• Gratefulness is the fruit of all the seeking-1

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    Jan van Velzen, 1 month before his death

    In memory of my father Jan van Velzen

    sculptor Jan van Velzen in 1992

    On Sunday 19 January 2020, at 1:14 a.m. , my father Jan van Velzen. passed away. He was also a sculptor, an artist, but above all someone who practiced the art of life. This is evident from his sayings, of which the title of this blog post was one that I had never heard of him before. He made this statement in the last days before his death, a period in which he looked back on his life, full of gratitude and love.

    Jan van Velzen was by no means a woolly kind of person. He had been a small scale farmer and flower bulb grower and worked hard all his life.

    A poor hamlet

    Onderdijk, lower path with canal
    old photo of the village Onderdijk

    Onderdijk in 1931 was a poor West Frisian linear settlement village in North Holland. It lay on either side of a high dike and many houses had their own bridge over the canal to the foot of the dike. His father, also called Jan van Velzen, was like most of the villagers a market gardener or small plot farmer, who sailed with a barge to his piece of land across the lake to grow onions, cabbage, carrots, red beets, tulips and potatoes. After the harvest, the boat also carried their produce to the sailing auction in Medemblik.

    Longing for beauty

    Mother Cornelia van Velzen-de Vries with Jan van Velzen, 2 th anniversary

    Jan was the second child, a rather quiet, sensitive boy who only started walking when he was two. He was horrified by the gray hopelessness of the hard work and the humdrum with which all the brightness and beauty was reduced to 'just do it and carry on'. He had an intense desire for beauty and talked about the delight he could feel when hearing beautiful music in church. His father was a warm-hearted man with a lot of wisdom. On his deathbed, Jan told how he still could see his father on Sunday mornings, in his shirt, throwing the shaving water into the ditch with a swing, singing loudly and with a swarm of children around him.

    Early creativity

    Jan van Velzen, probably 4 th anniversary

    As a child, Jan was already busy with creative expressions. Sculpting clay dolls or making boats by folding and bending large tin cans to form whole battleships. But whereas I had enjoyed the creative time in kindergarten, he had experienced that same daily grind at the custody school.

    Apparently the "teacher’ had the view that the children just should be kept quiet, because they had to sit still and weave mats, otherwise they had to go into the spider cupboard. To him, weaving mats was one of the symbols of "this is how it should be done and that is how it goes". Awful, because all creativity was suppressed.

    Jannish constructions

    Jan actually didn't feel like becoming a market gardener at all, but his father fell ill and the eldest sons, though still in their teens, had to take over the work. He would much rather have apprenticed to the blacksmith, because he was much more interested in making things from iron with your hands and welding . The blacksmith was regarded with awe by the little boys. His younger brother's legendary answer to the question of what he wanted to become later was "Fat blacksmith Kees Slaman!’

    Jan lived near Slaman's smithy

    It was hard work in the heavy sea clay around Onderdijk and everything was done by hand: digging to sow, digging to harvest and digging two spades deep to prepare the land. Jan hated hopelessness, so his creativity was expressed in all kinds of "Jannish constructions": inventions meant to make everything just that little bit easier. He was therefore one of the first to bring the floor of the barge to the very top, so that you could drive in the wheelbarrow instead of laboriously lifting everything in and out.

    Flippus the Dreamer

    His solutions were not always appreciated. "Jannish constructions’ was not really an appreciative term, and because he sometimes had his thoughts elsewhere, he was also called Flippus the Dreamer at home. He had a somewhat philosophical streak and also spent time observing his surroundings. Looking back, it is also understandable why he was born in that place: for him it was a way to go all the way from heaviness to light, and he was able to bring his light to a time and environment that was mainly focused on survival.

    Injury time

    At the age of 20 his number came up for military service. But the hard work had already had its consequences: he needed surgery to his knees and had to recover in the military hospital. To his horror, the therapy consisted of weaving mats! But in the classroom next to it, modeling lessons were given. At his request he was transferred and there his talent was soon discovered by his instructor. This man even arranged an introduction for him at the art academy in Tilburg.

    I had always understood that it never was followed up because Jan was needed at home and because his mother always said: "Fiddlers and pipers don't go to heaven". But that was not really the biggest deterrent. Last year he told me that he was very shocked by the unkempt figures with long hair and feral beards walking around, and that he had felt very uncomfortable and out of place. But his teacher was very disappointed that he missed out on this opportunity. "Stupid cauliflower shrub!’ the man had called him, probably out of frustration that so much talent was being lost.

    Business partner

    marriage of Alida Vink with Jan van Velzen
    Jan van Velzen is building a tulip flower cutting machine

    Jan married Alida when he was thirty, a girl from that same village of Onderdijk, in which he recognized something of playfulness and beauty, and of being free from all the conventions of the village. He started his own business, but times had changed. The number of small scale farming businesses declined rapidly and many self-employed people had to work at a factory in the Zaanstreek, going there every day in a van. Jan was looking for solutions with a number of like-minded people and decided to expand considerably with his two brothers. They had also already focused entirely on flowerbulb cultivation for a number of years. He used his creativity in this work as well: he built his own machines for cutting the tulip flowers and for washing the bulbs, and adapted many machines to make them work better.

    Read an earlier article about sculptures by Jan van Velzen here.

    -to be continued-

  • Location, location, location

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    Jan van Velzen

    One of the things I've always admired in the sculptures of my father is the spots he has chosen to put them. My dad is a sculptor from the village of Onderdijk, Jan van Velzen. With several of his sculptures he got the opportunity to personally pick their destined spot, something that is not always left to the artist. His first big sculpture was The Dijkwerker, a labourer building the Dutch dikes,

    a bronze statue of a man digging. Unlike most sculptures of dikers, this one is not of a man placing blocks of basalt, because in these areas the dykes were originally built from clay, that was moved with shovels and wheelbarrows.

    It was his first major assignment. He was noticed as a sculptor when he made a design for a statue of St. Gerard Majella some years before. The parish existed 70 years and as part of a cabaret with drum band and great fanfare at the end a 'new statue ’ of St. Gerard Maiella was unveiled, supposedly for in the church.

    Bulbs Rooi Ende horticulturist (St Gerard Majella) by Jan van Velzen

    I think my father cannot be dienied a certain quirkiness in those years. Apparently he had nothing with the traditional devout image of Gerardus, because he decided that Majella had been a simple man, and chose to portray him as the people around him: a small scale farmer, on his knees in the clay. Bare-chested.

    What happened was to be expected of course: Little Gerard on his knees was a step too far for the parishioners. Worth a smile in hindsight. So I don't think my father expected that this image would seriously get a place in the Church. That was never the intent. But the modelling had fueled his creativity again and was the incentive to get asked for making the Dike Worker.

    I was seventeen at the time, and thought I might perhaps be a little bit creative, but that I could never be a sculptor like my father. I had so little confidence in myself in that respect that I've never tried getting to an art academy.

    Jan van Velzen wax Mother and Child

    But I found the work on the Dike Worker fascinating. For my father working in this scale was all new, too, and while he learned, I learned along with him. Working with Styrofoam and wax, enlarging, modelling, Moving the wax model on location to discuss the best place. I wrote a paper about it when I did a training at the MTS of Graphic in Amsterdam.

    VanVelzen Dike worker 1981

    The image is now placed in a large open space, at the end of the village, approximately in between Onderdijk and Wervershoof. When around the end of 1980 while walking with my mother he had chosen this place, us children were horrified at first. It was still one big mud hole at the time, with a new pumping station and a few big canals, in a place where few people bothered to look with interest. Didn't such a sculpture fit better in the heart of the village?

    In hindsight, I can only say that he had been right all along. The statue immediately draws attention because of the lack of all kinds of disturbing elements, the mud gave way to grass and trees and blossoming Roxy, and the Dike Worker has become a landmark for the village .

    Dike worker Jan van Velzen

    It strikes me that an appealing statue has the ability to influence the environment. I am thinking, for example, of how 'The Best Navigators’ on the pier of Medemblik have made a prime spot out of a place with an end-of-the-world feel, because all of a sudden it became clear that the environment needed care. The mess gets cleaned up, The path is paved or updated, the shrubs and grass are kept and what was a forlorn place gets allure. Same way with the piece of land behind the Drommedaris in Enkhuizen, that because of‘Paulus Potter’ from an empty dog's field suddenly gets focus and turns into a photo location.

    Yet there was a man from Wervershoof who said he thought it was a Onderdijk oriented sculpture, and asked: 'Didn't you overdo it a little too much?’ How come, asked my father. ‘Weeeeellll’, was the West Frisian answer, 'It's a nice sculpture alright, no arguing, but he's turned his ass in the direction of Wervershoof, that's why!’

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