The Dutch Masters

When Jack Frost made his first appearance in Utrecht, he painted the trees in autumn shades of copper and bronze. People in the lowlands bundled up for Winter. Now, Jack Frost made a return visit, dropping snowflakes from the sky, painting the landscape in brown, gray, and white.
Mrs. Van der Veld sat in the Tulip House, drinking a cup of coffee when Jani approached.
“Goede Morgen.”
“Goede Morgen, Moeder,” replied Jani, “May I go with you to Centraal Museum this afteroon?”
“I suppose, but who will watch after Trudy?”
“She could go with us.”
“Why do you want to go to the Museum?”
“I have to write a report about the Dutch Golden Age for History class.”
“Go upstairs and tell your sister while I make breakfast.”
Jani and Trudy got ready for their trip while their mother cooked a hearty porridge breakfast. The children filled their bellies and then put on their jackets for the walk to the museum.
Trudy walked backwards most of the way, doing her best to keep warm. Occasionally, she’d turn around to walk down stairs or across bridges. Bitter winds swept through the Oudegracht and licked at her face. She double-wrapped her scarf around her face and pulled it over her nose, in attempts to keep warm.
Tree-lined canals gave way to the architecture of the Central District. A wide variety of buildings mingled freely in the downtown. The ancient architecture of Centraal Museum distinguished itself, an old monastery surrounded by new skyscrapers.
Trudy made a dash for the museum, rushing to get out of the cold. Jani and mother soon followed. Trudy sat on a bench next to the heating vent. Jani opened the museum’s front door. Trudy shivered as a cold breeze blew across her legs.
“Where are you going first?” she asked her brother.
“I have to go to the painting exhibits. I think I’m going to write my report about Rembrandt”
“Does that mean I have to look at paintings, too?”
“No, dear, you can go anywhere you want as long as you stay inside the museum.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Everyboy synchronize your watches, we’ll meet at the bookstore at Six o’ clock.”
Trudy held her watch to her ear, listening as it ticked from one second to the next. Jani followed mother to the bookstore. This left Trudy on her own. She could hardly contain her excitement.
She searched through the list of exhibits in the museum directory. There were so many choices. The fashion design exhibit was on the third floor. Trudy decided she would start there and see where it would lead.
Trudy took the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, a gallery of wire mannequins mingled like party guests. Trudy walked through the displays, reading the plaques and pressing buttons near each display. Lights shone on each display as a commentator told the history of each outfit, from the modern suits to the ancient royal ball gowns.
Meanwhile, Jani thumbed through the books in the museum shop. Descartes, Vermeer, Van Gogh, Huygens, Leeuwenhoek, Rembrandt. He opened a large picture book and flipped through the pages.
“I don’t know,” said Jani.
“You don’t know what?” asked his mother.
“If I can write a report about Rembrandt.”
“Why don’t you walk around the gallery and see what you can find?”
Jani replaced the book on the shelf and continued looking around. Dutch tiles, like the ones Trudy and he played with at home sat in a box. The ceramic tiles clicked as he investigated the “Delftware.”
Microscopes and telescopes sat on another shelf. He looked through one of the telescopes. The microscope slide contained tiny one-cell creatures, dyed in red and blue ink. He picked up a hand-held telescope and peered out the window. He suddenly realized that with two different pieces of glass, he could look either near or far,
“I think I will explore the museum for awhile,” said Jani.
Mrs. Van der Veld tapped her watch as a reminder to her son. “Don’t forget, six o’ clock.”
Trudy ventured into an open room on the third floor of the museum. In the center of the room, a large pendulum swung back and forth. Its weighted silver globe hung from a thin wire suspended from a hole in the ceiling. Trudy approached the circular guardrail around the pendulum. A clock face was drawn on the floor, with pegs standing along the outer edge. As the pendulum swung from side to side, the needle at the bottom of the silver globe knocked over wooden pegs. One peg fell every five minutes.
Along one wall, grandfather clocks ticked out the time. A clock chimed once and then another. Trudy checked the time on her watch. She looked up at the grandfather clocks. Most of the clocks gave the same reading: 1:15.
The portrait of a man was etched on a golden plaque. It was titled, “Dutch Masters of the Golden Age.” A regal looking man, with his curly white wig and formal petticoat, posed for the portrait.

Christiaan Huygens (1629 – 1695), whose work with optical lenses improved the strength of microscopes and telescopes alike. Most notably, Huygens worked on the movements of pendulums.

These mathematical formulas were used to create the pendulum clock, which improved the clock greatly. Before his work, clocks could lose 15 minutes per day. After his discoveries, clocks were as accurate at 15 seconds per day. In fhe time following his death, that number would be reduced to 15 seconds or less in a week.
Trudy continued learning about Huygens directly, while Jani learned indirectly. He had found his way to the planetarium on the fifth floor. The great room was dark inside. People sat quietly in chairs, gazing up at the artificial sky. Jani walked to the viewing platform and peered through one of the telescopes on the floor. While he investigated the stars, a man stood in the center of the room, giving a speech.
He clicked a remote which drew diagrams in the sky. Astrologic symbols connected together like illustrations in a child’s connect-the-dots book.
“In the northern sky, we see Orion floating just above the horizon. Three stars form a brilliant line, known as Orion’s Belt…” The speaker continued on as Jani panned his telescope across the horizon, hopping from one place to another. He scanned stars, planets, and moons. On the far wall, he spotted a chart of the the planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto. He scanned the chart backwards until he stopped at the planet with the rings, Saturn,
On the third floor, Trudy noticed a model of Huygen’s first telescope. She looked through the viewfinder. On the opposite wall, a picture of Saturn. Trudy walked to the wall and read another inscription called “the Ears of Saturn.”

The famous rings of Saturn were once believed not to be rings at all. In fact, astronomer Galileo thought the rings of Saturn were two smaller planets, following the same orbit as Saturn. It wasn’t until Huygen’s modified telescope lens had the strength to see the ears of Saturn weren’t ears at all, but rings, formes of solid mass and gases, in orbit about the great planet.

A voice came over the speakers announcing the time was 5:45, which meant the museum would be closing in fifteen minutes. Everyone headed for the exits except Jani and Trudy, who headed for the bookstore. Like clockwork, the children arrived in the bookstore at Six o’ clock sharp.
Jani continued leafing through books. He picked up a book titled Leeuwenhoek, the Microscopic Scientist. Leeuwenhoek investigated the world of mirco-organisms, tiny one-celled creatures he called “animalcules.”
Mrs. Van der Veld closed the museum bookstore while her children waited inside. Jani sat his book on the counter.
“Can I buy this book?” he asked.
"I thought you were writing about Rembrandt.”
“I didn’t think there would be enough to write about, so I picked the guy who used the microscope,” said Jani.
“Leeuwenhoek?” asked mother.
“Why don’t you write about the scientist who helped invent the telescope?” suggested Trudy.
“I thought Leeuwenhoek also invented the telescope,” said Jani.
“Actually, you’re both right,” said mother, “A group of Dutch scientists and mathematicians perfected the use of lenses for microscopes and telescopes. When one scientist made a discovery, he shared it with the others, which is why so many thing happened at once.”
“I guess I could write about that,” said Jani.
“I think that’s a good idea,” said Mrs. Van der Veld.
“Then you need a book about telescopes,” said Trudy.
Mrs. Van der Veld rang up the books and put them in a bag. Jani pulled money from his pocket, but Mrs. Van der Veld waved him away. She dug into her purse and paid for the books herself.
On their way home, Jani thought about the Dutch Masters, their faces etched on plaques inside the museum.
“Mother, why did you choose to work in the bookstore?”
“When I was going to the University, I wanted to become the curator of an art museum.”
“A curator?”
“The person responsible for choosing the design of the museum and collecting art works.”
“I thought you wanted to become a painter,” said Jani.
“I wanted to do that, too.”
“If you loved to paint so much when you were a student, why don’t you do it anymore?” asked Jani.
“You came along and my dreams changed. Besides, every day with you and you, I am working on my greatest masterpiece.”
“I don’t think that’s right,” argued Trudy.
“What do you mean?” asked mother.
“You quit doing the things you loved because we came along.”
“When I was young, I just had different dreams.”
“What do you suppose Great Grandma Gertrude would have said about that?” asked Jani.
“I suppose she would have said, ‘Dreams are like butterflies, if you don’t pay attention, before you know it, they just might fly away, never to be seen again.’”
“I don’t think dreams should ever fly away,” said Trudy.
“I guess not,” answered mother.
Everyone went their separate ways when they entered the house. Trudy went to her bedroom to read. Jani sat in the living room, taking notes for his book report. Meanwhile, Mrs. Van der Veld went to the attic and dug through an old hope chest. Inside, there was a collection of paint brushes and tubes of acrylic paint. She picked them out of the chest and shut it tight. The old easel sat in one corner of the Tulip House, hardly touched since the day she placed it there. She dusted it off and sat it in front of her chair.
She decided there was still something missing. She preheated the oven and went to the kitchen. She mixed up a batch of sugarbread dough and threw it into a baking pan before making herself of coffee-the-wrong-way-around, adding a spot of coffee to a full cup of warm milk.
She carried her cup and her bread pan to the Tulip House. She loaded the bread into the oven and set the cooking timer. Now, it was time to get on with her painting. She stood in front of the easel for a few momens, waiting for inspiration to hit. She looked around and found a single plastic flower in a pot. It seemed appropriate that the only thing Tulip in a Tulip House wasn’t a Tulip at all, but part of a bigger present.
She decided not to paint a flower at all, but a much greater inspiration. In her mind, two children still sat in a pizzeria near the Oudegracht. Outside, the snow was flying and the wind was howling. Inside, two happy faces glowed like it was the best and brightest of summer days.
For Mrs. Van der Veld, every day seemed just like that: a glowing masterpiece and a continual source of inspiration.