Church Times - Art review: Brian Clarke: A Great Light at the Newport Street Gallery, London

My latest review for Church Times is on 'A Great Light' by Brian Clarke at Newport Street Gallery:

'I FIRST encountered the work of Brian Clarke at the Swiss Museum of Stained Glass at Romont. I visited the Museum as part of my Sabbatical Art Pilgrimage and discovered that work by Clarke and another stained-glass artist, Yoki — neither of whom was previously known to me — could be seen in the town, as well as at the Museum.

The Cistercian Abbaye de la Fille-Dieu on the edge of Romont commissioned Clarke in 1996 to create windows for its renovated and reordered chapel. Clarke says that stained glass “can transform the way you feel when you enter a building in a way that nothing else can”. I would concur, especially after arriving at l’Abbaye de la Fille Dieu in time for a memorable service of vespers, followed by silent contemplation in the still onset of darkness falling. Clarke’s modern, abstract windows were designed to unify fragments retained from previous phases of the building’s life and offer both nuns and visitors a “warm and vibrant atmosphere”, which is “conducive to meditation and prayer”.'

For more on Brian Clarke see here. See photos of Abbaye de la Fille-Dieu here. Read about my Sabbatical Art Pilgrimage visit to Romont here and read about by Sabbatical Art Pilgrimage here.

Other of my pieces for Church Times can be found here. My writing for ArtWay can be found here. My pieces for Artlyst are here and those for Art+Christianity are here.

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Dillard & Clark - I Bowed My Head And Cried Holy.

Seeing is Receiving: The art of contemplation (5)

4. Silent

Brian Clarke says that stained glass ‘can transform the way you feel when you enter a building in a way that nothing else can!’[i]

I would concur, especially after arriving at l’Abbaye de la Fille Dieu in Romont in time for a memorable service of Vespers followed by silent contemplation in the still onset of darkness falling. Tomas Mikulas, the architect on the restoration of this Cistercian Abbey, has stated that the overall goal of the restoration was to offer both nuns and visitors an ‘atmosphere conducive to meditation and prayer.’ Mikulas suggests that it is the ‘warm and vibrant atmosphere’ created by Clarke’s windows ‘with the changing light of day’ that ‘makes a decisive contribution’ to the space and to the restoration as a whole.[ii]

There are several reasons why this was a surprising outcome in this context. Early on in his career Clarke realised that he had to ‘shake off the ecclesiastical image’ of stained glass ‘if he was going to make any impact in the medium’: ‘I looked for opportunities in all kinds of public buildings and declined opportunities in the church. I fought for that and continue to fight for that. It's a lifelong pilgrimage.’[iii] Not only that, but within the Abbey a group of nuns actively opposed Clarke’s designs on the basis that they were too colourful for a Cistercian chapel. This group was concerned that the strong presence of the windows would overpower the building and that the colour of the windows would reduce the visibility of the murals (dating from the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries) which have been preserved through the restoration.

Mikulas insisted on Clarke and was supported by the Abbess, Mother Hortense Berthet, who ‘loved and encouraged’ the stained glass project. Mikulas writes that she was always far-sighted and, where others could be entrenched behind their ‘achievements and habits,’ she would always ‘promote and encourage projects and renewal.’[iv] The restoration work here, including Clarke’s windows, provides an object lesson in such projects due to the depth of understanding of the history and context developed by Mikulas; one involving listening, collaboration and perseverance in the service of a historic monument and a contemporary community of nuns. Ultimately, this has meant searching for the presence of Christ and the acceptance of others in the great Cistercian Trappist tradition.

His overall goal was the creation of a new and coherent building which was respectful of the buildings’ history while also servicing its use as a place of worship: ‘The colour of the windows is in relation to the path of the sun’s movement and to the nun’s daily liturgy and prayer – ‘starting from the mystical and blue morning in the sanctuary, to warm tones in the nave later in the day’ – and the glass chosen and developed for the windows, some hand-painted by Clarke, responds to the orientation of the building, with richly textured transparent glass in the east, south and west windows, and opaque glass in restrained colours in those that face north, which face onto cloisters and receive only weak natural light.’[v] Mother Hortense responded by saying: ‘I asked the artist before the creation of his stained glass that they carry a message of hope for those who come to share our prayer. I feel that my wish is wonderfully realized in this joyous, dynamic rise towards a future made all of light.’[vi]

At Vespers in l’Abbaye de la Fille Dieu there was a powerful sense of being caught up in a heavenly space and the great corporate song of heaven as the wondrous harmonies of unified plainsong responses combined with the mystical light of Clarke’s windows. Stained glass can transform the way we feel when we enter a building like l‘Abbaye de la Fille Dieu because, as Clarke has said, art brings ‘beauty and something of the sublime into the banality of mundane experience.’[vii]

My slowing down to look over a sustained period immersing myself in the world of this work was then aided by silence and the waning of the light. Just as Bill Viola’s videos, by their form, often encourage us to slow down, so, stained glass, paintings, sculptures and other forms of non-digital/performance art compel us, by their form, to silent contemplation.

‘Painting does not have anything to say’, writes T.J. Clark. Clark derives his obvious, though often over-looked, statement from John Ruskin: ‘I am with Ruskin in thinking that a picture is not by its very nature ideology’s mute servant, and has at its disposal kinds of intensity and disclosure, kinds of persuasiveness and simplicity, that make most feats of language by comparison seem abstract, or anxiously assertive, or a mixture of both.’[viii]

The peculiar advantages that painting’s muteness give it over the spoken or written word are, firstly, that ‘the ‘openness’ of the image can provide a space for the insubordinate, or at least the blessedly unserious’. This is of particular significance in ‘times of enforced orthodoxy (that is, most of the time)’. Secondly, it can make an imaginative wished for vision of history spellbinding, persuasive and concrete, while, at the same time, giving an awareness of the human, earthbound and matter of fact nature of that vision. This is of particular significance in times when ‘the main established metaphors and images look to be indelible, however often they are subjected to the fires of disbelief’.[ix] At the heart of Clark’s insight is the reality that in one image, without recourse to words or text, painting can create a new world which nevertheless continues to relate to this world.

Clark makes these points in a book where he writes, using many words, about images by Giotto, Bruegel, Poussin, Veronese, and Picasso. All of these have literary sources, knowledge of which many viewers bring with them to the paintings when seen. Painting’s separation from words and text is not, therefore, as complete as Clark seems to suggest. Additionally, contemporary art makes significant use of text and sound while retaining some of the qualities of which Clark writes. Despite this, the muteness of painting is, as Clark argues, worthy of remark and reflection.

George Pattison makes a similar point in reflections on Mark Rothko’s painting Black on Maroon: ‘Rothko confronts us with the question: ’But what do you say about it?’ The painting ‘tells’ us nothing: the burden of deciding how to see it is thrown back on us, the viewers – as Rothko explicitly says when he comments that he is equally open to his work being seen in a sacred or secular way. With regard to ‘what’ it means, the painting does not offer any determinate content or specific message. Instead, it opens up a field of pure possibilities, a ‘potential’ space that invites the co-creativity of the viewer.’[x]

Pattison commends slow waiting with the painting until it reveals what it is, in its essence. The muteness of the painting challenges us to do so and when we look for 15-30 seconds or read the label alongside without then looking again at the painting, it is a challenge that we duck.

The poet Ian Wedde comments on the value we accord to words suggesting that we think it perverse to be reticent. He asks whether there is a silence ‘not sullen or inarticulate, but respectful,’ a reticence ‘leaving space in which the words of others can be heard.’ He asks ‘what kind of art might such a space create’ and ‘what kind of art might create such a space?’[xi]

Richard Carter commends silence as the most spacious language available to us:

‘It is silence that offers space for our lives
Too big and complex to be contained or explained by
any words
It is the silence of God that gives a home
to all the hopes, the fears, the fragments, the layers, the
tangents, the tangles and the tearings
And in the silence God holds us, all of us, and tells us
‘You are mine.’
The light, the dark, the shadow,
the sun, the rain, the wind,
the rainbows of our lives
We seek to discover the silence of our God
at the very centre of all that we are
The living centre
that makes the fullness of our humanity possible
Silence is the only language spacious enough to include
everything.’[xii]

Carter argues that silent contemplative space is the ground of our being and, as such, has made it foundational to the sevenfold rule of life (silence, service, scripture, sacrament, sharing, sabbath, staying with) practised by the Nazareth Community at St Martin-in-the-Fields. Discovering silence is about creating space for meeting; a meeting in which we ‘let the sky in, the light in, the earth in, let prayer in’ and in which we are ‘open and naked before God, the immensity of the universe, the enormity of eternity.’ In silence we ‘rediscover our humanity and a world infused by God’:

‘We are always moving
So we don’t see
Always talking
So we don’t hear
Or we hear in snatches, or bites
But we do not listen to the heights or depths.

You are actually have to stop to see
To be still to notice
How often we walk through rather than being with
Walk past without offering time or space
Take the photo without realizing that the true camera is our
inner eye
We think we have to catch up with the world
Actually, we have to be still enough to let the world catch
up with us
And meet us in the still place
Our lives can be like fast trains rushing through a station
So fast you cannot read the signs
Only a flash of colour and blue of people and place
No time to notice
Or see the signs of God

Here and now
Stop
Be in the moment
Lest you miss it and let your mind and body race on
To further racing’[xiii]

Entering silence is a return to the ground of our being because, for all of us, seeing comes before words, as John Berger reminds us in Ways of Seeing: ‘The child looks and recognises before it can speak. But there is also another sense in which seeing comes before words. It is seeing that establishes our place in the surrounding world; we explain the world with words, but words can never undo the fact that we are surrounded by it. The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled … We never look at just one thing; we are always looking at the relation between things and ourselves. Our vision is continually active, continually holding things in a circle around itself, constituting what is present to us as we are.’[xiv]

As a result, Carter sees art as prayer:

‘I had not realised before, but art is a meditation
Because it is a deeper way of looking at the world
A way of seeing both light and shadow
Of observing the detail that escapes the glazed eye
And all the while seeing it through the context of your own
life and the context of the artist
Seeing is reciprocal
It is seeing the relationship between things and the
relationship with you
The proportion, the colour, the shape, the light, the energy,
the narrative, the life evoked
It is seeing how lines intersect and spaces open up
It is recognizing horizons
The sky above
The earth beneath
The still water in the foreground
It is seeing the tiers of life
It is standing and gazing
No longer my head in the focus but the panorama of life in
which I too am part
For I am the seer
It is breaking through the diatribe and seeing
Creation with all its seams of wonder.’[xv]

Following her conversion to Roman Catholicism in 1913, religious subject matter appeared in Gwen John's art in the form of paintings and drawings of religious figures, some historical and some contemporary. She also became an artistic observer of the religious life of the Catholic community in Meudon where she had made her home. However her depth of faith was primarily expressed through the practice of her art. She wrote of entering 'into art as one enters into religion' and the attention that she paid both to the subjects of her slowly evolving oil paintings and in the rapid sketches she made of local people in church seem to have equated with prayer for her. She viewed herself as a sensual creature unable to pray for any length of time but, inspired by the 'Little Way' of Saint Therese of Lisieux, which outlines how the smallest thing can be done in the name of God, wrote that she must be a saint in her work. What she could express in her work, she wrote, was the 'desire for a more interior life'.

In her art, John achieved a sense of quiet meditation on the beauty of everyday existence that sets her work alongside that of Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin, Giorgio Morandi and Vilhelm Hammershoi. Ultimately for her, post-conversion, this sense of stillness and tranquillity derived from her prayerful attention to the holiness of each moment. She wrote of seeing ‘that God is a God of quietness’ concluding ‘and so we must be quiet’.[xvi] By this means, she truly became 'God's little artist ... a seer of strange beauties, a teller of harmonies’.

By depicting the silent interior life through rooms full of human presence but empty of human beings (domestic scenes or still life’s) or women seated alone in contemplation, she begins a ‘journey of wonder’ for us ‘and then leaves us to travel alone with our thoughts, to listen to the work and its setting rather like the words of a poem.’[xvii] Listening to the setting of the work brings us to reflection on its sources.

Explore

In 2010 for The Artist is Present, her performance piece New York’s Museum of Modern Art, Marina Abramovic sat, motionless and silent every day during museum hours for three months, directly opposite members of the public who queued to spend time in silent dialogue with the artist. This piece, which was about stillness, silent contemplation and being in the present, presented silence as a context for observation and reflection and a mode of communication.

During this piece the artist had the idea for the Marina Abramovic Institute which offers workshops designed to bring body and mind to a quiet state and events in quiet and non-hierarchical spaces with exercises designed to connect with oneself and others through observation.

Abramovic has listed her rules for artist’s regarding silence in a manifesto published as part of her memoir Walk Through Walls. See https://vimeo.com/72711715 for The Artist is Present and https://www.brainpickings.org/2016/11/30/marina-abramovic-artist-manifesto/ for the Manifesto. Another significant statement on art and silence is by Susan Sontag - http://www.susansontag.com/SusanSontag/books/stylesOfRadicalWillExerpt.shtml.

For paintings created in silence which retain the atmosphere of silence, look at the work of Celia Paul, as well as that of Gwen John. For many years Celia Paul’s mother used to climb the 80 steps to this studio in order to sit for her. She would arrive exhausted and out of breath but then would pray in silence as she sat for her daughter, the air being charged with prayer. Paul’s paintings are no less charged with prayer, as, although not conventionally religious, prayer, she says, is still in her bloodstream. A strong sense of peace emanates from her work as she juxtaposes direct observation with mysticism. The peace which emanates is hard won, as is the seclusion found within her studio amidst the complexities of the relations she paints. She paints peace, while painting in peace, despite the disruptions of guilt and grief that arise from her past; a new day, a new dawn is depicted undefined by the past.

‘Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord’ is the prayer that would most readily characterise these pieces, as the emergence of light is often Paul’s subject, resolution and goal. A halo effect surrounds Paul’s features in Self Portrait with Narrow Mirror. The sun, hidden by a dominating dark central tree, streams rays of illuminating light on The Brontë Parsonage lit from without among sombre blues and greys. The light in Kate in White, Spring 2018 overwhelms and overawes spilling over and enveloping the sitter. Breaking, Santa Monica provides a word and image for the peaceful light which breaks through, emerging and emanating from her canvases. God is in the light which pierces the darkening gloom within these works. My Mother and God is 167.3cm of dark canvas stretched from the still image of her sitting mother praying, with those prayers calling forth the thin band of yellow light entering the space at the apex, apotheosis and apogee of the canvas.

To explore the silence of Celia Paul’s work go to https://www.victoria-miro.com/artists/186-celia-paul/.

Wonderings

I wonder what silence means for you in your circumstances.

I wonder what you hear when there is silence.

I wonder where you encounter silence most readily.

Prayer

God of creativity and rest, what might silence be for me? Nowhere is completely silent, yet there are moments and places where noise abates and where enduring existence is heard. Lead me to such moments and places in ways that work for me where I am and who I am. Amen.

Spiritual exercise

Set aside a specific time for silence, with additional time also available for prayer afterwards. During the silence write down all that you hear in that time and all that comes into your mind. After the time of silence is complete, embrace each thing on your list as a gift and about or for that thing whether as thanksgiving or intercession.

Art activity

Visit a gallery or museum and use headphones to block out surrounding noise as you view the artworks.

Visit a church when you know there will be few people there in order to contemplate the art and architecture in relative silence.

[i] http://www.mikulas.ch/photos/2013/Fille-Dieu/2013-06_vitraux_Fille-Dieu.pdf

[ii] http://www.mikulas.ch/hortense.htm

[iii] https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/glowing-panes-brian-clarkes-stained-glass-windows-have-earned-him-global-recognition-and-the-papal-2093385.html

[iv] http://www.mikulas.ch/hortense.htm

[v] http://www.brianclarke.co.uk/work/works/item/347/5

[vi] http://www.brianclarke.co.uk/work/works/item/347/5

[vii] http://www.mikulas.ch/photos/2013/Fille-Dieu/2013-06_vitraux_Fille-Dieu.pdf

[viii] T. J. Clark, Heaven on Earth: Painting and the Life to Come, Thames & Hudson, 2018

[ix] T. J. Clark, Heaven on Earth: Painting and the Life to Come, Thames & Hudson, 2018

[x] G. Pattison, Crucifixions and Resurrections of the Image: Reflections on Art and Modernity, SCM Press, 2009, p.83

[xi] I. Wedde, ‘Where is the art that does this?’ in G. O’Brien ed., ‘Hotere: Out of the Black Window’, Godwit Publishing Ltd., 1997, p.9

[xii] R. Carter, The City is my Monastery: A contemporary Rule of Life, Canterbury Press Norwich, 2019, p.2

[xiii] R. Carter, The City is my Monastery: A contemporary Rule of Life, Canterbury Press Norwich, 2019, p.8-9

[xiv] J. Berger, Ways of Seeing, Penguin Books, 1972, p.7

[xv] R. Carter, The City is my Monastery: A contemporary Rule of Life, Canterbury Press Norwich, 2019, p.44-45

[xvi] T. Frank, Gwen John: Her Art and Spirituality - https://www.theway.org.uk/Back/461Frank.pdf

[xvii] L. Sutton in Be Still: PassionArt Trail 2016, PassionArt, 2016, p. 9

Click here for the other parts of 'Seeing is Receiving'. See also 'And a little child shall lead them' which explores similar themes.

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Simon and Garfunkel - The Sound Of Silence.

Sabbatical art pilgrimage: Romont

My sat nav didn't register the address I had for the Swiss Museum of Stained Glass (Vitromusée) at Romont. However, as a major tourist attraction in a stunning location on a hilly island in a sea of green, it was simple to find.

The Vitromusée is housed in Romont Castle which, together with the medieval church and houses surrounded by the old town walls, ‘shapes the distinctive silhouette’ of the small, historic and attractive town that is Romont.’  The hill on which the castle stands extends to an altitude of 780m (approx. 2,500 ft.) meaning that ‘the square in front of the castle opens onto a magnificent panorama of the Alps, with the majestic Mont Blanc visible to the right on a clear day.’

‘The keep and the main part of the castle - which today houses the Museum’s stained-glass collection - were built in the 13th century under Pierre II of Savoy. In the 16th century, the new governors from Fribourg built a further wing - now home to the Museum’s collection of reverse painting on glass. The entrance gate to the courtyard and the well (depth 40m) also date from that period. The huge wooden draw-wheel for the well (18thC), the parapet walkway, and some lovely old trees lend the courtyard a particular cachet. In the course of time, the buildings were converted to suit various purposes (barn, garage, prison etc.); until in 1981 the Vitromusée and in 1988 the Vitrocentre were installed.’

‘The Museum has a marvellous collection of stained glass and reverse painting on glass plus temporary exhibitions. The fascinating history of the development of stained glass is presented in a permanent exhibition of key works. The visitor follows a path leading past archaeological fragments from the 5th century AD, via masterpieces of the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, Historicism and Art Nouveau right up to the most recent modern glass art … Although the names of the artists who designed the oldest pieces of stained glass are generally not known, later works often bear the hallmark of well-known workshops or artists: among them, to name but a few, the workshops of Dirk Vellert (16thC), of Gustav van Treeck (19thC), or of Louis Comfort Tiffany; or the artists Alexandre Cingria, Léon Zack, Alfred Manessier, Yoki, Augusto Giacometti or Brian Clarke’. Of particular relevance to my sabbatical art pilgrimage was a piece by Konrad Vetter entitled 'Canticle of the Sun' inspired by the Song of Praise of St Francis of Assisi and, through his reduction of leaded glass to its most essential, a pure hymn to light.

A stained glass fragment by Marc Chagall has recently been purchased and is on display together with a film discussing his stained glass work with Charles Marq. ‘While he was finalising the stained glass for Mainz Cathedral, Marc Chagall gave a small stained-glass panel to the master glazier at the Simon Marq atelier in Reims with whom he had worked for many years. This glass bouquet by Chagall is one of the rare stained-glass panels by the artist that was not designed as part of a building.’ It occupies the central place in a special exhibition of the latest importantacquisitions by the Museum.

The Groupe de St Luc et St Maurice became based in Romont when its leader Alexandre Cingria settled there in 1937. This group was founded in 1919 and brought together artists, architects and intellectuals (including François Baud, Fernand Dumas, Marcel Feuillat, Adolphe Guyonnet,  Marcel Poncet and Georges De Traz, among others) whose aim was to breathe new life into church art in French-Switzerland. Group members restored, refurbished and built numerous churches, often designed as integrated works of art. In 1924, a counterpart, Rot-Blau (red-blue), was formed in German-speaking Switzerland, led by Hans Stocker and Otto Staiger, which is still active today.

Cingria had a significant involvement in the cultural life of Switzerland - literary, musical and artistic – bringing an approach of ‘nonconformity and rebellion in an environment marked by the Puritan reserve’. He was involved in the creation of ‘Les Cahiers Vaudois’ founded by Paul Budry, Edmond Gilliard and Charles Ferdinand Ramuz. In addition, he participated in journals such as ‘L'Oeuvre’, ‘Nova et Vetera’, ‘Aujourd'hui’ and ‘Ars Sacra’. From the 1920s onwards, Cingria created sets and costumes for popular theatre shows in Switzerland while in 1936, he founded the Compagnons de Romandie with Jo Baeriswyl with the purpose of promoting masterpieces of Catholic theatre.

In 1917 he published a manifesto 'La Decadence d'art sacre', which, in the opinion of William S. Rubin, ‘constituted the first serious confrontation of the problem of modern religious art’ and ‘elicited considerable interest throughout Catholic intellectual and artistic circles’ (‘Modern Sacred Art and the Church of Assy’, Columbia University Press, New York & London, 1961). Paul Claudel responded with a famous letter in which he described the contemporary churches against which Cingria was reacting, as ‘heavily laden confessions.’ Their ugliness, Claudel insisted, was the ‘demonstration to all the world of sins and shortcomings, weakness, poverty, timidity of faith and feeling, disgust with the supernatural, dominations by conventions and formulae ... worldly luxury, avarice, boasting, sulkiness, Pharisaism and bombast.’

These artists and other French-speaking ecclesiastics were in touch with and inspired by the writings of Jacques Maritain and the practice of Maurice Denis. It was Maritain who put Cingria in contact with Gino Severini which led to many ecclesistical commissions in Switzerland for Severini, often together with the St Luke Group. Denis first worked with some of these artists when he was commissioned to work on the renovation of Notre-Dame Geneva and also became artistic director for the construction of Saint-Paul Grange-Canal, also in Geneva. Together they dreamed of "creating a movement of rebirth of religious art in France and in all Catholic countries." This ambition resulted in 1919 in the formation of the St Luke Group and also of the Ateliers d'Art Sacré by Denis and Georges Desvallieres in Paris.

Although having support from the likes of Claudel and Maritain and racking up significant commissions between them, these groups by no means had it all their own way. The reactionary Catholic critic Charles Du Mont, for example, reproduced works by Denis and Cingria side by side in his booklet 'Ou en est notre art religieux?', using them as examples of ‘free and wild artistic expression, whose dynamics have led the world to catastrophe.’

Endowed with a vivid imagination and full of poetic realism, Cingria’s style was similar to folk and naïve art. His painting and stained glass is lyrical, seemingly spontaneous and full of both sensuality and mysticism. The iconography that inspired his work has its roots in the early Christian tradition.

At the Vitromusée I discovered that the area has a Stained Glass Art Trail featuring work by Jean Bazaine, Alexandre Cingria and Brian Clarke, among others. On this trail I was able to visit Collegiale Notre-Dame de l'Assomption, the Gothic church in Romont, and Notre-Dame de l'Epine in Berlens to see work by Bazaine.

Collegiale Notre-Dame de l'Assomption has so many stained-glass windows it is a veritable museum of stained glass itself; the oldest dates back to the beginning of the 14th century, while others date from the 16th and 19th centuries. Modern windows have been created by Henri Broillet, Sergio de Castro (north side-aisle), Cingria (the Twelve Apostles in the clestory) and Yoki (Chapel of our Lady of Portail). The ancient and contemporary coexist, although the contrast between the works of different styles and eras is striking.

Yoki Aebischer Emile, who hailed from Romont, was an innovator of modern geometric and expressive techniques in religious art. Yoki was born in 1922 and, as a child, cycled through the countryside to marvel at the stained glass windows of Cingria in Siviriez. After various jobs, including that of a worker in a glass factory, he became a draughtsman in an architectural office. As a result, in 1938 he met Fernand Dumas, the highly prolific church architect, and through him, Maurice Barraud,  Emilio Beretta, Cingria, Severini and other artists of the St Luke Group. In the 1940s, he discovered the art of the Nabis and, after the war, he attended the Academy of French painter André Lhote in Paris. He went on to create more than a thousand windows for churches in England, France, Germany, Israel, Italy and Switzerland,. He was also involved in the repair of war-damaged monuments in Britain, France and Germany. As well as frescoes and stained glass, he produced many paintings, lithographs, mosaics and tapestries.  In 1981 he co-founded the Museum of Stained Glass, which is now the Vitromusée.

Also on the trail is the Cistercian Abbaye de la Fille-Dieu which commissioned Brian Clarke in 1996 to create windows for its renovated and reordered chapel. Arriving to see these windows I chanced to arrive for Vespers followed by silent contemplation in the still onset of darkness falling. The flakiness of some of the lead nun's vocals, before being caught in the wondrous harmonies of unified responses, only added a sense that our individual fallabilities are accepted and swept up together in the great corporate song of heaven. As participation in the service did not facilitate the taking of photographs I enjoyed an overnight stay at the Hotel du Lion D'Or before returning in the morning for a photographic session in the early morning light.

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Van Morrison - Into The Mystic.

Sabbatical art pilgrimage: St Michael and All Angels Berwick

‘Whether it be music or painting or drama, sculpture or architecture or any other form of art, there is an instinctive sympathy between all of these and the worship of God. Nor should the church be afraid to thank the artists for their help, or to offer its blessing to the works so pure and lovely in which they seek to express the Eternal Spirit. Therefore I earnestly hope that in this diocese (and in others) we may seek ways and means for a reconciliation of the Artist and the Church—learning from him as well as giving to him and considering with his help our conception alike of the character of Christian worship and of the forms in which the Christian teaching may be proclaimed.’

On 27th June 1929, the day he became Bishop of Chichester, George Bell famously expressed, in his enthronement address, his commitment to a much closer relationship between the Anglican Church and the arts.

Bell had been intent on re-establishing the link between the Church and the arts from his early days as Dean of Canterbury (1924-9) where he had begun with religious drama, commissioning in 1928 a new play for the cathedral from John Masefield; an event which in large part led to the establishing of a series of Canterbury plays, including Murder in the Cathedral by T.S. Eliot. He went on to commission drama, music and visual art, put structures in place (e.g. the Sussex Churches Art Council and its ‘Pictures in Churches Loan Scheme’) to support a wider commissioning of artists, placed his trust in the vision of artists when they encountered opposition and he was called on to adjudicate on commissions and strongly supported the appointment of Walter Hussey as Dean of Chichester Cathedral to take forward the commissioning programme he had initiated there.

Bell viewed his drive to re-associate the Church and the Arts as being “an effective protection against barbarism, whether the barbarism was Nazism, materialism or any other threat to civilization.” Murals commissioned from Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell and Quentin Bell in 1941 for the Sussex Church of St Michael & All Angels Berwick represented a fulfilment of his vision be a catalyst for promoting the relationship between the Arts and the Church. As Sir Kenneth Clarke wrote in 1941: “...with a little judicious publicity it might have the effect of encouraging other dioceses to do the same. If once such a movement got under way, it would have incalculable influence for the good on English Art.”

The commission for the murals came about in the following way:

‘Sir Kenneth Clark announced in a letter to the Times (1939) the formation of the Central Institute of Art and Design (CIAD) whose purpose was to respond to the plight of artists in wartime … It was a cause that Bell passionately identified with and almost immediately he took up the challenge of stimulating Church patronage of the Arts within his own diocese. He received enthusiastic support from Sir Kenneth Clark at the CIAD and within his diocese from Professor Charles Reilly who had a home near Brighton. The CIAD introduced Bell to the Society of Mural Painters whose membership included both Hans Feibusch, who offered to undertake commissions in the Diocese for no fee, and Duncan Grant who was also a committee member of the CIAD …

Feibusch was the first to complete murals in the Diocese and Prof. Reilly heralded his work at St Wilfrid's, Brighton in 1940 as the first ‘modern’ murals in any English church. By ‘modern’ he meant: a painting belonging to the present generation and based in its forms and colour on the revolution in the graphic arts brought about by the researches and experiments of Cezanne and Picasso.

Prof. Reilly was credited by Bishop Bell with the idea of taking the project to a new level by proposing Duncan Grant undertake a scheme at Berwick. For the first time a modern artist of national standing would undertake a complete decorative scheme for an historic rural church. If the project was successful, they believed it would stimulate demand for commissions in churches all over the country to alleviate the plight of many artists.’

‘Duncan Grant (1885-1978) was the lead artist for the murals and put forward the initial proposals. He moved with Vanessa Bell (1879 – 1961) and her husband, Clive, to Charleston Farmhouse at the foot of the Downs, three miles to the west of Berwick Church, in 1916. Vanessa was sister of Virginia Woolf.

Quentin Bell (1910-1996) was the son of Vanessa and Clive Bell and undertook all the paintings within the Chancel as well as ‘The Supper at Emmaus’ at the end of the north aisle.’

They ‘had in view a ‘decorative scheme’ which, rather than simply being a series of individual paintings within frames, would create an environment with its own particular feeling and aesthetic.’ ‘The six larger works are Christ in Glory and a crucifixion scene, The Victory of Calvary, by Duncan Grant; The Supper at Emmaus and The Wise and Foolish Virgins by Quentin Bell; and The Annunciation and The Nativity by Vanessa Bell.’ 

Grant’s work was ‘influenced by his travels in Italy where, as an art student, he had seen the mosaics at Ravenna and copied the frescoes of Piero della Francesca (1420-1492) at Arezzo. Then in Paris he had copied works by Chardin (1699-1779) portraying scenes from everyday life, ordinary people in work or recreation. At the same time he studied the work of the Impressionists and was later greatly influenced by the Post-Impressionists such as Cezanne, Seurat, and others …

The murals at Berwick exhibit influences from all these traditions, but also something of the artists’ focus on the intimacy of the home and personal relationships and their love of the beauty and simplicity of the Downland landscape.’

Berwick Church was unusual in that ‘the plain leaded lights in its nave did not have figures or colour to clash with the paintings around them, and this was even more pronounced after bomb damage caused them to be replaced with completely plain glass. This gives beautiful views of the surrounding Sussex countryside, which seem to complement rather than compete with the paintings, many of which have the same countryside as their background.’

‘The Berwick commission required the agreement of both the local Parochial Church Council and also the Chancellor of the Diocese. He was himself advised by the Diocesan Advisory Committee (DAC) …

However, just before the Chancellor could give his authorisation, one member of the parish lodged a formal petition objecting to the murals. This triggered a 'Consistory Court' hearing at which evidence was heard from both those in favour and those opposed to the scheme. Bishop Bell along with members of the CIAD felt that much of the future of Church Patronage of the arts might rest upon this commission.

In the small flint schoolhouse, just down the lane from the church on 1st October 1941, the court heard evidence from Sir Kenneth Clark, Bertram Nicholls and Frederick Etchells in support of the scheme. The sincerity of the artists was emphasised along with their generosity in asking for only a fraction of what the work would normally cost. Despite the objections, the Chancellor authorised the commission to go ahead.’

It is difficult to measure the impact that Bishop Bell, and the Berwick murals in particular, have had on Church patronage of ‘modern art’. Grant was only to receive one other church commission – frescoes painted in 1959 for Lincoln Cathedral’s Russell Chantry - and the catalytic effect for which Bell had hoped did not materialise in any dramatic way. However, much commissioning did take place in the post-war years particularly where reconstruction to damaged churches was needed. The murals themselves looked back in terms of style to the grand ‘tradition of ecclesiastical art’ while their content was nostalgic for a past picture of rural England which was rapidly being lost. Both factors meant that the scheme at Berwick could not serve as a model for Church patronage of modern art as Bell had hoped. To visit Berwick today in the context of my wider sabbatical art pilgrimage makes clear that it is no more than a beautiful siding or cul-de-sac in the history of the revival of sacred art in the twentieth century.

The artists at Berwick were considered ‘avant garde’ in their day but they actually produced a scheme for the church which drew heavily on the ‘tradition of ecclesiastical art.’ They paid ‘homage to the high points of the artistic heritage of a European Civilization’ which was, at that time, in turmoil. Though they were modern artists they expressed ‘a respect for both the history and tradition of art and the simplicity of the setting and community for whom they were painting.’

The murals are, like those of Stanley Spencer in the Sandham Memorial Chapel at Burghclere, ‘a unique example of war art:’

‘They record the landscape, the people, and the way of life that was under threat. Christ in Glory depicting, amongst the three servicemen shown, Douglas Hemming who was killed at Caen, takes on a war memorial role. Their religious content reflects the belief of their patron that Christianity was the central pillar of a European civilization that was under threat from the despotic forces of evil.’

As with Spencer’s murals, the artist’s love for and use of ‘local people and the local landscape showed how the divine was a part of the everyday’ enabling them to ‘sense the closeness of God to their own lives.’  As Bell put it in his dedication sermon: ‘The pictures will bring home to you the real truth of the Bible story ... help the pages of the New Testament to speak to you - not as sacred personages living in a far-off land and time, but as human beings ... with the same kind of human troubles, and faults, and goodness, and dangers, that we know in Sussex today.’

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Extreme - Ghost.

Facets of faith: the gospel in modern and contemporary art

My most recent article has been written for the latest edition of franciscan, which is published three times a year by the First Order brothers and sisters and includes articles on Franciscan themes, as well as book reviews and news of the Society. 

My article is called 'Facets of faith: the gospel in modern and contemporary art' and features the work of Ally Clarke, Caroline Richardson and Sergiy Shkanov.

Two other commission4mission members have also written articles on the arts for this edition of franciscan. Steven Saxby has written about Father Andrew the artist - the Plaistow friar who never lost his boyhood enthusiasm for all things artistic - while Helen Gheorghiu Gould's article entitled 'Re-imagining the gospels' includes interviews with Mark Lewis, Henry Shelton and Peter Webb.

To order a copy of the magazine contact the subscriptions secretary at franciscansubscriptions@franciscans.org.uk.

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Gungor - Brother Moon.

Creativity in Harlow

I spent a very creative afternoon with Ally Clarke and Robert Enoch in Harlow on Monday discussing ideas for art initiatives through commission4mission with St Paul's Harlow and St Mary's Little Parndon in the autumn.

St Paul's Harlow is a modernist church designed by Humphrys and Hurst which features a mosaic by John Piper, on the theme of the Emmaus Road, that was Piper's first mosaic. St Paul's is, as a result, one of the churches which features in the Art Trail for the Barking Episcopal Area which is being launched tomorrow. Both churches provide wonderful spaces for further artistic interventions.

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Mumford and Sons - Lover Of The Light.

commission4mission update

I haven't posted about commission4mission here for sometime but there is lots about which to update. Our latest newsletter can be found here and contains news of recent exhibitions, developments with our collaborative Olympics project Run With The Fire, a profile of installation artist Ally Clarke, and plans for 2011.

Since the newsletter was published we have also received information about the dedication of our third completed commission and have installed our fourth and fifth completed commissions. Our commissions, to date, are therefore as follows:

• Crucifixion and Do this in remembrance of me, paintings by Henry Shelton for the St Lukes Chapel at Queens Hospital Romford (September 2009). Tree of Life, fused glass windows by Caroline Richardson, are also in the St Lukes Chapel;
• Stations of the Crown of Thorns, a set of fifteen paintings by Henry Shelton, for St Pauls Goodmayes (July 2010);
• The Baptism of Jesus, painting by Rosalind Hore, for St Edmunds Tyseley (October 2010) and will be dedicated on Sunday 2nd January 2011 at 10.00am; 
• Etched windows by Henry Shelton for All Saints Hutton with icongraphy depicting Saints Cecilia, Martin of Tours, Peter, Mary, Paul, James the Great, and Margaret of Antioch (December 2010). A service at which the Archdeacon of Southend will dedicate the windows is planned for Sunday 27th March 2011 at 11.15am;
• Two windows by Caroline Richardson at St Peters Harold Wood (December 2010). This commission was for 14 fused glass panels set in steel frames forming two windows; the left window on the theme 'I am the light of the world' and the right on the theme 'I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.' The commission commerorates the completion earlier this year of a major building project at St Peters Harold Wood.

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Talking Heads - Wild Wild Life.

c4m webpage update (44)

It's been some time since the last c4m webpage update so quite a few new posts have been added to the commission4mission webpage in that time. Several posts concerned the commission dedication and networking afternoon held at St Paul's Goodmayes with the final post containing photographs from the event and of Henry Shelton's Stations of the Crown of Thorns. Exhibitions by Sergiy Shkanov, Caroline Richardson and Michael Creasey have also been highlighted with photographs of the Shkanov exhibition at St Andrew's Leytonstone also featuring in the most recent post. A profile of our newest member, Robert Enoch, has also been posted to the site. Finally, Go Well, Be Well was an exciting collaborative project involving Ally Clarke and bottled water for the Camberwell Arts Week.

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Arcade Fire - The Suburbs.  

c4m webpage update (34)

Helen Gould, who has recently begun working for commission4mission is profiled in a recent post on the c4m webpage. Before beginning ordination training, Helen was Director of Creative Exchange, a charity which for ten years researched and advocated for the role of culture in development.

Also featured in recent posts are two installations, Chosen Stones and Agony of Hope, by Ally Clarke which could be recreated on request in churches and other spaces.

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Corinne Bailey Rae - The Sea.

c4m webpage update (32)

The latest posts on the commission4mission webpage include:

• 'ART with a heart' is a special preview evening for 'When Creation Sings', an exhibition at Hillside Church Wimbledon which includes Sarah Ollerenshaw;
• 'Stations of the Crown of Thorns' - photographs from the latest stage in this commission for St Paul's Goodmayes by Henry Shelton;
• Ally Clarke - profile of our newest member, installation artist Ally Clarke;
• Drawing First - information on a new website for Mark Lewis, promoting his consultancy work.

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Victoria Williams & Vic Chesnutt - God Is Good.

Arts round up

Yesterday I visited Lorenzo Quinn's Equilibrium exhibition at the Halcyon Gallery:

"Having been exhibited on all five continents, Quinn’s works are widely sought after. Major commissions include the United Nations, the Vatican and a sculpture for Bacardi to honour the hometown of its founder in Sitges, Spain. His cultural influence has been recognised in an iconic advert for Absolut Vodka, entitled Absolut Lorenzo, part of a campaign featuring celebrated international artists. Truly international in his outlook and reach he has received wide success in the highly regarded Middle Eastern art market. Highlights include his iconic sculpture Rise Through Education in Doha, Qatar (2005) and a new commission to create an Olympic Tower, to be unveiled in Doha in 2010.

For Equilibrium, Quinn has created 30 new pieces including What Came First?, Love and Home Sweet Home. What Came First? depicts male and female forms, each within an egg-shaped marble hemisphere, displaying the sculptor’s rich figurative symbolism at its finest. The Love series of kinetic sculptures features paired hands, a recurring theme in Quinn’s work, representing the four stages of a relationship. Hypnotic and graceful, the works evoke the hands of strolling lovers. Considered the greatest challenge for an artist depicting the human form, for Quinn hands convey the intimacy of human interaction in a simple, powerful way. In Home Sweet Home, he uses the female form cocooned in barbed wire to represent the claustrophobia and isolation of victims of domestic abuse. Quinn and his wife are active in their work for charities supporting victims of domestic abuse.

Accompanied by his most popular works such as Adam and Eve, Force of Nature and the colossal Hand of God, 'Equilibrium' presents an oeuvre of work mature in style and demonstrative of Quinn’s visceral empathy and technical accomplishment."

Quinn's Give & Take III (see above) is on public display in Berkley Square.

At the Air Gallery I met Paul Hobbs and saw his 'Jubilate!' exhibition. The semi-abstract acrylic paintings in this exhibition are "inspired by natural and architectural forms, and the spaces in between, in creating a visual feast of pattern, colour and movement."

I first came across Paul and his work through an exhibition of his conceptual pieces at the Christian Resources Exhibition and then saw some of the same works at an exhibition in Cambridge. Paul explained that he aims to alternate between these more interactive works and his abstract pieces in terms of the focus of his work and his exhibitions.

Paul also leads workshops in schools, conference centres and churches which are planned to suit a group’s interests, and usually involve a practical exploration of materials and themes used in his own work.

I had arranged to meet another artist, Ally Clarke, at the exhibition; one of several meetings recently with artists as a result of commission4mission. Ally studied Sculpture at Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art in Dundee and is inclined to create installation works complimented by photography, drawing, collage and print. Enjoying creative collaborations, she has recently worked with a Sculptor/Performance Artist producing film and performance works. It was to apply her visual art skills within a Physical Theatre Company that initially brought Ally to South East London in ’98 and she has been based in Peckham and Camberwell ever since, currently working as Artist in Residence at the Bradfield Club in Peckham.

Rosheen Browning is an artist that works to visualise text with spiritual depth. This could be poetry, quotes or bible. She uses found (and hoarded!) papers and fabrics alongside traditional drawing tools such as pen or pencil. Colour and texture are very important to her and says that she "paints with paper, if you like." She has a background in Graphic Design and is a qualified Art Teacher.

The Henningham Family Press are David and Ping Henningham who have an ongoing programme of performance events and books that they publish and distribute. They collaborate with artists and writers they know to make small editions of books made to last in every sense. They also run seminars and events from their home and other places. Their books have been acquired by several important collections, including University College London, Chelsea College of Art, and the Tate.

Jonathan Bentall aims to paint the numinous. He writes that his aim is:

"a hinted sense of otherness expressed through perceptual imagery. It’s an outcome of meditative/contemplative experience rather than pre-conceived form, and the endeavour is leaning toward the creation of work which seeks to reference the interconnectedness between spiritual and physical dimensions. In terms of pictorial language I’m fascinated by what has been termed the inward and the outward aesthetic. Through the outer manipulation of paint I’m looking for an inner weight to begin to establish its presence; a weight which does not completely abandon reference to our sensual experience of space/time, yet also points elsewhere. I am interested in exploring the invisible, inner core of a painting in the tradition of the mystics."

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Thea Gilmore - Red, White and Black.