In the dark night of the Veluwezoom
Diana Ramaekers is a visual artist, teacher of artistic research at the Maastricht Academy of Fine Arts and researcher for the What Art Knows lectureship. She studied in Maastricht and at the Art Academy in Düsseldorf with Professor Nan Hoover. For over thirty years she has been fascinated by light and in recent years she has also been captured by darkness.
At Station Ellecom, art and nature come together in an ongoing dialogue. During the residency Give the earth a voice I stayed in the studios of Station Ellecom from Sept. 8 to Oct. 5, in collaboration with interdisciplinary artist and organizer Robin Weijers.
Four years ago, one book changed my view of light: Licht aus!? by biologist and researcher Annette Krop-Benesch. Her confrontational description of global light pollution even made me question my work as a light artist. After a period of reflection, I asked myself a new question: can a light artist advocate for darkness? Can I become an ambassador for the night? The answer became a resounding yes. A visit to the Dark Sky Park Lauwersmeer in 2024 marked the beginning of my research into deep darkness, a quest I continued at Station Ellecom, on the edge of the Veluwezoom.
What happens when we consciously seek out the dark? What does the night reveal when we approach it with open senses? What is darkness when the light disappears; is it a different kind of presence? These questions formed the core of my residency. Robin Weijers facilitated my stay in the recently renovated Ellecom School, surrounded by forest and autumn light. After a warm welcome, this became my new workplace for a month. I found an unexpected ally in Alderman Paul Hofman of the municipality of Rheden, an advocate of biodiversity and reducing light pollution in the region. Thanks to his tenacity, Robin and I were able to conduct research several nights around the new moon at Koepel de Kaap near the Posbank nature reserve at times when darkness is at its deepest.
In the Forest of Springs, we were accompanied by bats and a moment later by a fox that cautiously crossed our path
The first day was all about landing, listening and letting the place speak for itself. In the Bronnenbos, a beautiful nature reserve next to Ellecom Station, we were accompanied by bats and a little later by a fox that cautiously crossed our path. Our exploration was the prelude to the evening walk with residents in a few days: a journey in which slowing down, attention and sensory perception were central.
It is valuable to have a sounding board during a work residency; someone with whom I can tune into the research. Often I start out full of plans, but here in particular it proved meaningful to work small and clear. During the evening walk, I noticed how I needed to let go of my teaching. In the dark I am not an explainer but a guide: someone who makes space for listening, smelling and feeling, for the subtle shifts between open field and forest darkness.
It is valuable to have a sounding board during a work residency
Afterwards, we shared our experiences over a cup of hot tea. Again and again it is surprising how differently people tune in to the dark. In that exchange, a collective gaze emerges, shaped by individual nighttime explorations.
During the day, I walk through the hillside forest behind Ellecom Station, take a bat excursion and document my observations. My watching is done through different ‘lenses’: my own eyes, the camera, tablet and phone. That mediated viewing became an integral part of my research. I printed the first results in the library in Dieren, where the printer spat out dark colors; in the studio, I organized and reflected on these visual traces.
Together we explored the deep layers and obfuscations of true darkness
In the second week, I received word that the magazine was New Veluwe include my research in a theme issue on light pollution and true darkness, a fitting form of exposure for a subject that is precisely hiding in the dark. During the Open Monuments Weekend in mid-September, I had many special conversations with visitors about what darkness does to them. Most meaningful was my conversation with environmental and climate philosopher Dennis Hamer, who in August presented the Listening Sessions for Earthlings organized as part of the residency program at Station Ellecom. Together we explored the deep layers and obscurities of true darkness; a conversation that opened new spaces of thought about what the night, the not knowing, the invisible can teach us.
During a month-long work period, you inevitably run into setbacks: an SD card that won't empty, technology that refuses or the weather that doesn't cooperate. Rain that descends precisely when you want to explore the darkness. But these very obstacles turn out to be essential parts of my research: moments I must learn to turn into something useful. Soon I notice that patience is perhaps my most important tool. That same week another work meeting with Robin follows, this time with good news: we have received permission from the municipality of Rheden to go to Koepel de Kaap a day earlier than planned for our nocturnal research. The weather forecast did not predict much good for the weekend so we set out on Friday.
Well before dusk, we pack our gear, load the bikes with cameras and tripods and set off toward viewpoint Koepel de Kaap, on the edge of Veluwezoom National Park. After sunset, this area is closed to visitors so as not to disturb nature and wildlife. It therefore feels special that we do have this privilege; there is a pleasant tension in the air. We deliberately choose to arrive before dusk so that we can quietly set up with all the equipment at a spot just outside the viewpoint. What happens next is overwhelming. Nature slowly stills, colors shift, at first almost imperceptibly, then deeper and deeper, until they dissolve into darkness. In that transition, dusk takes the form of a dark heavenly vault that closes around us and embraces us, as it were. Sounds take over: the calls of owls, rustling of small forest animals, the deep belling of a deer and even the presence of wild boar imposes itself on us. It is exciting and beautiful at the same time. And then the stars appear. I haven't seen this many in years; last seen in Lauwersmeer, near the Wadden Islands.
Nature slowly stills, colors shift, at first almost imperceptibly, then deeper and deeper, until they dissolve into darkness
In all the enchantment of that beautiful starry night, we both work in different places; each in his own concentration on the research. With all kinds of equipment, I explore the darkness; I deploy different ‘eyes’ to register the night in its nuances. With TimeLapse, I record the twilight transforming from subdued light to inky darkness. It remains amazing how much you can see in the dark, what darkness does to you in silence and seclusion, in the middle of nature. After several hours of observations, we return home.
A brief encounter with a rotund wild boar added to the excitement. We even got to have this special experience one more time, which allowed us to refine our observations.
The last week is all about reflecting, organizing and selecting: choosing work for prints on paper, collecting drawings, gathering video material and finalizing the editing. Together we agree on where the video installations will come into their own. The first contours of the Opening Weekend are emerging at Ellecom Station. During that weekend we will look back on the entire residency period in which all artists will be featured. A beautiful opening with a very interested audience. Robin and Alderman Paul Hofman look back on an impressive working period, with darkness as the main actor.
It was an exhilarating, exciting and wonderful month where I was allowed to spend time in solitude and tune into the deep darkness
At home I let all the impressions of my research sink in again; to digest them, let them sink in and give them a place in my work and my thinking. It was an enervating, exciting and wonderful month in which I was able to stay in seclusion and tune into the deep darkness of the Veluwezoom.
And honestly: I am already longing for a new nighttime adventure.
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