The Lenten Season is officially upon us, embodied by a spirit of reflection and repentance culminating in the Celebration of Easter on April 16th. As there is an undeniable influence of Christian theology on the history of art, every Sunday of Lent we will explore art with distinctly Christian themes in a methodology known as visual theology. Some posts will contain brief biographical, iconographic and/or formal analysis as well. "And the Lord said, “What have you done? Listen; your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground! And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you till the ground, it will no longer yield to you its strength; you will be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth.” Cain said to the Lord, “My punishment is greater than I can bear! Today you have driven me away from the soil, and I shall be hidden from your face; I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth...” -GENESIS 4:10-14 Human suffering finds its origins in the Fall. From the moment Adam and Eve tasted of the forbidden fruit, humanity was cursed to a life separated from God filled with pain and turmoil. Cain becomes the embodiment of this curse as the unfavored first child of the fallen Adam and Eve and the murderer of his brother Abel. His path leads east of Eden, towards the desolate land of his desolate future. Cain has forsaken his God; he is the fallen of the fallen. This is the man captured in Fernand Cormon's 1880 large-scale oil painting: Cain. Created for the Paris Salon of 1880, Cain depicts the son of Adam and Eve many years after his divine punishment. It was originally entitled Cain Flying Before Jehovah's Curse and accompanied with a reading from Victor Hugo's poem Conscience: “When with his children clothed in animal skins Disheveled, livid, buffeted by the storms Cain fled from Jehovah, In the fading light, the grim man came To the foot of a mountain in a vast plain…” Cain is shown leading his family through an arid land, perpetually wandering as his curse declares. The sun bears down on their backs and the figural shadows are lengthened "as if the light of truth were pursuing the guilty through the bleak plain.”[i] The figures are depicted as weary travelers carrying only each other or their meager food stores. The painting's muted neutral palette and dusty gray sky create a bleak and desolate landscape; there is no refuge in sight. Painted in the Academic style, Cain is a close study of the human form rendered with anatomical accuracy. Every muscle and hair painted upon the canvas serve to reinforce the sadness and brutal tragedy of their lives. The painting has a largely horizontal orientation as figures stretch across the canvas, "the fear of Jehovah's sentence written on every face." [ii] A destitute man, Cain no longer looks up towards the heavens for refuge, he can only move onwards fleeing God's punishment. Hebrews 11:4 states, "By faith, Abel brought God a better offering than Cain did," [iii] implying it was Cain's pride that caused God's refusal of his sacrifice. Cormon's Cain is stripped of all pride or glory. Even the land he walks upon is cursed. "The earth itself denies him its fruit and instead forces him and his family to a carnivorous life. Cain will never be able to stay...anywhere to plant, let alone harvest, a crop." [iv] There is no hope or respite for Cain and his family in Cormon's painting.
Cormon depicts the subjects of Cain like cretinous humans of a prehistoric era. During the 19th century, our prehistoric ancestors were viewed as nothing but ignorant humans only surviving off of their most primal instincts living lives filled with turmoil. Therefore, such a depiction is highly symbolic of the painter's message. Doing so, Cormon declares that all human suffering is a direct result of our ignorance and this spiritual separation from our creator. Unless we seek to heal this separation through a newly restored relationship with God, we, too, will resemble the perpetually wandering Cain through the desert, living out our lives in despair without Jehovah's direction or Christ's salvation. Additional Images Figure 1 Figure 2 I[i] "Fernand Cormon Cain," Musée d'Orsay, accessed March 8, 2017, http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/works-in-focus/search/commentaire_id/cain-8826.html.
[ii] Ibid. [iii] Hebrews 11:4, NIV. [iv] Hunt, Patrick, "Cormon's Cain Flees the Curse," Electrum Magazine, August 27, 2015, Accessed March 7, 2017, http://www.electrummagazine.com/2015/08/cormons-cain-flees-the-curse/.
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The Lenten Season is officially upon us, embodied by a spirit of reflection and repentance culminating in the Celebration of Easter on April 16th. As there is an undeniable influence of Christian theology on the history of art, every Sunday of Lent we will explore art with distinctly Christian themes in a methodology known as visual theology. Some posts will contain brief biographical, iconographic and/or formal analysis as well. This week is dedicated to the parable of the Good Samaritan: a story (and its imagery) indelibly tied to Jesus' story of sacrifice and salvation. "Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.” But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” LUKE 10: 25-37 The Good Samaritan, located in Luke 10: 25-37, is one of the most powerful parables within the Gospels. When asked how to inherit eternal life, Jesus responds with, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” He then proceeds to elaborate on what constitutes one’s neighbor. Jesus tells the story of a man who left Jerusalem only to be beaten and robbed. He was passed over by both a priest and a Levite before a Samaritan, a then despised people among the Jews, stopped to help the destitute man. The Samaritan bandaged the man's wounds, gave him clothing and found him shelter at a nearby inn, even paying for his lodgings. Ultimately, the despised Samaritan best exemplified the image of love and mercy Jesus preached to his followers. With love and mercy also being the crux of Christ's Message, it is not surprising that this parable is found in Gothic churches throughout Europe or became the subject of numerous religious paintings. We will look at three examples of stained glass windows found within the gothic cathedrals of Chartres, Bourges and Sens and examine how they build upon one another theologically. There will also be brief discussion on The Good Samaritan by Aime-Nicolas Morot painted in 1880. What these works serve to highlight is the evolving nature of the parable thematically. While the Good Samaritan is often viewed as a beautiful story reinforcing how we should love our neighbor’s. The discussed artists, however, have reshaped the parable of the Good Samaritan to tell a different message: how Christ paid for our sins to renew a broken covenant. Of the three stained-glass windows, Chartes is the most simplistic in its theological message. As the images of the traveling man and Samaritan run down the center of the window, the outside is filled with images from the Old Testament. It chronicles the Fall and expulsion of Adam and Eve, but takes the Genesis story even further by concluding with the death of Abel by Cain. The ending to the Old Testament sections are quite bleak. They continue to reiterate our separation from God as a result of the Fall by highlighting the destructive acts of the Fallen. Yet, rather than continuing to live in this separation we are reunited with him and rescued. Our life is the road to Jericho; we chose to leave Eden and live among thieves, but we have been saved. The connection is not explicit as it will be illustrated through the windows of Bourges and Sens, but the window is ultimately stating that the parable of the Good Samaritan is an allegory for our return to a relationship with God.Bourges presents a far more complex theological message with its stained glass representation of the Good Samaritan. The window also parallels Genesis alongside that of the parable, but it additionally draws upon the story of Moses and the Crucifixion in order to create a clearer and more profound storyline. Paired together in the top quatrefoil are the man leaving Jerusalem with the Creation of Adam and Eve by God. These are indicative of the beginning, when humanity was still in relationship with God. This is followed by the temptation of Adam and Eve alongside the man being attacked on the road by thieves and the very similar scene of the expulsion with the man being stripped and robbed of his possessions. Both of these quatrefoils are showcasing the same point: that the moment of the man's journey parallels the moment humanity was tempted in the Garden and was ultimately cast of Eden. This is the lowest point in the man's journey as well as one of the lowest points for humanity in the Bible. Yet, mankind's disgrace continues as the window pairs Moses and the creation of the golden calf with the priest and Levite passing the beaten man. Just as Moses was provided with the Law to redeem mankind from the Fall in the garden, the priest and Levite were given the opportunity to grant the man mercy. Yet, both fail as they turn their backs on God by turning their backs on their neighbor. Bourges does not end as bleakly as Chartres, however, and provides a final quatrefoil of redemption and grace. The Samaritan, who closely resembles a glorified Christ, rescues the man and brings him safely home towards the inn keeper. Strikingly placed with these images is the representation of Christ on the cross--saving man kind mind from sin, the ultimate symbol of God's mercy. Similar to Chartres, Bourges illustrates the results of humanity's separation from God. The window brings it to a more satisfying conclusion, however, by finishing the narrative with Christ's death on the Cross. It is only through Christ's death that we can finally return to a relationship with God. Thus, it is highly intentional that the Samaritan resembles Christ, for he is the one leading us away from the life among thieves back to the inn, symbolic of his Church: our place of salvation and restoration . He paid for our sins just as the Samaritan paid the innkeeper. Although Bourges provides a much more complete theological message than the window of Chartres, its attempts to create multiple parallels unintentionally weakens its powerful message. Therefore, this is why--theologically--Sens has the strongest of all three Good Samaritan Windows. The Good Samaritan window at Sens abbreviates the parable to its absolute essentials, while still expanding upon the stories from the Old Testament and Crucifixion. At the very top of the window is a holy city, symbolic of heavenly Jerusalem and the city the man leaves while setting out on the road to Jericho. Once again, the story of the Good Samaritan runs through the center of the window as parallels are drawn around it. First are the creation, temptation and expulsion, which are all, paired with the man being attacked on the road by thieves. The parallel is the same as it was in the other windows, but is stronger and more concise by keeping the beating/robbery with both the temptation and the Expulsion. Moses and the golden calf are again are paired with the priest and Levite continuing commentary on mankind's fall from grace as the holy men destroy their second chance at relationship with God. Sens concludes with a fuller description of the Passion and crucifixion with the Samaritan rescuing the beaten man and taking him safely to the inn. This time, the beaten man, rather than the Samaritan, heavily resembles Christ, but the overall theological implications are still similar. The most striking difference is the angel at the crucifixion. He is the same angel barring the gates of Eden following the expulsion of Adam and Eve. Yet, now his sword is sheathed for through Christ's sacrifice our sins have been redeemed. Both God's mercy through Christ's death and our mercy given to our neighbors restore the relationship with God that was destroyed by the Fall and perpetuated when we failed to uphold God's Law. Interestingly, most images of the Good Samaritan have one of the men resemble Christ. For instance, in Bourges the Samaritan was shown in the image of Christ, whereas Sens paints Christ as the beaten man. By switching which man is Christ, the theological message alters. As Christ, the Samaritan is symbolically returning us to God's kingdom. We are no longer living beaten and among thieves on the road to Jericho, but in close relationship with God. Yet, when the beaten man represents Jesus there are several implications. First it may be drawing upon the beatings prior to Christ's death on the cross, or they can be a reference to Matthew 25:40 "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."
Meanwhile, Sens and Morot show that while Christ did redeem us, our relationship with God is not fully restored until we all see others as Jesus saw them: worthy of our unconditional love and mercy. Most importantly, they highlight that we have not walked among thieves alone. Since the expulsion, humanity has been barred from Eden and a true relationship with God. We have been beaten, robbed and shown a lack of mercy. Yet, Christ shared in our journey and shared in our pains. He paid the ultimate price for our sins and suffering through his sacrifice on the cross: a final act of mercy. The angel can finally sheath his sword. Our debt has been paid. A relationship with God finally restored. Full Size of the Chartres Good Samaritan Window Full Size of the Bourges Good Samaritan Window Full Size of the Sens Good Samaritan Window Should you be interested in looking more closely at the full windows, I encourage you to check out: http://www.medievalart.org.uk/index.html . It includes a wonderful repository of images for the discussed windows in addition to many others of the famous French Gothic cathedrals. *This is the fourth installment of a five-part series on the evolution of large-scale French Painting as seen in the premiere wings of the Louvre in Paris.**
As a flagship painting of the Romanticism movement, The Raft of the Medusa by Theodore Gericault was actually one of the first to usher in the new style at the beginning of the nineteenth-century. Gericault was primarily self-taught as he only received a few years of academic artistic training. He traveled throughout Europe spending most of his time in Rome, like Ingres and David. Yet, Gericault favored the drama and movement within Baroque and Mannerism rather than looking to the classical ideals of the Renaissance and ancient Rome. The Raft of the Medusa illustrates how Gericault utilized these movements to improve upon the burgeoning Romanticist tendencies. The painting also highlights the schism that was starting to form within the Parisian salons as artists began to venture away from the dominant Academic style of David and Ingres. Romanticists felt that the Neo-classical emphasis on line, balance and order left paintings rather static and stiff. They favored color over line as their means of evoking the necessary emotions within the dramatic scenes. In addition, Romanticism artists like Gericault preferred contemporary stories from the headlines that were removed from mythology and the ancient past or the kings, queens and imperial rulers of their day. Painting needed to be like The Raft of the Medusa: current, dramatic and highly expressive. The Raft of the Medusa cannot be understood fully without knowing the story behind the image. Gericault took the dramatic story of the Medusa straight from the French headlines. In 1816, the Medusa set sail alongside three other ships to the African coast of Senegal. The boat out sailed the others and while staying dangerously close to the coast, it ran aground. Eventually all passengers had to abandon ship. The wealthy were dispersed into the lifeboats while a large group of nearly one-hundred and fifty less fortunate individuals was forced to create a make-shift raft. Either accidently or on purpose, the raft was cut loose from one of the lifeboats and was abandoned at sea for nearly two weeks. Eventually, the people were rescued, but only fifteen survived. Shortly after, stories of murder, cannibalism, deathly storms and insanity arose. The story was perfectly suited for Gericault’s Romanticist ideals. Gericault directly challenged the academies by placing a modern subject on such a large-scale. Typically, large-scale painting was reserved for historical painting like the Oath of the Horatii or to commemorate historical events such as The Coronation of Napoleon. Even Ingres scaled down his image of a concubine in La Grande Odalisque in order for his work to be deemed more acceptable. Gericault, however, chose a story from his day filled with scandal and intrigue. As later Romanticism artists continued to believe, Gericault felt modern subjects were just as worthy of being placed on the grand-scale as he showed with The Raft of the Medusa. The artist continued to break away from the academic style and showed his alignment with Romanticism through his dramatic use of color, composition and modeling. In stark contrast to the Neo-classical and academic paintings of David or Ingres, Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa is all about movement and drama. Rather than arranging them stiffly as David did in Horatii, Gericault captures the movement necessary to evoke the desperation experienced by those on the raft through a less orderly composition. Figures are arranged along a sharp diagonal of despair to hope. The lower left and other parts of the foreground are filled with people flung about dead, dying or decaying. Figures in the top right, however, frantically wave to a ship along the horizon, the Argus— the ship that will eventually be their salvation. To further the contrast between hope and desperation, Gericault utilizes a less extreme form of Caravaggio’s tennebrism. Light is not evenly filtered as seen previously, but now it is starkly contrasted to evoke a particular emotion from the viewer. Although every figure is perfectly modeled and formed, their muscle structure is highly idealized in order to further capture the movement within the painting. Gericault studied from real models and cadavers, but also recalls Michelangelo’s Mannerist ignudi by adding muscles to emphasize movement through the composition. Little criticism can be drawn from the Academics, however, when Ingres also took artistic liberties with the human form. Although Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa marks the beginning of Romanticism, he still utilizes the sharp brushstroke of the academics. As the movement develops and progresses, ultimately, this will diminish over a looser, more painterly line that further emphasizes the drama necessary for a Romanticism painting. *This is the third installment of a five-part series on the evolution of large-scale French Painting and a personal favorite of the author*
Although Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres’ La Grande Odalisque continues to mark the shift in style and subject for French large-scale painting, it is still emblematic of the nineteenth century Academic style. Ingres was a student of David’s; they soon parted ways, however, due to artistic differences--differences that would become emblematic of Ingres' style. Nonetheless their academic and professional backgrounds are strikingly similar. Ingres trained in the Academic style that was now rooted in the Neo-Classicism David introduced in his Oath of the Horatii. In 1801, Ingres also won the coveted Prix de Rome, but did not travel to Italy until 1807. During this time he, too, gained commissions from the emperor, Napoleon, with the aid of his teacher, David. Staying true to the academic style set forth by David, Ingres painted large-scale images of mythology or the grand past with several grandiose images of Napoleon himself. It was not until Ingres finally set forth on his travels to Rome, however, that he would finally paint La Grande Odalisque. Ingres’ La Grande Odalisque is quite unique in its focus on precise draftsmanship mixed with figural distortion. Like David, Ingres favors line over color. The woman’s figure is beautifully rendered through use of chiaroscuro, her golden skin highly realistic. Every textile is expertly painted to accurately capture its own unique texture. Ingres still utilizes color to emphasize the odalisque’s form and sensuality, but his artistic focus does not lie there. What is so unusual, however, is that despite the close attention to form, line, and texture, Ingres paints a female whose figure is not one of nature. In fact, it appears as though she has just a few too many vertebrae. This ultimately becomes a trademark of Ingres’ female nudes. David painted figures exactly as they were, to illustrate his true ability to capture the human form accurately. Although Ingres’ stylistic idiosyncrasy steers him away from being a perfect prototype of the academic style, he was still deemed its champion in the beginning of the nineteenth-century to combat the changes that were starting to arise with the advent of Romanticism. The painterly evolution continued as Odalisque introduced a thoroughly modern and exotic subject matter. As Napoleon began his campaign to Egypt in 1798, the fascination with the Near East began. Orientalism was introduced and paintings were slowly becoming more exotic to reflect this newfound interest. Paintings became increasingly erotic, sensual and filled with women from harems. Ingres, too, was fascinated with this new subject matter and made it the focus of Odalisque. The woman is a concubine within a harem, as the term odalisque implies. There is nothing grand or mythological about Odalisque. Nonetheless, with a powerful painter and Prix de Rome winner such as Ingres now painting Orientalized figures, it helped usher in a full Orientalist movement within the Academic style that ultimately influenced future artists such as Jean-Léon Gerôme. Although Ingres appears to be breaking from tradition in several ways with Odalisque, there were several aspects about his painting that allowed viewers to more readily accept these changes. Academics typically painted royal portraits, mythological scenes or dramatic images from the ancient past; Ingres did not. Thus, part of what made the painting acceptable was its size. For although Odalisque is large, roughly three-feet by five-feet, it is not painted on the same grand scale as the Horatii or Coronation. Furthermore, while there appears to be a sharp break in subject matter, Ingres was clearly influenced by his studies in Italy. What helped ease in Odalisque to the general public was its clear reference to the Venetian Renaissance master, Titian, and his Venus of Urbino. The subject may not be grand or mythological, but it is directly influenced by an earlier attempt to rekindle the Classical spirit of Rome by Titian. The same is true for his unusual elongation of the female form. Ingres was criticized for this feature, but once again it was eventually tolerated because of Michelangelo. Having studied in Rome and the Sistine Chapel, Ingres understood the artistic liberties one could take with the human form while still creating a realistic, but exaggerated figure. He drew upon this in Odalisque. One could criticize him, but not his inspiration. Thus, La Grande Odalisque was met with less critical scorn and eventually accepted. **This is the second posting in a five-part series on the evolution of large-scale French Painting**
Following the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror, Jacques Louis David aligned himself with Europe's most powerful force: Napoleon Bonaparte. In 1804, Napoleon commissioned David to paint his Coronation at Notre-Dame in Paris, France. The result was the aptly named Coronation of Napoleon, one of the largest paintings in history that also delivers an astute political message. David attended the nearly five-hour ceremony at the cathedral and sketched most of the images during this time. Nonetheless, many sketches were later changed and figures who were noticeably absent, such as Napoleon's mother, were inserted within the crowd. Also within the Louvre, is one of these very telling preliminary sketches. The sketch depicts the Pope--who begrudgingly came from Rome to Paris to attend the event--sitting indifferently as an assertive Napoleon crowns himself with his back cast towards the Church leader. As David illustrated in the Oath of the Horatii, he fully understood the power of a political message within painting and how to clearly illustrate that desired message to the public. Ultimately, the implication delivered by the sketch would be deleterious to Napoleon—a man who was already gaining an infamous reputation worldwide. Despite the changes, Coronation still maintains Napoleon's assertion of power over the Pope. Symbolically, his back is still turned towards him and Napoleon stands above the Pope, looming as a larger and more powerful force within the painting. Both painter and emperor are declaring Napoleon’s ultimate power over the people of Europe. This declaration of supreme authority is continued in the crowing of Josephine. No longer is Napoleon crowing himself, as seen in the sketch, rather he is crowning his wife and empress. The switch in imagery serves to benefit Napoleon's image by appearing less prideful as he crowns his wife rather than himself, but still allows him to assert authority over the Pope for he is the one to crown Josephine, not the Supreme Pontiff. Although Coronation initially appears to be in sharp contrast to David's other Neo-Classical masterpieces, the painting still upholds his traditional aesthetic as seen previously in the Oath of the Horatii. David is a master of balance; in a painting that contains well over fifty different figures, his ability to maintain pictorial stability and order is of the utmost importance. The ceremony takes place in the Gothic cathedral of Notre Dame, yet David only paints the part of the church that best resembles the simplistic symmetry of Roman architecture. Once again, David utilizes this architecture in the background to frame his figural groupings, allowing for the eye to move gracefully about the canvas. In addition, these figures are grouped together by clothing, ensuring the scene does not become too chaotic for the viewer. Despite all the figures, David still draws the eyes to Napoleon with his contrasting bright white and deep red clothing and eventually to the kneeling Josephine. Although the painting does not depict a moment from the ancient past, Coronation is still historical. History is now within present day, but the subject is still the same. The grand past is no longer the adequate means of describing the present. This shift will continue in the works of later French artists as they begin to look towards the present rather than the past for their large-scale images. All figures, objects and textiles are rendered naturally and each face is a true portrait of its subject as David continues his emphasis on draftsmanship as well. Although the changes within David's work and Neo-classicism are subtle, his work in Coronation of Napoleon still embodies the ideals of the academic style during the Neo-classical era. |
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