Friede auf Erden (the film) tells the story of a tragic escape and is based on a German theatrical performance written in Amsterdam during the Second World War. We begin from the notion that telling a story necessarily means altering that history. The film raises questions about our relationship with history and its relevance to the present, and seeks a way to express a wish for peace in 2025.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Basement — Entrance
“Friede auf Erden”
Marking this year’s commemoration of 80 Years of Freedom, we present new work by artist duo Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen, specially created for the Willet-Holthuysen House. Both their film and the accompanying exhibition are about artists in the resistance during the Second World War in the Netherlands, from May 10, 1940, to May 5, 1945.
Breure and Van Hulzen selected pieces from the Amsterdam Museum’s collection and loaned objects to give the film historical context and offer insight into different kinds of artistic resistance: photographs by Cas Oorthuys in the Kitchen, paintings by Chris Beekman in the Drawing Room, and drawings by Aat Breur-Hibma in the rooms on the first floor. What they left behind connects people from that time with others today through a network of stories in which different aspects will be familiar to everyone.
Film
Throughout the house you follow the film Friede auf Erden (Peace on Earth) by Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen, which they based on Weihnachtslegende 1943 (Christmas Story 1943). This anti-fascist play for puppet theater by Grete Weil is about a Jewish woman who escaped the Hollandsche Schouwburg on Plantage Middenlaan. There, the Nazis rounded up Jews for deportation to Westerbork transit camp, a stop enroute to “labor camps” in Poland—in reality, extermination camps where they were killed in gas chambers.
From personal experience to collective story
The artist duo had children reenact the scenes from the play and voice actors from different generations read its lines in different languages. Wandering through the rooms, you realize that narrating history means constantly reshaping it; that every personal experience contributes to a collective story—to which every person relates differently. In this way, Friede auf Erden adds new histories to the countless stories witnessed by the walls of this house.
Souterrain — Hallway
Willet-Holthuysen House in May 1943
Photo: Amsterdam City Archives
Willet-Holthuysen House during the Second World War
Since its construction in the 17th century, around twenty families inhabited this canal house in succession—until Louisa Willet-Holthuysen bequeaths the building and its art collection to the city of Amsterdam at the end of the 19th century and the Willet-Holthuysen Museum opens.
In 1939, as the threat of war in Europe looms, the museum closes its doors to visitors. For the same reason, the construction of a bomb-proof bunker begins that year in the dunes near Castricum. Several museums, including Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, Rijksmuseum Amsterdam, Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem, and Willet-Holthuysen Museum, store their most valuable collection pieces there. Meanwhile, caretaker Dirk Arie Boer looks after the house, where rooms are still leased to the University of Amsterdam.
Into hiding
Dirk Arie lives downstairs, in the dark basement, with his wife Helena Cornet and their daughters Wally and Carla. During the war, the family provides assistance to Amsterdam’s citizens in all sorts of ways, including by hiding Jews in the house. University students routinely enter and leave the building, making it easy for people in hiding to remain anonymous.
Flight and betrayal
In 1943 the Jewish doctor Jozef (Jo) Salomon van der Hal is sheltered in the house. Following his escape from the Hollandsche Schouwburg, he is on the run. Soon thereafter, Jo is betrayed, possibly accidentally, by staff at the neighboring Italian consulate. He avoids being apprehended by hiding in the house, but cannot remain. After a lengthy period of changing hiding places and a narrow escape from the train to Westerbork, Jo survives the war—the only member of his family to do so.
Before the Second World War, the Hollandsche Schouwburg was a theater, but from July 1942 onward, the Nazis used it as a gathering point for the deportation of Jews.
Hollandsche Schouwburg in 1960
Foto: Joop van Bilsen (Spaarnestad Photo)
Resistance
The rooms on the first floor soon become home to the Institute for Social Research on the Dutch People (ISONEVO), which also serves as a cover for resistance activities. This includes secret meetings of the Resistance Council, of which the Amsterdam sculptor and resistance leader Gerrit van der Veen is an active member. Collaborating with Dirk Arie, the council provides for the distribution of food and fuel. In addition, identity papers are forged and illegal newspapers are printed within the house. Cas Oorthuys captures it all in the photographs seen in the exhibition.
Jozef (Jo) Salomon van der Hal
Jo van der Hal is a doctor at the Jewish Nursing Home when the occupying Germans threaten to close it down in 1942. Along with thousands of other Amsterdam Jews—including Grete Weil—Jo starts working for the Jewish Council, which is tasked with implementing anti-Jewish laws for the Nazis. He is appointed as a doctor at the Hollandsche Schouwburg, where he must declare people fit (or unfit) for transport. While approving his fellow Jewish citizens for deportation, Jo resists in whatever way he can, with all the associated risks. The doctors regularly get the German guards drunk, for instance, so they can free prisoners through the infirmary. Jo is arrested in 1943, however, and must stay in the building while awaiting his own deportation. Through a window in a secluded room, he manages to escape. He jumps down four meters, sneaks below the windows, and climbs over the courtyard wall. “I’m not really a very athletic person,” he recounts later, “but fearing for your life makes your body do things it normally wouldn’t be capable of.”
Basement — Kitchen
Cas Oorthuys demonstrates illegal photography in front of his house on the Amstel, 1945
Photo: Charles Breijer (Nederlands Fotomuseum)
Cas Oorthuys (1908-1975)
In the war’s final year, Cas Oorthuys takes twenty photographs of resistance activities here in the house. He has resistance members portray their occupations in their day-to-day surroundings: the front rooms of the main floor, where they are not visible from the street.
At a desk in the front room on the right side, a man forges identity papers—a task perfectly suited to artists. Others in the same room produce the illegal newspaper De Koerier. A woman melts wax for the “master” (carbon copy template) on a stove and two people print the newspaper using a stencil machine. The date is visible: April 3, 1945.
News
That day, De Koerier brings good news: “Yesterday morning a new attack was launched on Dutch territory by the 1st Canadian Army in the Betuwe!!” The young woman who operates the stencil machine and later slips a pack of newspapers into her bag might be Carla Boer, Dirk Arie’s 14-yearold daughter, who distributes the newspapers in Amsterdam on the only bicycle with wooden wheels still in the family’s possession.
The Underground Camera
Cas Oorthuys gets involved in the resistance by taking portrait photographs for forged identity papers. “I can’t recall when the resistance work began. It wasn’t a deliberate plan, we just started doing it,” he later said. In 1944, he joined De Ondergedoken Camera (The Underground Camera), a group of Amsterdam photographers who risked their own lives to document the war. It remains unclear whether he took these pictures before liberation or staged them afterwards—and why he would have done that.
Cas Oorthuys (1908-1975)
Forging identity papers during the Second World War, Amsterdam, 1944-1945
Nederlands Fotomuseum
It is often said: “The first casualty of war is the truth.” During the Second World War, simply spreading news in Amsterdam was already an act of resistance. Similar to what we are experiencing in the current conflicts in Ukraine and Palestine, providing news was difficult and dangerous during the war in the Netherlands. What and whom do you trust? Opposing sides will do everything in their power to spread confusion. Even now, 80 years after the Second World War, research is still being carried out to bring to light the truths that were violated at the time. Many people never found out what happened to their loved ones. Let alone why.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Cas Oorthuys (1908-1975)
Illegal printer, Amsterdam, 1945
Nederlands Fotomuseum
Cas Oorthuys (1908-1975)
Distribution resistance paper, Amsterdam, 1945
Girl, an active resistance member, places some copies of a resistance newspaper into a bag to distribute them.
Nederlands Fotomuseum
Principal Floor — videos: Side Room, Saloon, Pantry
After her escape, the woman gives birth to a child. The doctor reassures her.
Scène 1:
Friede auf Erden
Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen base their film Friede auf Erden on the script for the play Weihnachtslegende 1943, a symbolic story of Christmas by Grete Weil. The pregnant Jewish woman in the play is inspired by Mary, mother of Jesus. While fleeing the theater, she must leave her husband behind.
The escape occurs during a cabaret show, in which Death is the narrator. Weil is recalling the original function of the Hollandsche Schouwburg, as a place where stories are acted out for an audience. Yet she is simultaneously also referencing the sadistic Nazi custom of forcing prisoners to perform for their entertainment.
Resistance and peace
Once outside, the woman meets a doctor, a worker, and a farmer in succession, symbols for the three ideologies of the resistance: humanism, communism, and Christianity. Under their protection, the woman gives birth to a child. In conversations, the characters then reflect about the world into which this new person has been born. When the woman eventually dies, the Christian farmer continues caring for the child. It is Christmas, and the play ends with the traditional Yuletide wish: Peace on Earth. But, says the worker, “Not until we have earned it ourselves.”
History is theater
In the video work by Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen, the lines are spoken in German and several other languages, accompanied by musical interpretations. Each voice, each language, gives a different meaning to the same words. In this way, the artists emphasize the polyvocality of historiography, but also its adaptability: the past is shaped by those who recite it, who interpret it, and who observe it—like a theatrical performance.
Intermezzo: Grete Weil in her photographic studio.
Here and now
In the original play, choruses of deported Jews, Nazi troops, and even the Führer and his ministers are heard, who strike up a dialogue with Death. In their interpretation, the artists replace Hitler and his cronies with Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, and Elon Musk. The makers show how stories from the past will never crystallize in dusty textbooks. History is here and now, each day anew.
There are places where many languages are spoken. This is the case at the Rijksakademie, where we received our education and where artists come together from all over the world. It is the same with the United Nations and the European Union, organizations established to maintain peace. And so it was in the concentration camps, with prisoners from countries throughout Europe.
The goal is not necessarily to understand everything. In many cases, it is enough to know that there are stories you do not know, ones you cannot understand.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Principal Floor — Drawing Room
Chris Beekman, Self-portrait on street, 1936
Amsterdam Museum Collection
Chris Beekman (1887-1964)
Chris Beekman is a multifaceted artist and dedicated communist. In the First World War (1914–1918) he joins De Stijl, the abstract art movement of Piet Mondrian and Theo van Doesburg. But Chris is too much of a political activist and, after a dispute with the group, splits from De Stijl.
Pained by the social misery throughout Europe, from the late 1920s he starts working figuratively; his output gains a strong political charge.
Rebellious
Like fellow artist Gerrit van der Veen, Chris refuses to become a member of the Netherlands Chamber of Culture, set up by the Nazis to regulate art production. Artists who are members can more safely carry out acts of resistance, but both men are too rebellious to submit to censorship. Gerrit counters the chamber with fierce actions and mobilizes numerous colleagues; meanwhile, as a board member of artists’ organizations, Chris defends their interests. As unregistered artists, they take huge risks by forging identity papers.
Gerrit van der Veen medal
Chris helps people in hiding to get food stamps and works as a courier, traveling to Germany on behalf of the communist party. To make ends meet, he paints portraits of children for friends. He manages to create independent work as well, like the painting seen here. After the war, Chris receives the Gerrit van der Veen medal, which is based on a design by municipal sculptor Hildo Krop, for his resistance work.
The paintings are a scene. The stage is the street. Beekman depicts the public realm, but also contributes to shaping that space: a place where a community can emerge. It reminds us of protests today, which in recent years happen more frequently in the city. Beekman shows the people who are protesting, not those in power against whom the protest is aimed. They were likely watching from the canal houses that form the protest’s backdrop.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Chris Beekman (1887-1964)
Prohibited Demonstration, 1934
Chris Beekman (1887-1964)
Illegal Gathering, 1945
The Wall Street crash of 1929 plunges Europe into a grave economic crisis. Many families must survive on a meager government subsidy. The unemployed in Amsterdam are desperate. The artist is devastated, and depicts their struggle for existence in his work.
Amsterdam Museum Collection
This is perhaps the illegal communist resistance group which Hannie Schaft joined. The woman on the right bears a resemblance to her posthumous portrait, also shown here.
Amsterdam Museum Collection
Chris Beekman (1887-1964)
Unemployed at railway crossing, 1933
On the back of this canvas it states that Chris Beekman submitted this painting for the exhibition of the artists’ association De Onafhankelijken (The Independents) in 1934. The shadow of Nazi censorship was already palpable at the time. For the second time in a row, Cornelis Baard, director of the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, refused an anti-fascist painting by an artist from the association. It depicted a worker being branded with a swastika by a Nazi. Showing Unemployed at Railway Crossing was permitted.
Amsterdam Museum Collection
Chris Beekman (1887-1964)
Spring on the canal, 1946
Beekman witnessed the liberation of Amsterdam on May 5, 1945. Perhaps on that day he walked from his house in Oost to the city center to take in the spring along the canals. A new beginning.
Cultural Heritage Agency of the Netherlands
Scène 3:
Inside the Hollandsche Schouwburg, two members of the Jewish Council prepare the woman’s getaway.
Floor — Saloon (video)
Scene 4: A cabaret show is being performed at the Hollandsche Schouwburg.
Intermezzo: Death makes an unexpected catch.
Principal Floor — Saloon (video)
The woman must give up her newborn child.
Scene 6:
Upper Floor— Study
Grete Weil, 1980
Photo: Rainer Binder/ullstein bild via Getty Images
Grete Weil (1906-1999)
Margarete “Grete” Weil-Dispeker is a Jewish writer, translator, and photographer in Munich. In 1935 she flees Nazi Germany and follows her husband Edgar to Amsterdam. There she takes charge of a photo studio on Beethovenstraat. In June 1941, Edgar is detained on the street during a raid. In October, Grete receives his death notice from Mauthausen concentration camp.
Grete Weil manages to steer clear of the Nazis, thanks to her job as a typist for the Jewish Council on Nieuwe Keizersgracht, opposite the Jewish Monument today. Anyone working for the council receives a Sperre, a temporary stay of deportation.
In hiding
When the Nazis dissolve the Jewish Council in 1943, its staff is no longer exempt from persecution. During the last major raid, Grete is arrested and taken to the Hollandsche Schouwburg. She barely manages to escape deportation, and goes into hiding at Prinsengracht 257 with the help of friends.
Anti-fascism
There, in 1944, Grete becomes a member of the Hollandgruppe (Dutch unit) of Freies Deutschland. Besides combating fascism, the resistance organization seeks to raise awareness of Nazi crimes among the German population. With some success, its members convince about 60 German soldiers to desert; their weapons are handed to the Dutch resistance.
Puppet theater
Interestingly, the Hollandgruppe also runs a puppet theater. Its members perform scripts they have written themselves for others in hiding, providing a diversion for both players and audience, as well as an outlet for their hatred of the occupying Germans. Shortly after liberation, the group publishes Das gefesselte Theater – Het toneel in boeien (The Theater in Chains), a manifesto based on the notion that “the spiritual resistance against Europe’s fascist tyrants could never be eliminated.”
Grete Weil and J. van Osten, Das gefesselte Theater – Het tooneel in boeien: Hollandgruppe performs for people in hiding, 1945, printed booklet, Amsterdam Museum Collection
In their foreword, the authors write:
Why, under the most oppressive and miserable circumstances, did we have the time and energy to stage these puppet shows? […] We were not about to let the awful circumstances get us down—under any condition! And, just as it was impossible for those in hiding to visit theaters, cinemas, and concert halls, for those working illegally “in the open” to attend any cultural event occurring under the supervision… of the occupier, was obviously taboo! Precisely because of this, the need for diversion and excitement to counter the struggle was immense and irrepressible. That’s why we performed for those in hiding. We believe the plays we bring to the attention of a wider audience in this booklet, being a unique aspect of life in the resistance, deserve to be shared, and even more so because it was the anti-fascist Germans who showed they sympathized with, supported, and fought alongside the Dutch people.
In addition to explanations about the group’s resistance work, the booklet contains nine play scripts, including Grete’s Weihnachtslegende 1943 (Christmas Story 1943). It is displayed here, in the Study.
A puppet, an object, is ignorant of the role it plays. Just like we do not know what role we play in history—this is only written in hindsight. By directing the actors like puppets, an alienating effect occurs, similar to the theater of Bertolt Brecht. It is not intended to give the viewer the illusion that they are momentarily experiencing the war, or that they feel what it was like to go into hiding or be imprisoned in a camp. Our hope is to get the viewer thinking by combining different images and words, which sometimes contradict each other.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Upper Floor — Bedroom (video)
Scene 7: The woman dies.
Epilogue: Grete Weil looks back on her departure from Amsterdam.
Upper Floor — Sitting Room, Office
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection (not on display in the exhibition)
Aat Breur-Hibma and To Frank-Stolz
Portrait of To Frank-Stoltz and Aat Breur-Hibma, 1943
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
In 1940, art teacher Aat Hibma marries Krijn Breur, who fought alongside the communists in the Spanish Civil War. He is declared stateless as a result and has trouble getting a job. Because of their marriage, Aat loses her job at the business school. Fortunately, she finds work as an illustrator for the magazine Moeder en Kind (Mother and Child).
From the outset of the Second World War, both of them feel morally obliged to resist. They forge identity papers, construct time bombs, and distribute anti-fascist newspapers. They also let Jewish people hide in their home. After the birth of their second child in 1942, Aat begins working from home, painting tiles.
Arrested
Aat is still nursing her daughter Dunya when she and Krijn are betrayed and arrested. Their son Wim is sent to Krijn’s parents, but mother and baby are taken to a prison in Utrecht. Just before Aat is transported to Germany in 1943, her parents manage to get Dunya. After passing through several German prisons, Aat ends up in a terrible place: Ravensbrück women’s camp, north of Berlin.
Drawing forbidden
There, using pencil stubs on scraps of paper, she begins drawing her fellow prisoners. “Back then, I could record people,” she says later. “That kept me going.” Occasionally she makes portraits for women who know they do not have long to live—as a memento for their family. Because drawing is forbidden in the camp, Aat must keep her work hidden at all times, risking her own life in the process.
Saved
Toward the end of 1944, the Russian army is finally approaching; people in the camp know about it, too. The Nazis attempt to destroy or hide as much evidence as possible. The Swedish Red Cross is permitted to come collect prisoners from time to time. When Aat’s friend To Stoltz leaves with one of their transports, she takes Aat’s drawings with her in a self-made backpack. On the way, British airplanes fire on the column, killing several women.
A bullet hits the bag of drawings, but most of them reach Sweden unscathed.
Shortly before liberation, Aat discovers that Krijn had been shot and killed in 1943. After the war, she resumes her work as a teacher, but remains silent about her time in the camp. She finally shares her experiences in a 1980 television interview. She also shows the drawings, which she has kept all these years in a suitcase under her bed.
When we commemorate “the” Second World War, we are not only remembering a war (battalions, offensives, and maneuvers, the realm of soldiers), but also, and in particular, the systematic capture and killing of ordinary citizens for the sake of their origins, sexual orientation, or beliefs. Most of the people imprisoned at the Hollandsche Schouwburg—where Grete Weil’s puppet play and our video work are set—were eventually sent to such concentration camps. Aat Breur-Hibma made poignant drawings that provide a unique insight into the everyday lives of people at Ravensbrück. Making a drawing takes fifteen minutes, or half an hour. Someone poses, someone draws. A moment of calm and attentiveness. Each drawing is its own resistance against the restlessness of the world. And these drawings were a way to escape that as well.
— Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Aat Breur-Hibma
(1913-2002)
Dutch mother with child, Child holding her mother’s hand, 1942-1945
Between September 1944 and April 1945, more than 500 children of sixteen nationalities are born in the Ravensbrück camp. More than half die immediately or within a matter of days. Caring for those who survive is gruesome work, as there is nothing to keep them alive. The babies are laid in boxes and covered with newspapers, which the women on duty check for dead each morning.
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Women on roll call at Ravensbrück, 1942-1945
All women must report to roll call at half past five in the morning and half past five in the evening. The prisoners from each barrack stand in rows while the guards count whether everyone is present. If not, they continue searching until they find the missing prisoners and count again. It often takes hours. Particularly in winter, this is a horrible ordeal—once outside, they are not allowed to leave. In Aat’s drawing, someone is quickly tossed a pair of shoes.
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Woman at Ravensbrück drying her shirt, 1942-1945
A woman, head shaved bald, holds on to her laundered shirt as it dries. Hanging out the wash was not an option; risk of theft was too great.
Stanislava is a Polish woman on whom the camp doctors perform experiments. She and 73 other Polish women are used as Versuchskaninchen (guinea pigs). This all happens in the strictest secrecy. The other prisoners only notice that, after a while, the woman can barely walk.
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Aat
Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
German boy, Meta de Leur, 1942-1945
This boy of around 4 years old is held at Ravensbrück without his parents, together with a small group of German children of various ages. Meta de Leur, seen here and herself a prisoner, takes pity on him. In autumn 1943, the children must go on the first “Jewish transport” to the Auschwitz extermination camp. Meta has since carefully preserved his portrait, and only recently donated it to the Rijksmuseum.
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Abelone Møkster from Norway, 1942-1945
Before ending up at the Ravensbrück camp,
Abelone Møkster lived on the island of Møkster, near Bergen, Norway. There she ran a shop selling nautical supplies and helped the resistance. Although her gray hair put her in danger of being declared “unfit for work” and gassed, she survived the war.
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Upper Floor — Sitting Room, Office
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Portrait of the Frenchwoman Haïdi Hautval in profile, 1942-1945
Adelaïde (Haïdi) Hautval studies medicine at the University of Strasbourg. When she speaks out against the mistreatment of Jews in 1942, she is arrested. In 1943 the Nazis send her to Auschwitz; doctors are needed in the sick barracks, but Haïdi refuses to cooperate in Josef Mengele’s gruesome experiments. She is sent to Ravensbrück in 1944, where she treats Aat, who is ill, and saves her life.
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Portrait of the Frenchwoman Haïdi Hautval, 1942-1945
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Corpses on the stone floor of the Waschraum, 1942-1945
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Upper Floor — Sitting Room, Office
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
A woman from Ravensbrück whose head was crushed by an iron beam, 1942-1945
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Aat Breur-Hibma (1913-2002)
Deceased covered with a coat, 1942-1945
Rijksmuseum Amsterdam Collection
Afterimage:
…a man sets off. Because of the sun, he cannot see where he is going.
Credits film Friede auf Erden
Directors
Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen
Camera
Witte van Hulzen
Music composition
Sander Breure
Production
Titus Nouwens
Lighting
Arjen Seykens – 50hz Lighting
Costumes
Sjo Schütt
Sound design
Arnoud Traa – De Auditieve Dienst
Color grading Amator
Assistent editor
Seán Hannan
Production support
Loïs Richard, Ela Kolb, Eline van der Steen, Thijs Vlootman
Actors
Elsie de Brauw, Pitou Gomes, Luca Hillen, Dalí Broertjes, Eren Centintas, Cecilia Di Natale, Gwenn Hoogenstrijd, Dilara Idriz, Oona Longo, Bojan Martina, Lina Matahariku Tomesen, Zoï Vogeas, Limeni Weemhoff, Ludmila Wijnands, Ada Yatmaz, Ilgın Yamaç
Music performers
Chloë Abbott, Harald Austbø, Kaat van Haverbeke, Paul Koek
Narrators
Ali T. As’ad, Matthias Braun, Alondra Castellanos Arreola, Nirit Peled, Tanya Vronska, Limeni Weemhoff, Seyhan Yamaç
Property of tegenboschvanvreden
Colophon publication
Texts
Sander Breure, Witte van Hulzen, Titus Nouwens, Thijs Boers, Marie Baarspul
Text editing
Jet Doedel, Marie Baarspul
This publication was produced to accompany the solo exhibition of Sander Breure and Witte van Hulzen, “Friede auf Erden”, Art and War at the Willet-Holthuysen House (april 18 — november 9, 2025).
Amsterdam Museum has made every effort to obtain appropriate permission to present the material shown here. However, the nature of this material is such that in some cases we were unable to find the identity or location of the rights owners. For inquiries relating to these rights, please contact Amsterdam Museum.
