The Bonnefanten Building: History and Transformation

MAASTRICHT

Submitted to the Arts and Sciences Magazine

Buildings reflect the passing of time – the unfolding of history. Buildings keep the records of cities’ changes, baring the marks of artistic influence, political control, conflagration and war. Cities across the world, each with continuous social, political and ecological changes, provide an ever evolving backdrop as buildings rise and fall like empires in time, altering the identity of the city, it’s face.

Maastricht is a city in The Netherlands whose face – whose buildings – tell its history as easily as any book, poem or speech. One building in particular holds the history of four centuries within its walls: the Bonnefanten building. Through its renovation and rebirth, the Bonnefanten building tells the tale of the transformation of Dutch society and culture.

Six nuns of the order of The Holy Grave, or “sepulchrijnen” first erected the Bonnefanten building in 1627 as a cloister. During this time, many cloisters were built in Belgium and in The Netherlands. The cloister was also a school and derives its name from the French term “bons enfants,” which means “good children.” In fact, the Bonnefanten cloister was built as a sister cloister to the Sainte Elisabeth des Bons-Enfants cloister in Liege.

“Yet nothing from that time is in the building,” said Rene Verspeeks, director of the student services centre at the University of Maastricht. “The biggest part of the building was of wood” and was rebuilt because of a fire.

The building was rebuilt from stone in 1709, and is now the current Bonnefanten building. At the top of the entrance, the date 1709 can be seen etched in the stone. Yet even though the building's structure has stayed the same, its purposes continue to change.

“In 1794, the French came to The Netherlands and that was the end of the cloisters,” said Verspeeks. “They kicked out the nuns.”

The building remained a school for several years and then from 1815 to 1919 the building stored army materials and served as quarters for soldiers.

The building stayed empty until 1924 when it was “a place for poor people to live,” explained Verspeeks. It remained as inexpensive housing until World War II.

Then in 1940 it became a home for painters. “More and more artists came here,” Verspeeks said. And in 1947 the building converted into a school for painters. The original chapel is now the visitor’s center, but then was the site where the majority of the artists’ lessons took place. The artists’ school is now called the Jan van Eyck Academie and is located up the cobblestone street from the Bonnefanten building.

In the 1960's, the building changed yet again, this time from an artists’ school to a museum, yet it’s conversion into a museum proved a slow process. “It takes more than 20 years,” said Verspeeks. “A lot of discussion went on about restoring this building for a museum.” Thus the building did not become a museum until 1971 after moving the objects and art from their previous location.

The Bonnefanten building remained as the Bonnefanten Museum for only nine years before the museum moved into a new location across the Maas river.

After the museum left, the University of Maastricht bought the building. “It is three years before it is transformed into a building for the university,” said Verspeeks. Then from 1982 until 2000 it served as a library for the students, with most of the books stacked where the majority of artists’ lessons took place: in the chapel.

Finally between 2000 and 2003, the Bonnefanten building became an office building for the student services centre of University of Maastricht, along with a coffee shop.

The renovation and alteration of the Bonnefanten building over the centuries is stunning. As the world changed around it, as history took place, the building changed along with the inhabitants of Maastricht.

Each phase of the building is a reflection of the city's history. When Louis XIV expanded France’s borders into The Netherlands – then called the United Provinces – in the 18th century, the cloister and school are terminated because of war, and when The Netherlands again controlled the city in the 19th century, it becomes an ammunition storeroom and soldier barracks. It changed to fit the times.

In the 1920s, when the world economic crisis swept Europe, the building became housing for the homeless Again, it reflected the city’s needs.

Post World War II, the building developed into a school for painters to reflect the focus of the city: a turning away from destruction and war to beauty and rebirth expressed in art.

This focus on beauty and rebirth changed subtly as the building then became a place of remembrance – a museum – a place to store history in instead of reflecting it.

Finally, the building shifted to demonstrate the importance of academia in Maastricht as the University of Maastricht became an important fixture in the city at the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st.

Looking at Maastricht's history through the windows of the Bonnefanten building provides a unique view of the passing of time and the importance of preservation.

Walking down the slanted cobblestone alley along the grey walls of the building, you wouldn't even recognize the old cloister until you come out of the alley into a little open triangle and a joining of small streets. The front of the building rears up unexpectedly and you have to look at its imposing carved archway and tall walls. It stands in the midst of the city's mix of different buildings and times as a reminder – a piece of living art and history.

Many times as Americans we are too quick to knock down a building and create something new and up-to-date, inventive and experimental, instead of preserving the beauty that is already present and letting something old transcend time. The Bonnefanten building is a lesson in preservation and transformation. History and art are not only confined to books and canvases; they can stand among us to be our schools and houses – our records. We need to preserve our past and our history.

Dunmore East: An Untouched Irish Beauty

IRELAND
March 8

Hordes of tourists often compromise the enjoyment of travel. Crowds of people with cameras and shopping bags clog quaint streets and disrupt the natural beauty of parks. It is hard to find a famous city untouched by souvenir shops and gimmicky restaurants. Yet if you go off the radar, stray even a little from the famous cities with their public transportation and convenient lodging, you may find some lasting bastions of untouched European beauty.

One place of untouched beauty in Ireland is Dunmore East. Tucked away in the southeast coast of Ireland, the small fishing village of Dunmore East provides a tranquil getaway from the crowds and busy streets of tourist cities.

Dunmore East is located in Waterford County, only 30 minutes away from the more well known Waterford. Getting there, however, is not without its difficulties. Lacking a car, Dunmore East can only be reached by a private bus company called SuirWay, which is based in Waterford. Although some may find using a private company to be a hassle, the bus fare to Dunmore East is under five euro so the trip is definitely worth it. Plus, SuirWay is primarily used by locals with only a few visitors sprinkled in.

Once in Dunmore East, SuirWay buses drive through the main roads between the upper and lower village, dropping off passengers at their desired locations. After exiting the bus, this quaint village is small enough to easily navigate on foot.

Beginning at the topmost point of the upper village, there are a series of grassy hills, rocky cliffs and sandy coves. Curving up past the village, these cliffs run along smooth meadows enclosed by stone fences and framed by small houses. At these high points the wind whips around explorers adding to the uninhibited, almost wild beauty of the southern Irish coast.

A narrow path lined with thorns and prickly Gorse bushes, evergreen shrubs with small yellow flowers common to the south-east of Ireland, trails along the steep hills. Following this path is a thrilling way to explore the breathtaking sights of the coast. From these hills on clear days, Hook Lighthouse, a famous medieval lighthouse, can even be seen across the bay.

Heading back toward upper village and down the main street, follow the water past a small harbor with colorful fishing boats enclosed by a rock jetty. Passing this harbor and continuing down the main road you find a park with a playground, a large expanse of green grass and several benches looking out on the water. Nearing sunset, families walking home from the park toward the village interior with its thatched roofs and small stone walls give Dunmore East a charming Old World feel. Past the park, between upper and lower villages, is one of Dunmore East’s many beaches, Lawlors.

Lawlors has a large stretch of sandy beach flanked by tall cliff faces. The water may be cold during these early spring months, but not too cold to take off your shoes, roll up your jeans and let your toes sink into the Irish sand as the icy swells languidly roll in.

Continuing through lower village past Lawlors beach, numerous other coves and cliffs dot the coastline, ready to be explored. Yet a stroll through the village is also an interesting way to get a taste of quaint Irish living.

Dunmore East truly is a city encapsulated in time. With few visitors filling the several cafés, bed and breakfasts and seafood restaurants, Dunmore East does not have the feel of a tourist town. The cafés and restaurants are inhabited by locals and there are no souvenir shops. Once you step outside the village, it’s hard to imagine 21st century ever encroaching on the strikingly jagged rocks and green hills – their tall grass rippling like the waves that crash beneath them in the fierce wind.

Once you’ve experienced Dunmore East, you want it to stay this way forever, hugging the beauty of the relentless Atlantic Ocean, caught in a simpler, almost mythological time.

Carnival in Maastricht

MAASTRICHT
March 2
Submitted to the Arts and Science Magazine

A man beating a big bass drum in a parade stops at a large square and takes a sip from a beer set in a cup holder atop his drum. Finishing his drink, he looks at a van parked illegally in the square. Without pause, he reaches into his coat and pulls out a pad and pen, writes something, rips off the sheet and places it on the van’s windshield.

Only during Carnival in Maastricht, The Netherlands, would a policeman drum in a public parade, drink beer and hand out a traffic ticket in succession.

In Maastricht, Carnival is about the only time during the year that looking completely ridiculous is socially accepted. Dutch citizens don face paint, fake eyelashes, wigs, fuzzy top hats, neon-colored clothing and various themed costumes, or “pekske” to celebrate their pre-Lent celebrations. The streets and main squares are covered in the Carnival colors red, yellow and green and are full of participants dancing, making music, drinking and eating. Carnival is celebrated in ways unlike any holiday in America, yet the themes behind this Dutch festival bear resemblance to academic holidays like spring break or regional celebrations such as Mardi Gras in Louisiana.

The Carnival calendar begins six weeks before Easter, and this year the first day fell on Saturday February 21, 2009. At 1:11 p.m. the Carnival Prince arrived at the Central Railway Station. At 1:55 p.m. there was a parade between the railway station and city hall. When the prince reached the market square where city hall is located, he climbed to the top of a statue depicting an old woman and placed a wreath of vegetables around her neck.

On Sunday the 22nd at 12:11 p.m., 11 gunshots fired on the “Vrijthof,” the main square, officially starting Carnival. Afterwards a huge parade with floats and bands took place in the city center for several hours. After the parade, celebration of Carnival spread to streets and pubs around the city center until 3 a.m.

On Monday there was a children’s parade in the afternoon and regular Carnival celebrations lasted until 3 a.m.

Tuesday was the last day of Carnival. This day saw a contest for Carnival bands in which each received a first place award after a costume contest for the children. At11:55 p.m., Carnival was declared officially over, but the pubs stayed open until 2 a.m.

On Wednesday, the people mourn the end of Carnival and, according to tradition, eat herring and drink more beer.

Although the chronology and practice of Carnival seems haphazard, many elements of Carnival have historical and cultural significance.

“Each (Dutch) city has a group that organizes Carnival,” Isabella Strauch, University of Maastricht Center for European Studies secretary and coordinator of introduction programs, said. This group is called the Council of Eleven and is also involved in choosing the Carnival Prince. The number 11 holds importance in Dutch culture. “Eleven was a perfect number in Medieval times,” Alexander Nies, a Dutch native and CES intern, explained. “A lot of councils in Medieval times had 11wise men.”

The number 11 is also the word “elf” in Dutch and German. This word is linked to the word “alfen” which means the ghosts of ancestors. Nies said that the tradition of starting Carnival events at times that include the number 11, such as the Carnival Prince’s arrival on Saturday at 1:11 p.m., is in respect both to ancestors and the number itself.

The tradition of wearing crazy costumes during Carnival stems from an older practice of “scaring off ghosts,” Nies said. Yet he explained that the costumes are to frighten bad ghosts and not the ghosts of ancestors.

The statue of the old woman, or the “Moos wief” in Dutch, in the market also has historical significance. “She was a fisherman’s wife from the 1500s,” Nies said. “‘Moos wief’ is literally translated ‘the vegetable woman.’” The Carnival Prince puts a wreath around her neck to acknowledge the vegetable market that has always been in that square and the people who worked there.

Another fun tradition in Maastricht’s Carnival is the music. People constantly sang, pubs blared traditional Dutch folk songs, and bands played music during Carnival. Nies said that each year the Carnival prince makes up a new song and distributes it among the people who in turn sing it during the four days of Carnival celebrations. Carnival music is just for fun. “They are really silly songs,” Strauch said.

Maastricht’s Carnival traditions hold several themes in common with spring break and Mardi Gras. Carnival is a festival that traditionally celebrates the time before Lent. Participants want to enjoy themselves as much as possible before they must go through 40 days of self-deprivation. Louisianans celebrate Mardi Gras for the same reasons. Mardi Gras, which means “fat Tuesday” in French, is celebrated each year on the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, a day of repentance and the beginning of Lent. There are parades in each city and people on floats throw out purple, green and gold beaded necklaces. Mardi Gras is basically a calmer, smaller version of Maastricht’s Carnival.

Students also respond to spring break in the same way Maastricht inhabitants respond to Carnival. It’s a brief respite each year; a time for celebration and fun with friends and family. The whole city pauses for four days during Carnival. The shops all close and the houses and streets away from the city center are vacated. Everyone gets a rest. During Carnival, the streets outside of Maastricht’s city center feel very much like a university campus during spring break. They are empty just like a university campus is empty until the return of students from their spring break festivities.

Baylor students in the midst of Lent and anticipating spring break can learn from the example put for in Maastricht’s Carnival. Carnival is about enjoying life, but not in a selfish, reckless sense. It is a family event. “All the people here love Carnival,” Nies said. “They think children should be involved in it.” The Dutch want to make sure the entire family unit enjoys the festivities. Baylor students should remember to seize the day and take a break, truly enjoying the things that matter in life: friends and family.

Sunday Mass in the Notre Dame Cathedral

PARIS
February 22, 2009
Submitted to the Arts and Sciences Magazine

Sunday evening Mass in the Notre Dame Cathedral inspires both reverence and introspection. It is impossible to stand in this grand cathedral looking up at its careful craftsmanship without contemplating recent personal decisions or whispering quiet prayers.

Although the outside of the 10-story Notre Dame is imposing with its towers, gargoyles and flying buttresses, the Mass inside of the cathedral has a palpably different atmosphere.

Parting with the frosty night air and walking through the ornately carved Portal of St. Anne entrance, organ music greets visitors with a low, calming tones. The air inside the cathedral is thick with the smoke from numerous white prayer candles mingled with the heavy, cinnamon scent of incense.

In addition to the hundreds of worshipers, tourists mill about the cathedral. The worshippers sit or kneel collectively in the center of the nave, some with heads bowed in prayer and others with their eyes closed, faces set in masks of peace, bereavement or love. The tourists group together along the north and south aisles, admiring the art and architecture or kneeling on the confession benches to take cheesy photos.

Treading softly down the south aisle of the nave, past richly-colored paintings, sculptures and small confession rooms, visitors can catch glimpses of the priest through the stone pillars and candelabras.

The priest, wearing long green robes, stands on the transept at the end of the nave in front of a delicately-carved sculpture of Jesus Christ under a cross. He leads worshippers in a responsive reading, intoning intricate French words that rise along the spiny gothic arches to echo across the vaulted ceiling.

In between the priest’s readings, a woman in similar dress leads the congregation in a hymn. The combination of the worshippers’ melodic chanting and the organ’s resounding notes is haunting – powerful.

Yet even standing in the midst of an awe-inspiring architectural masterpiece, in the midst of crisscrossing arches, mysterious stained-glass windows and cool stone floors, Notre Dame does not feel remote or aloof. In fact, the cathedral has a personal, cozy atmosphere heightened by the close proximity of the worshipers and the warm, hazy air.

The walls seem to still hold the secrets and prayers of people throughout the centuries who have walked the same stone steps and looked on the same alter. These shared secrets and prayers make the cathedral tangible and accessible – a personal, living entity.

No one is truly alone in the Notre Dame. Each visitor or worshiper is connected by the desires that brought them to the church, the promises emblazed on the North Rose Window and finally the blood of Christ.

Although Mass in the Notre Dame Cathedral inspires veneration, at its core, it is not so different from a typical service in the United States. A church is a church no matter the location and a sermon is a sermon no matter the language. It does not matter whether someone is singing a hymn in a Baptist church in Waco, Texas, or in the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, France. Each form of worship is connected by a shared religion and a passion for God.

Baylor students should remember as they listen in chapel, sing at UBC or pray at Highland that their worship is as important and unique as the person sitting in the nave of the Notre Dame Cathedral. The God they worship is holy no matter the church, country, continent and language.

Opinion Column

THE LARIAT
Feb. 19, 2009
Lack of Interaction Leads to Disconnect

Night sets in and the lights of Trafalgar Square illuminate the pillars on the front of the National Gallery in London. A man with long, dark braids plays guitar music on the gallery's steps in a style reminiscent of Bob Marley. The speakers on either side of the guitarist carry his music across the square and the combined effect of the music and lights feels peaceful. The music stops abruptly when a man walks up to the guitarist and holds out a cardboard sign with the words, "Everything will be OK," written across it.

"What is that supposed to mean, man? That's offensive!" the guitarist says loudly.

"It's sarcastic. It's just a joke," the sign holder says in a heavy British accent, stepping back.

"You think that just because I am black. How dare you come over here with that sign? I have a right to be here, man," the guitarist says and the argument continues.

I walk away from the two men toward Trafalgar Square's fountains astonished at the guitarist's reaction. He interpreted the sign in a way the sign holder did not expect when he held up what he thought was a comical message.

After a week studying abroad in the Netherlands with the Baylor in Maastricht program, I have witnessed how differently cultures understand and communicate. A phrase or gesture to one person can have an entirely separate meaning to another.

As I walk the streets of Maastricht, trying to decipher Dutch menus and navigate by Dutch street signs, I am constantly reminded of how insignificant I am in a world marbled with countless cultures. I learned very quickly while traveling in Europe that awareness of my surroundings and the effect of my actions on others is vital for smooth, safe interaction with other cultures.

But, awareness is not only essential in international travel. Even on Baylor's campus, where the majority of students have similar customs and modes of communication, awareness is important. Students must be able to look outside of the "Baylor Bubble" to the city of Waco. Many times, students forget that Waco encompasses more than Baylor campus and Valley Mills Drive. This narrow-minded attitude, when applied to international travel, would be a tragedy.

Imagine students coming to Maastricht intent to stay in their dormitory, never venturing out on the streets to see the city's sights or meet its inhabitants? They would deprive themselves of chances to learn and grow intellectually and culturally. Baylor students make this same mistake of depriving themselves of cultural, intellectual growth by never interacting with Waco citizens.

Jimmy Dorrell, founder of Mission Waco, describes the disconnect between Baylor students and Waco inhabitants as "two worlds in the same city." Baylor students live in a privileged world without noticing the impoverishment around them. "One in five (Waco) families lives in poverty," Dorrell said. Waco citizens have serious needs and Baylor students have numerous opportunities to reach out through programs such as Mission Waco, which gives 1,700 meals away a year and has volunteering outlets such as a children's center, teen center and homeless shelter.

Awareness of the vast diversity of the world and your reactions and interactions is the first step. Reaching out of your comfort zone and putting yourself in the place of someone who has completely dissimilar beliefs and understanding is the goal.

Claire Moncla is a sophomore professional writing major from Houston.

Paris

FRANCE
February 17, 2009
A Masterpiece of Flesh and Blood
Travel Writing
Article 2

There is a certain kind of solace in solitary activity. Groups of people can be boisterous and indecisive. Many times a cup of coffee doesn’t taste as bold or a book isn’t as profound when they are experienced in the midst of a sea of faces and tangle of spoken words.

I experienced two hours alone in Paris this weekend, and although they had a hint of disappointment and a handful of anxiety, they were the two best hours of my trip.

On the last day before I left, I had many last-minute sites to see. I planned to visit Versailles, Place de la Bastille, the Orsay Museum and Notre Dame Cathedral. The most important site to me was the Orsay Museum, which boasts a substantial collection of Impressionist paintings by Monet, Degas, Renoir and many others.

Because our trip to Versailles and Bastille took longer than my group expected, they decided to skip the Orsay Museum to make room for our other excursions. Unable to give up the hour I had planned to pour over the wide brush strokes and passionate compositions of the Impressionist painters, I decided to break away from my group and take the metro to the Orsay Museum myself. After our group decided to meet at 6:30 p.m. in front of Notre Dame, we parted ways in the Bastille metro station. I felt confident and independent walking through the underground. I took the RER to the Musée d’Orsay stop and swiftly exited the train, the wind in the tunnel tugging playfully at my coattail as I walked.

I emerged from the metro station into the fading light of sunset and rushed to the nearby entrance of the museum, noticing the closed ticket counters and empty lines. Was I too late? Had the museum already closed? I checked my phone and it was 5:10 p.m. The museum closed at 6 p.m.

Once I reached the doors, my fears were confirmed. A tall dark-skinned man in a stiff, black suit stood at the entrance turning people away with an impassive look on his face. In my desperation, I tried to argue with him, but the language barrier worked heavily against my favor. I was not going to get into the museum.

Turning to walk towards the Seine River, tears of frustration and disappointment came to eyes. My solitary excursion was worthless. I would not see the Impressionist paintings.

Without even noticing where I was walking, I strolled across the Seine on a pedestrian bridge into the Garden of the Tuileries. I stopped at the very edge as the last rays of sunshine spread out behind Luxor’s obelisk at the west end of the garden.

Even in the winter cold, people filled the garden. Some of the visitors were obviously tourists with cameras around their necks and maps in their hands. The locals sat on chairs among the soft white statues that peppered the garden paths, or walked hand in hand.
I suddenly felt at peace. I was in Paris, the city of love, and there was a wealth of beauty around me. Beauty that did not need to hang in marble-walled museums behind glass cases, or be encased in paint and subjected to a fixed form.

The beauty around me was wild and fluid – living. It was the beauty of a child braking free of her father’s hand and running to the edge of a fountain, pushing dark ringlets out her fascinated eyes as she watched a spigot of water. It was the beauty of two women sitting quietly beneath a mythological statue, seemingly transformed into nymphs by the magic of the garden. It was the beauty of a youthful couple wearing black jeans and rollerblades, stopping by a stretch of green grass to sprawl out on their backs and look up at the sky.

I turned away from the garden knowing I had witnessed a masterpiece of art. I switched on my iPod and put my headphones in, shutting out the sound of evening traffic as I walked parallel to the Seine to Notre Dame. I approached its doors after the sun went down and the lights of the city were reflecting in the river. As I walked through the stone archway, I heard organ music. It was Sunday mass at Notre Dame. The air of the cathedral was thick with the smoke of numerous white candles and the cinnamon scent of incense. I stood amidst a sea of faces and a tangle of spoken words and yet I was solitary – an observer. As worshippers shuffled and stared, sang and recited, I watched another masterpiece of flesh and blood: a work of art.

Go Dutch

LARIAT NEWS FEATURE
Feb. 13, 2009
By Claire Moncla and Rachel Rutledge
Reporters

Valentine's Day is a very important holiday to many college students. With the barrage of commercials advertising chocolates, flowers and happy couples, it is easy to become self absorbed. However, foreign views on dating and weddings may put Valentine's Day in perspective.

Relationships in The Netherlands differ from the United States in theory and practice. In the United States, especially among college students, casual dating is becoming an accepted practice. But it is not common in Dutch culture.

"Dating is more conservative here," Casey O'Dell, a Baylor alumna who now works for the University of Maastricht, said. "It's serial dating, not casual dating."

O'Dell came to The Netherlands in January 2004 as a graduate assistant in the Baylor in Maastricht program. Her introduction to Dutch dating was startling when she realized that after one date, a couple was considered to be boyfriend and girlfriend. She eventually warmed to the idea after meeting Jerome Spronken, a Dutch student, and married him in June 2005.

A reverse example of O'Dell and Spronken, is the relationship between Atticus Mullikin, an American, and Nathalie Ummels, his Dutch wife, who both work at the University of Maastricht. Mullikin surprised Ummels by proposing after three weeks of knowing her. Mullikin broke the social norm by asking Ummels to marry him before properly meeting the family, which is normally a necessity in Dutch culture.

The Dutch also have different views on marriage. Weddings in America are grand occasions that require months, if not a year of planning and large amounts of money to celebrate the union.

In The Netherlands, weddings are a visual expression of the legal formality of marriage.

"It's not as romanticized," O'Dell said.

Because of this view, couples usually live together for several years to confirm compatibility in all areas of life before marrying each other.

"People do everything you do when you're married before they get married," Mullikin said.

This may include having children and buying a house.

The actual ceremony of marriage in The Netherlands is unlike the American ceremony as well because they have two of them.

"Civil and religious ceremonies are equally important here," Mullikin said.

Most couples sign a prenuptial agreement stating intentions while married and if separated.

"It's a very Dutch thing to cover all of your bases," Ummels said.

Though the Dutch do have receptions, the American practice of having lavish receptions with numerous guests and expensive cuisine would not be found in The Netherlands.

"Debt is not an issue here, especially not for weddings," O'Dell said.

Couples save money for their wedding, which is why many wait until they are in their 30s to marry.

Insight into the practicality of Dutch relationships and weddings puts Valentine's Day into a less superficial perspective.

"There is more room to have a close-knit relationship here; you can really enjoy being together," Mullikin said.

American couples can learn important lessons from Dutch culture. The most important aspect of Valentine's Day is not fancy cards, flowers, lavish receptions and expensive dresses; it is relationships, no matter the country or custom.