by Nicholas Jenkins | Aug 22, 2022 | Art
By Nicholas Jenkins and Catherine Jenkins.
God delights in good deeds done quietly and unspoken acts of love and obedience to Him. In Matthew’s Gospel, our Lord commands when almsgiving to “not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing”. Not only should we keep our good deeds hidden from the world, but we should even try to hide our good deeds from ourselves. In his letter to the Colossians, St. Paul writes that we must live a “life hidden in Christ”. Elsewhere Christ exhorts us to “receive the Kingdom of God like a child”. That is like a small and unassuming person. Smallness, lightness, quietness: all these qualities carry glory, at times imperceptibly and never loudly, this side of eternity.
This is the great spiritual truth: what is hidden shall be revealed, what is small shall be magnified, “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted”. G.K. Chesterton wrote: “Humility is the mother of giants. One sees great things from the valley; only small things from the peak.”
The Mother of God was quiet and humble, God’s lowly-hand maiden, who helped accomplish for God His great rescue plan for His creation. Mary was unwavering in her quiet trust in God. To trust a beloved is to know how much they love you. This is what I, and maybe you, do not always grasp about God, that which is his essential quality: His goodness. To be good is to wish good onto others and to act accordingly. He does not just want us to be happy ultimately, but he wants us to be gloriously happy.
The Annunciation – Fra Angelico, San Marco
Paintings are by definition silent. Yet, if paintings could speak, the one I have chosen to discuss today would be very quiet indeed. The fresco was painted by Fra Angelico for the convent at San Marco where he was a friar outside the cells where the friars dwelt. It was intended to aid their devotion. The fresco depicts the Annunciation, a very quiet announcement of a very important plan and a meeting of an Angel of God with the lowly Virgin.
My mum got the opportunity to see the fresco when she visited Florence with my dad earlier this year. She was pleased to find the museum at San Marco was not overrun with crowds of tourists. Appositely, it was quiet, hidden and unsought for. This fresco itself refuses to dazzle, and this is linked to its intended audience, as she notes:
“Fra Angelico followed the traditional typology, depicting the Virgin seated in an enclosed space on the right and the Angel Gabriel entering on the left. It is interesting to compare this relatively late Annunciation with an earlier version on wood, painted by Fra Angelico in 1426 for an altar in the convent church of San Domenico in Fiesole. The two paintings were both intended to inspire spiritual devotion, but in very different settings. The San Domenico altarpiece faced the congregation and was accessible for the feast of the Annunciation on 25th March. The San Marco fresco, by contrast, was only accessible to the friars, who would recite prayers before it at prescribed times during the day.”
She moves on to explain:
“Father Timothy Verdon suggests that the key theological message Fra Angelico wanted to give through the image of the Annunciation is about inwardness and attentiveness to the word of God. In the San Domenico altarpiece, the colours used and the materials evoked are richer than the San Marco fresco – for example the gold on the robes of the Angel, the cloth of honour behind the Virgin, the blue starry ceiling and the marble floor. The overall effect is of heavenly light and beauty intended to stir delight in the beholder and help them come closer to God. This highly illuminated effect was intended for the laity and is in strong contrast with the starker spirituality of the San Marco Annunciation, painted for fellow friars to contemplate. In that painting, the space is much simpler with the Virgin seated on a wooden stool wearing a simple dark robe like a Dominican habit. The symbolic and supernatural features of the 1426 Annunciation have largely disappeared (for example the hands of God sending out the dove of the Holy Spirit on a beam of gold light). Instead of looking down, the Virgin is looking directly at the Angel in loving acceptance of God’s will.”
The Annunciation, San Domenico, Fiesole
We view the Virgin through a colonnade of columns which as mum explains “evoke the enclosed space of her womb”. Fra Angelico’s “architecture” is “solid and realistic in scale”. However, “Fra Angelico’s figures continue to be idealised and heavenly, delicately moulded like relief sculpture rather than solid and three dimensional.” It is the lightness and lack of solidity in his figures that perhaps most impresses me about Fra Angelico. G.K Chesterton described brilliantly how Fra Angelico’s represented his angels like “birds or almost like butterflies”. The friar had a deep and inspired understanding of humility.
I shall leave the final encomium to my very knowledgeable mother:
“Fra Angelico was an innovator. The San Domenico altarpiece, as well as being a first in using linear perspective may also be the earliest example of a single field square altarpiece (pala). However, as a churchman, Fra Angelico was also able to resist some modern innovations; for example, he retained a medieval colour scheme and some of the ethereal idealisation of the Byzantine style. The naturalism of Renaissance art was a double-edged sword. On the one hand it could bring images alive and help the worshipper emotionally connect. On the other, it could secularise sacred art and attract the love of the viewer for surface appearance only. In the San Domenico Annunciation, Fra Angelico used rich symbolism and jewel-like colours to evoke the heavenly realm for the congregation. In the San Marco Annunciation, his style is more naturalistic, using simpler colours and a more ordinary looking, realistic setting. Rather than presenting the Virgin as Queen of Heaven, Fra Angelico emphases her humanity, perhaps inviting his fellow friars to identify with her. However, unlike the High Renaissance masters such as Leonardo and Raphael, Fra Angelico does not end up ‘psychologising’ and humanising his message. If anything, the spirituality of the painting is intensified – there are no trappings between the message of God and the Virgin’s frank acceptance of it.”
by Cedric | Aug 14, 2022 | Art, General
Fra Angelico (‘angelic brother, a posthumous title) was born Guido di Pietro in Tuscany around 1395. He trained in Florence as a manuscript painter in his earlier life. Later, he entered a Dominican priory in San Marco in Florence. He was described by Vasari in his Lives of the Artists as having “a rare and perfect talent”. As this Sunday is the Feast of the Dormition and Assumption of the Virgin Mary, I have dedicated this post to Fra Angelico’s breathtaking rendition of mystery.
The Assumption of the Virgin Mary is one of the glorious mysteries of the Holy Rosary. It is not in the gospels but there is a part of it in Revelation and another in church dogma. The belief is that when Mary came to the end of her earthly life, she did not die. After her dormition (falling asleep) she was assumed into heaven, where she was crowned with twelve stars. The below was Fra Angelico’s interpretation of the mystery, which was an altarpiece at the Basilica of San Marco in Florence.
The Death and the Assumption of the Virgin – about 1432, Fra Angelico
When I first saw this in the week I was completely dazzled and taken aback by it. The resplendent jubilant colouring and breathtaking detail struck me. Let’s take it from the bottom up. The dormition itself is painted with great reverence. This is a most solemn event. Those gathered are suitably mournful. A host of angels surrounds her. She is vested in brilliant blue.
In the lower one, the deceased Virgin lies in deathlike sleep amid a gathering of apostles. Four are about to lift her bier — you can sense from their postures that they are anticipating its weight — while others whisper among themselves or stare in numbed sorrow. Jesus presides over all, carrying Mary’s soul, in the form of a bright-eyed child tucked in his arm. New York Times
The top panel is the most striking. Four angels is in different shades of blue and white hail the arrival of Mary with trumpets. Their wings and the fabric of their robes is so very beautiful. Beneath Mary’s feet there are clouds and fronds of gold which remind me of a fine monstrance. The light goes from her feet and around Mary herself. This makes her look even more glorious than the bright blue and gold vestment she is wearing. The vestment itself is extraordinary. Several shades of blue, white and gold combine to give her an aura which is suitable for her new place of residence. The veneration with which Fra Angelico has rendered her is apparent, and renders the viewer numb in amazement.
The second scene, above, is about release. The Virgin soars upward, groups of angels execute a vigorous circling dance. If you look carefully you’ll see that their movements raise a breeze that lifts the hems of their gowns.
Close looking is precisely what this exquisite show encourages. It’s details that keep you looking: faces of saints as particular as high school yearbook portraits; Christ’s Passion as a stop-motion video scoured by grief and rich with Tuscan color; guiding stars that beam in the sky but also on Mary’s robe. Brother Angel was more a man of the earth than some of us knew. Ibidem.
Mary is surrounded by a host of angels in splendid vestments. There are so many beautiful colours in this painting, along with the gold gilding, the shading and movements of the garments, we are treated to a heavenly visual feast. The movement, incidentally, is caused by Mary’s assumption itself. Such a momentous event causes heavenly wind to blow their gowns away from them. God seems to be above all of this, himself encircled by a host of angels with halos, pulling Mary towards him. The scene is made even more magnificent for the bright gold foil backing it.
In the end, is this not what all Christians pine for? An opportunity to have lived a good life, run the race to the finish, and be brought to God after our passing. Christ died for us and for our salvation. Fra Angelico, in this overwhelming painting, has given us a glimpse of heaven. I trust that you, like me, will not forget it.
by Cedric | Aug 10, 2022 | Art, Tunes
Hello and welcome to this month’s edition of Three Favourites. See below the selections which have made it this month.
Elvis Presley – Blue Hawaii 1961
Charlotte and I were having dinner the other night, and listening to Elvis. The cover on his 1961 offering is quite delightful to this reviewer. Elvis is posed, next to a reel which proclaims, twice, that there are 14 great songs on the album. Elvis himself is in a bright Hawaiian shirt, with a black ukulele and a string of flowers around his neck. This is a splendid and balanced cover which has sufficient whimsey to be entertaining and memorable.
The Zombies – Odessey and Oracle – 1968
This cover is psychedelic and captures something of the end of the 1960s. The album itself is light and beautiful with the track Time of the Season being a real highlight. The colours and shapes intermingling and completing a full picture are impressive. OVerall this is an exciting cover which is very much of its time.
Mike Oldfield – Tubular Bells – 1973
I am surprised I have not included Mike Oldfield’s exquisite Tubular Bells before. This cover is very simple: A tubular bell, set against a natural background of sky and a wave. I suppose the understated nature of this cover in light of the brilliance of the album is what sets it out as one of the iconic covers of all time. I love this, it is effective and striking.
Tune in next month for the three favourites of September.
by Cedric | Aug 6, 2022 | Art, General
I was in London for a client meeting recently and Charlotte surprised me with a visit after I was finished. It goes without saying that the depths of my delight as this surprise are quite indescribable. One of our activities was to visit the National Gallery. One of the first pieces of transcendent religious art which we saw was The Annunciation by Carlo Crivelli. This masterpiece was completed in 1486 and is an example of the late Gothic Italian style.
Born in Venice, he absorbed the influences of the Vivarini, the Bellini, and Andrea Mantegna to create an elegant, profuse, effusive, and extreme style, dominated by strong outlines and clear, crisp colors—perhaps incorporating just a whiff of early Netherlandish manuscript style. Smart History
The Annunciation is a very important moment in the Gospel and indeed is foundational to the Christian faith. It is the moment the angel Gabriel came down from heaven and announced to the Virgin Mary that she was going to be the mother of Jesus. It is also the moment Gabriel announces that Mary’s cousin, who is a lot older, will also conceive a child (John the Baptist). I have included the full reading and the full painting below:
Luke 1:26-38
26 The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth,
27 to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary.
28 And coming to her, he said, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.”
29 But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.
30 Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God.
31 Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.
32 He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father,
33 and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his Kingdom there will be no end.”
34 But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?”
35 And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.
36 And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren;
37 for nothing will be impossible for God.”
38 Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
The below is the upper part of the painting which was the first to transfix me. The way the Holy Spirit comes down from heaven through a swirling vortex and passes through a small golden arched aperture was very moving to me. The strands of light surrounding it look like the strands surrounding the vortex look like the decorations around the host in a monstrance. The gold detailing around the fascia are absolutely incredible to me. Again this is a painting from 1486. The way Crivelli brought out the detailing in this painting astonishes me. Every square centimetre has been considered and rendered with such mastery that I am lost for words. Look at the draped carpet in the top right corner and the colours on it.
Below is the lower part of the painting. I love how the frame of the painting matches the render on the room. On the bottom left we have the angel Gabriel and St Emidius with the Italian town of Ascoli Piceno, of which he is patron Saint. It also shows the beam of the Holy Spirit entering the Virgin Mary and the Holy Spirit represented as a bird. The detailing in this is exquisite, the folded fabric of Gabriel, St Emidius and Mary’s clothing, the grille and plant on the window sill, the gold and red thread of Mary’s bedding, the items on the shelving and the book holder where Mary is reading scripture paint a beautiful picture. Libertas Ecclesiatica is written under this scene:
The inscription along the base of the painting reads “Libertas Ecclesiastica” (church liberty), and refers to Ascoli’s right to self-government, free from the interference of the Pope, a right granted to the town by Sixtus IV in 1482. The news reached Ascoli on 25 March, the Feast of the Annunciation, which is probably the message the official in black is reading. Smart History
Emidius is the patron saint of the town of Ascoli Piceno, and Crivelli painted this altarpiece for the city’s church of the Santissima Annunciazione (the Holy Annunciation). A proud citizen, Emidius seems to have hurried to catch up to Gabriel to proudly show off his detailed model of the town, which he holds rather gingerly, as though the paint hasn’t quite dried. Ibidem
It is unusual to see Gabriel and Mary separate but the message is just as striking: the beautiful joyful mystery of the annunciation. Mary has been chosen to carry the saviour of the world and will forever be called blessed. This painting is an absolute joy and likely was part of the inspiration of the Pre-Raphaelite works which Charlotte and I so love.
48 From now on, all generations will call me blessed.
by Cedric | Jul 25, 2022 | Art, General
By the kindness of my good friend Colin, Charlotte and I managed to go to Oxford ostensibly to see Grace Jones at the Kite Festival. We did not want to spend the day in a field for the one artist we wanted to see, so we spent most of the day in Oxford. Among our wonderful and unforgettable dalliances, we visited the Ashmolian. Heading straight for the art after having seen a beautiful sculpture of Antinous and Hadrian (Memoirs of Hadrian was by Marguerite Yourcenar was one of the first books we shared), we happened upon a Pre-Raphaelite room. My interest in them was non-existent prior to meeting Charlotte but, as with many now sacrosanct parts of my life, they have brought me tremendous joy. The below represents the wedding of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Some historical context below:
Holman Hunt was among the crowd on London Bridge on the night of 10 March 1863, celebrating the marriage of Princess Alexandra of Denmark to the future Edward VII. He made sketches of it, but did not complete this painting until 16 May 1864, retouching it in 1866. He was fascinated by the contrasts of natural and artificial light and by the ‘Hogarthian humour’ of the crowds. He introduced portraits of several friends and acquaintances, including Thomas Combe in a top hat on the extreme left, arm in arm with the artist himself; and Mrs Combe with Millais’s father and brother and the artist Robert Braithwaite Martineau. The frame was designed by Hunt to combine emblems appropriate to a wedding and the arms of the royal families of Denmark and England. Art UK
Hunt, William Holman; London Bridge on the Night of the Marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales; The Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology
This painting transfixed me in Oxford. I stood in front of it for many minutes in awe. The colours and lighting is so vivid. The smoke, fire, clothing and even the cloth on the flags all add up to a splendid procession of movement and celebration. Charlotte is right to label this as a man’s painting. It has a brooding, dark and smokey atmosphere. In fact on second review, it appears almost haunting.
I am glad to have brought this painting to your attention. This is yet another of the innumerable examples of wondrous beautiful things which Charlotte and I enjoy together. Thank you, my dearest, as ever for having introduced me to Holman Hunt.
by Charlotte Evans | Jul 17, 2022 | Art, General
On the first weekend in May, Cedric, Nick and I visited The Wallace Collection to round off a
happy weekend in London. Like many museums in London, The Wallace Collection is free and
very much worth a visit. Once again, I had the delight of finally seeing in person many paintings
I had admired for years, although I was sad that Fragonard’s playful rococo masterpiece Les
hasards heureux de l’escarpolette, commonly known in English as The Swing, was in a separate
exhibition at the time of our visit. The sumptuous collection of paintings, sculptures, exquisite
porcelain and much more is set in the former townhouse of the Seymour family, and the rooms
are just as much art as the works held within them.
Les hasards heureux de l’escarpolette, Jean-Honoré Fragonard
One of the paintings that stood out to me on our visit to The Wallace Collection was an
enormous and striking depiction of Paolo and Francesca observed by Dante and Virgil, taken
from Dante’s Inferno. The painter, Ary Scheffer, painted several versions of the picture with
various titles, and the one held in The Wallace Collection is simply called Francesca da Rimini.
I had wanted to see this painting for years, having grown fond of Dante during my two years of
Italian at university. It depicts Francesca da Rimini and Paolo Malatesta, the lovers who end up
in the second circle of Hell as Dante imagines it in his Inferno. This second out of nine circles is
reserved for the lustful. Francesca, both in real life and in Dante’s Inferno, was married to
Giovanni Malatesta but had an illicit relationship with his younger brother, Paolo. Giovanni was
filled with rage on discovering them in flagrante delicto and murdered them both. Without the
opportunity to go to confession before dying, they are cut off from God for eternity.
Paolo and Francesca – Ary Scheffer
Dante’s couple has inspired many other works of art, and artists have chosen different moments
in Paolo and Francesca’s affair. Many paintings show their first wild abandon to passion while
reading the story of Lancelot and Guinevere:
‘We were reading one day for fun
How Lancelot was seized by love:
we were alone, but didn’t suspect.
Several times the book made us pale,
making us look in each other’s eyes,
But only once it became too much.
When we read of that adorable smile
And how the great lover kisses it,
This man, who’ll always be by me,
He kissed my mouth all quivering.
Both book and author were panders:
we didn’t read any more that day.’ (Inferno, V.III, ll. 127-138)
Scheffer, instead, has chosen the moment that Virgil shows Dante what has become of Paolo and
Francesca. Dante and his poet guide can be seen on the right of Scheffer’s painting, lingering in
the shadowy background. The chiaroscuro in the painting is ironic, given the moral overtones of
the poem and painting; Paolo and Francesca are milky white in contrast to the darkness of the
background. Francesca’s mouth is slack with sorrow, Paolo swoons as Francesca clings to him,
and they both bear stab wounds. Tangled in bedsheets, they are buffeted about by the wind, just
as they allowed themselves to be swept up by lust during their earthly lives; Dante describes
them as ‘like doves summoned by desire, [who] sweep across the sky on impulse, gliding
towards their happy nest’ (ll. 82-84).
I do not think the morality behind this painting’s story is the reason for my liking it and, indeed,
suggesting it. Its sensuality is infused with a delicate pathos, and its scale is impressive, too, like
the painting of Isabella and the Pot of Basil I discussed in a previous post. Scheffer’s painting
reminded me of my love of Dante, whose writing I have neglected for several years now. I highly
recommend London’s Wallace Collection, one of many (free!) gems in our great sprawling
capital, as I also recommend Dante’s Divine Comedy. Don’t be intimidated by its status as a
towering epic; Professor Steve Ellis’ translation (used in this post).
