The painter and the gin glasses
“Curiously beautiful.” That’s how Vincent van Gogh described the painting The Old Inn Het Loodshuis in Antwerp by Henri De Braekeleer. He wrote this in his first letter from Antwerp to his brother Theo, dated around November 26, 1885. A few weeks later, on December 14, Vincent added that De Braekeleer was “a splendid colorist” and a painter who “analyzes rigorously – Manet-like, or at least as original as Manet.” A striking appreciation indeed.
Curious canvases
It’s unlikely that Vincent knew Manet’s and De Braekeleer’s paintings had hung side by side at the Triennial Salon of Antwerp in 1882. Manet’s now-iconic Un bar aux Folies-Bergère, completed that same year, was exhibited right next to De Braekeleer’s The Old Inn Het Loodshuis (1877). The latter was promptly acquired by the KMSKA. Manet’s painting now resides in The Courtauld Gallery in London.
As different as the two paintings are, they share striking similarities. Manet depicts worldly Paris: a bustling café-concert, noisy with chatter and music, a trapeze artist’s shoes visible in the upper left corner. Yet at its center stands a barmaid, caught in a daydream, seemingly lost in a silent moment with a male customer. Bottles of beer and champagne reflect vividly in the large mirror behind her. These bottles, glasses, and the mirror echo themes found in De Braekeleer’s work. He too paints a lone figure behind a bar, but in the centuries-old Antwerp inn, silence reigns, while time gnaws at the wooden interior.
Both Manet and De Braekeleer created “curious” paintings: Manet disorients with strange reflections and impossible perspectives; De Braekeleer evokes unease with a nearly suffocating, mercilessly detailed interior.
Animal joy
Literature on De Braekeleer’s painting – Emmanuel De Bom called it “a symphony in yellow” – often focuses on anecdote. In his 1941 study Henri De Braekeleer in Antwerpen, De Bom writes: “The innkeeper secretly sips a shot behind the bar,” while “the old woman peels carrots in the kitchen.” Maurice Gilliams had already written similarly in his beautifully observed essay Introduction to the Idea of Henri De Braekeleer (1936–1939), calling it a “tavern keeper sneakily drinking a glass of gin,” while the woman “cleans vegetables.”
But they seem to overlook two important glasses – placed on the bar to the left of the innkeeper, standing on a wooden tray, ready to be served. Why? And to whom? Perhaps to the woman in the back?
Luckily, Camille Lemonnier offers insight. In his 1905 book Henri De Braekeleer. Peintre de la Lumière, the Brussels writer recalls how De Braekeleer took him to “little port taverns, stained with grease and smoke.” “We ate fried plaice and drank sour beer,” he writes. De Braekeleer studied the light there. “Now and then he squinted to see how the daylight filtered through small windows and roughly reflected on the walls.” Lemonnier recalls how De Braekeleer’s face lit up with a sensual, almost animal joy.
Two glasses
De Braekeleer didn’t just observe – he painted in one of those port taverns. According to painter Piet Verhaert, as recorded by Victor De Meyere, De Braekeleer worked for weeks in Het Loodshuis. Painting progressed painfully slowly, because the lighting had to be just right. Every afternoon, his models arrived: an old shrimp fisherman and his wife. It is no coincidence that the clock in the painting shows five past three.
So, the two glasses are not for the innkeeper, but rather for De Braekeleer himself – seated and painting in the room – and perhaps for a companion like Lemonnier or Verhaert. The innkeeper is just about to serve them.
The fate of the perishable
De Braekeleer rendered Het Loodshuis in such detail that we can tell: the innkeeper is not pouring gin. The liquid is too yellowish. Gin, after all, was typically served from a stoneware bottle. It might well be home-brewed lemon gin – often poured from a glass decanter, following ancient recipes.
Behind the innkeeper, we see large bottles of beer. Just like Manet – who painted the red triangle logo of Bass beer – De Braekeleer includes a bottle of Chimay (lower left shelf), clearly showing its logo. Chimay’s first beer was brewed in 1862, and by then, the monks had opted for une bière forte, a dark top-fermented ale, only bottled in 75cl bottles – explaining the size.
Finally, there is the location. Thanks to two sharp photos by Hugo Piéron-Loodts (circa 1873 and 1880), we can place Het Loodshuis on the then-Koolvliet. Like other city canals, Koolvliet was filled in around 1882–1883. Two-thirds of the buildings were demolished, including Het Loodshuis, to straighten the Scheldt quays. Only the much smaller Koolkaai remains.
De Braekeleer painted a vanishing world: light devours the furniture, the wood crumbles like brittle newsprint. For Maurice Gilliams, De Braekeleer captured “the fatality of the perishable” – a world “like a clock whose spring has snapped.”
This article previously appeared in ZAAL Z, the museum's magazine. For as little as 35 euros you will receive four editions that will immerse you in the fascinating world of the museum and its magnificent collection.
