The Glory of Lamentation
by Phyllis Tuchman
MARCH 4, 2010 TAGS:
When he died, John the Fearless wanted a tomb just like his dad’s. He wanted the black marble slabs, the effigies, the angels, and he wanted the mourners. His father, Philip the Bold, the first Valois duke of Burgundy, had been the youngest son of King John II, and Philip’s final resting place, under construction for years, was completed in 1410, six years after his death. John the Fearless, the second Valois duke, died in 1419, after 15 years on the throne, but his own tomb was not finished until 1470, a half-century after his demise. Still, he would have been pleased.
Forty remarkable alabaster mourners from his tomb are now on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art until May 23, expressing the most eloquent sorrow at his passing. Most of the figures still occupy the elaborate, miniaturized architectural arcades beneath the polychrome effigies of John and his wife, Margaret of Bavaria. They are in New York as part of a tour of eight American museums while the Musee des Beaux-Arts, the former ducal palace in Dijon, is under renovation.
When you see these life-like figures, carved in the round and about 16 inches in height, you’ll wonder why you never knew about them before. Unlike many of the lanky jamb statues and narrative reliefs found along the portals of the great Romanesque churches and Gothic cathedrals of France, they tug at your heart. These are not cold abstractions of grief. In their individuality and realistic detail, they offer the glory of late medieval art.
With faces of portrait-like specificity, gesturing hands, and expressive body language, the mourners mix mystery with candor as they pray, chant, weep, wipe away tears, turn towards their neighbors, bear witness. The folds and creases of their liturgical gowns, robes, cloaks, scapulars, and cowls further animate and distinguish each member of this extraordinary community. A wavy-haired choirboy holding a candlestick leads the group in pairs. Two deacons, one with a cross and one with clasped hands, follow him. Behind them, there’s a bishop wearing a mitre and carrying his crozier and an open book; and next to him, a cantor whose book is closed. The entire procession, including the Carthusian monks and courtiers, offers theme and variation of the subject of grief.
The artists carved these figures from alabaster, a warm stone that’s softer than marble. The men portrayed, with their tonsured heads, bald pates, clean chins, flowing beards, wear vestments intended for mourning. Some faces aren’t seen at all, hidden beneath their deep cowls as they shield their emotion from our gaze. Prayer books and rosaries are carried in ways that define their bearers. Gilded objects such as belts, clasps, even a dagger add dashes of glamour, and the exacting detail enhances the sense that their lamentation, seen so many centuries after its creation, is of the moment.
How French are these mourners? Check out the way they drape and wrap their hoods as well as the cap worn by No. 71. There’s plenty of style for today’s couturiers to crib. In fact, four centuries later and just 120 kilometers west of Dijon, Realist Gustave Courbet painted his own mourners. Would he have known these life-like statues? Of course.
During the 19th century, Americans saw carved figures like these during their Grand Tour of Europe. These days, artworks come to us. Unfortunately, innovative tombs don’t travel. The polychrome effigies and attending angels were left behind in Dijon as were the black slabs of marble that form the tomb’s base and the platform on which John the Fearless’ statue and that of his wife lie. Yet seeing these mourners, who ordinarily rim the tomb’s base, suggests they were the sculptural equivalent of the small, painted narrative scenes (predella) that appear below large 15th century altarpieces dedicated to Mary, the Christ child, and various.
The names of several sculptors, including Claus Sluter, Jean de Marville, Claus de Werve, Jean de la Huerta, and Antoine le Moiturier, are associated with the tombs of Philip the Bold and John the Fearless. Except in the case of Sluter, who died in 1405 or 1406, early in the design of these projects, these artists’ biographies are obscure, largely lost to us. But what they have left us is a universal emotion. Every detail supports the character of the figure and the timelessness, the eternal nature, of loss.
Phyllis Tuchman writes about art and artists for Obit.
[The exhibition cited was produced by FRAME (French Regional American Museum Exchange www.framemuseums.org) and was organized by the Dallas Museum of Art. More information about the exhibit and an online tour can be found at the FRAME website. For more extraordinary images of these statues including 360-degree photos, hi res zoomable, and stereoscopic 3D, see FRAME's special website, www.themourners.org]
Forty remarkable alabaster mourners from his tomb are now on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art until May 23, expressing the most eloquent sorrow at his passing. Most of the figures still occupy the elaborate, miniaturized architectural arcades beneath the polychrome effigies of John and his wife, Margaret of Bavaria. They are in New York as part of a tour of eight American museums while the Musee des Beaux-Arts, the former ducal palace in Dijon, is under renovation. When you see these life-like figures, carved in the round and about 16 inches in height, you’ll wonder why you never knew about them before. Unlike many of the lanky jamb statues and narrative reliefs found along the portals of the great Romanesque churches and Gothic cathedrals of France, they tug at your heart. These are not cold abstractions of grief. In their individuality and realistic detail, they offer the glory of late medieval art.
With faces of portrait-like specificity, gesturing hands, and expressive body language, the mourners mix mystery with candor as they pray, chant, weep, wipe away tears, turn towards their neighbors, bear witness. The folds and creases of their liturgical gowns, robes, cloaks, scapulars, and cowls further animate and distinguish each member of this extraordinary community. A wavy-haired choirboy holding a candlestick leads the group in pairs. Two deacons, one with a cross and one with clasped hands, follow him. Behind them, there’s a bishop wearing a mitre and carrying his crozier and an open book; and next to him, a cantor whose book is closed. The entire procession, including the Carthusian monks and courtiers, offers theme and variation of the subject of grief.
The artists carved these figures from alabaster, a warm stone that’s softer than marble. The men portrayed, with their tonsured heads, bald pates, clean chins, flowing beards, wear vestments intended for mourning. Some faces aren’t seen at all, hidden beneath their deep cowls as they shield their emotion from our gaze. Prayer books and rosaries are carried in ways that define their bearers. Gilded objects such as belts, clasps, even a dagger add dashes of glamour, and the exacting detail enhances the sense that their lamentation, seen so many centuries after its creation, is of the moment.
How French are these mourners? Check out the way they drape and wrap their hoods as well as the cap worn by No. 71. There’s plenty of style for today’s couturiers to crib. In fact, four centuries later and just 120 kilometers west of Dijon, Realist Gustave Courbet painted his own mourners. Would he have known these life-like statues? Of course.
During the 19th century, Americans saw carved figures like these during their Grand Tour of Europe. These days, artworks come to us. Unfortunately, innovative tombs don’t travel. The polychrome effigies and attending angels were left behind in Dijon as were the black slabs of marble that form the tomb’s base and the platform on which John the Fearless’ statue and that of his wife lie. Yet seeing these mourners, who ordinarily rim the tomb’s base, suggests they were the sculptural equivalent of the small, painted narrative scenes (predella) that appear below large 15th century altarpieces dedicated to Mary, the Christ child, and various. The names of several sculptors, including Claus Sluter, Jean de Marville, Claus de Werve, Jean de la Huerta, and Antoine le Moiturier, are associated with the tombs of Philip the Bold and John the Fearless. Except in the case of Sluter, who died in 1405 or 1406, early in the design of these projects, these artists’ biographies are obscure, largely lost to us. But what they have left us is a universal emotion. Every detail supports the character of the figure and the timelessness, the eternal nature, of loss.
Phyllis Tuchman writes about art and artists for Obit.
[The exhibition cited was produced by FRAME (French Regional American Museum Exchange www.framemuseums.org) and was organized by the Dallas Museum of Art. More information about the exhibit and an online tour can be found at the FRAME website. For more extraordinary images of these statues including 360-degree photos, hi res zoomable, and stereoscopic 3D, see FRAME's special website, www.themourners.org]
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Leonard Steinbach wrote on April 1, 2010 7:05am
The exhibition cited was produced by FRAME (French Regional American Museum Exchange) www.framemuseums.org and is organized by the Dallas Museum of Art. More information about the exhibit and its tour can be found at the FRAME website, and for an extraordinary look at the statues 360-degree photos, hi res zoomable, and stereoscopic 3D -- yes get out those glasses see FRAME's special website, www.themourners.org [Report Comment]
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