Speech Minister Eppo Bruins
Speech by Minister Bruins (Education, Culture and Science) at the Presentation of the Johannes Vermeer Award to Marit Törnqvist on Monday, 4 November 2024
Good evening, everyone,
One of my first and most important calls as the new minister was to offer my congratulations to you, Marit.
For an artist, the Johannes Vermeer Award represents the highest honour available in our country. Yet, it is also, from the perspective of the presenter – me as minister, on behalf of the cabinet, and on behalf of our nation – the highest form of recognition for the importance of the arts within our society.
Art, in all its colours, forms, and sounds, is an expression of beauty and freedom within our democracy. But it is also a sounding board for the multitude of voices in our society, particularly those voices that are so easily drowned out.
During our phone conversation, you immediately mentioned that today you would be protesting the plans of this cabinet. I find that both strong and courageous of you. It is not an unnecessary protest. It resonates. It resonates with me, and as we can see, with everyone here in the room. And I understand that.
Art and culture, in particular, are safe spaces where ideas can clash, where whatever needs to be said can be spoken, where taboos can be broken, and where we can truly get to know one another. In doing so, we find that we can understand each other better, and perhaps even value one another more.
In the Coalition Agreement that I embraced upon accepting the role of minister, a decision was made to increase VAT on, among other things, books as of 2026. This measure isn’t a pleasant one, but I still chose to say ‘yes’ to this position. Also because purchasing power would improve, and there might be compensation and support for vulnerable groups.
As Minister of Culture, I fully understand the serious concerns and opposition to this measure. I am pleased that, at the very least, we can compensate schools for the additional costs they would incur for textbooks. Yet, I too feel uncomfortable about the VAT increase, perhaps even more because of the cold symbolism it conveys than because of the financial consequences.
To me, good children’s books are bearers of hope, of comfort. They point towards a world where things are okay.
Like the protagonist in A Small Story About Love, who eventually drifts away on her raft towards the light on the horizon.
It’s not a saccharine world but one where there is also space for fear and sorrow. Not a fast-food morality, but genuine questions, taking children seriously.
Just now, Malou Gorter read excerpts from What No One Expected. About the girl in the abyss, whom, eventually, almost no one remembers.
But in the end, she climbs up. And all she wants is to tell everyone “that up here it is so light.”
Moving.
And then you write: “But no one heard her, for everyone was in a hurry. And though she went against the flow and looked everyone in the eye, they did not recognise her.”
A heartbreaking portrayal of the times we live in.
Children’s books can touch even the oldest of children, with all their clarity and honesty. Anyone who has ever read aloud knows this – fathers and mothers, uncles and aunts, teachers and carers. Sometimes, a story moves you – the reader – just as much as the child who listens, spellbound.
In your work, Marit, life is often a mystery, a challenge, a trial. And however dreamy your images and words may seem at times, they touch the very essence of reality. The heartbeat of real-life pulses within your work, connecting you to humanity’s timeless stories of love, longing, life, and death.
Two months ago, I received a gift that profoundly changed my life. I became a grandfather for the first time. My team at the ministry gifted me your book We’re Baking a Zoo. I look forward to introducing my granddaughter to the sweet stories, warm colours, and gentle rhyme. It’s never too early to start reading aloud. Children nestle in your warmth, listen to your voice, and take in your scent. And they always take away more from the book than you might think.
I read my son the delightful stories from the famous Dutch book Pluk van de Petteflet endlessly back in the day. And as he learned about good and evil, about the horrid Mrs Helderder and the most gentle softest Heen-en-weer-wolf (‘back-and-forth wolf’), he also, quite playfully, learned the alphabet before he was two years old.
Dear Marit, the glass trophy that accompanies the Vermeer Award shines not only for you, but also for all those other Dutch artists whose work is dedicated specifically to children.
For the first time, this state prize goes to one of them. And it is more than deserved for this mature if not fully grown-up – sector. Abroad, people often appreciate this more than we ourselves realise.
Dutch children’s and young adult literature, as well as theatre and music for the youngest, are of exceptionally high quality in the Netherlands. I will do everything within my power to preserve and protect it.
The jury describes your work as empathetic, yet understated. You leave much open, allowing each reader, each child being read to, the space to help shape the story. That is how true art works: it only comes alive through the observer.
About your work, you once said, “Sometimes, when I’m drawing, I feel as though there is a direct line from my heart to my hand. Reason doesn’t even come into it.” We all know that this line doesn’t end there. From your illustrations, it continues directly into the hearts of so many, of all ages.
As a gesture of gratitude and in tribute to this remarkable act of connection, I present to you, with the utmost love, the 2024 Johannes Vermeer Award.