On a somewhat desolate site—where the Floriade had taken place just a few years earlier—around fifty small adventurers boarded a bus on the outskirts of Almere. Curious to see what the day would bring, they knew only that it had something to do with land art. They had been promised a tour of forgotten land art projects in Flevoland. Artworks that had gradually faded from view—decayed, overgrown, or simply forgotten. No specifics were given about which works these might be, and that turned out to be a smart choice. It kept the entire day shrouded in mystery.
As the bus wound its way through the suburbs of Almere, tourguide and programmer Anne Reenders offered a brief introduction to the day’s program and the mission of Land Art Lives. The initiative doesn’t view land art as a closed chapter in art history, but as a living, evolving field. Through its international program, Land Art Lives aims to keep the conversation around land art alive and to cultivate a shared knowledge network. To chart a course for the future, one must also understand the past—and that was one of the guiding motives behind the day’s research.

Three key trajectories have shaped the land art works in Flevoland: first, a series of art commissions initiated by the Ministry of Culture, Recreation and Social Work (CRM) beginning in 1976, tied to the broader development of the province. This includes, for instance, Piet Slegers’ Aardzee. The second trajectory involves commissions issued by De Verbeelding in Zeewolde, while the third stems from initiatives commissioned by the province itself.

Boxwood moth

The bus stops at Leeghwaterplas in Almere, the first lake created after Flevoland was reclaimed from the sea. It was formed through sand extraction, which was necessary for building roads. Almere’s first work of art was realized here in 1981: Levend Huis (Living House) by artist Anne Mieke Backer. She conceived the work as a monument to the early public housing developments, outlining the floor plans of two standard homes using hawthorn hedges. She crafted the furniture inside the houses from boxwood. Over time, the work became overgrown and lost its original shape—but it has since been restored. "Except for the boxwood, which was too badly damaged by the boxwood moth," notes JanWillem de Valk, one of the local residents who helps maintain the work.

The two houses have been reconstructed at their original scale. One is a single-person dwelling; the other, a two-story family home. You can step inside and look through the windows. You experience the sense of a home—the rooms, the walls, the shelter it offers. Anne Mieke Backer offers an explanation through an audio recording: “When I received the commission, this was still a barren, empty space. They had only just begun marking out the plots in Almere. The work appeared almost insignificant within that vast landscape. And I realized how small we are as humans—despite the amount of space we occupy.” In the 1990s, a second, smaller version of Levend Huis was created in Almere Haven, using Japanese holly and lower walls.

On the way to Zeewolde, Ella Derksen speaks about the Kunstbaan, an initiative launched in 1987 with the aim of establishing a conference center in Zeewolde, along with a route of artworks leading from there to the city center. The Ministry and the Praktijkbureau Beeldende Kunstopdrachten (Office for Visual Arts Commissions) embraced the idea, and a committee was formed that included the directors of the Stedelijk Museum (Edy de Wilde) and the Rijksmuseum Kröller-Müller (Rudi Oxenaar), along with the mayor of Zeewolde. From the outset, the initiative was well-organized, both in terms of content and administration. Art historian Evert van Straaten drafted a proposal, envisioning eight major international works along with a number of smaller commissions. The ambition was to add a new artwork each year. Tom van Gestel, of the Praktijkbureau, suggested revising the plan by starting with the construction of a pavilion to serve as a base of operations. This became De Verbeelding, designed by René van Zuuk. Ella Derksen, who served as director—both of De Verbeelding and, earlier, of Kunstcentrum Flevoland (which later merged with De Verbeelding)—explains why the Kunstbaan project was ultimately abandoned. “I was asked to develop an income plan, but it quickly became clear that this would be a real challenge. Securing national funding proved difficult, and the political climate in Zeewolde at the time was strongly anti-culture. Maintenance and management of the artworks were also poorly organized.

One of the works that was realized is Sanctuarium by herman de vries, created in 2001. But where exactly is it? Even our guide has to ask a passerby. While we’re looking, curator Josien Beltman tells us about de vries’ work and the exhibition she recently organized at the Rijksmuseum Twente (on view through November 9, 2025).

Then, suddenly, we’ve arrived. What appears to be a dense thicket of trees turns out to be the artwork itself. I remember visiting in 2004, when it was a closed circle, visible only through a fence. Inside, nature had been given free rein, though it still resembled a pleasant, carefully arranged garden. Twenty years later, the circle is hardly recognizable—trees and shrubs have taken over, pushing through the fence and spilling outward. The wall behind the fence is now barely visible.
In the original design, rose bushes were meant to form an impenetrable barrier around Sanctuarium, but they failed to thrive—so a fence was eventually installed after all. Maintenance proved challenging, notes Truus Visser, a concerned resident of Zeewolde.

Which goes to show that a commission doesn’t always go according to plan. The same holds true for Free Trade Area, two metal benches Tobias Rehberger created at a small harbor just a bit farther on. The idea was to create a meeting spot for swimmers. The benches were positioned partly in the water, inviting swimmers to relax and enjoy a conversation. However, no one ever swam there—it was far too close to the ferry route to be safe. Eventually, the benches were removed and relocated to the shore, where they now serve simply as seating for those waiting for the boat.

Art down to Earth

During lunch, we watched the film Kunst op de Bodem (Art down to Earth), made by Kees Maaswinkel between 1980 and 1983. The documentary focuses on art commissions initiated by the Ministry of Culture, Recreation and Social Welfare.
Three artists are featured in the film: Piet Slegers, known for the iconic Aardzee, part of Flevoland’s land art collection; as well as Anne Mieke Backer and Krijn Giezen—artists few people realize created works in Flevoland. We see the artists being welcomed at the Rijksdienst voor de IJsselmeerpolders (National Agency for the IJsselmeer Polders), where a cart filled with materials used in the construction of Flevoland awaits—offered as a potential source of inspiration. Perhaps they might work with these raw elements? The film includes scenes from the studios: Piet Slegers shaping a landscape with his hands, Anne Mieke Backer sketching the outlines of protruding twigs and trimming the hedged walls of her Levend Huis (Living House) with pruning shears. And Krijn Giezen is seen working with branches, presenting a design for two huts. Although all three artists created works, only one was ultimately included in the Land Art Flevoland collection. Why is that? Did the other two fall outside the definition of land art as it was understood at the time? And how do we view them now—shouldn’t they simply be included?

Krijn Giezen’s work still exists, as we discover later when the bus stops near a strip of greenery along the highway—though no longer in its original form. Artist Arnoud Holleman speaks about Giezen’s work. He studied under him at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy and the Rijksakademie, and explains that Giezen himself often wrestled with the dilemma of whether to preserve his works—made from natural materials—or allow them to decay over time. But while he was still alive, that choice remained his to make. After the artist’s death, the responsibility shifts to others.

Giezen selected a vacant plot of land—originally intended as a nature reserve and now known as Harderbroek—as the site for his work. There, he built two huts. One served as a reception hut, a place where visitors could arrive, leave their belongings, and wait for the forest ranger, since the area was not freely accessible.

From the reception hut, visitors would walk to a second structure—an observation hut situated at the edge of a large pond. Together, the two huts and the path between them formed Giezen’s artwork; the experience of the walk, of nature, and of the horizon was integral to it. This walk is also on today’s program. But here too, some searching is required—the huts are no longer visible on the horizon from afar, as they once were when first built.

The reception hut is built from straw bales and, in today’s tropical weather, feels more like a sweat lodge. Rectangular and simple in form, it’s large enough to accomodate a group and is surrounded by trees and shrubs. Sandbags hang along the outer walls to anchor the tarpaulin roof. The walk continues through tall grass and swaying reeds, offering glimpses of the surrounding nature reserve. At the end of the path, the second hut comes into view—preceded by a passageway made of wooden poles and bundles of reeds. A staircase leads up to the wooden observation hut, which features a wide opening beneath its thatched roof, framing a view of the water and the birds beyond. Both huts have been restored or rebuilt and no longer stand in their original locations. The surrounding landscape, too, has changed—once an empty plain, it has gradually transformed into a thriving nature reserve. But the experience is likely much the same. Arnoud Holleman views the work as a set of objects with a life of their own—things happen in and around them. It’s not a static situation, but something that continues to evolve.

Making contact

The question of preservation and maintenance is a central theme in land art—or in any art that engages directly with the landscape. Who bears responsibility, and for how long? And if a work begins to deteriorate, should it be replaced?
Krijn Giezen’s reception hut was rebuilt in 2012, after the original partially subsided and collapsed. Anne Mieke Backer’s Levend Huis was given a second version in a new location—one more manageable in terms of upkeep.

The Sanctuarium by herman de vries is now bursting at the seams—its overgrowth making it resemble a prison more than a sanctuary. Shouldn’t nature be released from this cell? Sometimes, residents take it upon themselves to care for a work, while others find its presence problematic. For instance, a mural by Jan van de Pavert in Zeewolde was vandalized. Or, as Truus Visser aptly put it: “People try to make contact with the work by throwing things at it.” And the small wind tunnel Roman Signer created alongside a bike path in Zeewolde ended up being avoided by cyclists entirely—a new path gradually formed around it.

In short, a work doesn’t end with its completion. In many ways, that’s only the beginning. Only after a work is installed does its true relationship to the environment become clear—to the landscape, and to the people who live with it. And those relationships extend further: to visitors, to other works of art, to nature itself. Even for the artist, these dynamics are never entirely predictable. Over the “life” of a work, layers of meaning may emerge or shift—it might become a key work, or it might not. It may engage with its surroundings in ways no one foresaw. Artist Paul de Kort echoes this idea as we return to Pavilion M at the end of the day. His work Pier+Horizon was torn apart by a storm in 2022—something he hadn’t anticipated at all. He had believed the site to be calm and protected. But nature had other plans. The event brought him new insights, also through the messages he received from people who missed the work while it was inaccessible.

And so, many stories emerged over the course of the Hidden Tour. Not only during the scheduled discussions, but also in the informal moments between participants—including art professionals, artists, and other engaged visitors—there was a lively exchange of ideas. It was an inspiring day, filled with beautiful discoveries and new connections.

It’s clear: Land Art Lives! It’s anything but lifeless.

Marjolein Sponselee
June 20, 2025

Zelf een bezoek brengen aan de werken uit de Hidden Tour?

Wil je zelf een bezoek brengen aan de werken uit de Hidden-Tour? Hieronder zetten we de werken, de locaties en de sprekers nog even op een rijtje:
- Het Monument voor een Woningwetwoning (locatie) van Anne Mieke Backer ligt in de Leeghwaterplas. Het werk wordt onderhouden door buurtbeheergroep De Eilanders en namens hen sprak kunstambassadeur JanWillem de Valk tijdens de tour over het zichtbaar maken en onderhouden van het werk
- Sanctuarium van herman de vries ligt in Zeewolde (locatie). Ter plekke hadden we een gesprek met curator Josien Beltman van Rijksmuseum Twenthe n.a.v. de tentoonstelling 'herman de vries – 70 jaar de natuur als kunstwerk' die daar t/m 9 november 2025 zien is
- Free Trade Areas van Thomas Rehberger (locatie) in Zeewolde
- de film Kunst op de Zeebodem (1983), in De Verbeelding met een nagesprek met makers Kees Maaswinkel, Peter de Ruiter en Hans Ebbink. Bekijk de film bij Het Flevolands Archief.
- Windkabine van Roman Signer, (locatie) met daarvoor een gesprek met curator Ella Derksen en bewoner Truus Visser over de Kunstbaan en De Verbeelding in Zeewolde
- Schuilhutten van Krijn Giezen, in Harderbroek in Zeewolde (locatie) met ter plekke een gesprek met kunstenaar Arnoud Holleman. Via de parkeerplaats aan het Ganzenpad zijn het Giezenpad en de Schuilhutten per voet te bereiken.
- na afloop bezochten we de opening van de tentoonstellng Ruum voor land art in kunstpaviljoen M. van Jij bent M. Geopend t/m 7 september 2025 van vrijdag t/m zondag van 12.00 - 17.00 uur.

Vanwege de hitte en vertraging onderweg hebben we de tour ingekort en bewaren we enkele niet bezochte kunstwerken voor een volgende Hidden-tour.