Jan Burmann (1891 - 1982)
The striking lack of resemblance between a father and his son
Jan Burmann, brilliant botanist and longtime director of the Amsterdam Hortus, played an important role in the life of Bob Tagge. Burmann's life work, the Thesaurus Zeylanicus, was a revelation to Bob. It is save to say that without the decisive influence of Johannes Burmann the taxonomy of Bob Tagge would have had quite a different outcome.
Burmann also had a sharp eye for the qualities of Bob and enabled him to start doing research within the premisses of the Hortus at a time when things were not going well with him. Bob almost considered Burmann as his father, and, as we may deduce from the note on the backside this picture, he in his own perception always remained in the shadow of this great botanist.
In the photo, taken by Sara Lisa a few months before the death of Burmann, the display on which Bob has worked for years and which still can be found in the palm house of the Hortus is visible in the background.
See also
Zoals de planters zich tot de houthakkers verhouden.
De palmen hebben zwaar op onze schouders gedrukt. Als idee van hout, maar meer als idee op zich. Steeds als in onze gesprekken een stilte viel waren het de palmen die onze gedachten innamen.
We hebben de liefde van planters en houthakkers hoog zitten. Daar gaan we in de tabellen niet graag aan voorbij. We weten dat we in kaart brengen waar anderen hun argumenten aan ontlenen.
Zoals de kaart zich tot de argumenten verhoudt.
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Om te beginnen is er geen feilloze methode
het is zover het oog reikt
en het daarin geziene.
Planten kunnen als voorbeeld dienen.
Wie van de planten wil leren krijgt kansen genoeg.
Maar vanwege de rapportage wil het toezicht dat we moeite doen
voor de methode. Het is een mager begin de bewering dat niets stilstaat
dat niets blijft, dat de meest succesvolle levende organismen gewend zijn om te groeien.
Groei is een beweging
Groei zoekt niks in de palmen en alles in de groei.
Groei is vitaal, is feitelijk.
It took a long time to finish.
All summer long, in defiance of the heat, we tidied up the classification tables
took new cuttings and guided them towards the cool morning
where we fell into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied.
Freed from the tables briefly, not quite knowing how to interpret the limbs
we’d used to support the desks and display cases.
I went to see if it showed:
the sun’s position, swallows under the gutter.
Difficult to say.
All those empty barns. Land everywhere
this landscape started to be
and lots in it
that was beyond repair.
Had not only come here
but also overtaken
I was
an acre carried to this head
to have been for this acre.
This led to sand and stones
and I lay there
until the rain came.
Nobody who can remember
what may still be gathered
and dried with care.
Forms, Figures, Tables, Ideas.
All that happened once.
Difficult to think, given the absent wind in the picture.
When the lull inches across the afternoon and your lips don’t move any air about either.
The thought scares me, I try to comfort myself with what I know, but can’t find a single fact that brings relief. The photos still don’t convey anything of what continues to grow inside the lab technician.
Where to go
the day we see
there is nowhere to go?
all that remains
and the rain making sound
all that
all that
that all one’s thoughts
have been thought by others
one another
confusion and balance
other times not
Water is the mouth
I am your confusion
I that must always be
the only possible point of departure
the darkness that
sleeps, the blood in the body that sleeps
tomorrow it will be almost sleep
always take up sleep, also
The rules are given
in order to make them prevail.
Which rules? he asks her
and his movement beats out the hours, like a bird.
Someone else, on the other side of that movement
ducks
and holds an arm over the head.
Suppose this is a bird
says the one who is staring at a spot
that is slowly becoming red.
