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A large mask-like face. A fragment to be precise. Made of bronze with a dark green surface. It stands out, so on top of a white dune top. That was also the intention. When it was placed in 1994, Igor Mitoraj's Light of the Moon was intended to draw attention to the then new, invisible museum 'Beelden aan Zee' underneath. The sculpture not only indicates the location. It also explains what the museum is about: modern and contemporary (inter)national sculpture with the theme of the human figure in all its facets.

Surrounded by sand and beach grass, the monumental sculpture by the Polish-German sculptor Mitoraj has an alienating effect. It could be a find from classical antiquity. But on closer inspection, it becomes clear that the sculpture is modern. The size of the mask and the classical perfection are magnified, the fragmentation is not accidental but carefully chosen. Inspired by images from antiquity, Mitoraj gives an entirely personal interpretation of the beauty ideals of the time.

He also adds decay and ageing. For example, Light of the Moon appears to be damaged. Of a complete face, only eyes, nose and mouth remain. Other of his sculptures have a crumbled surface as if they were subjected to a long ageing process. And there are bandaged heads made of marble and bronze. Here the artist refers to human suffering and his own youth. He was born in Dresden during the Second World War and as a baby narrowly survived a bombing of the city.

Perhaps that is why melancholy and stillness regularly creep into his work. Closed eyes dominate a face. A warrior hangs his head. A fallen bunting, sometimes with an engraving or with a recess in which a small sculpture has been placed, a hand encloses an ankle with a foot; the fragments of a body. As if he wants to say: man is vulnerable.