In the Layers of Han Klinkhamer
- Rianne van der Steen
- Sep 5
- 2 min read
Updated: Sep 11
An Unexpected Entrance
Last Sunday, I stepped with wet fresh washed hair into the Museum Jan Cunen just before closing time. Not planned, but out of necessity: after a debate with my teenagers about who should hang up the laundry, and with the heat outside pressing down, I longed for fresh air and quiet. What began as an escape soon turned into an encounter that moved me deeply, the exhibition of Han Klinkhamer.
Layer by Layer, Nature
His paintings and works are an abstract translation of the landscape around us. What strikes me most is that he gives his works no titles. This leaves them open, you don’t have to ‘understand’ anything, you’re invited only to experience. Black and white dominate, my favourite combination. And the larger the work, the more I lose myself within it. This is art you don’t just look at, you feel it: thick strokes of oil paint, layered millimetres deep, almost sculpted; cuts into paper that reveal new layers; flashes of hidden colour suddenly emerging into view.
A Work That Lingers
One white panel caught me most of all. There was a dynamism in it that felt both still and alive. I found myself standing, watching, as if something beneath the surface kept shifting, quietly, insistently. Another work surprised me: an ink drawing into which Klinkhamer had cut sharp incisions, exposing new layers. I could picture it as a wallpaper that would cover my livingroom.
Dreaming of Walls
As I wandered through the exhibition, I thought: how extraordinary would it be if an artist like Klinkhamer could work directly on a wall? A permanent, three-dimensional artwork, part of the very structure of a home. Or wallpaper inspired by his work, so that the layers, cuts, and textures would literally surround you. Art not hanging on the wall, but becoming the wall.
A Second Visit
Because my first visit lasted barely fifteen minutes, I returned Wednesday. This time, I had more space, more time. I savoured the silence, even though there were other visitors in every room. What struck me was how warm and welcoming the staff at the Jan Cunen Museum are: eager to connect, generous in sharing stories, creating an atmosphere that feels both intimate and inviting.
Nature From the Inside Out
What touches me most in Klinkhamer’s work is his qoute about how it makes you
feel nature from the inside out. He expresses something that doesn’t literally exist, and yet you recognise it immediately. It’s as though you are seeing the essence of a landscape without needing a tree, or a horizon, or a sky. His art shows that abstraction is not distant or cold, but can in fact be one of the most immediate ways to experience something vast and intimate at once.
