Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus Christ. Show all posts

Saturday, 22 March 2014

Have you seen...a Small Sign of Peace?

The Sandon Pax, c.1500, beechwood, watercolour on vellum, (Photo: A Barker) 
Tucked away in a corner of rural Essex there is a tiny bit of exquisite history.  In fact, it is relatively unknown and will not have been seen by many.  It is almost unique, being one of only two extant in the country.  Five hundred years ago, however, it was one of hundreds that were known by all.  Every Sunday it would be first kissed by the Priest, then passed reverently from hand to hand and kissed by each member of the congregation in turn as a sign of peace.  It is the Sandon Pax.

I was given the rare privilege of seeing this beautiful object, safely kept in the place where it was used all those years ago. It is a small wooden rectangle, of twenty-six by twenty-three centimetres.  The frame is finely carved and was originally gilded, although this has, to a great extent, worn away.  Recessed in the centre is a miniature work of art, smaller than a playing card and painted in watercolour on vellum.  It shows Christ on the cross, head bowed, with the Latin sign above declaring him to be Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.  On his right stands Mary, his mother, and on his left, stands John, into whose protection he gave his mother.

The style of the watercolour has been pronounced as Gothic [1] with decorative pastel colours and highlights in gold, picking out the folds of Mary’s robe, the waves of John’s idealised hair and the rays of Christ’s halo.  There is some similarity here with the intricately wrought illuminated manuscripts and Books of Hours of the thirteenth and fourteenth century, the Luttrell and Ormesby Psalters being two such examples.

Luttrell Psalter, c.1320-40, British Library, London
  
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Ormesby Psalter, c.1290-1340, Bodleian Library, Oxford

Although this comparison firmly places the Sandon Pax in the Gothic tradition, I would argue that some small flowering of Renaissance form can be seen. The sidelong glance of Mary, her head inclined downwards but subtly turning towards John, shows some understanding of anatomical realism.  This is not simply a full frontal, flat image, but one with shadow and depth.  Furthermore, Mary’s slightly parted lips seem to me to display emotion, something that Renaissance artists were striving to represent at this time.  Mary’s eyes have been painted non-symmetrically, one slightly larger than the other, a technique used by artists such as Holbein to give character to a face [2].  Although these are small points, they are worth noting. It has been suggested that the artist was French [3] and certainly England received some Italian Renaissance ideas through a French filter. 

detail of Mary, The Sandon Pax, c.1500, (photo: Alison Barker)


The Sandon Pax was created during the reign of Henry VII, a self-pronounced Renaissance Prince and man of letters and culture.  His mother Margaret Beaufort was a humanist who founded colleges, patronised art and helped establish chapels.  Catholicism was firmly established as the religion of the country, a situation unchanged for hundreds if not a thousand years meaning that the Sandon Pax is, in fact, a Catholic object.  It would no doubt have been used throughout the next King’s reign too, as Henry VIII was staunchly Catholic on his accession in 1509.  Although in 1529, Henry broke from Rome and declared himself to be Supreme Head of the Church, that Church was still Catholic in doctrine and the King, Catholic in belief until his death. 

Protestant rumblings began to be felt, however, and at the new King’s accession in 1547 everything changed.  Edward VI, son of Catholic Henry had nonetheless been tutored by humanists with Protestant leanings and the nine year old boy was a devout Protestant.  The Pax had now become a sign of Papist belief instead of peace and was at risk:  Iconoclasm had arrived.  Maybe it was at this moment that the precious Sandon Pax was smuggled into the home of a Catholic parishioner to preserve it from the wholesale destruction of idolatrous images.  It lay undisturbed for three hundred and sixty years when it was rediscovered in 1910 by the downstairs fireplace of a Tudor cottage in Sandon [4].

Looking at it now and seeing the wear from the fingernails of hundreds of hands, the evidence of faith from fifty years unbroken use, it strikes me how precious this small sign of peace really is.  I cannot entreat you to go and see it for yourself as it is not, as yet, on public display.  However, measures are being taken to ensure just that, and I will let you know when this happens.



Alison Barker

Coming Next: Have you seen...the Kiss of Betrayal?




[1]Marks R & Williamson P(eds), Gothic Art for England, 1400-1547, V & A Publications, 2003, p.415
[2] Foister, Holbein in England, Tate, London, 2006, p.54
[3] Marks R & Williamson P (eds), 2003, p.415 
[4] Bush R, Sandon - A Village History, 1999, p.26

Friday, 21 February 2014

Have you seen...the 'Unacceptable' Last Supper?

Paolo Veronese, 'The Last Supper', 1573, Venice, Galleria Accademia  (photo:Andy Barker)

It is huge.  That was the first thing that struck me when I saw this painting in real life.  It is forty-two feet in length, almost twice as long as our whole house!  That dot standing next to the painting is me, which gives some idea of its magnitude.  The figures are life size and the whole work has a monumentality which is breathtaking.  Having seen this work many times in books and even having taught a lesson on it, I had never fully appreciated its sheer size.

One thing I had always appreciated, however, was the busyness of the painting.  It is absolutely crammed with people.  A fun thing to do is to count them.  I have tried this and come up with forty-eight people.  Let me know if you agree!  It is also not a peaceful picture.  The many figures are doing all sorts of things: having conversations, eating, serving food, pouring wine, climbing, playing the fool and even picking their teeth!

detail of man picking his teeth (photo: Andy Barker)
detail: wine being served and drunk (photo: Andy Barker)



The question is, what is this monumental painting actually about?  This, however, is where the controversy comes in.  Paolo Veronese created this as a Last Supper, showing Jesus with his twelve disciples on the night he was betrayed.  It was commissioned by the Dominican monastery of Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Venice, to hang in their refectory.  Veronese completed it on 20th April 1573 and the Dominican patrons were perfectly happy with it.  However, the Spanish Inquisition was apparently not!  They summoned Veronese to appear before a tribunal on 18th July and questioned him about his ‘Last Supper’.  Their main point was about the abundance and the type of figures.  During the actual Last Supper the only people recorded as being present were Jesus and his twelve disciples [1].  Jesus is certainly represented here, seated in the centre and leaning towards one of his disciples, whilst Peter, on Christ’s right carves some meat into a bowl.  It is quite difficult to distinguish all the disciples, although it has been suggested that they are the ones on the same side of the table as Jesus [2]. This would be in keeping with other representations of the Last Supper, such as Leonardo da Vinci’s famous work, also painted for a refectory.  It could be argued, however, that Judas is the man seated on this side of the table within the central arch, cast in shadow and looking shiftily behind him.

detail: Jesus with Peter, John and possibly Judas (photo: Andy Barker)

 Although the disciples and Christ are certainly in this painting, the Inquisition was concerned about many of the other figures and their purpose here.  What on earth was a buffoon with a parrot on his wrist doing at this most sacred meal?  Surely, this type of figure distracted the viewer from the importance of the central scene.  Why were two German soldiers included and why were they drinking wine and eating bread? Was this a concealed Lutheran message about the Eucharist [3]? Finally, why were two dogs, a cat eating a fish bone beneath the table and a man picking his teeth, present at the Lord’s Supper? 

   
detail: a 'fool' with a parrot   (photo: Andy Barker)
detail: two German soldiers drinking (photo: Andy Barker)

Veronese did have an answer: Because there was a lot of space to fill!  He had been commissioned to paint a huge picture and, “…it seemed to me that it could hold many figures” [4].  He pointed out that artists used their imagination and that he had received the commission to decorate it as he “saw fit”, thereby defending himself from the accusation that he had done anything unseemly.  He went on to say that he was following where other artists, superior to himself, had led.  Michelangelo, for example, had painted Christ, his mother Mary, and various saints, without garments, in the Sistine Chapel [5].  The Inquisition was not convinced by his argument, however, and told Veronese in no uncertain terms, to change his painting or face the consequences.

So, Veronese did…well, a tiny bit.  He just changed the name of his painting to the Feast in the House of Levi, thereby allowing for a greater number of figures and not changing his actual work of art at all.
Go and see Veronese’s ‘unacceptable’ Last Supper in the Galleria Accademia in Venice and marvel at the incredible detail of his abundant figures.

Alison Barker

Coming next: Have you seen...the Lady in a Railway Station with a Parasol?




[1] The Bible, Luke 22:7-22
[3] Black C F (et al), Atlas of the Renaissance, 1993, Andromeda Oxford Ltd, Oxford, p.99
[4] Paoletti J, Radke G, Art in Renaissance Italy, (4th ed), 2011, Laurence King Publishing, London, p.504
[5] ibid