When I Was You
A conversation with collector Bob van Eerd
Over the past fifty years, two psychotherapists in the Netherlands have built up an impressive collection of contemporary art. The Chabot Museum in Rotterdam recently invited them to present 61 works from their collection in dialogue with some pieces from the museum collection. The result is an exhibition about humanity: about fear and loss, but also about courage and the power to transform, to find beauty and unity in life. Jurriaan Benschop traveled to Rotterdam to meet with collector Bob van Eerd and visit the exhibition When I Was You.
Among collectors there seems to be a high percentage of psychoanalysts. Is art something that fits the mind of a psychologist?
I don’t know about the numbers, but it is certainly possible. I was trained in the psychoanalytic school, which implies that you must have a connection with the unconscious or subconscious, as the theory is based on the premise that those forces are important in people’s lives. Just as in art. Many writers who publish novels are asked in interviews if their work is autobiographical. From an analytical point of view, this goes without saying. Everything is autobiographical to some extent, but that does not mean that it is on a conscious level or that it can be specifically traced.
You collect art, which is mostly objects, but you are (or have been, in your profession) also a collector of stories. Which came first?
I started buying art during the one year that I studied at the art academy, before I switched to psychology. It turned out that I did not have the genetic disposition to be an artist, which requires the ability to work in a soloistic way in the studio. Yet in that one year, I acquired my first works of art, a trade with fellow students whom I knew very well. Three of them I still meet sometimes, or I have reconnected to after many years. It was also during that time that my wife Annelies saw the first works I collected. We both developed careers as psychotherapists, and through time, this allowed us to collect more and sometimes also buy works by established artists, mostly from the Netherlands and Belgium.
Reinoud van Vught. Dying Sunflowers. 2023
The experience of being a thinking, feeling, and conscious human being seems to be a central thread in the exhibition. Walking through it, I felt that there were a lot of different sensibilities and temperaments presented. It is an existential exhibition, but not necessarily in a heavy-handed way. This variety of temperaments is something, I imagine, you have also encountered in your professional practice. I wonder, apart from the parallels, what the differences are. Does art give you something that you could never bring to light in a (psychoanalytic) conversation?
When you have a good piece of art, it emanates a special energy, whether it is a small drawing or a big painting. It is not like a story, which is something that unfolds over time. In a story, one word leads to another, and thus new meanings are added or created. A painting like those in this exhibition works differently. It is more like a metaphor; it can stand for a lot of other things, for things that do not need to unfold in a linear way. In my therapy room, there was always a work of art – for instance, Marc Mulders’s Delphiniums (2007) or a vase with tulips by Guido Geelen (both present in the exhibition). I never pointed to the works as part of the therapy, but without a doubt they contributed to the atmosphere in the treatment room, giving positive energy through color and form. The presence of the artworks was also an expression of care; the environment was not clinical or cheaply decorated. It was a space that was taken care of.
Jenetta De Konink. Kop en Vrouw. 2025. Oil on canvas
Walking around, I see not just the works of art but also the multiple decisions involved in acquiring works as a collector. I am curious about that moment when you want to have a work. When do you know, and what is it that you are looking for?
The decisions come in various ways; there are many reasons to buy a work of art. With the big canvas of Jenetta de Konink, Kop en Vrouw (2025), it was an immediate feeling: “What a strong work.” Understanding was not really there, and “getting it” often only comes over years. It is interesting that you buy something in five minutes, but the appreciation of the work develops over a long time.
Another example: When buying the painting with sunflowers by Reinoud van Vught, Dode Zonnebloemen (2023), I did not know about the story behind it, about his deceased son, which was the incentive for the artist to make the work – or at least, it was painted during a time of loss. I felt the power of the work without knowing where the artist got it from.
Nour-Eddine Jarram. Het Weerzien. 2014. Gouache on paper
The choice to buy the work of Eva Spierenburg was more because it mirrored an aspect of myself. One of the small drawings, Staying as a Stone (2016), shows a figure being rolled up in a bird nest sort of situation, which resonates with my own vulnerability. But it doesn’t have to be a personal connection. In the work of Nour-Eddine Jarram, I was impressed by the technique. It is a series of drawings of refugees from Africa. I don’t know that experience personally – I went for the virtuosity. To paint with black, such a difficult color, and then to get the person so present, as in Het Weerzien (2024), that impressed me.
Eva Spierenburg. Staying as a stone. 2016. Ink and pencil on paper
As a collector, do you feel a responsibility to follow the artist? Do you engage in a longer-term relationship?
Not in general. We also don’t have the means for that, but in some cases it does happen. In 1993, when I first saw a work by Marc Mulders at the Museum The Pont, I was very moved. It started with that work depicting red roses. I did not know the name of the artist, but I wanted to see more. I asked to get in touch with him, and two weeks later I was in his studio in an old cloister school in Tilburg. I came out with my first painting. Since then, we have bought something every year from him. But this is an exceptional case; it became a personal friendship. Marc presents himself modestly, and he is a generous person. But as an artist, he is a level apart; he has such a special drive to create.
Marc Mulders. Delphiniums. 2007. Oil on canvas
One of the highlights in the exhibition for me is a painting by Hannah van Bart, The Man, The Trees, The Light (2013), showing a figure in a green jacket looking at the viewer. The color of the jacket continues in the background which, for that very reason, stops being just the background. In Van Bart’s work, it is as much about the figure in space as it is about space and light within the figure. Her work has a sharp edge, and we see a particular character with his slightly squinting eyes. The work also echoes early 20th-century French painting in how color and the figure are treated. How did you acquire this work?
I saw a studio visit with the artist on Dutch television, where the work was shown. I was immediately interested. It turned out not to be so easy to visit the artist in the studio, so the first contact went through her gallery in New York, where the work was scheduled to be shown. With the gallery, I came to an agreement by mail, and then I flew into New York for a weekend to attend the opening and meet with the artist. Later she had a solo show in Amelisweerd, in the Netherlands, and we met again.
Hannah van Bart. The Man, The Trees, The Light.. 2013. Oil on canvas
The title of this exhibition reads like an invitation to shift the perspective from yourself to the other: When I Was You. It alludes to the meeting, through art, of two souls, or a moment of merging. Isn’t that exactly what you used to do as a therapist, to make this shift and imagine being your patient to understand his or her situation?
We didn’t choose the title like that, but it is true. Empathic moments are important, but as a therapist you need to disconnect after making such contact. You should not merge with your patient. You have to connect the experience or observation to the theory, to the concepts that you apply to all of your patients. Empathy is something that can also be given by friends, whereas the role of the therapist is different. You follow the patient, but it is crucial that you start to understand the experiences in a different way than he or she does. You can compare the work with that of a surgeon. You need to cut to make the body better. To cut with words, in a conversation, can have a big impact. It can create a lot of misery. Therefore, timing is of the utmost importance. You cannot just hammer through somebody’s natural resistance – that would damage the patient. So in the whole process, moments of empathy are important.
Hans Klein Hofmeijer. Een lekkende gedachte. 2024
There are two intimate drawings in the show by Hans Klein Hofmeijer, one of them showing “the leaking thought.” The work seems psychological in character, delving into the hidden depths of our thoughts and imagination. I wonder if for you to appreciate an artwork, it needs to have some psychological edge, a certain depth or difficulty. Maybe it should even hurt a bit, to make it interesting as an artwork?
I have a tendency towards the melancholic; that seems to be my underlying disposition. Many of my feelings touch upon melancholy. That is probably why certain artworks or books resonate with me.
This exhibition presents a wide range of human existence, including aspects such as isolation and alienation, but also the merging of people, (as in Elly Strik’s work (2011-15), that gave the show its title), or radiance and joy. I wouldn’t say the exhibition proposes art as something that is healing or that makes people better, but it clearly affects the mood. The underlying material might be difficult, but the artists transform it into something to enjoy. I felt energized by visiting the exhibition.
I agree; there are heavy topics and intense works. But many people come out of the exhibition feeling joyful. One person called it an elegant exhibition. This makes me happy. We see art as an offer of beauty and comfort, but also as a place to meet, an encounter.
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When I Was You is on view at the Chabot Museum in Rotterdam till March 29th, 2026
Title image: Annelies en Bob van Eerd. Photo by Tomas Mutsaers
