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Albert Bosman and Bruno Ernst
10 March 2018

Albert Bosman and Bruno Ernst

Today is the start of ‘Boekenweek’ (Book Week), a nice occasion to highlight a phenomenon that is increasingly rare: a bookplate. Escher created several of them, mostly for friends. The first one dates from when he was only 17, for his own library.

M.C. Escher, Bookplate Albert Ernst Bosman, wood engraving, 1946

M.C. Escher, Bookplate Albert Ernst Bosman, wood engraving, 1946

The one you see here, from 1946, was for his opposite neighbour in Baarn, engineer Albert Ernst Bosman. Escher depicts an open book with the words ‘neti neti tat’, a spiritual expression about questioning one’s identity on the journey towards enlightenment, symbolised here by an inchworm rising out of the page. In this context, the inchworm also seems to refer to a bookworm: the book lover for whom this bookplate was made. He did not know it yet, but this neighbour would be of great significance to him. Bosman was the one to bring him into contact with Hans de Rijk, the man of many pseudonyms.

M.C. Escher, Boven en onder, litho, juli 1947

M.C. Escher, Boven en onder, litho, juli 1947

Escher met him as Friar Erich, a member of the congregation of Saint Louis in Oudenbosch. This Erich was fascinated by the print Up and Down, which hung on the wall of his classroom. He knew Albert Bosman, the man who brought artist and admirer together. It was the start of a lifelong friendship. Under the name Bruno Ernst, Friar Erich taught maths at the academy for teachers, where he also founded the mathematics magazine Pythagoras. After they met in August 1956, they saw each other often, De Rijk always introducing himself as Friar Erich. It took Escher several months to find out his real name. Escher was captivated by this young man (he was 30), as the latter, being a teacher, was capable of explaining complex mathematical issues in a simple way. One print after another was discussed during these meetings and the sketches were included as well to get a complete picture.

Hans de Rijk (1966). Ron Kroon (ANEFO) - Cropped from GaHetNa (Nationaal Archief NL)

Hans de Rijk (1966). Ron Kroon (ANEFO) - Cropped from GaHetNa (Nationaal Archief NL)

The Magic Mirror of M.C. Escher, Bruno Ernst

The Magic Mirror of M.C. Escher, Bruno Ernst

Much later, in 1970-1971, the two would adopt a much more systematic approach. Over a period of two years and in weekly meetings, Escher’s entire oeuvre was analysed, De Rijk asking the artist about his intentions for each print. In 1976 this very fruitful exchange of ideas would lead to the much praised standard work The Magic Mirror of M.C. Escher.

Bookplate M.C. Escher, linoleum cut in green, 1917

Bookplate M.C. Escher, linoleum cut in green, 1917

Bookplate Heleen van Thienen, linoleum cut, 1917

Bookplate Heleen van Thienen, linoleum cut, 1917

Erik Kersten

Erik Kersten

Editor

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More Escher today

Cultural Prize of Hilversum, 1965

Cultural Prize of Hilversum, 1965

On 5 March 1965 Escher received the culture prize of the city of Hilversum. He gave a lecture in which he demonstrated once again how funny he could be. For many people the name Escher calls to mind an image of a bearded, strict, precise man labouring away on mind-boggling prints in the isolation of his study. This image existed in his own time too and is one that Escher initially endorses in his lecture:
'By nature I am not spontaneous. Creating a graphic print demands patience and deliberateness and the ideas that I want to express in it usually come to life after careful consideration. Therefore, I mostly spend my time in a quiet studio and, however beneficial it might be to practicing my profession, it does not foster eloquence.'
Reptiles in wartime

Reptiles in wartime

Despite the atrocities of war, some kind of optimism took hold of Escher at the end of February 1943. It was fuelled by nature. On 20 February he writes in his diary: ‘two butterflies and lots of snowdrops around farmers gardens’. And on the 22 February: ‘first song of the blackbird’. On 3 March 1943 he even starts working on a new print. For this lithograph, Reptiles, he does have to borrow a stone. That is why only 30 copies were printed.
Light in August

Light in August

In a letter to his son Arthur from 27 February 1955 Escher writes about Light in August, a 1932 novel by William Faulkner, which Escher had read it in translation.
'... for — Christ! — that gentleman’s English is so damned difficult. Thanks to the good English lessons you had at secondary school you may well understand the original. I have not read a modern novel that had such an effect on me for many years, probably not since The Plague by Camus. It is partly that the psychological treatment of the murderer, comparable to Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov, though completely different, is unusually gripping. He is one of those rare writers with whom one dare not find fault as a layman and who towers over most of their contemporaries.'