The mantle of love is real

Is it a tomb? In the cellar is an antique pot with some of her ashes in it. Or more of an altar? Her pretty face is featured here on posters and on small, meticulously cut photos. Yet the atmosphere is playful, idiosyncratic: from Friday, in the Haarlem gallery Kruis-Weg68, the visual representation of a mourning process can be seen, from which you come away with a smile despite the sad starting point – son loses his beloved mother.

The son in question is the poet and visual artist George Moormann, the driving force behind De Zingende Zaag publishing house, and his mother’s name was Louise Weber. Until her death at the age of 86, now seven years ago, Louise lived independently on the Spaarne in Haarlem and George, her eldest son, was always close by. Call, come by. They spoke every day. And they worked together.

Louise was a strong, well-groomed woman bursting with creative talent: she made all her own clothes and was always sewing, cutting, knitting, mending. When she died, she left behind an unfinished bobbin lace work. As a young woman she had worked as a seamstress at the Haarlem clothing house Van der Steur; after her marriage she was fired, as was customary. Louise remained active at home as a costume designer, hatter, needle artist and whatnot, but unpaid and seen by few.

George moved into rooms at 15 – his parents’ marriage was coming to an end and the tensions were unbearable. Father, in retrospect in the grip of a camp syndrome, disappeared from the lives of Louise and the three sons. They were on their own. That sealed their close bond. Louise preferred not to talk about her grief – making beautiful things and learning new things was her way of surviving.

With every new project of De Zingende Zaag, George called in his mother for the tactile, aesthetic dimension. She embellished the magazine of the same name with sewn-in pieces of cloth, a down feather, and once a sewn-in note worth ten guilders at the time, because art is not about money. She always had ideas.

Her death initially left Moormann paralyzed. What about her house, her legacy of hundreds of items of clothing and other gems? Finally he turned some of her fabrics into a long Cloak of Love, which he will wear during a special performance. He had the gold she wore forged into a ring. He collected the poems he devoted to his parents over the past twenty years and shot a short film. And he gave Louise her own fashion label posthumously: her most beautiful blouses now adorn an elegant logo. Maison Louise Weber.

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