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Sacred Mysteries: John the Baptist as guide to the Ghent Altarpiece
Sacred Mysteries: John the Baptist as guide to the Ghent Altarpiece

Telegraph

time6 hours ago

  • Entertainment
  • Telegraph

Sacred Mysteries: John the Baptist as guide to the Ghent Altarpiece

St John the Baptist was lying face up on a table and Adam and Eve were standing beside one another. This was in the workshop at the Ghent Museum of Fine Arts where, since 2012, the Ghent Altarpiece, that stupendous work by Hubert and Jan van Eyck, has been undergoing restoration. From Tuesday to Friday until next March, you can watch the restorers at work. I saw damaged flecks exposed on the two panels of angel musicians. The whole polyptych, when its two wings are open, is 15ft wide and 11ft 6in high. It is now housed in the easternmost chapel, behind the high altar, of St Bavo's Cathedral in the old city of Ghent. I found visitors quietly contemplating it or taking photographs with their mobiles. I suspect that many were unaware that only four of the 12 panels on display with the wings open are the originals. The panels are arranged in two storeys and the upper storey (Adam, Angel Choir, the Virgin Mary, God, St John the Baptist, Angel Musicians, Eve) has been replaced with good colour photographs while the panels are away being restored. Someone at the Museum of Fine Arts regretted that the former practice of replacing absent panels with black and white photographs was not still being followed. One other panel is not original: a lower storey scene of Just Judges was stolen in 1934 and never recovered. It was replaced in 1945 by an indirect copy. Does it matter that visitors think they are seeing the full original? I'm not sure. I certainly didn't like the introductory presentation in the crypt where visitors are invited to wear virtual reality headsets. The visuals didn't give a convincing view but a 21st-century simulacrum, like something from a Lord of the Rings film. The audio was unconvincing too, speaking of the 'adoration'of saints in the Middle Ages, which is far from fair. One object in the crypt linked up with the Van Eycks' project in painting the altarpiece. It was a silver reliquary in the form of a head, enclosing a small relic from the skull of St John the Baptist. The cathedral was dedicated to this saint before it acquired the dedication to St Bavo, or Baaf in Flemish. John the Baptist is shown on two prominent panels: on the back in imitation of statuary, and on the front next to the central figure of God. To be sure, the widest panel shows the mystic scene of the Lamb of God, standing upon an altar, with blood flowing from its side. But John is the guide, as it were, who introduces the viewer to the heavenly tableau. The altarpiece was inaugurated on May 6 1432, when the son of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, was baptised in the church. John is depicted not only as the baptiser but also as a citizen of heaven, flanking God, with the Virgin Mary in the place of honour on the other side. So John retains his ascetic garment of camel hair, but over it he wears a cloak of rich green hemmed with jewels. He points to God, but with his left hand holds a book open at a prophetic text that we can see includes the illuminated word Consolamini – 'Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God,' the words of Isaiah familiar from Handel's Messiah. Isaiah continues with words that fit John the Baptist as 'The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord.' Part of the genius of the Van Eycks was to include the smallest detail without it swamping the overall images. Standing before the altarpiece behind its glass screen, it is impossible to discern every detail, which can be seen online. But I am glad I went to look at the altarpiece not virtually but in reality.

Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries
Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries

Arab News

timea day ago

  • General
  • Arab News

Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries

VATICAN CITY: The Vatican Museums on Thursday unveiled the last and most important of the restored Raphael Rooms, the spectacularly frescoed reception rooms of the Apostolic Palace that in some ways rival the Sistine Chapel as the peak of high Renaissance artistry. A decadelong project to clean and restore the largest of the four Raphael Rooms uncovered a novel mural painting technique that the superstar Renaissance painter and architect began but never completed. Raphael used oil paint directly on the wall, and arranged a grid of nails embedded in the walls to hold in place the resin surface onto which he painted. Vatican Museums officials recounted the discoveries in inaugurating the hall, known as the Room of Constantine, after the last scaffolding came down. The reception room, which was painted by Raphael and his students starting in the first quarter-century of the 1500s, is dedicated to the fourth-century Roman emperor Constantine, whose embrace of Christianity helped spread the faith throughout the Roman Empire. 'With this restoration, we rewrite a part of the history of art,' Vatican Museums director Barbara Jatta said. Pope Julius II summoned the young Raphael Sanzio from Florence to Rome in 1508 to decorate a new private apartment for himself in the Apostolic Palace, giving the then-25-year-old a major commission at the height of his artistic output. Even at the time, there were reports that Raphael had wanted to decorate the rooms not with frescoes but with oil paint directly on the wall, to give the images greater brilliance. The 10-year restoration of the Room of Constantine proved those reports correct, said Fabio Piacentini, one of the chief restorers. Vatican technicians discovered that two female figures on opposite corners of the hall, Justice and Courtesy, were actually oil-on-wall paintings, not frescoes in which paint is applied to wet plaster. They were therefore clearly the work of Raphael himself, he said. But Raphael died on April 6, 1520, at the age of 37, and before the hall could be completed. The rest of the paintings in the room were frescoes completed by his students who couldn't master the oil technique Raphael had used, Jatta said. During the cleaning, restorers discovered that Raphael had clearly intended to do more with oil paints: Under the plaster frescoes, they found a series of metal nails they believed had been drilled into the wall to hold in place the natural resin surface that Raphael had intended to paint on, Piacentini said. 'From a historical and critical point of view, and also technical, it was truly a discovery,' he said. 'The technique used and planned by Raphael was truly experimental for the time, and has never been found in any other mural made with oil paint.' The final part of the restoration of the room was the ceiling, painted by Tommaso Laureti and featuring a remarkable example of Renaissance perspective with his fresco of a fake tapestry 'Triumph of Christianity over Paganism.' The Raphael Rooms were never fully closed off to the public during their long restoration, but they are now free of scaffolding for the many visitors flocking to the Vatican Museums for the 2025 Jubilee.

Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries
Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries

Associated Press

time2 days ago

  • General
  • Associated Press

Vatican unveils last of restored Raphael Rooms after 10-year cleaning that yielded new discoveries

VATICAN CITY (AP) — The Vatican Museums on Thursday unveiled the last and most important of the restored Raphael Rooms, the spectacularly frescoed reception rooms of the Apostolic Palace that in some ways rival the Sistine Chapel as the peak of high Renaissance artistry. A decade-long project to clean and restore the largest of the four Raphael Rooms uncovered a novel mural painting technique that the superstar Renaissance painter and architect began but never completed: the use of oil paint directly on the wall, and a grid of nails embedded in the walls to hold in place the resin surface onto which he painted. Vatican Museums officials recounted the discoveries on Thursday in inaugurating the hall, known as the Room of Constantine, after the last scaffolding came down. The reception room, which was painted by Raphael and his students starting in the first quarter-century of the 1500s, is dedicated to the fourth-century Roman emperor Constantine whose embrace of Christianity helped spread the faith throughout the Roman Empire. 'With this restoration, we rewrite a part of the history of art,' Vatican Museums director Barbara Jatta said. Pope Julius II summoned the young Raphael Sanzio from Florence to Rome in 1508 to decorate a new private apartment for himself in the Apostolic Palace, giving the then 25-year-old painter and architect a major commission at the height of his artistic output. Even at the time, there were reports that Raphael had wanted to decorate the rooms not with frescoes but with oil paint directly on the wall, to give the images greater brilliance. The 10-year restoration of the Rome of Constantine proved those reports correct, said Fabio Piacentini, one of the chief restorers. Vatican technicians discovered that two female figures, Justice and Courtesy and located on opposite corners of the hall, were actually oil-on-wall paintings, not frescoes in which paint is applied to wet plaster. They were therefore clearly the work of Raphael himself, he said. But Raphael died on April 6, 1520, at the age of 37, and before the hall could be completed. The rest of the paintings in the room were frescoes completed by his students who couldn't master the oil technique Raphael had used, Jatta said. During the cleaning, restorers discovered that Raphael had clearly intended to do more with oil paints: Under the plaster frescoes, they found a series of metal nails which they believed had been drilled into the wall to hold in place the natural resin surface that Raphael had intended to paint onto, Piacentini said. 'From a historical and critical point of view, and also technical, it was truly a discovery,' he said. 'The technique used and planned by Raphael was truly experimental for the time, and has never been found in any other mural made with oil paint.' The final part of the restoration of the room was the ceiling, painted by Tommaso Laureti and featuring a remarkable example of Renaissance perspective with his fresco of a fake tapestry 'Triumph of Christianity over Paganism.' The Raphael Rooms were never fully closed off to the public during their long restoration, but they are now free of scaffolding for the many visitors flocking to the Vatican Museums for the 2025 Jubilee. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

In this Manitoba beach town, preserving the seawall art gallery is an eternal struggle
In this Manitoba beach town, preserving the seawall art gallery is an eternal struggle

CBC

time19-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • CBC

In this Manitoba beach town, preserving the seawall art gallery is an eternal struggle

"Holy mackerel," Merryl-Lee Mercier exclaims. "What will it look like this year?" Mercier is the chairperson of the Seawall Gallery in Gimli, Man. She's recounting for me her annual ritual. Every spring, she "walks the wall" — a concrete pier that extends around the town's harbour — to see how each of its 70 murals have survived the winter. Without fail, the paintings are damaged by ice, wind and sub-zero temperatures. Mercier volunteers to organize restoration efforts, a task which, let's be honest, does not seem entirely sane. Summer months ravage the murals, too. Direct sunlight breaks down pigment, and they're regularly slammed by waves and exfoliated by sand. Entire layers of paint were blasted away by a storm in 2015. Crazy winds barrelled across Lake Winnipeg, causing waves to crash far over the pier. A reporter for the region's Express Weekly once called the ongoing volunteer efforts of the Seawall Committee "Sisyphean." This particular Sisyphus has endured the task for 28 years, so far. In 1997, members of the Gimli Art Club were granted permission to paint scenes of local history on the drab concrete wall. Many of those original muralists have since died, and while some of their painted scenes have chipped and faded into oblivion, others have been doggedly restored — though not without controversy. "If your proposed painting gets accepted by the committee," explains Mercier, "you must agree to three things: one, your painting belongs to the Gimli Art Club; two, you will maintain it; three, or someone else will." "Sometimes, it's like pulling teeth to find willing people that'll help restore them," says Millard Barteaux. At 86 years of age, Bart, as he's known, maintains his own three originals. One — a waterbomber flying low over the lake — is a personal favourite of mine. Something about that particular yellow against that particular blue reminds me of the best parts of childhood. Besides his own work, he restores three or four others each year. "Between my drinking and my gambling, I find the time," he jokes. "His golf is the real problem!" says Mercier, adding that it's usually retirees like Bart who help the most. Mercier is refreshingly honest. "When I put my first two paintings on the wall, it was a work of love. But having to restore them so often over the years — well, it's not love anymore!" When a mural languishes too long and a restorer cannot be found, it gets painted over. This is yet another way the content of the gallery changes. Decades-old, weather-beaten murals sit between freshly restored and brand-new scenes. Gimli, population 6,500, was settled by Icelandic immigrants in 1875. It's still the largest Icelandic community outside of Iceland. The paintings are populated by Viking warriors, fishermen, farmers and homesteaders. They depict scenes of Cree and Anishinaabe life, too. According to historians, the early success of New Iceland (as the settlement was known) was largely due to help from local First Nations. Gimli's population swells during the summer, when seasonal cottage renters and beach-going day-trippers descend upon the town. My own yearly ritual involved getting ice cream at Country Boy, Gimli's charming greasy-spoon diner, and strolling the seawall with my young family. To my kids, the murals were like the magical sidewalk drawings in Mary Poppins. They'd spend time choosing which one they'd jump into, if they could. But to me, the seawall paintings are magical in a different way. When the conditions are just right — and the diffused sun of an overcast sky becomes like the specialized lighting of a gallery — the paintings perform a slight-of-hand magic show just for me. Suddenly, their unfettered creativity reveals itself, peeking out from their parochial charm and rural subject matter. Clouds look like funny little nimbuses. Horizon lines are oddly low. People and animals have the same girth and wit. The painted worlds teem with vitality. Lighting is everything. But so is context. I love the Seawall Gallery because it gently repudiates what I think I know about art. The claims made by big-city art feel so grandiose. In art world parlance, contemporary painting is said to interrogate art history; to destabilize heteronormativity; to problematize this, that or the other thing. So many heavy verbs! But on the seawall last summer, I saw a little red horse in a blue field, knee-deep in wildflowers, painted with obvious impressionistic joy. None of those formidable verbs in sight. I love that sturdy red horse and her foal. I love the murky indigos, too. The original artist, Olive (Ollie) Margaret Stranger, died in 2018. The painting has since been restored by Alec Baldwin (no, not that one). I'm certainly not the only artist-tourist to feel this way. Painter Patrick Dunford recently described his own experience of the seawall for me. "In 2009, when I was painting abstracts in my MFA, I was really unsatisfied with them," he says. "But when I visited Gimli, I was so impressed by many of the murals. They seemed more relevant and more 'in the world' than my interior brain abstracts. The rough surfaces and faded colours really influenced me. There was a certain unassuming quality to them, like the places they depict." Baldwin is a Gimli celebrity, if not a Hollywood one. His own painting on the wall, Gimli Dog Party, is a fantastical interpretation of a real-life event he coordinates every summer, where local dogs gather for games and races. In the painting, dogs soar above the party on magic carpets — his way of depicting deceased canine friends. Baldwin, 35, is autistic. He's the youngest member of the Gimli Art Club. About the little red horse, he says, "she's protecting her foal from predators, and they are protecting each other from the wind." About restoring paintings on the seawall, he says, "I can work in all weather; in fish-fly season, in sun and rainbows season, in partly cloudy season. I don't get upset or have frustration. I stay inspired." Perhaps "restoring" is not the right word. Some artists can't resist adding their own flourishes to the original work, while others can't quite emulate the original artist's style. And, while much technical expertise has been gained by trial and error over the years, things sometimes go wrong. As Bart explains to me, "We've learned how to sand the murals down and how to fill in the peeling spots, but some of our experiments with glazes and sealants have us re-doing the whole thing over again." "We research what we can do to keep the murals on the wall," says Mercier. "But one year, the sealant we tried changed the colours! It turned the buffalos green! It turned the skin on the Bathers grey — and anyone else with skin showing for that matter!" The"Bathers" Mercier is referring to is one of the earliest murals. Five 1920s era swimmers frolic in the water, sporting striped bathing costumes and caps. Mercier has been restoring it ever since the original painter, Madeleine Barg, passed away. "I do it because her husband comes and looks at it," she says. "But that one year I had to tell him, 'Sorry, the legs turned grey!' He was very gracious." Not everyone is gracious with the committee's restorative efforts though. "Oh, people have gone up one side of me and down the other," Mercier says. "Some have even threatened to sue, and have told us we've ruined their parent's legacy. But we can only do what we're capable of doing." Thankfully, Mercier not only has practical tenacity, but humour. If she can't quite get the right skin tone for The Bathers, she decides it's time for them to get a tan. But she's open to learning and regularly seeks advice. When speaking with Mercier, it struck me that the seawall restoration project interrogates notions of authorship. It destabilizes norms around social and durational art practices. It problematizes and resists the effects of climate, time and linear historical narratives. Bring on the verbs! Art talk is just spin, baby. What is impossible to spin, however, is heart, and the Gimli Seawall Gallery has this in spades. The impact — deep and lasting — that the gallery has made on the community of Gimli, and on outsiders like me, is testament to this. After 10 years on the job, Mercier is getting ready to pass the torch to Erika Hanneson, an excellent local artist with time and dedication for the cause, who'll doubtless have much work to do in advance of the Seawall's 30th anniversary, two summers from now. Struggle on, Sisyphus. Your effort is so appreciated.

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