The first floor has the entryway and his sales room, filled with paintings by the artist who trained Rembrandt, Rembrandt's pupils and other artists. A short bed, inside a giant cabinet, was where guests stayed. The marble doorways and mantle aren't actually marble - they were painted to look like marble, and it's quite convincing. The kitchen was large, with a small sink and water pump, a large area for the fire, and another short cabinet bed.
A tight, winding staircase took you to the second floor, where I watched an etching demonstration in his print shop. Rembrandt made 290 etching plates in his life, and made some estimated 15,000 prints. The demonstration showed how to create one, scratching the image into a copper plate coated in wax, pressing the black paint into the plate with a paddle covered in dog skin, all while making sure the plate is kept warm to ensure the paint doesn't clot and dry. Then you clean the excess paint off, add moist cotton paper to the press, and physically turn the wheel to roll it through the press. Voila!
His studio was very large and brightly lit, with hand-stretched canvas and an area for creating paint from powder found in different natural sources all over Europe, and linseed oil. Only small amounts were made at a time, but if any needed to keep overnight, they were placed in a pig bladder. He had another room full of various curiosities used to study texture, weight, color, etc. Busts of historical leaders, bright feathers, dead reptiles, shells, spears and giant books abound. This type of collection wasn't typical of artists of the time - blowfish seemed to be a favorite.
Rembrandt's bedroom had a lovely fireplace, complete with male and female figures propping up the mantle, and another short cabinet bed. The walls were covered in paintings, including a particularly striking one of his late wife. In his bankruptcy, he had been forced to sell the real painting to a wealthy art collector, so he had one of his apprentices make a convincing copy for him to keep.
He had a teaching studio at the top of the home, partitioned off by wooden walls. Each section has a little triangular stool and an easel. Half a dozen or so of his students went on to be famous painters themselves, and many cannot tell their work apart from his own. Rembrandt went bankrupt in 1658 and moved into a nearby rental home for the last 12 years of his life. I left the house feeling like I knew the man personally, and had even greater respect for his work, if not for his life choices.
I swung by Van Kerkwijk for some dutch food, but it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so I had a salad and fresh bread, then headed home. I read on the rooftop with a Heineken until Derek finished with his conference and could officially start vacation. Then we went on a food tour of the city.
First, we got Pofferjus (finally!) from the Pancake Steakhouse and ate them while we had a drink sitting by the canal at Rock Hard. Then, we wandered until we came across the De Laastste Kruimel Bakery (the last crumb bakery), where we had mushroom quiche with hazelnut pesto, and a french toast croissant. We sat on their porch overlooking the canal on tiny stools topped with worn, flat pillows. The place is quaint and quiet, and the view was wonderful.
Then, we went in search of Stamppot, a traditional dutch food with kale and sausage, which I had been searching for for days. We stumbled on Petit-Restaurant de Rozenboom and ate outside on the street. The food didn't have much flavor, but it was reasonably priced and delivered quickly, and the ambiance outdoors was exactly what we were hoping for. We wandered around the Red Light district once we were finished, and had to help ourselves to a dessert waffle from Metropolitan. Derek had his covered in chocolate, and I took mine with powdered sugar. The giant crystallized sugar pieces inside are surprising to find at first. The thick, sweet way they make their waffles doesn't compare to any waffle I've ever had. These aren't American waffles - this is like a cake donut in a waffle iron with crunchy sugar pockets. It's never a bad idea.
Should we go to a club? It's only 9:40. We're stuffed, and looking forward to sleep. The food and walking have a way of really bringing the day to a quick end, and tonight, we're not sorry about that.
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