Connected Worlds of Bruges
Peter Frankopan and Jan Dumolyn
Published by Hannibal Books to coincide with “Bigger Picture. Connected Worlds of Bruges 900–1550,” an exhibition at the new art hall BRUSK in Bruges until September 6.
As part of the constant flow of luminaries in and out of the cultural and commercial hub of 16th-century Bruges, Henry VIII sent Thomas More there in 1515 as part of a diplomatic mission to settle trade and financial disputes.
His visit to Flanders was also when More began his classic work “Utopia”.
He started writing in Antwerp, now a far more significant commercial trade centre, but in the infectiously pro-Bruges spirit of “Connected Worlds of Bruges”, his visit to the city, which had yet to cede its importance, surely also informed what are described as More’s reflections on “ideal forms of government and obligations of rulers to promote justice, virtue and the common good”.
Bruges, it says, was at the peak of its importance as “the beating heart of European trade networks” and the “de facto financial capital of northern Europe”.
“Utopia” can be interpreted as “no place” or “good place” and More implies ideal society is elusive, if not impossible. If Bruges were the inspiration, the good deeds of its ostensibly religious civic leaders were inseparable from the murkier realities of their worldly status.
The unambiguous joy is what remains in the form of the art and artefacts that reflect the rise and fall of Bruges and its rise again as a magnet for tourists from all over the world.
We begin in the wild early times when the North Sea was being transformed from a “frontier of danger” into a corridor for trade and travel.
Bruges, showing an early flair for turning disaster into opportunity, found it could capitalise on better connections to the North Sea after a devastating storm surge that wiped out villages also created the Zwin.
Centuries of silting mean the Zwin is now a nature park, but then it had become a large new tidal channel that linked Bruges to the sea.
The connection turned Bruges into a centre of international exchange with a population estimated to be 50,000 by 1300 – enormous by the standards of the time.
The book and exhibition dazzle us with the artistry that accompanied the rise of Bruges as gift-giving oiled the wheels of trade and portraits confirmed the standing of the traders.
Throughout, religion had a complex and central role.
During the violent exchanges of the ninth-century Vikings raids, the native population looked to Christianity for protection.
Bruges’ leaders then turned to it for legitimacy. Baldwin II – son-in-law of King Alfred of Britain – was the first to significantly fortify Bruges and establish it as a centre of power. He also fortified his own position by arranging for the relics of St Donatian to be brought to Bruges. There they were enshrined in the Church of St Donatian and Donatian became the city’s patron saint.
So far so good, but as Bruges fostered worldly and spiritual ambition, for the most devout of Flanders, or at least those who wished to appear to be so, local relics were not enough. Those with the means made pilgrimages to a Jerusalem that loomed ever larger in the Flemish culture and imagination.
Among them, Anselm Adornes (1424-83), stands out as one of the merchant diplomats who shaped Bruges, simultaneously embracing religion, trade and worldly connections.
A merchant of Genovese origin whose family wealth came from the alum trade, he described Bruges as “a university of commerce”.
The family chapel he remodelled after a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to evoke the Holy Sepulchre still stands as much a demonstration of his worldly success as of his piety.
In the end, he was snatched from the world prematurely when a diplomatic mission took him to Scotland where he was murdered.
Anselm Adornes’ major legacy is the Jerusalem chapel, but some of his peers were busy having their worldly and spiritual status captured in portraits painted by the major talents Bruges nurtured.
Another of Bruges’ notables Maarten van Nieuwenhove is known today above all because he was the donor in Hans Memling’s diptych “The Virgin and Child with Maarten van Nieuwehove” (1487).
One panel depicts the Virgin and Child, the other van Nieuwenhove in all his finery, but also with his hands in a position of prayer.
A generation before Memling, Jan van Eyck’s subjects included his wife Margaret in one of the earliest known – and believably realistic – European portraits of a painter’s wife.
Another of Bruges’ claims to primacy that the book and exhibition explore is whether it was the cradle of medieval capitalism in Europe. In examining the arguments, we gain insight into its networks, often fostered by wealthier brokers who owned the hostels where the international traders stayed. Information was also exchanged at the “Beursplein”, but it was not a modern bourse in that no company shares were up for sale.
The conclusion is that it was one of the cradles. Ultimately Britain has a stronger claim, for better or worse, to having been the birthplace of capitalism during the industrial revolution.
By then, the French poet Baudelaire was declaring Bruges “a phantom town, a mummified town, just about preserved”. This book and exhibition in the brand new BRUSK, which will certainly draw visitors from everywhere, categorically refute that dismissal.
Barbara Lewis © 2026.
Connected Worlds of Bruges
Peter Frankopan and Jan Dumolyn
Published by Hannibal Books to coincide with “Bigger Picture. Connected Worlds of Bruges 900–1550,” an exhibition at the new art hall BRUSK in Bruges until September 6.
As part of the constant flow of luminaries in and out of the cultural and commercial hub of 16th-century Bruges, Henry VIII sent Thomas More there in 1515 as part of a diplomatic mission to settle trade and financial disputes.
His visit to Flanders was also when More began his classic work “Utopia”.
He started writing in Antwerp, now a far more significant commercial trade centre, but in the infectiously pro-Bruges spirit of “Connected Worlds of Bruges”, his visit to the city, which had yet to cede its importance, surely also informed what are described as More’s reflections on “ideal forms of government and obligations of rulers to promote justice, virtue and the common good”.
Bruges, it says, was at the peak of its importance as “the beating heart of European trade networks” and the “de facto financial capital of northern Europe”.
“Utopia” can be interpreted as “no place” or “good place” and More implies ideal society is elusive, if not impossible. If Bruges were the inspiration, the good deeds of its ostensibly religious civic leaders were inseparable from the murkier realities of their worldly status.
The unambiguous joy is what remains in the form of the art and artefacts that reflect the rise and fall of Bruges and its rise again as a magnet for tourists from all over the world.
We begin in the wild early times when the North Sea was being transformed from a “frontier of danger” into a corridor for trade and travel.
Bruges, showing an early flair for turning disaster into opportunity, found it could capitalise on better connections to the North Sea after a devastating storm surge that wiped out villages also created the Zwin.
Centuries of silting mean the Zwin is now a nature park, but then it had become a large new tidal channel that linked Bruges to the sea.
The connection turned Bruges into a centre of international exchange with a population estimated to be 50,000 by 1300 – enormous by the standards of the time.
The book and exhibition dazzle us with the artistry that accompanied the rise of Bruges as gift-giving oiled the wheels of trade and portraits confirmed the standing of the traders.
Throughout, religion had a complex and central role.
During the violent exchanges of the ninth-century Vikings raids, the native population looked to Christianity for protection.
Bruges’ leaders then turned to it for legitimacy. Baldwin II – son-in-law of King Alfred of Britain – was the first to significantly fortify Bruges and establish it as a centre of power. He also fortified his own position by arranging for the relics of St Donatian to be brought to Bruges. There they were enshrined in the Church of St Donatian and Donatian became the city’s patron saint.
So far so good, but as Bruges fostered worldly and spiritual ambition, for the most devout of Flanders, or at least those who wished to appear to be so, local relics were not enough. Those with the means made pilgrimages to a Jerusalem that loomed ever larger in the Flemish culture and imagination.
Among them, Anselm Adornes (1424-83), stands out as one of the merchant diplomats who shaped Bruges, simultaneously embracing religion, trade and worldly connections.
A merchant of Genovese origin whose family wealth came from the alum trade, he described Bruges as “a university of commerce”.
The family chapel he remodelled after a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to evoke the Holy Sepulchre still stands as much a demonstration of his worldly success as of his piety.
In the end, he was snatched from the world prematurely when a diplomatic mission took him to Scotland where he was murdered.
Anselm Adornes’ major legacy is the Jerusalem chapel, but some of his peers were busy having their worldly and spiritual status captured in portraits painted by the major talents Bruges nurtured.
Another of Bruges’ notables Maarten van Nieuwenhove is known today above all because he was the donor in Hans Memling’s diptych “The Virgin and Child with Maarten van Nieuwehove” (1487).
One panel depicts the Virgin and Child, the other van Nieuwenhove in all his finery, but also with his hands in a position of prayer.
A generation before Memling, Jan van Eyck’s subjects included his wife Margaret in one of the earliest known – and believably realistic – European portraits of a painter’s wife.
Another of Bruges’ claims to primacy that the book and exhibition explore is whether it was the cradle of medieval capitalism in Europe. In examining the arguments, we gain insight into its networks, often fostered by wealthier brokers who owned the hostels where the international traders stayed. Information was also exchanged at the “Beursplein”, but it was not a modern bourse in that no company shares were up for sale.
The conclusion is that it was one of the cradles. Ultimately Britain has a stronger claim, for better or worse, to having been the birthplace of capitalism during the industrial revolution.
By then, the French poet Baudelaire was declaring Bruges “a phantom town, a mummified town, just about preserved”. This book and exhibition in the brand new BRUSK, which will certainly draw visitors from everywhere, categorically refute that dismissal.
Barbara Lewis © 2026.
By Barbara Lewis • added recently on London Grip, art, art archive, books, exhibitions, history • Tags: art, art archive, Barbara Lewis, books, exhibitions, history