In the Time of Devotion

What do you think of when someone mentions the Middle Ages? I’d say caves, toga-like clothing, candles, definitely a lot of candles, witches, the burning of said witches, and ceaseless devotion to God. Often, when the internet in my apartment isn’t working, I tell friends “I’m living in the Middle Ages” – which has more candles than devotion to God and witch burning.

Honestly, let’s face it, what else was there to do between the 5^th and 15^th centuries aside from worship God, be a witch or burn them, participate in the many crusades, and wait to meet your maker? If you think about it, maybe part of the reason life expectancy was so short is because it is actually possible to die of boredom*.

People talk about time machines and how incredible it would be to go back (or forward, for that matter) in time, but we’re living in the best time to be alive. We’ve got television and Batman; internet and Ryan Gosling. I wouldn’t have survived ten minutes in the Middle Ages, but would happily see how those that did, entertained themselves.


The Rheims Missal (Missale Remenense), The Creation of the World, 1285-1297.
Parchment, Latin, 23.3 x 16.2 cm.
Paris.


Bestiarum, Adam Naming the Animals, late 12th century.
Parchment, Latin, 20 x 14.5 cm.
England.

The Getty is at it again, exhibiting religiously charged images, starting this month through 3 February 2013 (assuming the world doesn’t end first and we meet the Powers that Be in person): The Art of Devotion in the Middle Ages. Often find yourself without internet or electricity, or do you simply want to go back in time? Procure this fantastic representation of manuscripts of the period: Illuminated Manuscripts by Edmond de Goncourt and Jp. A. Calosse.

*Research was still being conducted at time of posting.

 

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Les Belles Heures du Duc de Berry

Parisians and their visitors are in for a treat: for the last time they will get to see the beautiful, individual leaves of the Belles Heures of Jean de France, Duc de Berry, before a valuable piece of their cultural heritage is whisked off once more to foreign climes. The Belles Heures is one of the most beautiful examples of an illustrated ‘book of hours’, a ‘devotional’ book for our devout, God-fearing medieval ancestors who felt like once a week just wasn’t devoting enough time to God, so they ordered manuals with instructions on how to pray better and more regularly at home.


The Limbourg Brothers, Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry: The Month of May, c. 1412-1416. 22.5 x 13.6 cm. Musée Condé, Chantilly.

In today’s increasingly secular society, many of us do not have recourse to pray on the hour every hour, unless you count the silent pleas of “please, God, don’t let the bus be late” and the sanctifying “bless you”, nowadays more of an involuntary interjection of politeness than a need to invoke God’s will to protect you from evil spirits or the plague. In the same way, we don’t feel the need to self-flagellate any more, or at least not for religious reasons.

Nowadays, more often than not, we check in with Facebook once an hour and share our hopes and dreams in the realm of Twitter. But religious people - never fear! The Belles Heures has its modern day equivalent in iPad apps, though the graphics on tablets are in no way comparable to the stunning beauty of these illuminated manuscripts, “as fresh as the artists left them when they finished their task and cleaned their brushes”.

The book is in near perfect condition today, which means Jean de France must just not have been praying enough. It didn’t work out so well for him or the book’s illuminist Limbourg Brothers, as they all died of suspected plague before the age of thirty.

There are two weeks left to see the Belles Heures du Duc du Berry at the Louvre, but if you miss the chance you can always catch up with this box-set of books on Medieval Art.

Heaven, Hell and Dying Well

The Christian Church of the Middle Ages was the most important institution of the time, holding an unyielding power over what the general population thought and believed. More often than not, art of the period venerates Jesus in all of His glory, placing him at the centre on a throne, judging who shall pass through the gates of Heaven and who will be banished to eternal damnation. These images gave strength to the many believers while terrifying some skeptics towards belief.


Take Fra Angelico’s The Last Judgement (1425-1430) for example (above). Christ sits in judgement on a white throne surrounded by John, Mary, the saints, and angels, his right hand pointing towards Heaven, while his left indicates Hell. On his right is paradise, a beautiful garden leading to a city on a hill; angels lead the saved to meet their loved ones. To Christ’s left, we see demons forcing the damned back into Hell to take their place for eternal torment. At the very bottom, Satan gets his fill of three sinners while two others wait in his grips.

Once considered terrifying, today these images are subjects of ridicule and disbelief. The length to which believers went to assure their salvation in a place that will more likely than not turn out to be imaginary and intended to ease the fear of death, is simply laughable. Do you believe in God the Almighty and His Son that died for your sins? Should we, in fact, sin more in order to be sure that He died for the right reasons?

See more religiously charged images in Heaven, Hell, and Dying Well: Images of Death in the Middle Ages at The J. Paul Getty Museum, exhibiting until the 12^th August 2012. Furthermore, bring these images home with Art of the Devil, a high-quality art ebook full of detailed images of life after death, stemming from the artists' deepest fears.