The Panaroma Mesdag is a gem – a huge 360-degree mural one views by standing inside an observation tower. It’s painted in 1881 by HW Mesdag, and depicts the nearby holiday resort Scheveningen, a name so hard for non-Dutch natives to pronounce that it was rumoured to be used in WWII interrogations for rooting out German spies. The Panorama is part of a small Mesdag gallery – his seascapes are equally impressive and vivid, rather like early Turners.
Then I nip over on a tram to Scheveningen itself, to compare the 1881 painting with the resort as it is today. It’s a huge and popular place – the beach seemingly endless in either direction. I walk around in a suit while surrounded by thousands of Dutch people in swimming costumes and Speedos – that’ll be me being me, then.
While in Scheveningen I wander on the double decker pier, peek inside the ornate Kurhaus’s ceiling, and coo at the seahorses and giant turtles in the Sea Life aquarium. Best of all, I discover the Beelden Aan Zee sculpture gallery, with its Tom Otterness figures in bronze outside. He has a thing for round-headed, triangle-hatted little men, inspired by fairy tales and fiction. His ‘Herring Eater’ is gigantic:
While his Moby Dick looks rather friendly and cute, even when eating people:
(Images from Wikipedia)
Inside is a touring show from the Henry Moore Institute in Leeds, on the theme of metamorphosis. It’s called ‘Against Nature’. Always a good sign. Incredible stuff: mythological figures, angels, centaurs, androgynes, humans stuck in otherworldly transitions, a man with a lace-up face (the ultimate Nike acolyte?), gooey abstract renditions of lovers melting into each other as they kiss, and Mr Epstein’s robot-like ‘Rock Drill’ creature. Except it’s not the famous bronze torso (as seen in the Tate), but a recreation of Epstein’s original 10ft-tall plaster cast, where the masked figure has a full body and rides an actual rock drill:
Language-wise, I manage okay in English – guiltily. But I do come unstuck in the Museum Of Communication, the only tourist attraction in The Hague that’s entirely in Dutch. I’m guessing the irony has already been pointed out.
