Latest news with #medievalArt
The Guardian
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Never mind the Norman bollocks: Reading's replica Bayeux tapestry is a prudish triumph!
'We've already got one,' sneers a snotty French knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. With that holy grail of British history, the Bayeux tapestry, about to be lent by France to the British Museum, we could say the same. In 1885, Elizabeth Wardle of Leek, Staffordshire, led a team of 35 women in an extraordinary campaign to embroider a meticulous, full-scale replica of the entire early medieval artwork. With Victorian energy and industry they managed it in just a year and by 1886 it was being shown around Britain and abroad. Today that Victorian Bayeux tapestry is preserved in Reading Museum, and like the original, can be viewed online. Are there differences? Of course. The Bayeux tapestry is a time capsule of the 11th century and when you look at its stitching you get a raw sense of that remote past. The Leek Embroidery Society version is no mean feat but it is an artefact of its own, Victorian age. The colours are simplified and intensified, using worsted thread, as Wardle explains in its end credits, 'dyed in permanent colours' by her husband Thomas Wardle, a leading Midlands silk dyeing industrialist. The Wardles were friends with the radical craft evangelist William Morris – a clue that Elizabeth's epic work of replication should be seen as part of the Victorian passion for medieval history that encompassed everything from neo-gothic architecture to Walter Scott's novel Ivanhoe and Morris's Kelmscott Chaucer – in which the poems are illustrated with woodcuts. In this Victorian dream of the past, sympathies were very much on the Saxon side. The Norman conquest was seen as a national tragedy in which traditional Anglo-Saxon freedoms were crushed by the 'Norman Yoke'. It's ironic that this underdog version of British history, with brave Saxons defying the wicked conquering Normans, prevailed at a time when they were themselves conquering or colonialising much of the planet. That immigrant Victorian Karl Marx wrote that when people are 'revolutionising themselves and things … they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service, borrowing from them names, battle slogans, and costumes'. This perfectly describes 19th-century Britain, which hid its creation of modern industrial capitalism in medieval styles. And when it came to reproducing the Bayeux tapestry, it was a new technology that made it possible – photography. Wardle and her team based their embroideries on what was considered at the time a nationally essential photographic project. In the 1870s, the British government itself commissioned Joseph Cundall to photograph the entire Bayeux tapestry. You can picture his intrepid expedition setting out by the boat train with red-coated soldiers to guard the camera and a team of bearers. A Ripping Yarn. Cundall's monochrome photographs were hand-coloured by art students back in Britain – and censored. Like other medieval art, including manuscripts illuminated by monks, the Bayeux tapestry has a plenitude of monsters and obscenities in its marginalia, including male nudes with graphically depicted penises. One naked man stands with a flamboyant erection, which may be part of the tapestry's realism about the psychology of war. When the Leek Embroidery Society borrowed a set of Cundall's photographs, they of course copied the false colours and underpants from these supposedly objective recordings. Sign up to Art Weekly Your weekly art world round-up, sketching out all the biggest stories, scandals and exhibitions after newsletter promotion In fact, this is not the only full-size Victorian replica of the tapestry. Cundall created his own continuous photographic replica, mounted on two ornate wooden rollers so that you can scroll through it in your private library. Perhaps this is what its most recent private owner, the late Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts, used to do. When his estate went on sale his 'tapestry' got much less attention from the media than other treasures such as his first edition of The Great Gatsby. But it was sold for £16,000 – to the Bayeux Museum in Normandy. At least in Bayeux it's in safe hands, just as the original has been for at least 600 years.
The Guardian
15-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Never mind the Norman bollocks: Reading's replica Bayeux tapestry is a prudish triumph!
'We've already got one,' sneers a snotty French knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. With that holy grail of British history, the Bayeux tapestry, about to be lent by France to the British Museum, we could say the same. In 1885, Elizabeth Wardle of Leek, Staffordshire, led a team of 35 women in an extraordinary campaign to embroider a meticulous, full-scale replica of the entire early medieval artwork. With Victorian energy and industry they managed it in just a year and by 1886 it was being shown around Britain and abroad. Today that Victorian Bayeux tapestry is preserved in Reading Museum, and like the original, can be viewed online. Are there differences? Of course. The Bayeux tapestry is a time capsule of the 11th century and when you look at its stitching you get a raw sense of that remote past. The Leek Embroidery Society version is no mean feat but it is an artefact of its own, Victorian age. The colours are simplified and intensified, using worsted thread, as Wardle explains in its end credits, 'dyed in permanent colours' by her husband Thomas Wardle, a leading Midlands silk dyeing industrialist. The Wardles were friends with the radical craft evangelist William Morris – a clue that Elizabeth's epic work of replication should be seen as part of the Victorian passion for medieval history that encompassed everything from neo-gothic architecture to Walter Scott's novel Ivanhoe and Morris's Kelmscott Chaucer – in which the poems are illustrated with woodcuts. In this Victorian dream of the past, sympathies were very much on the Saxon side. The Norman conquest was seen as a national tragedy in which traditional Anglo-Saxon freedoms were crushed by the 'Norman Yoke'. It's ironic that this underdog version of British history, with brave Saxons defying the wicked conquering Normans, prevailed at a time when they were themselves conquering or colonialising much of the planet. That immigrant Victorian Karl Marx wrote that when people are 'revolutionising themselves and things … they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service, borrowing from them names, battle slogans, and costumes'. This perfectly describes 19th-century Britain, which hid its creation of modern industrial capitalism in medieval styles. And when it came to reproducing the Bayeux tapestry, it was a new technology that made it possible – photography. Wardle and her team based their embroideries on what was considered at the time a nationally essential photographic project. In the 1870s, the British government itself commissioned Joseph Cundall to photograph the entire Bayeux tapestry. You can picture his intrepid expedition setting out by the boat train with red-coated soldiers to guard the camera and a team of bearers. A Ripping Yarn. Cundall's monochrome photographs were hand-coloured by art students back in Britain – and censored. Like other medieval art, including manuscripts illuminated by monks, the Bayeux tapestry has a plenitude of monsters and obscenities in its marginalia, including male nudes with graphically depicted penises. One naked man stands with a flamboyant erection, which may be part of the tapestry's realism about the psychology of war. When the Leek Embroidery Society borrowed a set of Cundall's photographs, they of course copied the false colours and underpants from these supposedly objective recordings. Sign up to Art Weekly Your weekly art world round-up, sketching out all the biggest stories, scandals and exhibitions after newsletter promotion In fact, this is not the only full-size Victorian replica of the tapestry. Cundall created his own continuous photographic replica, mounted on two ornate wooden rollers so that you can scroll through it in your private library. Perhaps this is what its most recent private owner, the late Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts, used to do. When his estate went on sale his 'tapestry' got much less attention from the media than other treasures such as his first edition of The Great Gatsby. But it was sold for £16,000 – to the Bayeux Museum in Normandy. At least in Bayeux it's in safe hands, just as the original has been for at least 600 years.
The Guardian
12-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘History's most devastating document of war': the simple yet graphic details of the Bayeux tapestry
'Angli et Franci' – these Latin words embroidered on the Bayeux tapestry may be the first time those cartoon rivals, the English and the French, were named together. But in one of the shifts from triumph to horror that make this epic work of art still gripping almost a millennium after it was made, the full sentence reads: 'Here at the same time the English and French [or Angles and Franks] fell in battle'. Below the black lettering, horses and chainmailed riders are thrown about and upside down in a bloody tangle. In the lower margin lie corpses and a severed head. Now, in an unprecedented piece of cultural diplomacy between the Angli and Franci, this 70-metre long Romanesque wonder, preserved for centuries in Bayeux, Normandy, is to go on show at the British Museum. In exchange, Sutton Hoo treasures and the Lewis chessmen will go to France. When it opens in September 2026 this will surely be one of the British Museum's most popular shows ever – for every British schoolchild learns this is not just a work of art, but a document of our history and who we are. It will not disappoint. This is the most engaging depiction ever made of a mighty battle. Beside it, Rome's Dacian wars on Trajan's column or the Louvre's paintings of Napoleon's campaigns are cold. Imagine if Ridley Scott in his prime had made a film about the Battle of Hastings with severed body parts flying towards the screen as the Normans unleash hell: it still wouldn't be as thrilling as the gut-punch of the Bayeux tapestry. These deceptively simple, hand-stitched drawings pull you into a narrative of friendship and betrayal, vengeance and despair, unlocking unfiltered feelings and showing you war as both glorious exploit and futile carnage. One possible reason the Bayeux tapestry sees war so clearly is that it was made by women. Commissioned, it's believed, by Odo, bishop of Bayeux and William the Conqueror's half-brother, the work was probably done in Canterbury by Anglo-Saxon noblewomen. When they embroidered a scene in which a woman and child flee a house torched by Norman warriors, it surely reflects a female experience of war. Yet it is not pacifist, or pro-Saxon. It tells the story of the Norman conquest from the Norman point of view. The Normans had been Vikings a couple of generations back, but by the 1060s they were part of a new European civilisation built on feudalism and chivalry. The tapestry takes you into their world, in which the most important thing you can do is make an oath before God – and the worst is to break it. That is what the Saxon noble Harold Godwinson is shown to do. In the first scene he's pally with the childless English King Edward, whom he hopes to succeed. Then he rides, moustache flying, to his manor, where he prays and banquets before starting a French trip. His ships are blown off course, he's held hostage but rescued by William of Normandy. They become battle brothers, attacking castles together. But not equals. In a scene fraught with passion, Harold stretches out his arms to touch holy relics as he swears loyalty to William. He swore! On relics! So when William hears that in spite of this ritual of subjection, Harold sits on the English throne, he doesn't hesitate. Ships are built, loaded with weapons and wine. The Normans come for Harold. The world here is boldly delineated, sharply lived. These people are so impulsive they don't worry about contradictions. Bishop Odo blesses the feast, as you'd expect. Then he is seen at the heart of battle. When it's looking like a slaughter with no winners, it is Bishop Odo who rallies the Normans. Suddenly it all goes their way. The technically advanced Normans control their horses with the new-fangled stirrup – they can ride and wield javelins at the same time. The Saxon shield wall shatters, the last survivors driven into small bands to be picked off. Harold is hit by that famous arrow, a straight black line sliding in under his helmet. 'Harold Rex interfectus est,' King Harold is killed. When the battle's lost and won, Britain is a different place. We don't see what came next, the castles, the harrying of the north, the Domesday Book – but all that, and Britain's entire future, is implied. William's steely knights become the architects of a new kind of national state. Sign up to Art Weekly Your weekly art world round-up, sketching out all the biggest stories, scandals and exhibitions after newsletter promotion The tapestry makes it a human story. William starts out as a generous noble saving his friend Harold. Anger turns him into something colder: his vengeance has a monstrous finality. Not just Harold but the Anglo-Saxon age has to die, all because of a broken oath and a failed bromance. 'Men, eh,' you can hear the women whisper as they create our history's most beguiling, devastating document. Numbers in brackets can be found on this visual guide. (23) In an emotional rite, Harold reaches wide to touch relics as he swears fealty to William as his overlord. William sits enthroned, commanding him. It's like a scene from Shakespeare. (38) You can see how recently the Normans were Vikings as William's war fleet sails. These longships look like Norse ships that survive at Roskilde, Denmark, as the historian Marc Morris has observed. The artistry is ravishing; each ship and sail is embroidered in coloured stripes. The beasts below are just for fun. (47) This scene is where the tale of chivalry turns brutally honest. For no apparent reason, the Normans burn a house as a woman and child get out just in time. The mother speaks to them as if asking: why? (51) Look, they're riding with no hands! In a river of steel, the Norman cavalry charge into action, a disciplined, irresistible force, their feet in hi-tech stirrups that let them concentrate on levelling their spears and using their shields. Even so, the fighting will become a bloody mess. (57) And it's all over. Harold stands among his last band of vassals, his hand on the arrow that has hit him in the eye or head. You feel his shock, trying in his final moment to remove the lethal shaft or just grabbing it in disbelief. At his feet, the dead are being stripped of their precious chainmail.
Wall Street Journal
07-06-2025
- General
- Wall Street Journal
Giotto's ‘The Legend of St. Francis': Assisi's Devotional Frescoes
When I first saw Giotto's fresco cycle 'The Legend of St. Francis' in the upper church of the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi—a small Italian town two hours from Rome by train—I thought: Is this really what I traveled halfway around the world to see? The colors have faded into ghosts of what they once were. The figures are as boxy as the houses that surround them. Their stiff faces look like those of cadavers that have been stretched into place. But spending more time with these huddled masses of earnest zealots slowly reveals the complex inner lives behind their static masks. If we set aside our modern biases and 800 years of artistic advancement, we can start to understand why medieval viewers thought these images were the most lifelike they had ever seen—and why the founding father of art history, Giorgio Vasari, stated in his 'Lives of the Artists' that Giotto alone rescued painting from 'an evil state and brought it back to such a form that it could be called good.'
Telegraph
07-05-2025
- Science
- Telegraph
The Big Picture
10 of 11 A row has broken out between scholars after an expert claimed to have discovered an extra penis on the Bayeux Tapestry. Dr Christopher Monk, a medieval scholar and expert on Anglo- Saxon nudity, believes the genitalia of the figure on the right was restitched with black
