ST. GALGANO



St. Galgano was a 12th century knight who renounced his dissolute ways and became a hermit after seeing the archangel Michael. To signify his conversion, he plunged his sword into a rock, which received it like butter would. The cruciform hilt became the cross that he venerated in his hermitage.

Later, Cistercian monks built a monastery on the site. It has since been reduced to ruins, but the sword in the stone remains.

ST. BARBARA



Her life, according to James of Voragine.

AQUAMANILES

Kes Smith:

An aquamanile is a vessel from which water is poured. In the ninth century, these elaborately worked jugs appear in church records. They were used to pour water over the hands of the priest to be caught in a basin below [i.e. at the Lavabo at Mass]. Most were of a heavy cast construction and were designed to stay in place while a spigot or tap was used to pour. They grew in popularity and the designs became more and more elegant, and often delightfully fanciful.

Most commonly cast in bronze, aquamaniles were also occasionally made from silver, or gilt copper. These vessels often depicted animals, fabled characters or Biblical scenes.

The aquamaniles pictured below are in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York; the Musuem of Fine Arts in Boston; the Cleveland Art Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.



















More here.

ELEVATION TORCHES



Eamon Duffy:

Since the end of the twelfth century it had been customary for the consecrating priest to elevate the Host high above his head immediately after the sacring for adoration by the people... In churches with elaborately carved or colored altarpieces the custom emerged of drawing a plain dark curtain across the reredos at the sacring, to throw the Host into starker prominence... In 1502 a Hull alderman left money for the construction of a mechanical device above the high altar which caused images of angels to descend on the altar at the sacring, and ascend again at the conclusion of the Pater Noster; he had seen such a device at King's Lynn.

The provision of good wax lights, and especially of torches, flaring lights made with thick plaited wicks and a mixture of resin and wax, which burned from the elevation to the Agnus Dei or the priest's communion, became one of the most common of all activities of the guilds. It was also very common for individual testators to specify that the torches burned around their corpses at their funerals should be given to the parish church, to burn around the altar at the sacring time. The provision of such lights was often indulgenced, and they may in addition have had the utilitarian function of lighting up the chancel to make the Host more visible, but they were also conceived of as forming a sort of proxy for the adoring presence of the donor close by the Sacrament at the moment of elevation. This was probably particularly true of funeral torches used as elevation lights... The notion of the torch as a proxy for the worshipping donor is certainly uppermost in the explanation offered by a group of shepherds and herdsmen of their motives in founding a guild of the Blessed Virgin at Holbeach. The guild, they explained, maintained torches at the elevation, because its members were often unable by reason of their work to be at Mass themselves. Such torches were normally held by the clerk or the altar boys in the sanctuary, and they often appear thus in carvings and pictures of the elevation. But where guilds provided large numbers of torches for Sundays and festivals - sometimes up to a dozen or more - the guild members themselves would have gathered round the altar at the moment of elevation.

[The Stripping of the Altars by Eamon Duffy. Yale University Press, 1992]

TAPESTRY of the TROJAN WAR

ST. LOY



His life, according to Dado of Rouen.

ST. ANDREW



His life, according to James of Voragine.

Sequence by Adam of St. Victor:

Exultemus et laetemur
Et Andreae delectemur
Laudibus apostoli;
Hujus fidem, dogma, mores,
Et pro Christo tot labores,
Digne decet recoli.

Hic ad fidem Petrum duxit,
Cui primum lux illuxit,
Joannis indicio.
Secus mare Galilaeae,
Petri simul et Andreae
Sequitur electio.

Ambo prius piscatores
Verbi fiunt assertores
Et formae justitiae.
Rete laxant in capturam
Vigilemque gerunt curam
Nascentis Ecclesiae.

A fratre dividitur
Et in partes mittitur
Andreas Achäiae.
In Andreae retia
Currit, Dei gratia,
Magna pars provinciae.

Fide, vita, verbo, signis,
Doctor pius et insignis,
Cor informat populi.
Ut Aegeas comperit
Quid Andreas egerit,
Irae surgunt stimuli.

Mens secura, mens virilis,
Cüi praesens vita vilis,
Viget patientia.
Blandimentis aut tormentis,
Non enervat robur mentis
Judicis insania.

Crucem videns praeparari,
Suo gestit conformari
Magistro discipulus.
Mors pro morte solvitur
Et crucis appetitur
Triumphalis titulus.

In cruce vixit biduum,
Victuris in perpetuum:
Nec vult, volente populo,
Deponi de patibulo.

Hora fere dimidia
Luce perfusus nimia,
Cum luce, cum laetitia,
Pergit ad lucis atria.

O Andrea gloriose,
Cujus preces pretiosae,
Cujus mortis luminosae
Dulcis est memoria;
Ab hac valle lacrymarum
Nos ad illud lumen clarum,
Pie pastor animarum,
Tua transfer gratia. Amen.

Englished by Digby S. Wrangham:

Let us, shouts of gladness raising,
Now delighted to be praising
The Apostle Andrew be:
Whose faith, life, and doctrine precious,
With his mighty works for Jesus,
Should be honoured worthily.

He, who first the true light's glowing
Saw, at John the Baptist's showing,
Peter led the faith to see!
Then are Peter and his brother
Called along with one another
At the Sea of Galilee.

Fishermen till then, both preachers
Of the word become and teachers
Of the rules of righteousness:
Now a net to catch men loose they,
And a wary forethought use they
The young Church to guard and bless.

Andrew soon his brother leaves,
When commission he receives,
And is in Achaia placed:
Of which province a great part
By God's grace convinced in heart,
To the nets of Andrew haste.

By his faith, life, signs, and speeches
This great, good, man's doctrine reaches
And reforms the people's heart.
When Aegeas findeth out
All that Andrew thus had wrought,
Forth his bitter wrath-stings start.

His staid heart and manly spirit,
Who in this life saw no merit,
Stronger from endurance grow.
Flattering or tormenting either,
His insensate judge by neither
Can his strength of mind o'erthrow.

When he sees the cross preparing,
Like his Master, suffering sharing,
The disciple longs to be;
For Christ's death he pays his own,
And for its triumphal crown
On the cross seeks eagerly.

Upon the cross he lived two days,
Thenceforth to live in heaven always;
Nor, when the people wished, would he
Be lifted from the fatal tree.

Nigh half an hour upon that height
Bathed in a light exceeding bright,
In light, exulting at the sight,
He passes to the halls of light.

Andrew, crowned with endless glory!
Rich in prayer propitiatory!
Of whose brilliant death the story
'Tis so sweet in thought to trace!
From this vale of woe exceeding
To that light such radiance shedding,
Loving shepherd, spirits feeding!
O transport us by thy grace! Amen.

ILLUSTRATION REPORT ~ NOVEMBER 2009

Christmas cards:

My Christmas Card for 2009 has been printed. This year's design depicts the Annunciation to the Shepherds, and borrows much of its content and composition from late mediaeval Books of Hours. Three shepherds are shown, with their sheep and sheepdogs. One plays a bagpipe. An angel sings the Gloria among the stars and the winter constellations, accompanied by other angels playing instruments: a cornett, a viol, a serpent, a pair of handbells, a horn and a lute. Miniatures depict the Nativity, and three scenes prefiguring the Virgin Birth according the the Speculum Humanae Salvationis:

The dream of Pharao's butler:

The chief butler first told his dream: I saw before me a vine, On which were three branches, which by little and little sent out buds, and after the blossoms brought forth ripe grapes: and the cup of Pharao was in my hand: and I took the grapes, and pressed them into the cup which I held, and I gave the cup to Pharao.

The flowering of Aaron's rod:

And Moses spoke to the children of Israel: and all the princes gave him rods one for every tribe: and there were twelve rods besides the rod of Aaron. And when Moses had laid them up before the Lord in the tabernacle of the testimony: He returned on the following day, and found that the rod of Aaron for the house of Levi, was budded: and that the buds swelling it had bloomed blossoms, which spreading the leaves, were formed into almonds.

And the Triburtine Sibyl showing the Ara Coeli to the Emperor Augustus:

In order to reward Octavian for having established peace in the world, the Senate wished to pay him the honours of a god. But the wise Emperor, knowing that he was mortal, was unwilling to assume the title of immortal before he had asked the Sibyl whether the world would some day see the birth of a greater man than he.

Now on the day of the Nativity the Sibyl was alone with the emperor, when at high noon, she saw a golden ring appear around the sun. In the middle of the circle stood a Virgin, of wondrous beauty, holding a Child upon her bosom. The Sibyl showed this wonder to Caesar; and a voice was heard which said: This woman is the Altar of Heaven! And the Sibyl said to him: This Child will be greater than thou.

The card measures 4" x 5", folded. The inside of the card is blank.

The cost is $1 per card (envelope included), plus postage. Minimum order of 10. The original drawing is also for sale.



I also recently discovered a stash of last year's card; I had thought these had sold out. The design is based on a stained glass window in the Cathedral at Chartres. The card measures 4" x 5.5", folded. The inside of the card is blank.

The cost is $1 per card (envelope included), plus postage. Minimum order of 10. Only 25 are in stock. The original drawing is also for sale.

Prints available for sale:

I consider this Crucifixion my finest work to date. A detailed explanation of its symbolism can be read here. Museum-quality giclee art prints are available. These are printed on heavy rag paper cut to fit a 9" x 12" frame, and are signed and numbered (1-100). The cost per print is $120, plus postage.



This drawing of the Tree of Life and Death is based on an illumination in a 15th century Missal owned by Archbishop Bernhard von Rohr of Salzburg. The text is from a Marian sequence by Adam of St. Victor. Museum-quality giclee art prints are available. These are printed on heavy rag paper cut to fit a 8" x 10" frame, and are signed and numbered (1-50). The cost per print is $96, plus postage.

       

Three universal bookplates (i.e. bookplates with a blank space in which anyone's name can be written): the first has a picture of olives; the second teems with biological and microbiological shapes; the third is a maze (with one and only one correct path from start to finish). These are exceptional quality digital prints on white acid-free paper, 3" x 4". A package of 60 bookplates (all of one design, or any combination of the three) costs $30, plus postage.

Recently completed works:

A small drawing of the Baptism of Christ, with the Blessed Virgin Mary, Michael the Archangel, Hannah and Samuel. Commissioned to commemorate the baptism of a child in Portugal.

Visit my main web site to see more of my artwork and e-mail me if you are interested in buying or commissioning anything.

Also, I am interested in selling my art prints through religious goods shops and Catholic bookstores.  If you are the proprietor of one of these, or if you know the proprietor of one of these who may be interested, please contact me.  My e-mail is danmitsui [at] hotmail [dot] com.

TOMB of RENE of CHALON



James Snyder:

The tomb figures in Late Gothic sculpture were usually presented in one of two ways: as recumbent images of the deceased as they appeared alive - representacion au vif - or as decaying corpses - representacion de la mort....

An exceptional example of such funerary statuary is found in the tomb of René de Châlon in the Church of Saint Peter in Bar-le-Duc, attributed to Ligier Richier of Lorraine. The standing image is that of death and not an actual portrait of René after his death, but the meaning is the same. The grotesque skeleton statue stands firmly and proudly, carrying his shield and gazing upward at the bony hand holding his heart. The decomposition of the body is nearly complete. But this is death activated, and in the context of a tomb it is not to be viewed as the gruesome death that reaps death as in Bruegel's painting or in the Dance of Death by Holbein. This is the dead René de Châlon, and after the flesh of his body has rotted away, his soul still holds up his heart in love - caritas - to God.

[Northern Renaissance Art by James Snyder. Harry N. Abrams. 1985]

ARS MORIENDI ~ The ART of DYING

Emile Mâle:

The Ars moriendi is the work of a monk or priest who had seen many people die. In this little book we have the somber experience of a man who had collected together many last words, barely spoken... The text was often striking, but it was the astonishing woodcuts above all that spread its fame throughout Europe. Here it is indeed a question of Christian hopes and fears: death appears not as a farcical dance, but as a serious drama played around the bed of the dying man; angel and devil stand at his side, contending for the soul that will soon depart. Formidable moment! The Christian needed to know in advance the temptations and anguish of the terrible dark hours to come in order to learn how to triumph over them... The dying man is exposed to five principal temptations. God, however, does not abandon the Christian, and five times sends His angel to comfort him.

The first temptation attacks his faith. The old print shows the dying man on his deathbed... Christ and the Virgin are at his side, but he does not see them, for a devil raises the covers behind his head and hides the heavens from him: so little is required for men to forget God. His eyes, meanwhile, stray to a vision sent him by the devil. He thinks he sees pagans kneeling before their idols, and an ironic voice whispers in his ear: These people at least saw the gods they adored, but you believe in something you have never seen, something nobody will ever see. Have you ever heard of a dead man returning from up there to bear witness and affirm your faith?

The poor dying man finds no answer. But on the following page we see that an angel from God has swooped down to his bedside. Do not listen to the word of Satan, the angel says. He has lied since the beginning of the world. No doubt all that you believe is not clear, but God has willed it thus, so that you shall have the merit of believing. This is a part of freedom. Therefore, stand firm in your belief; think of the abiding faith of the patriarchs, the apostles, and the martyrs. And the saints of the Old and New Law appear at the head of the deathbed. Behind the foremost ranks, we see other nimbuses. With a few strokes the artist has given the impression of a great army receding into the background.

When the devil cannot shake the dying man's faith, he changes tactics. He no longer denies God, but represents Him as inexorable. After attacking faith he now tries the virtue of hope. Hideous monsters again rove around the sick man's bed. One presents him with a large parchment document: this is the list of all the evils that the poor creature has committed during his sojourn on earth. And by a maleficent incantation, his crimes take bodily form and appear before him. He sees a woman with whom he has sinned, and a man he has cheated; he sees the poor hungry and naked beggar he has turned away from his door; and finally, he contemplates with horror the corpse of the man he killed, whose wounds are still bleeding. The chorus of demons howls: You fornicated, you took no pity on the poor, you murdered. And Satan adds, You were a son of God, but you became the son of the devil; you belong to me.

The angel again descends from heaven, accompanied by four saints. They are St. Peter, who thrice denied his Master; Mary Magdalene, the sinner; St. Paul, the persecutor whom God struck down to convert him; and the good thief, who repented on the cross. These are the great witnesses of divine mercy. The angel presents them to the dying man and speaks words filled with celestial sweetness: Do not despair. Even though you had committed as many crimes as there are drops of water in the sea, one contrite impulse of the heart is enough. The sinner has only to moan in order to be saved, for the mercy of God is greater than the greatest crimes. There is only one grave sin, and that is despair. Judas was more guilty for despairing than were the Jews who crucified Christ. When they hear these words, the devils disappear, crying: We are vanquished!

If God pardons all who are truly contrite, then Satan must turn man's thoughts away from his own salvation, and prevent him from repenting. That is why he causes soul-shaking images to pass before the eyes of the dying man. He shows him his wife and baby. Without him, what will become of them? What will happen to his house? A devil stretches forth an arm and the house appears; the door of the wine cellar is open and a worthless servant taps a barrel of wine; a thief enters the courtyard and unceremoniously makes off with the horse in the stable. What can he do? How can he save these riches that he loved more than God himself?

The angel again comes to the Christian's aid. In turn, it makes images appear to the dying man, but images that console. It shows him Christ naked on the cross. Following his example, we also must die stripped of everything; like our Master, we must renounce the things of this earth; and be at peace about the fate of our loved ones: God will watch over them. And in fact, an angel covers up the dying man's beloved wife and infant with a veil.

The devil does not yet give up. If he cannot make the sick man think of others, he must be made to think of his own sufferings: he must be made to blaspheme, and accuse God. Satan whispers in his ear: You suffer too much; God is not just. Look at the people around you. They pretend to sympathize with your ills, but they really are thinking only of your money. When he hears this, the dying man rises up in bed. He is filled with hatred for God and for men; he throws back the covers, pushes over the table on which bottles and concoctions stand, and with a kick pushes back the heir who had come to his bedside. The servant stands stupefied, a tray in her hand.

The angel reappears and the room fills with consoling visions. Glorified martyrs triumphantly carry the instruments of their torture: St. Lawrence, St. Stephen, St. Barbara, St. Catherine, and Christ Himself as He had appeared to St. Gregory. The angel speaks with its accustomed gentleness: Do not complain. The Kingdom of Heaven is not for those who murmur. What are your sufferings compared with your sins? Moreover, these sufferings will be accounted to you; bear in mind that suffering is useful; it obliges men to turn to God. Look at Christ and all the holy martyrs; they suffered without complaint, and were patient until death.

Repulsed as always, Satan makes a final assault. With his profound knowledge of sin, he knows that pride is the last sentiment in man's soul to die. Thus, he appeals to the pride of the dying man who is breathing his last. Demons with heads of animals place crowns around his bed. You have faith, hope, and charity, they say. Ah, you are not like those men who, after a life of crime, repent on their deathbed. Why you are a saint; you deserve a crown.

The dying man is about to die with his heart full of pride when a troup of angels fly to his aid. One shows him the mouth of Leviathan into which the devils had been cast because of pride, another points to St. Anthony who triumphed over all temptations through humility; and another says to him: You must be as humble as a small child to enter heaven; think of the Virgin chosen by God because of her humility. And the heavens open at once to reveal the Virgin beside the Trinity.

The struggle is over. Panting and sweating in anguish, the dying man has fought the last battle and won. The reader also pants. How arduous it is, the birth of the soul into eternal life! The last page of the book brings a sense of deliverance. The Christian has just died, and the priest who has heard his last words places a wax candle in his hand. His soul is saved. With claws extended, jaws open, and hair bristling, the demon pack howls. But in vain. The soul is carried tranquilly to heaven by an angel.

[Religious Art in France: the Late Middle Ages by Emile Mâle, translated by Marthiel Matthews. Princeton University Press, 1986]