Boxing Day

Today, December 26, is Boxing Day. Although it is celebrated in Canada, in the UK, and other Commonwealth and European countries, we don’t pay much attention to it in the States. As in the U.S., this day now seems to be connected with deeply discounted shopping. But it was not always so.

St. Etienne, Caen, France

I had thought that Boxing Day was the day that friends and acquaintances exchanged gifts after the family Christmas festivities were over. And while that is true to some extent, since the Middle Ages it has been a day for tradespeople and servants to receive gifts from their employers and for the fortunate to share with those less so. No one knows why we call it “Boxing Day”. There is speculation that it had to do with the boxes of food and gifts given to servants, or the alms boxes placed outside of churches for collections for the Feast of St. Stephen (December 26). At any rate, the holiday has been most closely associated with the carol “Good King Wenceslas” about a saintly king who performed a charitable act on the Feast day of St. Stephen.

Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen,

When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;

Brightly shone the moon that night, tho' the frost was cruel,

When a poor man came in sight, gath'ring winter fuel.

This carol has always reminded me of the lovely winter scenes painted by Northern European artists like the Limbourg brothers and the Brueghels (father and son)*. They were able to capture the look and feel of a dreary winter day like no other artists. The weak light and muted colors emphasize the raw bone chilling cold and difficult lives of their frequent subjects, the peasants, who lived lives so intimately linked to the cycles of nature.

Look closely at the Limbourg Brothers “February” page from Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry.

Limbourg Brothers, February, from Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, 1412-16

We see a cozy, orderly scene.  After all, this was a page from a prayer book of sorts for the Duke, who needed to see that his lands and its people were organized and well cared for.  But we can also find evidence of some discomfort and hardship.   Two peasants are engaged in chopping wood and taking it away (for the Duke?)  Another peasant braves the cold; frosty breath rises from his mouth.  Like the sheep in the pen, the women and man inside the house are huddled together. They have removed their wet undergarments (there’s a bit of flashing going on!) and try to warm up before the fire.  Here, life is well-ordered and basic needs are met, but it is also difficult and uncomfortable.

"Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling,

Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"

"Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;

Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither:

Thou and I shall see him dine, when we bear them thither." 

Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Peasant Wedding,  1567

Even peasants deserve a day of “flesh and wine”.  In Pieter Bruegel the Elder's painting the wedding feast takes place in a barn – the very place in which these peasants toil away day after day.  The repast is simple but abundant.  A nobleman, perhaps the landowner, is seen talking with a monk on the right side of the painting. 

Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together;

Through the rude wind's wild lament and the bitter weather.

"Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;

Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer."

"Mark my footsteps, good my page. Tread thou in them boldly

Thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

Pieter Brueghel the Younger, Adoration of the Magi,  1600

Pieter Brueghel the Younger has staged his "Adoration" in a northern village in contemporary times. The wealthy magi make their way to the manger amidst the daily activities of village life.  Just like Good King Wenceslas, they lead, with servants and peasants following.

In his master's steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;

Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.

Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,

Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

Happy Boxing Day to you all.  

*Pieter Bruegel the Elder dropped the "h" from his name.  His son, Pieter Brueghel the Younger, reinstated it.

Thanksgiving Portraits

As a child I spent every Thanksgiving with my family in Rhode Island.   My grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins lived there and we would travel from Massachusetts to gather at my grandparent’s house.  As the family grew to fifteen grandchildren, we would go to the golf club for a fancy turkey dinner.  Every few years a family portrait would be taken.  Thanks to the magic of scanning, I have two of those photos – one from when I was about six, the other maybe eight years later.  They are wonderful records of our family, of popular fashions and hair-dos and of portrait conventions of the 1960s and 70s.

(Notice the color coordinated families?)

These photographs got me thinking about a famous family portrait by Diego Velasquez – a far more interesting and complex work

In 1656, Diego Velazquez, the court artist to King Philip IV of Spain painted what is considered to be one of his finest and certainly his most popular painting.  It’s called Las Meninas, which means the Maids of Honor, although it had a different title originally.  It is, in essence, a family portrait.  We see the King and Queen’s five year old daughter, the Infanta, and the various officials, courtiers and maids who attend to her needs, and, in the background, we see the King and Queen reflected in a mirror.  We also see the well dressed artist at the left, painting a large canvas.

Diego Velazquez, Las Meninas,  1656 , Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain
http://www.wga.hu/index1.html

So, this is more than a portrait of the Infanta.  You might ask, why is she surrounded by all these people?  If she is the subject of the portrait, why are they present?  Are they that important?  And how can it be that the portrait painter, Velazquez, is featured here.  Who or what is he painting?  It can’t be the Infanta, can it?  And why are all those people looking at us?  Are we the subject of the painting?  If this is so, are we playing a role here?  Are we the King and Queen of Spain?   Our interpretation of the meaning of the painting is dependent upon whom we believe to be standing in front of it.  And we don’t have to choose just one explanation.  As we shift our viewpoints, we become aware of more possibilities of interpretation -- more questions and answers reveal themselves.  The philosopher Michael Foucault was fascinated by this aspect of the painting and described it eloquently in the introduction to his groundbreaking work, The Order of Things, “in this precise but neutral place, the observer and the observed take part in a ceaseless exchange.” 

When Las Meninas was created, Renaissance conventions of painting had long been established that ensured that we, the viewer, looked into a painting, into another space – as though we are looking through a window into another world that is ours to contemplate, yet remains separate from our own.  And now, a century and a half later, Velasquez challenges those conventions.  These people he has painted are not confined to their own space.  They are acknowledging the fiction of the painting and looking out at us.   And Velazquez has done something even more complex than involve us, his audience.  Since we are able to engage with this art work, and can change its meaning depending upon our questions, and our answers, the painting is not complete, nor is it entirely successful, unless we acknowledge and play our part in it. 

We keep looking – we play our part.  The ceaseless exchange endures in faded family photographs and in great masterpieces like Velasquez’s.

Tomorrow - ROMA!

Tomorrow we leave for Roma.  13 students, 2 dads, 3 alumni, 1 other colleague, a friend and I will spend 5-1/2 days in Rome, 2-1/2 days in Florence.  While we have a few scheduled tours, we will have a lot of free time.  I'm hoping that the 5 very talented photographers on this trip will take every opportunity to capture "Bella Italia" through their lenses..

Epiphany - Not just for Kings and Wise Men

Today is Epiphany, an important feast day in both the Eastern and Western Christian churches.
In general, the Feast of the Epiphany celebrates the revelation to man, by God, of the incarnation of his son, Jesus Christ, but there are also some stories and rituals that vary between the East and West.  In the Western Church we usually think of the Epiphany as the event where the three Magi, after following the star of Bethlehem, make their way to the manger to offer gifts to the Christ child.  In the Eastern Church the celebration is a conflation of the Western story with a commemoration of Christ’s baptism and the end of the twelve days of Christmas festivities.  Last year, I was lucky enough to be in Greece visiting the island of Hydra on January 6.  This tiny island (no cars!) celebrates Epiphany with a ceremony where the priest throws a silver cross into the ocean.  Teenage boys dive in to retrieve it.  The ritual also functions as a “Blessing of the Waters” for this fishing village as well as a promise of a year of prosperity, good fortune, and good health for one lucky young diver.

The visit of the Magi is one of the enduring stories of the Nativity.  The story is found in the gospel of St. Matthew who wrote that these “wise men” came “from the east”.  Biblical scholars now think that Matthew meant that they were some sort of dignitaries, but since the Middle Ages they have been popularly referred to as kings.  Tradition dictates that there were three of them, as they gave three gifts, gold, frankincense and myrhh.  Mathew never stated a number.

By the way, here’s my favorite image of an inspired Matthew writing his Gospel:

St.Matthew, Gospel Book of Archbiship Ebbo of Reims, 816-35
illuminated manuscript
http://legacy.earlham.edu

Sculptures and paintings of the Adoration of the Magi were quite popular from about the 13^th century.  In fact, the Nativity scenes we see today on church lawns and in Christian homes are a typical Adoration of the Magi scene in three dimensional form.  (St. Francis of Assisi had something to do with this – but that’s for another blog post.)  Most Nativity scenes featured the three Magi juxtaposed with the lowly shepherds and their sheep, a not so subtle message that Christianity was a religion for the masses, not just the elites.
One of my all time favorite artists is Giotto di Bondone (Florence, 1266/7 – January 8, 1337), whose paintings are considered a real bridge between Medieval and Renaissance image and thought.  A small panel painting of the Adoration is a good example of Giotto’s genius and his humanistic approach.

The Epiphany, possibly ca. 1320
Giotto di Bondone (Italian, Florentine, 1266/76–1337)
Tempera on wood, gold ground (Metropolitan Museum of Art)
17 3/4 x 17 1/4 in.

While the painting follows the prescribed format for panel paintings of their time – lack of a descriptive landscape, gilded background, hierarchical scale and haloes galore, there is something quite modern and touching here as well.  All eyes look at the Magi in the foreground holding the infant Jesus.  He has knelt down, removed his crown, and placed it on the ground.  Joseph, at the right, leans forward, as though to catch the baby in case the King falters, a typical new father’s response.  Mary, too, seems to be reaching for the baby.  The king has humbled himself before the incarnation of God in this little baby – but the fact that he is still just a baby is emphasized by the parents’ reactions and in the gesture of the King, who seems to be admiring the Christ child as just that, a child.  There is quite a bit of theological emphasis here as well, however.  Notice how the crown’s shape is echoed in the shape of the manger's roof and the mountain behind it.  Giotto seems to be reminding us that the fancy trappings of wealth and status are not important compared to what has happened under this simple roof. Again, with the simple removal and placement of the crown, we are reminded that Christianity is not a religion just for the elites.

Gislebertus (active 1100-1150), Dream of the Magi

1120-30, Stone
Cathedral of Saint-Lazare, Autun

Another one of my favorite “Magi” images is from an“historiated capital” at Autun Cathedral in France. 

Autun Cathedral was a pilgrimage church.  Gislebertus (one of the few medieval sculptors whose name is known to us) had also sculpted a Last Judgement in the tympanum above the entrance to the Cathedral.  The horrors and rewards that await the saints and sinners were graphically illustrated there, as images of pilgrims lined up to be plucked into the heavens for the weighing of their souls span the lintel above the doorway. 

Gislebertus, Last Judgement
1120-1130, Stone
Cathedral of Saint-Lazare, Autun

As pilgrims walked through the Cathedral they would look up at the massive columns lining the nave – the top of each one would feature carved reliefs of biblical stories (historiated capitals).  Dream of the Magi clearly and poignantly illustrates an aspect of the story rarely found in art.   Here are the Magi in bed together with a wonderfully patterned blanket wrapped protectively around them . They all sleep with their crowns on!   While two are asleep, one awakens as the angel very gently pokes at his hand while gesturing to the star.

The general consensus in art history is that medieval art tended to rely on formulaic imagery and that we don’t see as much attention paid to real human responses and experience until at least the time of Giotto, almost 200 years later.  Yet, this work is clearly intended to speak to the experiences of the people who came to view it.   Think about the message conveyed here. Gislebertus (or more likely his patron) has chosen to illustrate an event that shows us how the kings came to follow the star.  They were traveling and sleeping in cramped quarters when they were called by God.  The pilgrims who visited Autun were also on a journey that often required hardship - long days on foot, bad food, and uncomfortable sleeping quarters - as they hoped their sacrifices would be acknowledged and blessed by God.  This message is similar to Giotto’s reminder that Christianity is a religion for everyone.  And even today, the “Blessing of the Waters” that I witnessed in Greece seamlessly combines the stories of Christianity with the traditions of a culture that calls upon God’s blessing to ensure the continuation of a way of life and beliefs that have endured for centuries.  

Honoring Saint Nicholas

San Nicola in Carcere, Rome

December 6 was the Feast of Saint Nicholas which is celebrated around the world and honors the legend of the generous saint who is better known to many, of course, as Santa Claus.  This sneaky saint was a secret gift giver and was known to leave coins in shoes left out for him.  So if you participate in “secret Santa” activities, you are following a grand tradition.  San Nicola (as he is called in Italian) lived in the fourth century and was a Bishop in a part of what is now Turkey.  His many miracles have also led to him being called “Nicholas the Wonderworker.” 

One of the oldest churches in Rome is dedicated to Saint Nicholas.  It’s called San Nicola in Carcere (St. Nicholas in Prison) as this was the site of a jail during the Roman empire.  

The church was likely constructed in the 6^th century and rebuilt a number of times thereafter.  It is built using the “Spolia” from three different temples that stood here when the area was part of the Forum Holitorium in the early years of Ancient Rome.   Spolia means architecture and architectural fragments repurposed for new buildings.  Many of the buildings in Rome, both pagan and Christian, contain spolia of earlier structures. One can clearly see the columns and entablature of the temples which make up part of the exterior walls of the San Nicola.

When Paul and I visited this church we were amazed at the variety of columns, both their designs and materials, that were incorporated into the interior walls of the church as well.  We paid a Euro to an attendant and he gave us a tour of the church's lower level.  We were able to seehow the columns of two different temples were an integral part of the church walls and foundation.

San Nicola in Carcere is on a rather busy street in Rome.  It is very close to the Bocca della Verita (the mouth of truth) best known through the film “Roman Holiday.”  Almost every day a line of tourists wait to put a hand in the “Bocca.”  If you don’t lose your hand, you can prove that you tell the truth.

 

We never took the time to test our honesty.  But we had fun watching the tourists try their luck.

Contemplation

Mark Rothko (1903-1970)

Untitled, 1968

Acrylic on paper on hardboard, 23-3/16 x 18-3/4 inches

Gift of the Mark Rothko Foundation, (ARS New York)

Phillips Collection, Washington, DC

Sometimes art needs no explanation.  I am heading to yoga and will think of this when I am doing "shevasana."

Art, Commemoration and Controversy in San Francisco

Robert Arneson (1930-1992)

Portrait of George (Moscone), 1981 

(7′-10″ x 29″) Image via cometogether.com

Today is the anniversary of the assassination of San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and City Supervisor Harvey Milk.  That event is one of those “do you remember what you were doing when you heard” moments for me.   I lived in San Francisco at the time and had seen Mayor Moscone and Supervisor Milk just a few weeks before  at a Preservation Hall Jazz Band concert in Golden Gate Park.  Mayor Moscone was quite a favorite of us young liberal folks in the city at the time, and Milk had recently made history as the first openly gay person to be elected to a public office.  The future seemed quite rosy in San Francisco in 1978.  That night I walked down to City Hall plaza and held a candle along with thousands of other people.  The killer was a former City Supervisor, Dan White, who was trying to get his job back (he had resigned).  Moscone,  reportedly at the urging of Milk, refused.  White snuck into a basement window of City Hall and gunned the two men down in their offices.  Less than a year later, on the eve of Harvey Milk’s birthday, White was found guilty of voluntary manslaughter (a surprisingly light conviction)  based on what has come to be known as the  “Twinkie defense.”  He claimed that he was so depressed as the result of a junk food diet he was not competent at the time of the shootings.  Rioting ensued at City Hall Plaza when the verdict was announced.  San Francisco’s acting mayor at the time,who would go on to serve two more terms, was Dianne Feinstein, now senior U.S. Senator from California.  

Milk has been wonderfully memorialized and immortalized in the film starring Sean Penn. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1013753/)  In the early years of the AIDS crisis, one of Harvey Milk’s aides, Cleve Jones, used the annual memorial march that took place every November 27 to call attention to the lack of government acknowledgement of the disease that was killing so many gay men.  From this activism emerged another memorial – the NAMES project, popularly known as the AIDS quilt.  So Milk’s legacy and his memorialization has given rise to an enormous and inventive memorial tradition.  Squares from the quilt travel around the country.  In fact there are some in New Hampshire this month to commemorate World AIDS Day on December 1. (http://www.aidsquilt.org/)

 The Aids Quilt, 1986, Washington, DC

George Moscone’s legacy will always be attached to Harvey Milk.  But there was also an interesting controversy surrounding a sculpture that was commissioned to honor the Mayor’s memory.   In 1981 the George R. Moscone Convention Center was ready to open.  The city’s Art Commission chose ceramic artist Robert Arneson to create a memorial bust of Moscone. Arneson was a longtime art professor at UC Davis and was a leading proponent of “Funk Art” which basically took the function out of ceramics and incorporated everyday objects into the work.  It was socially conscious, yet often irreverent, humorous and sometimes confrontational. 

 

Arneson’s bust depicted a caricature-like portrait of the mayor, as the Commission expected.  But its five foot ceramic pedestal was festooned with bullet holes, the words “Bang Bang Bang,” “and Harvey Milk too,” an image of a Twinkie and other graffiti-like images and text that refered to Moscone’s death and the resulting controversy surrounding the near-exoneration of his killer. The Art Commission asked Arneson to make some changes.  He refused and the sculpture was returned to him.  Today a much more conventional bronze sculpture in the Moscone Center honors the slain Mayor.