Le Trinkhall est ouvert

Dès mercredi, 2 décembre, le Trinkhall ouvre à nouveau ses portes. Nous en sommes très heureux et nous réjouissons de vous retrouver en nos murs. Puisse le musée faire doucement obstacle aux mélancolies qui, en ces temps d’incertitude, s’insinuent dans nos vies et nous laissent orphelins d’un commun véritable.

Réservation souhaitée

Alain Meert et Patrick Marczewski, Le musée idéal, technique mixte, 290 x 185 x 80 cm , 2019. Atelier : Créahm Liège (BE) ©M.Thies/collection trinkhallmuseum


The Ideal Museum is a piece created throughout 2019 by one of the leading artists of the Créahm workshops, Alain Meert, in preparation for the opening of the Trinkhall. The artist answered our question - What is a museum? - with a galleon in full sail, which casually displays drawings, paintings and sculptures. It is a scene of paper, cardboard, objects, multiple unusual and familiar presences, lodged precisely between states of consciousness. The whole world that fits into a boat: Alain Meert's ark. And it is a museum, just as we want it to be, dreamily navigating among ideas, shapes and emotions. Ship Lieutenant Alain Meert is a pirate. So, let’s all climb aboard with a heave ho!

Trinkhall Newsletter

No one knows exactly what has happened to us. One morning, we woke up and the world had turned upside down. After more than ten years of effort and upheaval, the renovation of our building was finally complete. The museum was due to open its doors in early spring, in the heart of the Parc d'Avroy in Liège. We were really excited and full of enthusiasm. However, the museum doors remained closed: on March 18, 2020, at midday, the country and, shortly afterwards, the whole world was in lockdown! It was one year ago to the day - one day or an eternity. Spring was incredibly lonely. The Trinkhall was an island. We were like the Swiss Family Robinson. In early summer, when some of our first visitors landed, we were quite stunned. They were castaways like us, bringing news of other islands where they were stranded. The world had become a huge archipelago of endless, measly loneliness. We welcomed our visitors with great kindness and a sense of formality and seriousness. We had taken the time to live on our island which we had not left for months, gradually becoming more familiar with its richness, species and diversity. It had completely transformed the intensity of our encounters. We exchanged words like castaways. 

We listened to the radio, we read the newspapers, we closely followed the coherence and disorder of the responses to the crisis. In the reigning confusion, could we have felt any better informed? But we were sometimes confronted with impatient requests for the world to go back to how it was before, to this normality which we viewed as more and more blinkered and fake. It had taken great effort to reach our status as castaways and we had hardly considered the impact: Did we want to, once again, rob ourselves of what this had taught us to recognise? We welcomed our visitors, we exchanged the words of castaways and, above all, we held together everything that they were showing us of our islands and huts. We knew that we were privileged, part of a select few “cultural institutions,” - museums had been authorised to reopen their doors! - but we did not want to use this privilege to fly the flag of an identical world to "before," where culture was often so sadly reduced to the state of a consumer product, a commodity, a source of entertainment, a pantomime, leaving us, despite appearances, orphans of an authentic shared experience. 

On our island, as disciples of the works we house, sharing the words of castaways, lost but alive in the immense archipelago of loneliness, we feel, more than ever, connected and responsible, both enthusiastic and worried. We are experiencing the concept of being "situated," in the sense that we have defined the notion of situated arts, but now with such increased necessity and density! We are being carried away by the places where we are confined, which show us the extent of our boundaries, i.e. both the limitations and distance, being anchored down and taking flight, even the idea that we are showing artistic expression: the movement of an arrow and its unspecified target; our principle of existence: both “being there” and being propelled “out of ourselves.”


Sincerely yours,

Carl Havelange


the museum's partners
Ville de liège Province de Liège Culture Province de Liège Culture WBI AVIQ Loterie La première Université de Liège Fnrs la liberté de chercher