It all started with a painting Jacob Coeman made in 1665 in Batavia, a portrait of Pieter Cnoll, Cornelia van Nijenroode, their two daughters and two enslaved servants. If you look at the painting, you’ll see immediately it’s not quite a Rembrandt. Coeman was no top-tier artist. According to librettist Janine Brogt, he may have left for Indonesia because he had little work in the Netherlands. But when theatre maker Jan van den Berg saw a copy of the painting in Japan, he was fascinated by one element: ‘Cornelia van Nijenroode’s unmistakably Asian eyes.’
Jan van den Berg, Janine Brogt
19 - 21 juni
Muziekgebouw
Untameable
The story of what led up to this point is remarkable: Cornelia turned out to be the daughter of a Japanese woman and a Dutch East India Company merchant. She’d wound up in Batavia, where she married Pieter Cnoll. He tragically died just four years later, after which the widow entered into an unhappy marriage with another Dutchman. He was only interested in her money, so she wanted a divorce - a revolutionary demand for a woman in the seventeenth century. The court case of the persistent Cornelia eventually resulted in a final ruling in the Netherlands, but then she suddenly disappeared from historical accounts. Cornelia fought tirelessly for her rights. At the time, the word used to describe women who refused to be subjugated was ‘otemba’, meaning: untameable (ontembaar, in Dutch). The word allegedly made its way into the Japanese language from the Dutch.
Enough material for a piece, you might think, and the discoveries didn’t end there. Van den Berg: ‘In the painting, there’s a young Indonesian man to the right of Cornelia. It’s assumed this is Untung Surapati, one of the family’s forty enslaved servants. This is based specifically on information suggesting Untung was one of Pieter Cnoll’s favourites. And it was none other than this Surapati who would go on to become one of Indonesia’s freedom fighters.’ Brogt: ‘The painting is full of historical figures who don’t yet know how important they’ll be.’
Connected to the outside world
To the right of ‘Surapati’, the painting depicts an unknown enslaved girl as well. We don’t know who she is, but for Janine Brogt she was one of the reasons for connecting the story with the present, with the current-day Netherlands: ‘This historical fact begs for a connection with our world. I worked as a dramaturge with Toneelgroep Amsterdam for quite some time, and during rehearsals I would hear the trams pass by outside, which made me feel connected with the world outside again. You need something like that. In the libretto, the young woman is connected with Kirana Diah’s central current-day character, who has an Indonesian background, but is now working at the Rijksmuseum as a restorer. She in turn becomes interested in this painting through Surapati’s character.’
‘Kirana’s part is sung by Dutch-Indonesian soprano Bernadeta Astari, who journeyed all over herself, from Asia to Europe. In the story, she’s busy restoring Coeman’s painting, which is actually in the Rijksmuseum’s collection. In this way, it shines a critical light on the Netherlands’ colonial history, the painting and even the museum. Kirana doesn’t really feel comfortable in this patriarchal institute featuring mostly art from the colonial seventeenth through the imperialist nineteenth centuries. She has her own struggle.’ This is why the piece has a second, plural title: Otemba - Daring Women.
Magical world of sound
The composer for the piece is Misato Mochizuki from Japan, who has composed musical theatre before, but is best known for orchestral and vocal music. Director Jan van den Berg: ‘She created two different sound worlds for the two women. In the piece, Cornelia comes to life very slowly, in effect stepping out of the painting, so hers is a more magical, ghostly world of sound. She gives voice to what words can’t articulate, a kind of undercurrent. Mochizuki’s idiom is generally very etheric, an effect that’s amplified by the small ensemble of eight instrumentalists surrounding the singers. In a sense, they’re embracing them, just like they, too, mirror the figures in the painting.’
Van den Berg has travelled throughout Asia extensively, particularly in Japan. This is also where he discovered the Noh theatre tradition. Because of Cornelia’s half-Japanese origins, an exceptional Noh performer and singer, Ryoko Aoki, was chosen for this role.
Brogt: ‘Noh theatre often features spirits of the deceased returning to earth to set something right. Often, this involves revenge, but this isn’t necessarily always so. It’s clear that Cornelia, after her court case and mysterious disappearance, wants to resolve something. At the start, she’s annoyed at everyone touching ‘her’ painting and the fact she doesn’t have a more prominent place in the museum. Nor does she appreciate the colonial accusations from Kirana’s side very much. But then slowly, through the interplay with Kirana’s views and life history, she comes to life more and gains a better understanding of her own position as a woman. In the end, the two women from the seventeenth and twenty-first century come to a decision together.’
"Management of change"
Jan van den Berg: ‘Computers, robots and video projection also play a role in the story and performance. Less prominently in the end than we originally wanted, but the craft of restoring also involves using things like AI and scans. With this technical side, the male character Miro, who operates the scanning robot and who is sung by baritone Michael Wilmering, wants to make a rational analysis of the painting together with Kirana. Materials and colours play a role, but they’re mainly curious about the underpainting or an original sketch that can reveal more about those portrayed and bring to light any changes. But these technical, aesthetic and material choices in the restoring process are also a political act concerning what you do and how you do it. It’s a "management of change" that shows art’s fluidity.’
Brogt: ‘The restoration unleashes the painting’s vitality. The growing awareness allows the two women to leave the museum and go out into the world. Where things might be a bit bleak, but that’s another story.’