Luke Heezen: Polderland Garden of Love and Fire, is one of the first spatial installations by star architect Daniel Liebeskind, who later became world famous with his other works, the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin and the rebuilding of the World Trade Center in New York. He laid a place for meditation on Pampushaven / Almere, in a practical landscape without history. That is quite interesting for an architect, for whom, later built memorials played a big role in his career. The work consists of an interesting play of lines. Central is a strip of black gravel and on it are man -sized courtyard aluminum panels. One of the strips is intersected by three canals, each drawing a line through the landscape at its own angle. Another final line is formed by the footpath along which you enter this work. 

If you extend these lines for kilometers, you will touch other places in the world. Paris, for example, where the fiery Romanian poet Palseland lived, or Salamanca, where the medieval Spanish poet Gwander Lacroos wrote his love poems. Another line leads to Berlin, where Liebeskind himself lived at the time of the installation. And through these lines, though very young, already are woven into ancient history, just as everything that is newly created or born is quickly incorporated into a web of meaning.

I discuss this with Martin Zebracki, senior lecturer in critical social geography at the University of Liège, specializing in public art, inclusion, and sexuality. Liebeskind is already connecting Pampushaven with major cities around the world, and in doing so, in 1997, he essentially gave the young Flevoland landscape a link to ancient history.

What are your personal thoughts on this work? How do you view it? Your framing speaks volumes.

Martin Zebracki: You can look at it from different perspectives. And as I also mentioned in my statement, when I became an ambassador for Flevoland, I said that what I find very interesting here is that the city adapts to art, as in land art. And this will certainly also be the case when a city park is created, with more design [?]. And that will also change the context. So it's very interesting how the work now also acts as a kind of social compass within the landscape. And as you said, it refers to different places in Liebeskind's life's work. And it seeks an audience. It's different from many works of art you see in public spaces that already have an existing location around them. But in this case, it's placed within a void. It's also interesting to read more about Liebeskind's background and his deconstructivist architecture. And it's very much about expanding and showing the true nature. I find the intimate aspect very intriguing. And the group raises questions like, why is it there? But what questions did the artist himself have? So this is my first reading of the work, and it always intrigues me.

Luke: And why do you think it's there? Indeed, because you said it beautifully, it's looking for an audience. Unlike perhaps other artworks that might be positioned there with more conviction? Or is that precisely what you mean?

Martin: It's looking for an audience. The work stands on unexplored territory, the discovery of the new, the search, the journey. And Flevoland is entirely new territory. And I think that in that sense, the work is in the right place, in my opinion. So, that exploration of seeking something new, the positioning, the reflection, which the artwork challenges, comes completely out of place in the landscape. And from the search for a place, you could interpret the reference to all those other cities as a...

Luke: Looking at where do we already place more, or where does more find itself in all those areas? 

Martin: Absolutely, yes. 

Luke: Is it a place, is it a non-place, could the work also be located elsewhere, is it about serendipity, are all places interconnected, why does one place mean more than another?

Martin: Are the lines as straight as we see them? So in queer theory, which I'm involved with, we also wonder, yes, maybe we should see something from a different perspective, and then the insights are different, or places are situated differently. And as I've already touched on the metaphor of a compass, I think that work as such also requires us to see places in new configurations. And what's very interesting, perhaps not even known to everyone, is that the artwork in the woods behind it is also used as a cruising space, where men meet to have sex. It's an especially interesting context for such a work.

Luke: Do you think the cruising aspect is separate from the work itself, or should we consider it an extension of the work's meaning? How does that work in public space? Besides, I imagined that Liebeskind didn't necessarily have the cruising function in mind when designing the artwork. As I also mentioned in my post, it has become a cruising space, but it already seemed to be ready for that: the infrastructure, the location, it's a place to retreat, it has a certain anonymity.

Martin: And in that interplay, I think it has, yes, almost organically grown into a cruising space. So, on the one hand, you could say yes, it's separate from the work, because it probably wouldn't have been the artist's intention, but in the use values, you can see that the architecture, the location, the place, the remoteness do lend themselves to it. And it's fairly well known in the scene, so to speak, that these kinds of remote places are used as cruising grounds to develop secret contacts or sexual encounters. So yes, it's a combination of circumstances, as you also see in the work of Liebeskind, which makes it very integrative and also a very interesting connection with my own research on art, sexuality, and particularly sexual minorities.

Luke: Tell me, indeed, how does it relate to your research?

Martin: Yes, the first thing my research is about is what artworks say about places and how people use art. How they see it and how they re-realize it now and over time, and whether there's a difference between different types of audiences. And it becomes interesting when the work deals with sexuality, which is something very intimate. And that sometimes doesn't square with the public, and that tension is very interesting.

And that's also something I explore in my research at the intersection of art, public, space, and sexuality. An example is my current research project, Queer Memorials: International Comparative Perspectives on Sexual Diversity and Social Inclusivity, or Queer Monuments. An internationally comparable perspective on sexual diversity and social inclusivity. It focuses on three cases: the Key Liberation Monument in New York, the Homomonument in Amsterdam, and a rainbow-colored culture that was destroyed in Warsaw, destroyed because of its connotations with LGBTQ+, and the work was set on fire.

That's an example of how it failed. And in the project, I want to gain insights into the nature of the arrangement people have with monuments dedicated to sexual minorities, SBRs [?], homosexuals, and transgender people. And it's a circular moment where there are many debates about reframing the history of sexual minorities, commemorating victims of violence against LGBTQ+ people, but also promoting social inclusivity through public art.

And again, the shoe really does come into play when work appears that doesn't quite meet the norm. And with Alibis, for example, we don't immediately see that it has a sexual connotation, but in use, you do see that it acts as a cruising spot. But when a work of art has a sexually deviant undertone or doesn't align with the norm, then it's like throwing knots of chicken rock [?]. And especially when a work of art is given a permanent anchor, a public space. And it also matters where it's located: in a city center, along a busy road, or in a polder or residential neighborhood. So then certain customs are more or less accepted. And in that research, I also explore this in different values ​​surrounding the theme of art and sexuality.

Luke: Yes, so it could perhaps also be seen as a provocation if you place such a work of art in a public space, which truly thematizes a different way of dealing with sex than is the norm, then that could offend people. How do you think that is true in Liebeskind's case? Because indeed, it's a somewhat more undefined work in that sense; it doesn't have a very clear message. At the same time, all those aluminum-slab designs actually symbolize the obstacles you can encounter in life. But at the same time, those obstacles also offer a kind of place to stand behind, to hide behind, or to find support for a while. So it's also present in the physical form of the work.

Martin: Yes, it's interesting you say that. I sense a lot of history, emotion, and material in the work. And it all comes together very finely, and it opens up a story of coming together, of opening up, but also of closing off. So that inclusivity and exclusivity is central to the work, also to my research, which is why it resonates so strongly with me. And again, it's about intimacy and a sense of community, and the consequence of belonging, but at the same time, you sometimes feel alienated.

And all of that comes together in the work. And it's also very strange to say these words about intimacy, coming together, in our current reality of a social distancing society. It also gives you a completely different perspective, just as it comes together. You could actually say that Liebeskind is always interested in the place of a work of art in his work. He calls it the genius loci, the idea of ​​a place as it resides in the collective memory, as it comes to mind when you think about it.

Luke: The work has been there for a little over 20 years now. Would you say that's a significant change compared to the 20 years since it was installed and now? So, indeed, within this cruise context?

Martin:  I haven't done any longitudinal research after using the work, but I can imagine that the work, its usage, has changed. It is true that the cruise has been a constant factor, I don't know about that. But of course, what are we talking about? How many people actually come to visit? The work has also traveled through images, through media, so the internet has opened the work up to an even wider audience. So, in that sense, the networked nature of the work has become even stronger in a digital, mediated context, in that sense also with the work, it also unfolds in even more layers. 

Luke: Yes, exactly, because it existed almost pre-internet, so for those who could physically go there, and since the internet, anyone can just Google it, and it has an online life too.

Martin: Yes, or through Google Maps, Street View, and that, that's why the arrangement with art takes on a completely different value; you can experience something without actually having been in the physical world. So it's about matter, but at the same time also about immaterialities, those layers, those lieben, so I shift them. They also transcend it, they are material, emotional, physical, and virtual. And yes, it also touches upon it. I see an analogy with the Homomonument.

To stay with the intersection between art and sexuality, it stands in the center of Amsterdam. Three triangles on the Westenmarkt symbolize the past—sunken triangles by the canal—the present, level triangles, and the future—raised triangles. Together, they form a larger triangle from a bird's-eye view. You can also get a "liebeskind" perspective from a bird's-eye view, a completely different perspective on work. And it is, yes, the founders wanted that monument to commemorate everyone in the world who was persecuted, or even is being, murdered, and still is, moving certain places, sexual or gender identity. The work is a reference to the role of the triangle, which the nation even used as a sign for homosexuals in concentration camps. It's interesting how that work... The symbol of a triangle is played out, and I can imagine that certain symbolism in Liebeskind's work will be interpreted differently over time. In the context of the Homo Monument, you see that the triangle, which initially stood for oppression, has become a symbol of freedom, pride in being who you are.

Vigilance, determination, protest, signifies broader forms of oppression and permissiveness, as is also known in the queer movement, and that also touches on my research, queer research, which stands for "to query." The English work is about questioning and seeing things from a different perspective, and Liebeskind's work does that too, in that sense, yes, it is also queer, and that… Yes, it really does enter into a dynamic relationship with public space, both that of Liebeskind and my comparison here with the Homomonument.

Luke: Yes, and it's very interesting that you're actually saying it's kind of seeking it out, so looking at it from a different perspective. That's, of course, what that work does very well by drawing invisible lines to other cities. The work first casts your attention towards Paris, Salamanca, and Berlin, and it becomes much larger than just that place there. So that's very interesting.

Martin: It seems like, is it about the destination, is it about the journey there, do you first feel at home in a certain place or rather in a movement, in visiting? So, I think the work also plays with that—yes, it's dynamic, even though it's in one place, yet at the same time you can't see it separately from other places, and therefore it's also a movement that mobilizes certain thoughts. And yes, again, it's actually about relating, reflecting, the work—the work is reflective, rental-like, and literal, so, yes.

Luke: Yes, beautiful. Thank you. Enough reason to visit again and reflect on all this.

Martin: Absolutely. 

Luke: Thank you. Thank you for explaining it further.

Martin: You are welcome.

Luke: Thank you. 

And then I'll tell you that artist Rory Bilbrum gave a performance at the work in 2014.

He complemented Liebeskind's lines with communities in Senegal, Russia, where homosexuality is taboo. And there were workshops with Rose Almere and activists. This resulted in this wonderful song, and we'll conclude with it.

Rory Bilbrum (singing): 

Our affection is the best protection

Our affection is the best protection

You are my country, you are my love

How you find any hope to hug our love

Our affection is the best protection

Our affection is the best protection

So how do we come together

When distance somehow comes between us

To share with you, to breathe with you

Love is a gift like none other…

Love is a gift like none other…

Love is a gift like none other…