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 4

Brussels’ urban space, like that of many other cities, is dotted with evidence of a productive industrial past. The activities that took place there were generally not geared to mass production for export, but to small-scale manufacturing aimed at supplying the needs of local city dwellers. That small-scale manufacturing industry included members of the building trade such as contractors, joiners and builders’ merchants who catered to the demand for housing in an ever-expanding city. Their business premises formed a vital link in the creation and renovation of the urban fabric. This article focuses on the values of small-scale industrial heritage from the building trade, which is under enormous pressure in a city like Brussels. The dynamics of constantly rising real estate prices make residential redevelopment a lucrative investment. Thanks to gentrification, many workshops are being converted into housing and former warehouses are falling prey to large-scale property development. Real estate dynamics, scaling-up and changing market conditions are also contributing to the disappearance of the small-scale, live-work fabric that fosters a beneficial mix of functions. The expertise and skills that for centuries have supplied the basic needs of the city in a sustainable manner are then lost. In light of growing traffic congestion and unemployment, academics and urban planners are becoming increasingly convinced of the need for permanently embedded, city-servicing economic actors like building businesses. Thus, even today, small-scale industrial heritage is vital to the functioning of the urban economy, in that offers the possibility of spatially organizing or reorganizing city-servicing activities within a dense urban fabric. Inspired by integrated concepts of heritage, we therefore argue in favour of a broadening of industrial heritage values aimed at anchoring the use of such locations in time and space. We take issue with an exclusively material approach to industrial heritage by pointing out the immaterial heritage value of a continuity of productive use. After a brief theoretical reflection on the value of small-scale industrial heritage in the city, we examine the historical evolution of Brussels’ industrial heritage at the macro level between 1890 and 1970, the period in which the development of the suburbs of Brussels was in full swing. We use a series of exemplary cases to illustrate the different trajectories of continuity and discontinuity of heritage on the one hand, and productive use of building trade locations in Brussels on the other. We also try to get to grips with the motivations of businesses that abandon the city, cease to exist or manage to adapt to volatile market conditions. This article uses a selection of cases to challenge a purely material approach to industrial heritage and makes the case for further research into the question of how individual heritage legislation might also recognize immaterial heritage values in historical business activity on a particular site or in an industrial building., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 4

Review of a book authored by Sophie Elpers, Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 4

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Lode De Clercq en Steven Van den Borne, Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 3

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Rob Grubben, Taco Hermans (red.), Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 3

The large, wooden panel inscribed with the Law of Moses in Leerdam’s Grote Kerk is a striking example of a ‘Ten Commandments panel’, a common decorative element in Dutch churches after 1572, the year in which the Northern Netherlands rebelled against Spanish rule. This year also marks the switch from Roman Catholicism to Protestantism as the public religion of the young Dutch Republic. In church buildings elements associated with Catholic worship made way for large and richly decorated panels bearing biblical texts, of which the text of the Ten Commandments was by far the most popular. Of the 223 known examples 155 are still to be found in church buildings today. The Ten Commandments panel in Leerdam’s late-medieval church is distinguished by its baroque monumentality, by the presence of the date 1698, and by the coat of arms of the Stadholder William III (1650-1702), Prince of Orange and King of England, Scotland and Ireland, who also bore the title of Count of Leerdam. The customary location for a panel with the Law of Moses is the boundary between choir and nave. It was in the choir that the Lord’s Supper was usually celebrated, the sacrament recalling Christ’s sacrifice in both Roman Catholic and Protestant worship. The panel with the Ten Commandments, usually affixed to the choir screen above the entrance to the choir, refers to the mercy of Christ, who fulfilled the Law through the shedding of His blood. A fine example of this placement in the early Protestant period can be found in Leiden’s Pieterskerk. The panel in the church in Leerdam was originally located above the western entrance to the nave and formed a unit with the portal. In the eighteenth century it was placed above a new wooden porch in the choir screen, but after this later addition was removed during the most recent restoration of 1957-1960, the panel was relocated to the north transept where it now stands against a blank wall. The lower double door zone has been replaced by oak panelling. The panel’s most distinctive feature is the sculpted, painted and partially gilded coat of arms of William III in the broken, segmental pediment above the classicist framing of the twin tablets of the Law. The shield is flanked by the ornaments of the Order of the Garter, while the plinth bears the monogram W : R (Willem Rex). There is currently no evidence to suggest that the panel was gifted to the church by William III in his capacity as Count of Leerdam. Nor is the motivation for placing the panel in the church entirely clear. Whereas painted glasses, organs and baptismal and Lord’s Supper utensils decorated with the coat of arms of members of the House of Orange-Nassau are generally considered to be gifts, that is probably not the case for panels inscribed with biblical texts and decorated with the Orange-Nassau coat of arms. It is more likely to have been an act of homage to high authority, in the case of Leerdam a tribute to its count, William III., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 3

Review of a book authored by Fred Ahsmann., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 2

Review of a book authored by Erik Betten and Simone Verlaat (eds)., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 2

Cornelis Ryckwaert is one of the few master builders who were active in Brandenburg in the seventeenth century and of whom more is known than just a name or a place of residence. This makes him especially suitable for a study of the export of Dutch influences in the architecture of Brandenburg. An analysis of his activities should reveal the nature of any such influence, making for a more nuanced assessment of Ryckwaert’s work and contributing to the debate about what the concept of influence actually entails. This article begins with his origins and his arrival in Brandenburg in the retinue of Johan Maurits van Nassau-Siegen, and then moves on to discuss several of his building projects. There are indications that Ryckwaert was born in Leiden. From 1662 he was involved in the reconstruction of the Johannieter castle in Sonnenburg (present-day Słonsk). Once work on the castle was finished, Ryckwaert was appointed master of Electoral fortifications in Küstrin/Kostrzyn, where he lived until his death in 1693. From this base he was involved in other building projects, chiefly for the Electors of Brandenburg and of Sachsen-Anhalt. In Brandenburg his works included the castle in Schwedt, the Junkerhaus in Frankfurt an der Oder and smaller estates owned by minor nobility, such as Groß Rietz and Hohenfinow. In Sachsen-Anhalt he worked on the castle in Coswig, the castle and Lutheran church in Zerbst, and the Oranienbaum castle. He traded in wood and built a shipping bridge in Dessau where he also worked on other projects. In the literature Cornelis Ryckwaert is regarded as an example of a travelling architect who introduced Dutch influences in Brandenburg. However, an analysis of his activities failed to uncover any persuasive evidence that he was in fact active as an architectural designer. Moreover, he was not appointed as ‘architect’, but as ‘master builder’. The conclusion must therefore be that Ryckwaert’s activities were of a civil engineering nature and that he cannot be regarded as an architectural designer. Ryckwaert’s influence on the building industry in Brandenburg should consequently be sought in the specific civil engineering expertise he possessed and that was needed in Brandenburg. His close ties with the Electoral court and with members of the minor nobility who usually held administrative offices, meant that Ryckwaert’s know-how was employed in many different places. Based on the written sources, the nature of Ryckwaert’s influence on construction in Brandenburg in the seventeenth century is more likely to be found in his activities as a fortification engineer. Very little remains of the work of Cornelis Ryckwaert, or of related source material. Only the Junkerhaus in Frankfurt an der Oder, and more especially Oranienbaum castle, are still in a reasonably authentic condition., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 1

Review of a book edited by Terry R. Slater and M.G. Pinto, Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 1

Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 118 (2019) 1

Review on a book edited by Anita Blom, Simone Vermaat and Ben de Vries., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 4

Review of a book authored by David Keuning., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 4

Review on a book authored by Linde Egberts., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 4

The Vereniging Hendrick de Keyser was established in 1918 in response to a spate of demolition and injudicious renovation of historical buildings. Since its inception, the association has acquired 423 buildings in 109 locations in the Netherlands, nearly all of which have undergone one or more restorations of varying intensity. As such, the association has had an impact on the appearance of towns and villages across the Netherlands. But what principles did it apply in carrying out these restorations and how did they compare with the principles employed by the government? Although it was many years before the association laid down clear restoration guidelines, a study of the restorations reveals an evolving set of restoration principles. Restorations often gave rise to fierce debates among board members and between the board of Hendrick de Keyser and the government. Both extremes of restoration philosophy since the nineteenth century — restore to former glory versus do nothing — found adherents among the association’s architects. Whereas its ‘in-house architect’, A.A. Kok, initially adhered to the Grondbeginselen van de Nederlandsche Oudheidkundige Bond (Basic Principles of the Dutch Archeological Society, 1917) and took a cautious approach in his restoration work, architects employed by the government attempted to restore buildings to their original ‘historical’ appearance. From the 1930s onwards, both government and Hendrick de Keyser architects carried out ‘former glory’ restorations, although Hendrick de Keyser board members were divided in their opinions about these restorations. After the Second World War the government tended towards the view that restoration work should focus on preservation. This clashed with the views of the association, which continued to carry out many restorations well into the 1960s and 1970s. During this period, influenced by the 1961 Monumentenwet (Heritage Act), there was growing interest in the building in its surroundings. From the 1970s onwards the government and Hendrick de Keyser increasingly pursued the same principles. There was greater interest in the preservation of authentic materials and the value of the heritage object as a source for scientific research. The visual quality was no longer paramount. Although there was generally more consideration for the historical layering of a heritage building, that did not apply to twentieth-century buildings, where the availability of adequate documentation usually worked in favour of restoration. In 2009 the Vereniging Hendrick de Keyser set about formulating its own restoration principles with reference to the Charter of Venice (1964) and the Uitgangspunten van de Rijksdienst voor de Monumentenzorg (Principles of the Netherlands Department for the Preservation of Historic Buildings, 1991). The key tenets are ‘preservation through development’ and ‘preservation before renovation’. Over time, the association’s focus has shifted from the object in itself via the object in its surroundings to the story around the object, with the emphasis on nostalgic value. After almost one hundred years, the Vereniging Hendrick de Keyser finally has clearly formulated restoration principles — although it has yet to officially enshrine them in policy — in which the influence of the prevailing views at national and international level is clearly discernible., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 3

During the German Occupation of the Netherlands between 1940 and 1945 it was not just government departments, forced to toe the German line, that were in jeopardy. Private organizations like Vereniging Hendrick de Keyser, whose core task involved the acquisition, restoration and leasing of historically important buildings, were also vulnerable. The difficulties and perils it faced included the commandeering of houses, diminishing funds for acquisitions and restorations, and divisions within the board on what attitude to adopt vis à vis the Germans. Differences of opinion among board members came to light quite early on, when the head of the occupying forces, Reichskommissar Seyss-Inquart, enquired about hiring the house at Herengracht 284 for a soirée. That request sparked a heated discussion among board members, which revealed that one member was pro-German (Frans Vermeulen), two were not ill-disposed towards the occupier (Jan Gratama and Jacobus Boelen) while the remaining members (G. van Lennep, Van der Feltz, Westermann) were vehemently anti-German. These differences in attitude were aired at length both before and after the soirée. Vermeulen claimed that his intention had been to get Seuss-Inquart interested in the association in the hope of attracting more funding. But it never came to that because the board maintained a discreet distance from the German occupying authorities. During this period, membership gradually declined, prompting the board to organize activities aimed at attracting new members. Board and the executive committee members were fairly successful in this and there was even a short film clip in 1943 that focused on the association’s 25th anniversary, modestly celebrated on 4 January 1943 with a lecture by Frans Vermeulen and a reception. There is no evidence of any concerted effort to bar Jewish members and no question of Aryanization of the association. In addition, by keeping its distance from the German occupying authorities, the board was able to prevent its properties, which included many sixteenth- and seventeenth-century houses, from being misused for national-socialist cultural propaganda. Herengracht 170 was leased in autumn 1941 by the Bank für Westeuropaïsche Wirtschaft. Its director, Alfred Flesche, was also director of Lippmann, Rosenthal & Co, the bank notoriously used by the Germans to rob Jews of their possessions. It is unclear whether the board was aware of the dual role played by Flesche, who had moreover worked for the German Abwehr before the war. A bomb shelter was built in the garden of Herengracht 170 and, in defiance of the agreement, never removed. Permission was requested and given for a fireproof room, but of this no trace remains. By war’s end, six of the association’s buildings had suffered war damage. Its financial situation had deteriorated considerably and there was a sizeable backlog of restoration. After the liberation, Vermeulen and Gratama were arrested because of their pro-German stance; Boelen, the wartime chairman, died in 1946. Despite all the differences of opinion among board members and the difficult circumstances, the association had weathered the storm., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 3

We know less about the architect Jacob Roman (1640-1716) than his reputation would suggest. From 1681 he was Leiden’s city architect and subsequently, from 1689 to 1702, architect to Stadholder-King William III. Partly as a result of these official posts, it is difficult to form an accurate picture of his output. In his commissions for close friends of Willem III he collaborated with Daniël Marot and Steven Vennecool. He moved in the highest social circles, was well informed about recent architectural developments and had access to the Bibliotheca Thysiana in Leiden, which housed all relevant contemporary architectural treatises. He was able to consult these works even before 1689, when he followed Willem III to England, where he studied the work of Inigo Jones and Christopher Wren at first hand. After his return to the Netherlands, his architecture took on a more austere classical form. This is evident from the new facade for the town hall of Deventer from 1694, the specifications for which are referenced for the first time in this article. Roman is also important because of his role in the design of fountains and the introduction in the Netherlands of sliding windows and a new kind of roof construction in which an all-round hipped roof was combined with the possibility of realizing a large formal space below it. He had already employed this in 1681 for Hofje Meermansburg in Leiden, and in 1694 he used it again for the town hall in Deventer. It involves the use of a kings post in the roof construction, whereby a braced middle post eliminates the need for a central support in the room below. It turns out that rather than discovering this Italian-inspired solution during his time in England, where such roof constructions were then being used, Roman had already read about it back in Leiden, courtesy of the treatises available in Bibliotheca Thysiana., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 2

Review of a book authored by Rob van Hees, Silvia Naldini and Job Roos., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 2

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Willemijn Wilms Floet., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 117 (2018) 1

Despite its significance as the only Burgundian residence built ex novo in the Northern Netherlands, little is known about Charles the Bold’s castle in Gorinchem. The Blauwe Toren (Blue Tower) was constructed between 1462 and 1478 when Charles was still Count of Charolais, but the ill-fated castle was demolished at the end of the sixteenth century. Until now, there have been few sources of information on the tower, but an in-depth analysis of newly discovered archival material has revealed the names of the master builders and suppliers of building materials, as well as the dates of the chief building campaigns. Charles invited the most prominent architects active in the Northern Netherlands, including Jacob van der Borch, master of works at Utrecht Cathedral, Master Claes of Saint John’s in ’s-Hertogenbosch, and Evert Spoorwater, master of works on various important churches in Brabant and Holland. The main designer of the castle, however, was Jean Marchant. His name has fallen in oblivion, but in his own time he was an important master builder; before arriving in Gorinchem, he had been master of works at Palais Rihour, Philip the Good’s residence in Lille. Besides names and dates, archival sources have also allowed the exact reconstruction of the internal layout, thereby spectacularly altering the understanding of its design. Hitherto, the castle’s conspicuous round tower was believed to accord with the thirteenth-century tradition of large donjons. However, this research shows that the tower had an exceptionally large diameter of some 35 metres and a central courtyard around which the main formal rooms were organized on the bel étage. The residential quarters of Charles and his wife Isabella of Bourbon were smaller than the ducal apartments of the Coudenberg Palace and Palais Rihour, but included rooms that clearly reflect their high status. Particularly rare at that time, was the existence of a stove and a room to store spices. The tower’s dimensions, the open courtyard, and the fact that the formal rooms were all on the same level indicate that the building had little in common with the traditional keep typology, but instead resembled the exceptional design of circular castles like Castell de Bellver on Mallorca, and Queenborough Castle and the Windsor Castle keep in England., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 4

Stonemasons’ marks on those sections of the Dom Church in Utrecht built after circa 1450 belong to the type of late medieval marks widely used in regions within the Holy Roman Empire. If the assumption is correct that each distinct mark of this type appearing on the same building site is unique to an individual stonemason, there must accordingly be a direct relationship between the marks on the Dom and the stonemasons employed by the masons’ lodge, a record of whose wages are to be found in the surviving construction accounts from 1460 onwards. To demonstrate the existence of such a link, a new inventory of stonemasons’ marks and a new construction chronology were drawn up and used to determine the period during which each mark appears. The resulting datings were compared with the period when the stonemasons were employed in the lodge. In the case of the latest parts of the transept, the time span in which the 23 most frequently observed marks appear proved to correspond with the employment period of the 23 masons who worked for at least nine months in the Dom Church masons’ lodge. In addition, no single mark was in use for so long that it could not be linked to an individual mason, and there was a mason to match each mark. This makes a direct link between marks and masons highly probable. Thanks to this discovery, various aspects of stonemasons’ marks – as far as the late medieval situation in Utrecht is concerned, at any rate – can now be discussed with greater authority than was previously the case. Thus it is now possible to state that the marks were indeed personal and that they represent individual stonemasons employed in the lodge. Furthermore, it transpires that the stonemasons were involved in laying as well as working the stones. The masters of works do not appear to have been represented by a mark used over an extended period. Mirror-image marks turn out to represent the same stonemason and minor variations do not by and large indicate different stonemasons. The distinction between marked and unmarked stones turns out to have nothing to do with a double payment system. Since the identity of some (groups of) stonemasons can be fairly confidently determined, some sections of Utrecht’s Dom Church can be more accurately dated. If it is known which stonemason marked a particular stone, it is also possible to determine the time span within which the stone must have been worked. This gives rise to earliest and latest dates which can then be used to date the section of the building. Several paragraphs cover proposals for a new dating for the oldest vault in the chapter house, for (the construction of) the west transept pillars, and for the two surviving nave-aisle pillars. Finally, similar stonemasons’ marks in Utrecht’s Dom Church and that of Xanten were compared. Sometimes the chronological distance between the appearance of the marks on the two buildings is so great that the involvement of the same stonemason can be ruled out. In all remaining instances, the absence of matching names in the administration of the respective masons’ lodges for the relevant periods makes it reasonable to assume that different stonemasons were involved. Caution is thus advisable when comparing buildings on the basis of identical stonemasons’ marks., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 4

Boekbespreking van een boek geredigeerd door Michiel Kruidenier en Paul Smeets., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 3

The Martenahuis in Franeker contains a special room whose walls and ceiling are decorated with vast paintings on canvas. Such fully painted rooms were very popular in the northern Dutch provinces from the last quarter of the seventeenth century and were called ‘painted rooms’ or ‘rooms in the round’. Owing to later additions and alterations, the painted room in the Martenahuis presents a disjointed picture today. The room’s original appearance has been reconstructed with the help of material-technical, art-historical and archival research. It transpires that all the elements of the room were meticulously coordinated with one another, which provides insight into the intentions of the client and the artists involved.The now white-painted flat wooden architectural elements were originally painted with a reddish-brown trompe l’oeil representation which, together with the paintings inserted into them, created the illusion of a richly decorated classical pavilion overlooking Arcadian landscapes. Technical research revealed – in contrast to what the literature had previously suggested – that all the landscape hangings, as well as the central ceiling piece and the eight original wainscot paintings, were part of a single series made especially for this room. Archival research has shown that the room came into being in or shortly after 1701, following the departure in August 1701 of the young Frisian stadholder Johan Willem Friso (1687-1711), who had stayed there while studying at Franeker University. The construction of the room was part of a large-scale renovation commissioned by the wealthy regent Suffridus Westerhuis (1668-1731), who had acquired the building in 1694. Various prints by the French architect Daniel Marot (1661-1752) served as inspiration for the room’s design. Those designs were all published before 1703. There are no elements dating back to Marot’s inventions from or after 1703, such as those included in his collected edition of 1712, whereas this is regularly the case in Frisian buildings built after 1703. As such, the painted room in the Martenahuis is one of the earliest examples of the Marot style in an upper middle-class mansion. The ambitious Suffridus Westerhuis presented himself as a modern and wealthy man of standing by having his house renovated in line with the latest architectural and interior design ideas. What’s more, the painted room he created directly mirrored Marot’s designs for Willem III (1650-1702) and his inner circle. One of the artists Westerhuis chose to do the landscape paintings in his reception room was the painter Jan van Bunnik (1654-1733), who created decorations for the palaces of the stadholder-king and for the country houses of his entourage. In seeking to align himself with the Republic’s highest echelons, Westerhuis was presenting himself as an administrator of high standing. Westerhuis took a keen interest in gardening and the study of nature, a highly appropriate pastime for a prominent figure at that time. As such, his choice of landscape hangings as wall decoration was quite apt. The contemplation of such landscapes was viewed at the time as a form of relaxation after onerous administrative duties. Architecture, paintings and client turn out to be inextricably linked in the Martenahuis room – a connection which, after having been concealed for centuries, has been brought to light by this recent research project., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 3

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreen door Hein Hundertmark, Karel Emmens, Ester Vink en Marjan Witteveen., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 3

Jan van der Groen, noted for his 1669 gardener’s handbook Den Nederlandtsen Hovenier, was a Hague florist and gardener to the Prince of Orange. His father Warnart was a broom maker with a sideline growing flowers, bulbs and unusual plants, which he also supplied to the stadholder’s gardens. Jan grew up in The Hague and married into a family of stadholder gardeners. In the clientelistic culture of the seventeenth century he, like the other gardeners to the prince, owed his appointment as head gardener of the gardens ‘op de Cingel’ in 1662 to his and his wife’s families’ service to the court. The modest gardens ‘op de Cingel’ were located next to the Binnenhof in The Hague, on the site of Prince Maurits’s former Buitenhoftuin. Van der Groen was tasked with managing these gardens and laying them out with parterres and a planting of fruit and citrus trees, to a design by the architect Pieter Post. It was in his gardener’s dwelling on the Singel, that Van der Groen wrote his famous reference work. Following its publication, Van der Groen was transferred in 1670 to the large and prestigious gardens of Huis Honselaarsdijk, where his task was largely supervisory. His stay there was brief, for in 1671 he was appointed, for unspecified reasons, head gardener of Huis ter Nieuburg near Rijswijk. He died here, in his gardener’s dwelling, on 21 November 1671. Jan van der Groen was something of an odd man out among the gardeners. Having started out as a florist, he would seem to have had no experience in garden management when he was appointed head gardener. Most other gardeners had worked in the job from an early age, thereby building a wider range of horticultural skills and knowledge. It is also probable that he had little or no knowledge of geometry at a time when gardeners were increasingly being required to lay out classical gardens. On the other hand, in addition to his considerable knowledge of flowers and plants, Van der Groen was acquainted with prevailing views on ‘outdoor life’; he was familiar with the foremost gardens in France and the Dutch Republic, either from illustrations or possibly even from personal experience. In this he probably differed from other gardeners. Van der Groen did not make any garden designs. His social position was comparable to that of other gardeners: they belonged to the petit bourgeoisie, a social middle class with a modicum of property, which fell between the small, wealthy upper class and the vast mass of poor people. Nor was there any difference in terms of the subordinate position within the stadholder household and the garden management organization. All gardeners were required to render detailed accounts to the Nassause Domeinraad, the body responsible for managing the Prince of Orange’s domains. Ultimately, it was the publication of his book that set Van der Groen apart from his peers. No other court gardener ever penned such a work., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 2

In the 1960s and ’70s, the modernist architect Piet Zanstra was at the helm of one of the biggest and most productive architectural firms in the Netherlands. Although he and his firm were responsible for thousands of dwellings and apartments in new residential developments, the Maupoleum (1971) is his best-known design. This office colossus, located on the outskirts of Amsterdam’s city centre, was regularly dubbed the ugliest building in the city and even in the Netherlands. Inevitably, its reception coloured the portrayal of Zanstra in the literature, namely that he was unwilling to adapt his designs to the scale of the historical city and that he had little time for historical architecture. The new council chamber in The Hague (1972), one of Zanstra’s other, less well-known projects, appears to confirm this imputed attitude. Here he designed a modern annexe that in style and form, like the Maupoleum, was poorly integrated into the historical and small-scale urban surroundings. And again like the Maupoleum, this building was decried by local residents. There has been no previous research into the history of the council chamber design, even though it is a much better project by which to assess Zanstra’s attitude to the historical, small-scale city centre. My research has shown that the project had a long gestation, and that Zanstra was only involved in the plans for the new building at a later stage. It also transpires that the design was heavily influenced by radical modifications planned for the immediate area, which never came to fruition. And so the council chamber was never given the setting that would have shown it to best advantage. In addition, there seems to be little evidence to support the belief that Zanstra lacked empathy for the historical city and its architecture. On the contrary, he seems to have been very supportive of the restoration of the old town hall, and hoped to inject new vigour into the old and run-down city centre. When, two decades later, the city council moved into a new city hall on Spui, there appeared to be little enthusiasm for preserving Zaanstra’s council chamber. Like the Maupoleum, the council chamber did not get the context for which it was designed and, 25 years after completion, it was demolished., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 2

Review of a book authored by Evert van Straaten and Anton Anthonissen., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 116 (2017) 2

Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 4

The south-western delta region of the present-day Netherlands, the area where the rivers Maas, Schelde and Waal flow into the North Sea, experienced a period of great economic prosperity from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century. The trans-shipment of international merchandise to and from the towns and cities of the interior generated considerable wealth, which was concentrated in the strategically located seaports. However, in the sixteenth century, prolonged hostilities and the repeated silting-up of the harbours resulted in a major economic downturn. Trade and prosperity steadily migrated to more northerly seaports, such as Amsterdam, while large numbers of the inhabitants of the Zeeland harbour towns also decamped to other seaports. This population decline had many consequences for the physical form of the Zeeland seaports.Though a lot of research has been carried out into the morphological development (the emergence of the physical form of the town plan) of Dutch cities, research into the morphological consequences of decline is still quite limited. This study focuses on the effects of the decline on the physical form of medieval seaports in Zeeland from the sixteenth to nineteenth century, and questions whether it is possible to discern a structure in this morphological degradation.As the cities shrank, due to large-scale dilapidation and demolition of houses, gaps opened up in the town plan. This concerns the basic element of the study: by digitally superimposing successive town plans drawn from case studies it was possible to see where, during the three-century period, houses disappeared, leaving gaps in the morphology of the city. Once the gaps had been recorded, a clearly discernible pattern emerged of where and in what period the most gaps appeared. To further explicate this kind of urban decline, a study was made of the characteristics of these urban areas: their age, their position in relation to the trading port, their function and their location vis-à-vis the urban periphery. The resulting characterization is quite revealing about the structure of the decline. Four case studies were compared for this study: Zierikzee, Middelburg, Veere and Brouwershaven. These four towns were prosperous international seaports during the Middle Ages, but in the centuries that followed they all contracted to varying degrees. In addition to the similarities in the pattern of decline, there were also interesting differences due to the disparate nature of new economic pillars. This study is intended to stimulate more form-focused research into the decline of cities., Bulletin KNOB, BULLETIN KNOB 115 (2016) 4

Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 4

The population of the North-Holland towns of Hoorn and Enkhuizen declined dramatically in the period 1680–1830, sinking to an all-time low at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Between 1622 and 1829 the population of Hoorn almost halved. In Enkhuizen the number of inhabitants declined by over 75 per cent up to 1840, while 2,500 of the original 3,615 houses disappeared. Despite extensive analysis of the economic and demographic decline of towns and cities in the Dutch Republic from a historical perspective, there has been relatively little research into the spatial consequences of this decline. Data concerning the question of whether and how municipal authorities regulated the practice of demolition is particularly scanty. This article, based on a case study of Hoorn and Enkhuizen provides an impression of the policies these two cities initiated with the aim of curbing or regulating the practice of demolition. Archival research into over 350 rediscovered renovation and demolition applications and legislation and regulation from the period 1795–1813 offers a more detailed picture of the scale, impact, location and policies surrounding the renovation and demolition process at the end of eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries. The applications reveal that the local authorities, and later the national government, expressly initiated policies aimed at tackling the impact of population decline and the practice of demolition and that this had direct consequences for the scale and extent of demolition. The authorities focused on three main points: preserving the townscape by preventing the visual degradation of the city, maintaining the safety of adjacent buildings and dikes, and maintaining property tax revenues. A comparison of practices in Hoorn and Enkhuizen also makes it possible to transcend the level of the individual town and make more general pronouncements about the consequences of policy for the urban landscape., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 4

Johann Hermann Knoop was born at the beginning of the eighteenth century in Freyenhagen near Kassel (Germany), where his father was in charge of the palace gardens. In 1731, Maria Louise, daughter of the Elector and widow of the Frisian stadholder Johan Willem Friso, summoned Knoop to the court of the ‘Frisian’ House of Orange in Leeuwarden. There he was responsible for the layout and maintenance of the gardens and estates. In 1747 the ‘Hollandse’ branch of the House of Orange died out and the Frisian branch relocated to The Hague. Leeuwarden lost its status as royal residence and not long afterwards Johann Hermann lost his position. So began his second career as scientist and publicist. Knoop regarded mathematics, and in particular geometry, as the key to understanding the natural world. It is significant that Knoop’s first publication, in 1744, was a revised and enlarged edition of J. Morgenster’s handbook for engineers and surveyors, Werkdadige Meetkonst. His next scientific publication brought him international fame. Knoop’s Pomologia appeared in Dutch in 1758; German and French translations followed in 1760 and 1771 respectively. Pomologia classifies all the then known apple and pear trees and their fruit, and is embellished with exceptionally fine, coloured drawings. It was followed by similar volumes on garden trees and fruit trees; the trilogy was reprinted several times. Knoop’s contributions to the Dutch encyclopedia underscores his status as a respected scientist. However, his greatest importance derives from the publications in which he addressed himself to the ordinary citizen. These can be divided into three categories: garden books, historical-anthropological works and, finally, publications in which he endeavoured to summarize information useful in everyday life. Knoop’s first book written for a general readership, published in 1752, was about the garden: De beknopte huishoudelyke hovenier, of korte verhandeling en synonymische en meernamige listen (The concise home gardener, or brief discourse and synonymic and multiname lists). It was followed in 1760 by a volume explaining the ornamental garden. A volume dealing with the medicinal use of plants completed the trilogy in 1762. Just as mathematics helps us to understand the natural world, so history and anthropology are helpful in understanding the social order. After a 1759 booklet about heraldry, geography and history in the form of a game (a precursor of today’s ‘serious gaming’), in 1763 Knoop published his masterwork in this field: Tegenwoordige staat of historische beschryvinge van Friesland (Current state or historical account of Friesland), a hefty 539-page work. The third category summarizes existing knowledge. In 1756 the first volume of Jongmans onderwijser appeared, followed three years later by volume two; together they amounted to over 1500 pages of information on mathematics, bookkeeping, the art of letter writing, the proper way to draw up contracts, geometry, stereometry, political history, logic, physics, mechanics, architecture, astronomy and instructions for making sundials. The section on architecture is over one hundred pages long and can lay claim to being the Netherlands’ best concealed eighteenth-century architectural treatise. Knoop’s world was that of science, art and popular education. He believed that it was science that determined the individual’s position in the natural and social order and he felt that it was essential that people should be aware of this: dissemination of knowledge was as important for him as scientific research, and that made him a typical representative of the Enlightenment., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 3

Review of a book authored by Peter Nissen en Hein van der Bruggen., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 3

Boekbespreking van een boek geredigeerd door Jan Kolen, Hans Renes en Rita Hermans., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 2

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Gabri van Tussenbroek., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 2

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Clé Lesger., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 2

Boekbespreking van een boek geschreven door Esther Gramsbergen., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 1

This article seeks to determine the significance of the De Hoeve country house in the oeuvre of Robert van ’t Hoff (1887–1979), and in what way the design contributes to the development of a vernacular building style in the early history of the Modern Movement in the Netherlands. In De Hoeve, erected outside the built-up area of Noordwijk-Binnen in 1913, Van ’t Hoff explored the possibilities of combining the English country house style with a national (Dutch) building style. He borrowed the aesthetic of the farmhouse buildings in the surrounding area and translated it into a country house with a modern floor plan geared to comfort and pleasurable living. For the family of the client, the Leiden publisher H.E. Stenfert Kroese, he created a salubrious living environment that specifically sought to connect with the place (road, landscape, farms), local building practices (farmhouse, brickwork, thatched roof) and a healthy family life in the countryside. In the early decades of the twentieth century, these Arts and Crafts principles offered a guideline for an alternative to the Revival styles and for the search for a new, contemporary architecture appropriate to the region. This design by Van ’t Hoff is of significance for the history of modern architecture in the Netherlands because an analysis of the country house reveals that this future member of the avant-garde’s quest for a new, modern architecture, had a lot to do with building on tradition. De Hoeve shows that the contrast between tradition and modernity within the Modern Movement was much less marked than some writers have previously supposed. The fact that Van ’t Hoff did not include the country house in his list of works, and in so doing tried to influence the historical record, is typical of Modern Movement architects, who preferred to write their own history. Now that we know how he approached the design of the De Hoeve country house in 1913, it is time for a reinterpretation of Van ’t Hoff’s other early works: the De Lindt country house (later renamed Løvdalla) in Huis ter Heide near Zeist (1911–1912), Hofstede de Zaaier in Lunteren (1911–1912), and the Augustus John studio in Chelsea, London (1913). Originally these seemed like the stylistic exercises of a young architect who was finding his way through history by trying out variations and endowing them with his own expressive power. But in the context of De Hoeve it has become clearer that during the years 1910–1913 he was searching for a typical national architecture, and was trying to reconcile traditional building methods and crafts with contemporary, modern comfort. From 1917–1918 onwards, social ideology played an increasingly important role in Van ’t Hoff’s work. Not only did he regard a pleasant and healthy living environment as a universal value. He also focused increasingly on the social world outside the family, and on the relation between work and living. He abandoned his interest in (spacious) country houses for private clients in favour of social change, and an architecture based more on the equality of human beings. The Arts and Crafts movement was also the source of inspiration for this concern with social reform., Bulletin KNOB, Bulletin KNOB 115 (2016) 1