Abbey-Roads2

Or what not to say at an opening. 

Joachim Cardinal Meisner recently criticised degenerate art and culture at the blessing of the Diocesan Art Museum, the Kolumba, in Cologne.  His statements seemed to upset some of the German elite - it seems his choice of words reminded them of the Nazi regime’s contempt for degenerate modern art.  (Making a quick connection here - I wonder if this indicates that the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church is fascist?)  Anyway, the following is what the Cardinal said:

Cologne, Germany - A German Catholic archbishop triggered a storm in Germany Friday with an attack on irreligious culture. Cardinal Joachim Meisner was speaking at the blessing of his archdiocese’s new art museum, the Kolumba, in the heart of
Cologne.

“Wherever culture separates from the worship of God, the cult atrophies in ritualism and the art becomes degenerate,” he said.

Blunt criticism of art is rare in Germany, which still remembers how the Nazis pilloried the art they did not like as “degenerate.”

The use of the same term by the outspoken churchman brought him rebukes… - EARTHtimes.org 

I wonder if he could say something more about the degenerative design influences in neo-Catholic churches and chapels in his country and around the world?  Or the degenerative artistic novelties in many of the Novus Ordo liturgies that have been ‘celebrated’ throughout Germany and elsewhere over the years?  Or maybe he was doing that in his critique of the Museum? 

Painting: “Aspects of Suburban Life” - Paul Cadmus. 

I guess I’m one of those moderns, as Chesterton would say.  I love realist art - showing warts and all - he didn’t.  From Dale Ahlquist:

“There is no such thing as art for art’s sake.  Chesterton says, ‘Philosophy is always present in a work of art.’  And the artistic philosophy that he subscribes to is Romanticism, as opposed to Realism.  Now, ‘isms’ are irritating, and usually difficult to keep track of, so we should know when Chesterton uses the term, ‘Realism’ it is not in reference to highly finished representational renderings, which he admires, but to an artistic philosophy that emphasizes the dark and dirty - and detachment from the eternal.  Realism claims to be: Life, warts and all.  But what Realism really is, is: Warts as life.  The realists claim to be holding up the mirror to nature, but then they start believing only the mirror, even after they have broken it.” - Common Sense 101

Fine.  It was his birthday yesterday and I’m glad I didn’t give him one of my paintings.  (Yes Joe, it would have been the seminary painting.) 

In the 1960’s it would have been referred to as a ‘happening’.  Today it is art.

Pictured: A previous ”exhibition” of the artist’s work - naked people paving an avenue.

A record 18,000 people took off their clothes to pose for U.S. photographic artist Spencer Tunick on Sunday in Mexico City’s Zocalo square, the heart of the ancient Aztec empire. - Reuters 

Spencer Tunick does this stuff.

Pictured: Today’s “exhibition” in Mexico City.

“This event proves that really we’re not such a conservative society anymore. We’re freeing ourselves of taboos,” said Fabiola Herrera, a 30-year-old university professor who volunteered to strip, along with her boyfriend. - Reuters 

Pictured, a Conceptionist nun.

In the autumn of 2005 the Smithsonian held an exhibition of “retratos” or Latin American portraiture, included amongst the collection were portraits of Crowned Nuns.

Popular in Mexico during the Viceregal period in the 17th and 18th centuries, many nuns were depicted as the royal bride of Christ before making their profession in an enclosed monastery.  It was especially popular amongst the Jeronomites, Poor Clares, and Conceptionist nuns.

During colonial times in Mexico, a woman pretty much had two options, marriage or monastic life.  Reading the life of Teresa of Avila, though set in 16th century Spain, gives one some insight into convent life of her time, as well as that of the colonial period in New Spain.  Some convents were less observant and a caste system was indeed in place, hence, girls from poorer families would normally not be able to afford such portraiture, much less the dowries expected in those days.

In the beginning, the portraits were often paid for by the family of the new nun, and were perhaps less extravagant than the example shown here.   As time and prosperity advanced, along with it emerged the regal court-like nuances in monastic life, hence the portraiture became more grand and elaborate, if not ostentatious.

Pictured, a Jeronomite nun.

The crown of course represents the nun’s espousal to Christ as his bride.  Rich embroidery often ornamented her cloak, while she carried elaborate emblems of her religious title, often draped in relicarios, waxen flowers, ribbons and other elegant details.  It was the final act of vanity for a woman who was leaving the world and her status behind to live a consecrated life.  Although, as history reveals, status and prominence, as well as vain additions of trims to the habit were not uncommon as a woman established herself in the religious milieu.

In defense of Miss Mexico once again, the ‘fashion’ associated with crowned nuns also may have influenced young Mexican girls in their dress for special fiestas and events, such as 1st Communions, etc.

Pictured, contemporary Poor Clares.

The tradition of crowned nuns is not peculiar to Mexico, only the elaborate and regal style seems to be.  In monastic life, nuns often wear a crown of roses or another flower, symbol of their espousal to Christ and carry a candle, representative of Baptism, as seen in this photo from a Poor Clare’s profession.

Today, it seems women who enter the cloister are more apt to have a farewell Mass and perhaps a reception before entering the cloister, which can later be an embarrassment if they don’t persevere.  In the 18th century, when one entered the cloister, you really never left, like it or not - hence, one possible explanation for the resulting decadence in some houses.

I changed the art above my fireplace for Easter.  I placed an 18th century Guatemalan wooden corpus above the mantle for Holy Week and Easter.  I think I’ll keep him there for the summer. 

A closer look.  “He browses among the lilies.” - Song of Songs

(And no, Senator Keeley and his wife are not coming for dinner.) 

The martyrdom of St. Peter of Verona.

He was butchered with an axe and began writing the Creed in his blood on the ground as he lay dying.  I was so deeply impressed, I had to take him as my Confirmation patron, hence the name Peter, which I hyphenated with my Baptismal name, James-Peter.  So I am really Terrance James-Peter Christian.  Isn’t that cool?

Sr. Vivian, my teacher in 7th grade, hated me.  She knew my mother was a divorced, remarried Catholic and my father was Lutheran, that we were poor, and at the time my dad a nerdowell sort of guy.  Vivian was a very unhappy nun.  Although, she had a pet, Philip was his name, and when it came time for us to stand up and relate the biographies of our Confirmation patrons, Philip was just ahead of me with his presentation.

He chose Peter the Apostle (boring!) because he was first Pope and Philip wanted to be a priest - like I wanted to be a priest too Sister.  (I’m sure he became something else, like a mortician or something.)  Viv was absolutely delighted with his story however, clapping her hands.  Then, narrowing her beady little eyes, tightening her lips, she looked sternly at me and announced, “Well class, Mr. Nelson has chosen the same saint Philip has, so we don’t have to listen to him.  Let’s move on.”  And we moved on to hear someone else.  I just stood there open mouthed, convinced she thought I copied Philip.

Yeah, so that is pretty much why I blog nowadays.

(And Cathy wonders why I tend to be misanthropic.)

Looking down to the ground, I say a lttle prayer for Sister, “I hope you’re happy down there.” 

I picked up my painting from the framers today, a faithful copy of Francisco Zurbaran’s “St. Francis in Meditation”.  It measures 50″ x  40″ - hand painted, original oil on canvas.  It is spectacular!  Sadly, I ordered it through a resource that has artists in China who reproduce master works for galleries in NYC.  This was before I realized the atrocities committed in China are indirectly supported by our buying Chinese goods.  (However, before placing my order I did research the company and was assured the artists are paid ‘well’ - considering local economy, and each piece is an original painting, not a worked over giclee print.  I checked all of their references, etc.  The references were right, the work is masterfully painted in every detail.  It is astonishing!)

I will pray for the artists, that is all I can do at this point.

A note on the painting:  When I lived in Assisi I spent a week in retreat with the friars at the Carceri.  This painting reminds me of Blessed Father St. Francis at prayer in one of the caves, or perhaps his cell, on the mountain above Assisi.  This painting moves me to devotion, and conscious of the person who painted it, I will always be moved to compunction as well as prayer for the painter.  I also must add, the painter understood the subject…the delicacy of the saint’s face is beautifully rendered, he knew the habit was patched - he caught what Zurbaran was doing…he understood the spirit of the saint…it is not just a copy.

Obviously, I’m pleased - and that is not easy to do. 

The image depicted does not move one to devotion, yet I like it on some level because The Virgin appears as an ordinary girl, praying.  The angel appears in reverence for her dignity and purity.  The scene takes place out doors, much in the manner of Byzantine icons, the structure is always the background.  Perhaps the painter (Collier) was attempting to place the event in modern language to speak more clearly to contemporary, albeit secular sensibilities.  Throughout the ages, religious iconography has portrayed environment of the scriptural events in contemporary terms, as well as the characters in the modern dress of the times, so this is nothing new.

What I like about it is the peace of the virgin figure, apprehended at prayer.  She is completely ordinary and obviously quite young.  She neither recoils in fear, nor is she wrapped in ecstasy at the angel’s pronouncement.  Not that it was not an ecstatic moment, but everything is peaceful and intelligent.

I don’t think the Blessed Virgin was afraid in the conventional sense of the term.  The Gospel says she was deeply troubled by the Angel’s greeting, yet we know she did not doubt his word.  Troubled, she of course pondered the meaning and the angel immediately told her, “Have no fear…”

Perhaps in her humility she was surprised, troubled, wondering what his words meant, yet the Holy Virgin surely knew the prophecies, and if we believe some of the mystics and other stories, we know this was not her first encounter with an angel.  So I like to believe the annunciation was calm, full of peace; both an intensely spiritual as well as a reasonable, intellectual exchange.

I love the art that depicts the glories of Our Lady, yet I also like to think of how very ordinary and simple her life was.    

Detail, St. Joseph, Nativity icon.

Don Marco has a wonderful post on St. Joseph for his feast today, using an “icon” of Br. Claude Lane, a Benedictine from Mt. Angel Abbey, Oregon.  It is one of my favorite contemporary images of St. Joseph, and Br. Claude is a very fine painter. His work is deeply spiritual and moves one properly to devotion, which is the function of good religious art.  Br. Claude is a master of his craft.

Fr. Gregory, friend of Don Marco’s left a comment discussing the image Father used in the post, pointing out that it is not really an icon as it stands outside the canonical prototype for Orthodox icons.  And that is true.  However, the prototypical icon for the Orthodox Church has always been the icon I have pictured above, of St. Joseph in a “supernatural sleep”, while the Virgin Birth takes place.  Although this is a modern icon, most likely painted by a non-Orthodox, it has long been the prototype of icons depicting St. Joseph, although traditionally he would never be depicted outside of the narrative context, as he is here.

A modern Greek icon of St. Joseph - more or less a copy of Mother of God icons, as well as typical Western-style images of St. Joseph.

It was not until the late 19th and 20th centuries that St. Joseph appeared in Orthodox iconography as a Saint depicted alone, or holding the Child Jesus, unless it happened to be from one of the Eastern Rite Churches in union with Rome.  (Although I believe the Copts may have icons dating back earlier.)  Otherwise the saint would only have been pictured in festal icons, or the cyclical icons depicting the life of The Lord.  Never alone.

Iconography of the Saint in the West did not really flourish until the 16th century.  Before that time, the Saint normally only appeared with the Madonna and the Child Jesus in forms similar to the established Natvity narratives.

My point here is this, icons of St. Joseph depicting him in much the same manner as the Mother of God are a relatively recent development in an Orthodox Church not known for espousing anything modern, much less inspired by the Roman Church.  Yet I’m convinced that is what has occurred.  The depiction of St. Joseph in modern iconography developed, I venture to guess, as a result of the influence of Latin Rite Catholics.  I think his popularity was gradually assimilated into the personal piety of the faithful in the Eastern Rite.  (I’m not saying St. Joseph did not enjoy any cult or devotion before this in the East, yet popular piety surely influenced his representation in the iconography of the East, just as it developed in the art of the West.  Only it took the Orthodox awhile longer to express it.)

As for Roman Catholic, or non-Orthodox iconographers, the Orthodox do not accept that an outsider is either worthy or able to paint an icon suitable for liturgical use, much less private devotion.  Such contentions are the result of the centuries old schism which has divided the two Churches, tendensiously upheld by the Orthodox.

Icons are considered to be “written” in that they strictly accord with the canonical prototype, as well as literally represent the mystery depicted, or the scripture being illustrated.  Nevertheless, they are painted, and as such, they are paintings.  To say otherwise seems to me to be rather pretentious - especially when non-Orthodox apply the term to their own work.

Canonical icons are traditionally either encaustic paintings, that is, pigments mixed with wax, or more commonly, egg tempera paintings upon gesso covered wood.  It is the exact same technique employed by the ancient Greeks, Egyptians and Romans.  Imagine going back in time and asking a painter, “What is that you are writing?”  He was painting - and Byzantine iconographers adopted this profane, pagan style of painting.  So much could be said on this point, including much of the hieratic positioning of subjects, as well as manipulation in overall composition and symbology - all derived from pagan culture.   (Fresco, mosaic, bas-relief sculpture all can be employed in iconography, and has been, no writing involved.)

Though Anglo-modern, this composition would be more suitable for the Orthodox.   

Icons were codified by the Orthodox Councils, and have set canonical regulations detailing everything down to the colors used, as well as the pose of the personages.  Out of respect for the Orthodox Church I stopped painting icons quite awhile ago, as well as referring to my work as icons - which has liberated my art in no small way.  

While I appreciate icons, especially some inovative modern Western examples, I understand the insult to Orthodox sensibilities when non-Orthodox pretend their work is authenticly Byzantine iconography.  It subsists only in style, much as the Greco-Romano style of the Sienese School, along with Cimabue, and Giotto.  A greater insult to the Orthodox is the painting of Western saints, or other devotional images in the Byzantine style and calling the work an icon.

I think the more recent predelection for Eastern/Byzantine style iconography in the Western Church is the direct result of the iconoclast culture which developed after Vatican II, along with the absence of good representional art in Western culture at large, so officiously enamored with abstract expressionism, as well as the nihilist influence of 20th century architecture. 

Many progressivist Catholics have embraced icons for the spirituality they embody, and not a few have taken up the art form to make their own icons.  It strikes me as somewhat ironic that the more liberal minded, if not downright dissenting types, embrace such a strictly codified, disciplined style of religious painting, especially when they are not even bound by the Canons of the Orthodox Church.  That being said, they easily justify their picking and choosing which doctrinal truths, Church teachings and liturgical rubrics to observe at will in their own Church.  Go figure.