The Red Gnome: Fortuna Vlieland and Brand brew an ode to the lighthouse
And Maartje Wortel wrote a poem to go with it
2026
News
DATE
For the sixth year in a row, Brouwerij Fortuna and Brand are joining forces to brew a beer especially for Into The Great Wide Open. After the Vlierefluiter, the Zeevonkje, Vuurduin, the Wanda Weizen, and the Tijbreker, there is now the Rode Kabouter. A fruity summer beer, named after the lighthouse on the Vlieland horizon - soon to be tasted at the bar at the festival. Writer Maartje Wortel traveled to Vlieland and described her encounter with this wonderful phenomenon.
Where we should look for it
The light from the lantern room is/isn't there every two seconds.
When it is there, you are/aren't home.
Two seconds. Land. Two seconds. Sea.
In the light/dark of the lighthouse, you do/don't see a red gnome in the sand.
This exists/doesn't exist.
The red gnome asks if you will come up/down the path with him. You think of people/animals/forces/things/ that have lured you up/down the path. And whether that did/didn't mean luck.
It is said that you must listen to this voice, because otherwise you will/won't get lost.
Someone says: I am already lost.
Another says: I am never lost. The red gnome says: they are both right and that his patience is now exhausted, and whether you are/aren't coming with him now.
You do/don't walk behind him through the forest. Animal sounds. A falling branch. The red gnome asks if you can stop with that yes/no business, with those maddening choices, that way nothing ever really becomes a story, he says. It starts or it doesn't start. From that remark of his, you do/don't prove yourself right.
You, in turn, ask the red gnome if he can stop being a red gnome. A counter-reaction: he says if I stop being a red gnome, I am still here.
You meant it differently. You wanted to say that the way you exist is a choice. You do/do not do/think/be something. To cease to exist means you have no options left.
The red gnome gets pissed off and does/doesn't stomp his feet on the ground. Everything exists, it is said, and is always everywhere. Even if you don't believe me, he says. He points to the lighthouse.
A curtain slides for two seconds in front/not in front of the lamp. The island appears. The island disappears. Meanwhile, you do/don't stay where you are and say that someone like the red gnome is, for example, a/no danger to society.
You can wish me away, but then I'm still here, says the red gnome.
He seems to have had enough of you.
Reality is beneath your feet, he says, and does/doesn't walk away from you.
You do/don't let him go.
You do/don't understand what awaits you. Wherever you end up: You will always/never get away.
Two seconds. There you are. Two seconds. Not.
