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Showing posts with label vence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vence. Show all posts

Friday, 5 April 2024

Church Times - Book review: The Spiritual Adventure of Henri Matisse: Vence’s Chapel of the Rosary by Charles Miller

My latest book review for Church Times is on The Spiritual Adventure of Henri Matisse: Vence’s Chapel of the Rosary by Charles Miller:

'the author explores the deep overlap between the attrait (attention) that artists pay to their subject and the attrait in contemplative prayer. For Matisse, such attention involved intuition and intellect, contemplation and communion, light and glory, combined with a monk-like detachment.'

For more on Matisse's Chapel, click here for an ArtWay article I wrote following my visit in 2012.

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, those for Seen & Unseen are here, and those for Art+Christianity are here.

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T Bone Burnett - Waiting For You (Visualizer) ft. Lucius

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Matisse Chapel: Chapelle du Rosaire Vence












Henri Matisse wrote that his design and decoration of the Chapelle du Rosaire for the Dominican Nuns of Vence was not a work that he chose, but rather a work for which he was chosen by fate. The story of how this work came about is surely an example of the mysterious ways in which God sometimes moves. As a student nurse, Monique Bourgeois cared for Matisse in his recovery from intestinal cancer and modelled for four paintings. Later, after Monique had become a Dominican nun (Sister Jacques-Marie), they met again in Vence renewing their friendship which led in turn to Matisse’s offer to design and decorate a chapel for the nuns there.

For Matisse the chapel was his masterpiece and the culmination of his life’s work because it afforded him the possibility of realising his researches - his separate study of each element of construction (drawing, colour, value, composition) - by uniting them. ‘Simple colours,’ he wrote, ‘can affect the innermost feelings, their impact being all the more forceful through their simplicity.’ The spiritual expression of the blues, greens and yellows he used in the stained glass of the chapel struck him as unquestionable. His goal ‘was to find a balance between a light surface and colour with a solid wall of black-on-white line drawing.’ The line drawings on ceramic tiles of both St Dominic and the Virgin and Child he thought to have a ‘tranquil reverent nature all their own’ while the great drama of Christ in the Stations of the Cross had made ‘his impassioned spirit overflow within the Chapel.’

While Matisse approached the design of the Chapel primarily as an artistic composition it is clear he though that, by doing so, the chapel was an expression of spirituality. As he had said in a letter to Sister Jacques-Marie, he had travelled over his lifetime to admire the beauty of the light God created so he might share it with others through his work.

Iconographer Aidan Hart has spoken of this strand of Matisse's thinking in relation to his response to the icons he saw when in Russia in 1911. What he notes seems relevant to Matisse's work at the Chapelle du Rosaire. During his visit Matisse seemed deeply affected and overwhelmed by the art of the icons and spent his days frantically visiting monasteries, churches and private collections. He spoke of seeing his efforts confirmed by the ancient icon tradition and also said:

“They are really great art. I am in love with their moving simplicity which, to me, is closer and dearer than Fra Angelico. In these icons the soul of the artist who painted them opens out like a mystical flower. And from them we ought to learn how to understand art.”

Hart suggests that the chief stylistic things about icons which struck Matisse were their colour or use of light, and their conception of space:

'He saw that great art must know what to leave out; he needs to abstract to be real: “..he will have to sift rather than accumulate details, selecting for example, from all possible combinations, the line that expresses most and gives life to the drawing ...” He believed that imitating nature really means that the art object itself gives the viewer the same feeling of delight, inspiration that nature gives: ”The work will then appear as fertile and as possessed of the same power to thrill, the same resplendent beauty as we find in the works of nature.” He said that ultimately “great love is needed to achieve this effect ... This love, which is necessary for artistic creation, has a divine aspect: Nothing is more gentle than love, nothing stronger, nothing higher, nothing larger, nothing more pleasant, nothing more complete, nothing better in heaven or on earth—because love is born of God and cannot rest other than in God, above all living beings."'

Vence is a hill town 20 miles from Nice and the Chapelle du Rosaire is near the St-Jeannet road climbing out of the town towards the fine views of the Col de Vence. Set into the hillside looking back towards the town, the chapel itself affords attractive views of Vence and its surroundings. Basically, a simple white rectangle, the chapel externally offers little hint of the beauty contained within although two small line drawings on ceramic tiles decorate the entrance and sanctuary wall, while the blue and white tiled roof is surmounted by a tall metal cross, incorporating a bell, which Matisse designed to stand out against the sky rising high in prayer in a spiral-like smoke.

As tourists, we descend steep stairs to the cash desk by the chapel’s entrance - the window at the head of the stairs depicting a fish, net, and blue star is easily missed when doing so. A feisty guide then seats us in the main body of the chapel and commences telling the story of its design while indicating the main elements of Matisse’s work. Those sitting at the back are remorselessly shuffled forwards in order to see the Stations of the Cross on the rear wall and the children present are asked to report back on what can be seen through the confessional door (which recalls the Oriental hangings featured in many of Matisse’s paintings).

The talk over, most depart to view the charcoals given by Matisse to the chapel showing various stages in his design work and the vestments which he also designed. Unusually for a church, the format of the visit and talk does not seem to encourage lingering contemplation. For those who do loiter longer, the play of coloured light on the clean, white spaces of the chapel can be enjoyed as can the balance and clarity of its design. In its natural state, this is a place of light and peace negated somewhat by its rightful place on the tourist trail and this despite the rigour with which the chapel is kept as a place of worship for its own committed community.

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The Monkees - Pleasant Valley Sunday.

Sunday, 5 August 2012

Art on the French Riviera




































Just back from a week on the French Riviera visiting the Marc Chagall National Museum, the Matisse Chapel at Vence and the Cocteau Chapel at Frejus, as well as other trips to Cannes, Frejus, Monte Carlo, Nice and Ste Maxime.

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Keane - Somewhere Only We Know.

Sunday, 23 August 2009

Airbrushed from Art History (12)

The final circle of artistic influence found in the French Catholic Revival was that which formed around the Dominicans, Maire-Alain Couturier and Pie-Raymond Régamey. Thomas F. O'Meara has described this circle of influence well in ‘Modern Art and the Sacred’, an article for Spirituality Today:

“Born in the Loire on November 15, 1897, the young Couturier was mobilized for the First World War and wounded on the front. By 1919 he was studying painting in Paris with a group centered around Maurice Denis and then worked for the next five years in various churches in the media of fresco and stained glass. During the early 1920s he toured Italy, read Paul Claudel, discovered Matisse, Picasso and Le Corbusier, met Jean Cocteau at the house of the Maritains, and worked for Action Française. His interior odyssey, however, moved within not only art but within Christianity, drawing him to religious life, first as a Benedictine oblate and then as a Dominican, receiving the habit in 1925. He speaks of "that day in 1925 when freedom entered into my life, having the face of love."

In the years immediately before and after his ordination, Couturier's superiors, far from discouraging his art, offered some commissions: a novitiate chapel, the chapel of the Dominicans at Oslo, frescoes for the private chapel in Santa Sabina (Rome) of the Master General in 1932. Assigned to a priory in Paris, even while working on churches and windows up through 1937, Couturier assumed a widening ministry of preaching and spiritual direction. Simone Weil wrote her Letter to a Religious to the Dominican at the suggestion of Maritain in 1942 when both Weil and Couturier were in the United States.”

“Even at the end of the nineteenth century, with the work of Cézanne and Monet scarcely absorbed, young artists pondered the sad, derivative state of religious art. Joseph Pichard's L'Art sacré moderne chronicles the new atmosphere which emerged from 1890 to 1914, and which was then taken up again after World War 1, fostering the first attempts at a modern church architecture in Europe. Pichard himself helped to found conferences and then a periodical which was to exercise particular influence. Within eighteen months of its inception, however, the journal L'Art sacré was taken over by the publishing house of Cerf which confided its direction to Régamey and Couturier.”

“Régamey writes: “From the time of his training at the Ateliers d'Art Sacré under Denis and Desvallières, Pere Couturier's greatest ambition was to revive Christian art by appealing to the independent masters of his time. He discussed the project many times between 1932 and 1935 with the Abbé Devémy who was chaplain at the sanatorium in Assy, opposite Mont Blanc. In 1936, his friend Jean Hébert-Stevens, who worked in glass spoke about the project to Bonnard, who was very interested; at this time, however, no opportunity came to make the idea materialize. In 1938, Hébert-Stevens suggested to Couturier that he speak to Braque about the idea.

In 1936 Abbe Devémy thought of commissioning artists who were not "third-rate" for a church in an area near the Alps to serve sanatorium patients. In 1939 Couturier stopped to visit his friend and was asked to collaborate in planning "Our Lady of All Graces." The project began by acquiring a window designed by Rouault. The war years intervened, with meetings with Maurois, Focillon, Dali, Stravinsky, and conversations with Léger and Chagall on the prospect of collaboration at Assy.”

“Early in 1940 the French Dominican arrived in New York to preach a series of Lenten Conferences in French at St. Vincent de Paul, and then to visit Canada. The war trapped him in North America: lecturing in Canada, meeting artists such as Salvador Dali, painting a Way of the Cross for the Dominican Sisters of Elkins Park, serving as chaplain to French pilots in Jacksonville, Florida.

Couturier returned to France in August 1945, a changed man, deepened by his exile, filled with new perspectives for art and faith. His activity gave expression to more striking ideas about how the church, in its decoration and liturgy, should relate to modern painting, sculpture, design and architecture.”

“By the time of his return to France, it was clear to Couturier that the resurrection of religious art through an incarnation with modernity would never be accomplished by lesser talents, a quasi-modern religious art, and the institutional church. He had conceived the bold idea of involving the great figures of the twentieth century in aspects of church decoration -- even if they were fallen away from, or indifferent to, the church.”

“In a revolutionary move, Couturier attracted for the decoration of the new church of Assy in the south of France Léger, Braque, Matisse, Chagall, Lipchitz and others. Assy was consecrated in June, 1950. By then Couturier was corresponding with Matisse over the chapel for the Dominican cloistered nuns at Vence.”

“Three great churches were touched by the Dominican's statement that modern art can express the sacred in line and color: (1) Matisse's chapel for the Dominican sisters at Vence, (2) the windows and mosaic by Léger and Bazaine at Audincourt, (3) and what we might call the religious art gallery of Assy.”

“Conservative reactions both in France and in Rome became increasingly vocal. In the years which followed, Régamey and Couturier worked on a dual front, explaining and further encouraging the breakthrough of twentieth century art in the decoration of Assy, Vence and Audincourt and defending the very possibility of this new incarnation to the intégristes and to Rome. After an operation, Couturier never fully recovered his health and died in early 1954.”

“What is the lesson of the Assy church where the tapestry backdrop for the sanctuary was done by Lurcat, the facade mosaic by Léger, the tabernacle door by Braque, windows by Rouault, stained glass and a ceramic mural by Chagall? Couturier answered: for Christian art to exist at all, "each generation must appeal to the masters of living art, and today those masters come first from secular art ... there are no dead masters in art." It is not sensationalism which turns the commissions away from the ateliers of the academy or of the hierarchy, but the search for those individuals in whom, in our times (no others exist), art is living. You must employ life where you find it. ‘Let the dead bury the dead’. Devémy, the pastor of Assy observed. Assy is not a masterpiece - it lacks rigor in organization - but as a cultural-theological statement it is of the greatest import.”

Despite the strength of the conservative reactions to their work and writings, Régamey and Couturier were not alone in their views or their initiatives. For example, Patricia Grzonka writes in ‘Better Bodies’, an article for Freize, of “Vienna’s Galerie Nächst St. Stephan, founded in 1954 and directed and programmed by Monsignor Otto Mauer, a Catholic priest” was, “in the 50s and 60s, the most important centre for contemporary art … hosting “art movements from Informel and Tachism in the 50s to the happenings of the 60s.” Grzonka considers this an unusual development writing that: “Austria had a peculiar way of coming to terms with the present through the paradigms of the past. Only in Austria, for instance, could an avant-garde gallery have been funded by the Catholic church.”

Arnulf Rainer was one of the artists supported by Mauer and, in an interview published as ‘Elf Antworten auf Elf Fragen' (in Otto Breicha ed., Arnulf Rainer Hirndrang, Salzburg 1980), said:

"I had many discussions with him [Mauer] at that time and it was he who made it clear to me that connections between religion and artistic creativity, as I saw them, weren't as peculiar as they seemed. He felt that the same way himself about them ... He visited me in my studio, looked at my pictures, chose and bought two of them. And then he made me an offer to have an exhibition in his gallery. I became interested. In those days I had a very particular and rather extreme profile as an artist. It was a daring thing to mount an exhibition of my work. I was amazed how spiritually involved Mauer was; as far as he was concerned, there was no difficulty in relating religion to modern art, which was prevalent at that time in Christian circles. By contrast Mauer seemed shaped by his contact with this form of art. He certainly wasn't a ‘progressive' priest. Theologically he was more traditionally orientated. But he was an incredibly intelligent and articulate man with an extraordinary wide horizon. He was capable of relating things to each other, which was certainly not an everyday achievement. He had important functions in the Church, though there were wide circles within the Catholic world, which absolutely rejected him and, in fact, actually saw in him a particular sort of demon. This was especially because of his contacts with artists. As far as we were concerned he emanated great spirituality as well as being a totally charismatic person. He used to preach sermons which were real works of art. And he gave himself up so utterly to his theme that he literally swayed in ecstasy in the pulpit. He fascinated all of us, just as great artists fascinate.”

The influence of his contact with Mauer can also be seen in the way in which Rainer relates his overpaintings to his interest in mysticism, non-verbal prayer and the teachings of St John of the Cross:

“I realised that there wasn't only that sort of religious art, as in the nineteenth century, where a figure of Christ or a Madonna was created in the greatest detail; there is also an overall religious ‘seeing', in which one only aims for the general structures of the imagination. Through it I have come more and more to paintings in dark colours - of course not totally black. There is always a small bit of light, mostly at the edge or in a corner. At the beginning I didn't want to do any ‘overpaintings'. I wanted to paint specific subjects. But it was always black, black and black again which came to me. I just couldn't do anything else. I had no idea beforehand that it would turn out like this. More than once, I tried to break away, but it was impossible. I realised that the quality and truth of the picture only grew as it became darker and darker.”

In the interview Rainer reveals what Christ means to him and goes on to describe his first picture of Christ:

“It started as a black figural-structure. I attempted to make a crucified figure. At the start it was a kind of cubic stretch-figure. But it wasn't successful. It was a stylistic platitude. So I went on painting and the figure of Christ became a cross. And finally, this cross became veiled by a dark cloud. But I am quite satisfied that something is still perceptible. It doesn't even have to be consciously perceptible. He [Christ] withdraws when we attempt to represent him. Perhaps he is there in an intimation, in an extinguished, fragmentary way. In certain signs. And yet he even withdraws there. As soon as one thoughtlessly repeats it.”

In the UK, Walter Hussey, as noted in his Pallant House biography, “was responsible for commissioning some iconic works of twentieth century music and visual art, first as Vicar of St Matthew's Church Northampton and subsequently as Dean of Chichester Cathedral, from likes of William Albright, Leonard Bernstein, Benjamin Britten, Henry Moore, Graham Sutherland and William Walton”:

“It was while he was Vicar of St Matthew's that Hussey decided to celebrate the church's 50th anniversary by organising a musical concert. Seizing the opportunity given by CEMA (Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts), the forerunner of the Arts Council, he invited the BBC Symphony Orchestra to play and commissioned 'Rejoice in the Lamb' from Benjamin Britten. Despite a great many obstacles and in the face of reactionary opposition his tenacity of vision enabled him to get his way. He went on to organise a concert by the great soprano Kirsten Flagsted, and commission Henry Moore's 'Madonna and Child' sculpture, which was unveiled in February 1944, a 'Litany and Anthem for St Matthew's Day' from W.H Auden in 1945, Graham Sutherland's 'Crucifixion' in 1947 and in 1949 'The Outer Planet' from the poet Norman Nicholson.”

“He then became Dean of Chichester Cathedral, an appointment that may well have been influenced by the fact that the Bishop, Dr George Bell, was also a great patron of the arts, and obviously made the appointment with a view to preserving the artistic continuity. Bishop Bell retired in 1958, but Hussey remained as Dean until his retirement in 1977.”

“After he arrived in Chichester Hussey gave further commissions to contemporary artists and composers, guided by the principle that, "Whenever anything new was required in the first seven hundred years of the history of the cathedral, it was put in the contemporary style." In 1961 Sutherland painted an altarpiece for the Chapel of St Mary Magdalen. Hussey later approached Leonard Bernstein, who he had briefly met in New York, to compose a piece of music for the Cathedral, the result being the 'Chichester Psalms' (1965), which were set to the original Hebrew. The following year John Piper was approached to design a Tapestry for the screen behind the High Altar. Other commissions include furnishings by the sculptor Geoffrey Clarke, an altar frontal by Cecil Collins, a set of Copes by Ceri Richards and a stained glass window by Marc Chagall. Kenneth Clark memorably described him as 'the last great patron of art in the Church of England.'”

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Leonard Bernstein - Chichester Psalms - Adonai ro-i.