Today, we say farewell to Henk Hesselius, a man who was once full of energy, with bold ideas and incredible strength, but also a man who, in the last seven years, struggled with physical limitations that he could not, and did not want to, accept. He became a shadow of the person he once was and lived on borrowed time.
The condolence card mentioned that the cremation ceremony would take place in a small circle. That small circle is here today, made up of close relatives and three friends. Among the latter are myself, my wife Maria, and Jan de Bruijn.
It is an honor for me to say a few words this afternoon. With Catharina and Hessel, we agreed that I would speak about Henk as an artist, his place in the art world, and the significance of his work. I do this from a professional perspective, which relates to my connection with him, but my speech will also be colored by the friendship we shared.
When I called Jan de Bruijn yesterday, he also described a similar journey. His relationship with Henk also grew from business contacts into a mutual friendship.



How did I meet Henk?
In 1989, I was appointed curator for the Province of North Holland. My responsibilities also included organizing exhibitions. This worried me because I had absolutely no experience in this area. My predecessor had left after a dispute and refused to give me any guidance or help me understand the job. The only thing he promised me was a list of potential future exhibitors. This list eventually arrived, and it had just one name on it: Henk Hesselius.
I was frustrated, thinking, "What good is this list to me, and who the hell is Henk Hesselius?" I decided to find out. After reading a few publications about him, I decided to give him a call. A meeting was quickly arranged.
When I arrived at the farm on Haarlemmerweg, a large, dangerous-looking sheepdog charged at me. The dog was quickly called to order, followed by a warm greeting. The warmth was genuine—I could feel it. Before I knew it, I had a glass of wine in my hand, chatting with two lovely people.
Two people, because Henk’s wife, Ria Willemse, had joined the conversation. It turned out she was the daughter of Henk Willems, a passionate and inspired post-war artist from Amsterdam. I knew of him from stories and articles. There was plenty to talk about, and plenty of wine. That evening, Ria was cooking meatballs with celery on the stove.
I stayed for dinner and called home to say I would be late.
Regular contact was soon established between us. For me, a newcomer in this field, Henk had a lot to teach. Not only was he an experienced professional, but he also had extensive knowledge and a wide network of contacts.
He taught me the basics of organizing exhibitions and how to deal with overly enthusiastic participants. He also constantly reminded me about interesting artists and trends.
Who was he? And what was his journey of becoming?
This is a long story, but I’ll try to summarize it here.
Henk Bruining loved to draw. He always drew, whenever he could find a piece of paper. When he was 12, his uncle gave him pieces of kitchen cloth, with a plastic side and a linen side. He stretched them to create a painting surface. He taught himself how to do it. But the brushes, easels, and frames were burned in the stove during the war to keep warm, so not much painting was done. But the urge remained within him.
In the last year of the war, he was arrested during a raid and ended up in prison. It was there that he had time to think about his future. It was there that he decided to become an artist. The war years had a profound impact on his personal development.
Not only did he spend time in prison, but he also lived under constant tension because his mother was a member of the resistance, and she saved five Jewish people by hiding them in their home. The liberation in 1945 felt to him as though he had personally fought for it, and he didn’t want to share it with others. Many years later, he said about this: "I was so relieved that I didn’t want anything to do with anyone."
After liberation, Henk enrolled in the Rijksakademie, but after two years, he decided it wasn’t for him because he didn’t feel at home there, and, above all, his development was being stifled.
The experience of lack of freedom he endured during the war largely influenced the development of his expressive power. From this period comes Henk’s often quoted statement: "I didn’t want to become a piece of meat with two blind eyes."
In my opinion, he was also just a rebellious Amsterdam guy with a healthy dose of anarchism. He often clashed with the director. "He wanted me to take off my climber’s hat, but I refused."
Besides, he didn’t like the models at the academy, who seemed too skinny to him. He preferred drawing the beautiful girls from the revue at Carré. He also took up drawing on the ice of the Amstel River with his friend Cornelis. This was an excellent way to prepare for his own artistic career. When he had drawn enough of the skinny bridges, he started to distort them. He was soon recognized as one of the experimental artists in our country.
The official story of post-war art in the Netherlands was largely controlled by a small group of rebels who, along with some Belgians and Danes, formed the Cobra group. They stuck together for barely two or three years, but their work took deep root in the art world. Aside from Cobra, there were other groups and movements, such as Vrij Beelden and Creatie.
Although Henk felt closest to the Cobra movement, he never joined this or any other group of the time. Why? Simply because Henk was stubborn and didn’t like club politics. He didn’t want to identify with any group or movement.
He sought new forms but tried to stay true to his own identity. He created wooden reliefs, plaster sculptures, ceramics, metal constructions, drawings, collages, and paintings. He also worked in a pottery studio, where he made clay objects at night and painted them. These sold well and provided a living. He later said of this early period: "It was, in essence, a shitty time, but it forced me to be inventive."
Since he couldn’t fully support himself through art, he worked as a taxi driver for a while. He always sat and drew at the taxi stand.
Gradually, Henk developed his own visual language, a style that he didn’t get stuck in. He constantly searched for new forms, new techniques, both on paper and in space. When the inspiration on paper was exhausted, he would head to the forge, where steel was cut, shaped, and welded. He had a strong work ethic, with a tremendous drive to express himself. There was more in his mind than his hands could realize.
His wife, Ria, supported him in everything admirably. Thanks to her, Henk was able to devote himself to his work. She organized a lot for him and was his pillar of strength. She put her own artistic career on hold to make room for Henk’s creativity. In the mid-1990s, I convinced her to return to the studio. She hesitated. But when I offered her an exhibition in Haarlem, she had to agree. The exhibition, opened by my wife Maria, was a success. However, her artistic renaissance was short-lived because, in 1999, she passed away.
Henk asked me to give a memorial speech on that occasion. The loss was great.
But Henk pulled himself together, and after a few years, he found a new companion, who, confusingly, was also named Ria.
Henk Hesselius’ artistic activity did not go unnoticed. His exhibition list is impressive, and much has been written about him. He attracted attention and received it. He was here. And how. He not only fought for his own place but also stood up for his fellow artists—something that cannot be said about all artists, but certainly can be said about Henk. He was real when you needed him, and he was respected. His opinion mattered, and his support was often magnificent.
I believe I must really list here all that he accomplished:
Henk was a board member of the BBK.

• Member of the Visual Arts Committee of the Cultural Council of North Holland.
• Member of the Visual Arts Committee of the Amsterdam Cultural Council.
• Member of the Visual Arts Committee of the Stadsaadvisiecommissie Gemeente Amsterdam.
• Member of the Federal Council and longtime Vice-President.
• Chairman of the Netherlands Circle of Sculptors.
• Initiator and founder of exhibitions in Amstelpark.
• Member of several municipal, state, and BKR purchasing commissions.
• For over 25 years, he curated exhibitions at the Heineken Gallery.

I may have missed something. I sincerely apologize.
Alongside all these activities, he worked hard for many years. In the '60s and '70s, he increasingly received commissions, and as an independent artist, he did well with his income. His works can be found in public collections and many private collections, both domestically and abroad. Personally, I have fond memories of exhibitions of his works at my gallery in Haarlem, as well as at the Atrium with Wim Vromans and at the Arts Center in Zaandam with Jan de Bruijn. Eight times, I was able to open his exhibitions, even in Friesland and Brabant.
Henk contributed. Now it is over.
His works remain wherever they are. His paintings, sculptures, and statues reflect the time of their creation and say much about the artist.
I can only hope that the unsold works find a good future.
A few weeks ago, I called him. There wasn’t much of a conversation. What Henk said was conveyed through Hessel. I understood that he was pleased that I called.
Both literally and figuratively, a colorful person has left.
A true Amsterdammer, rough on the outside but with a kind heart, Always ready for a joke. Tireless, and never one to hold his tongue. And his own way of speaking—I still hear him saying he found something "fabulisque." And sometimes he surprised me when I called a tender gouache he created "rather cheerful."
Henk Hesselius remains in my heart. Tonight I will drink brandy to his life because we both enjoyed that.
And remembering his works, I end with the words of Ida Gerhardt: "In the darkening dusk, he lingered, Still gazing at his aquilegia; Then—in the last light of the window He wrote the letters of his name And, smiling, added the year."
Gerrit Bosch Haarlem, August 5, 2021