Chinese Silkweaving, Multiple Scripts

During a visit to the Freer Gallery of Art last year, I came across this 13th-century scroll painting that depicts the art of Chinese silkweaving. The scroll links together 24 sheets of paper unfurling from left to right, and its visual content is fascinating (the scenes represent all the stages of silk production). Its verbal content is interesting as well. Each scene is accompanied by a poem that is written out in a formal style of calligraphy called "seal script." Next to each character of text in the poem there's a tiny gloss "translating" the character into standard script. There are also various inscriptions in "running script" throughout the scroll, in addition to the seals of multiple owners that have accrued over time.

To see more images of the scroll and download detailed documentation about its contents, see this website.

"Children at Play" (Chinese Art)

"Children at Play" Exhibition, Freer Gallery of Art, April 2010. Last year I saw this exhibition and I thought these paintings 齊白石 (Qi Baishi) were just so charming I had to post about them on this blog. The painting on the left (c. 1930) is called 夜讀圖 ("Studying at Night"), and the one on the right (also c. 1930) is 送子師從 ("Taking the Son to School"). The paintings seem quite sympathetic toward the child's plight.

Incidentally, the name 齊白石 is a pseudonym. The self-taught artist was known for landscape painting (among other things), and 白石 literally means "White Stone," suggesting snow-covered mountains.

For more about the artist and his legacy, see here.

Jibberish Scripts (Hebrew? Greek?)

A holy child writes in a book in this detail from Bernhard Strigel's Saint Mary Salome and Her Family in the National Gallery of Art (click image to enlarge). I was intrigued by the appearance of the writing in this book, which looks to me like jibberish script. At first I thought these letter-forms were approximating Hebrew, but if that's so then the writing is going in the wrong direction (i.e., the pen is moving left to right, as one does when writing Latin and other languages; Hebrew should go from right to left).

When I took another look at the entire painting online (see image and description here), I realized this child actually identified as SANCTV. IOHANES EWAN. (Saint John the Evangelist) - and his Gospel was actually written in Greek. But the writing doesn't look very much like Greek either.

I guess it doesn't really matter whether the writing is "supposed" to be Greek or Hebrew. It looks like the artist was much more interested in representing the "idea" of a holy writer rather than conveying the accuracy of any particular script. (For another creative use of script in a religious painting, see this earlier posting about upside-down Latin.)

I'm sure I could find other examples of jibberish script throughout the NGA if I really looked around, but here's a similar example from a painting I saw in the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo during a visit to Siena:

I don't remember who this figure is or even the name of the artist, but it's another intriguing example of visually stylized script that lends an aura of authority. Whether it's meant to represent Hebrew or Greek, the symbols here look to me a lot like a older form of Arabic numerals.

Pocahontas Portrait

Painting of Pocahontas, after a Dutch engraving, National Portrait Gallery. Known by many names, this Native American woman supposedly saved the life of English colonist John Smith; she later converted to Christianity and moved to England, assuming the name Rebecca Rolfe. The inscription states this is how she appeared at age 21 in the year 1616, and the Latin inscription around the border reads "MATOAKA ALS REBECCA FILIA POTENTISS. PRINC. POWHATANI IMP. VIRGINIAE ("Matoaka, alias Rebecca, daughter of the most powerful prince of the Powhatan Empire of Virginia"). 

To find out more about Pocahontas and this painting, see this US Senate website. For more on the original 1616 engraving upon which this painting is based, see this Smithsonian site. For more on Pocahontas and her perception on both sides of the Atlantic, see here.

For more about iconic Native Americans with multiple names, see here and here.

London: Churches and Museums

Various items from churches and museums in London.

This sign for the Chinese Church in London features a nicely stylized form of the Chinese word 華 (huá), which means "China" or "Chinese" in most contexts. Here, a "cross" (or Star of Bethlehem) motif is incorporated into the center of the character.

Near the church, in Chinatown, I saw this poster that teaches children the Pinyin romanization scheme for Chinese. Each sound in Mandarin is assigned a corresponding Roman letter. Most of the words chosen are simple, everyday ideas or objects: 大 (dà) = big, large; 土 (tǔ) = earth, dust. I'm confused by the image for for 你 (nǐ) - I always thought it just mean "you."

St. Dunstan in the West is a church that caters to the demographics of its congregation in a variety of ways. Here, an entrance sign asks visitors to pray for peace (in English, French, German, Russian, Greek, and Romanian). Although the church is Anglican, I noticed many (Greek and Romanian) Orthodox icons and motifs inside. The praying hands are, I suppose, German in origin, after Betende Hände by Albrecht Dürer (c. 1508).

All Hallows by the Tower isn't one of London's most famous churches but it's worth a visit (check out the crypt and the brass rubbing center). Some notable people associated with the church include William Penn (baptized here, 1644) John Quincy Adams (married here, 1797), and Thomas More (beheaded near here, 1535).

The crypt underneath the church allows you to view centuries of treasures. The medieval livery companies of London contributed funds to develop this space to display valued artifacts and documents. Appropriately, a French inscription reads "Conservez ce qu'ont vu vos peres" [Safeguard those things upon which your fathers have looked]. Why French? It's the language medieval guilds used in most of their administrative and civic documents.

There are maritime motifs all throughout the church itself (among other things, there's a Mariners Chapel). This heraldic device is the emblem of the old Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, which bore the Latin motto "Per Mare Ubique" [Everywhere By Sea]. What I find most curious is the use of sea horses as supporters for the shield device! Apparently sea horses do appear elsewhere in heraldic insignia but in more imaginative and stylized forms; see this website (scroll to "sea-horse") for other examples.

I end with this curious detail from a medieval comic strip (or "graphic novel") version of the Book of Revelations. This panel depicts Rev. 16:13-16, when the text describes "three unclean spirits like frogs" coming out of the mouth of the False Prophet, Dragon, and Beast. Read (and hear) more about this artwork, with larger image, at this Victoria and Albert Museum website.

Paris: Landmarks, Monuments, Museums

More linguistically-interesting things I saw in Paris.

A monument to peace within view of the Eiffel Tower. I can't tell how well the word "peace" is rendered in all these languages but the Chinese (和平) is at least legible. Not the best execution but well-intentioned. (By the way, I didn't see English anywhere among these languages! Hmmm...)

Louis Braille, inventor of the raised system of dots for the blind, is entombed beneath the Panthéon. This is one of the rare monuments that actively encourages visitors to touch and interact with it: a  bust, electronically illuminated Braille inscriptions, and audio recordings.

A similar installment for the blind can be found in the Pompidou Center. Here the Braille inscription and a textured pattern allow the visitor to appreciate a work of visual art.

Inside the Louvre Museum there's a series of signs that lay down "les règles de l'art" [the rules of art], i.e. what you're forbidden to do inside (e.g. no touching artworks, no flash photography etc.). I like the humorous and non-verbal aspect of these signs:

And, finally, a trilingual notice in the Palace of Versailles:

Florence Edition: Dante

It's been months since I posted anything new here - much of the summer was spent away from DC. Just for fun, I'll be blogging about a few of the places I visited. I start with Florence.

The theme for this blog entry about Florence is Dante: signs of this renowned poet (d. 1321) can be found all throughout the city.

In the Duomo, this spectacular painting (Domenico di Michelino, 1465) depicts the poet gazing longingly at the city of Florence (he wrote The Divine Comedy while in exile from his beloved home). On the left you see the Inferno and center is Mount Purgatory (as described in the Purgatorio). The celestial spheres of Paradiso are above. This painting beautifully transforms (translates, if you will) the grand scope of the poet's allegory into a clear visual format - although it depicts a city with architecture that Dante would not have known (the dome did not exist as such in his day).

A detail of Dante's book reveals the opening lines of his poem. A little hard to read, since 1. the text appears in all capital letters with no word separations and 2. the spelling differs from most modern editions. The first page (left) reads: "Nel mezzo del chamino di nostra vita / Mi ritrova per una selva scura che la diritta via era smarita" [In the middle of our life's journey / I found myself in a dark wood, for the straight path was lost].

Many other signs evoking the works of Dante are strategically placed around the city; e.g., at one point along the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) crossing the Arno River, we see "in sul passo d'Arno" [at the crossing of the Arno]. Mildly interesting sign, I guess - but without any real context for the quote it seems pretty random. I wonder if most people even notice it.

One place of particular interest for Dante readers is the Casa di Dante, where the poet (most likely) once resided. There's much to love about this wall display - not only does it have a nice diagram of all of Dante's circles of hell, but it also manages to squeeze in the entire text of The Divine Comedy on a single panel in tiny font! And how did those footprints get on the wall?

A Florence location that has become a curious site of pilgrimage is the Chiesa di Santa Margherita de' Cerchi, which is allegedly near the place where Dante first met his beloved Beatrice Portinari (i.e., the subject of his early poetry and, later, his guide in the Paradiso). The entrance sign informs visitors that the church dates from 1032 and Beatrice was buried here.

Inside the church, a painting: "Dante meets Beatrice P., accompanied by her mother Cilia de' Caponsacchi and Monna Tessa" [i.e., nurse in the Portinari household]. In the Vita Nuova, Dante claims he met Beatrice walking down the street with two ladies and this encounter inspired him to write poetry about her. This painting seems to take some liberties here, as Dante claims he was 18 at the time of that meeting (this Dante looks much older).

At the tomb of Beatrice, visitors from around the world leave handwritten letters to her (most of these are written by women who are seeking love and asking Beatrice to intercede). I can't make out all the text here, but the one on the right is in Korean; the one of the left (with lipstick) reads "Dear Beatrice."

The "letters for Beatrice" phenomenon is mysterious and surprisingly recent in origin. For more on Dante's life and work (emphasis on The Divine Comedy), see this excellent website.

P.S. There is a Florence-DC connection I should note! In Meridian Park, you can see a statue of Dante clearly based on the painting in the Duomo (or something very much like it):

This portrayal of Dante looks pretty familiar. I see one major difference between this sculpture and the Duomo painting, though. The Dante in the Duomo holds an open book, but this Dante has his book closed.

Upside-Down Latin

It's the season of Advent for many folks I suppose a 15th-century Annunciation image is appropriate. Jan van Eyck adapts Luke 1:26-38 (Archangel Gabriel tells the Virgin Mary she'll bear the Son of God). An inscription (left) bears Gabriel's words: AVE GRA[TIA] PLENA = "Hail, full of grace." Mary responds (right): ECCE ANCILLA D[OMI]NI = "Behold the handmaiden of the Lord."

Mary's words are upside-down. Is this so God can "see" (hear) her words?

A full picture of the image is below. National Gallery of Art, November 2009.

P.S. See this post for a different example of Latin speech in medieval art.

Blind Rothko Viewers?

Today I saw this sign outside the Rothko Room in the Phillips Collection. The sign says PLEASE LIMIT VISITORS TO THE ROTHKO ROOM TO EIGHT, followed by a Braille translation underneath. A few questions arise. How is a blind person even supposed to view these paintings? Is this some type of modernist joke?

Below, a wider view of the sign reveals the (non-informative, entirely color-based) titles of the paintings inside. No Braille translations underneath.

P.S. The "extra" dot before each Braille word indicates capital letters.

Twisty Voice of God

What does the voice of God look like? "The Baptism of Christ" (late 15th century, by the Master of the St. Bartholomew Altar) depicts God's words using a banderole (speech scroll), the medieval equivalent of the comic book "speech balloon."

At this moment in Scripture, the Latin text (Vulgate Bible) describes a mysterious voice from the clouds ("ecce vox de nube, dicens" = lo! a voice out of the clouds, speaking). The painting transcribes the words of this voice on a curvy scroll unfurling from the sky: HIC EST FILIVS MEVS DILECTV[S] IN QUO MIHI BENE COMPLACVI = "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased" (Matthew 17:5).

I'm intrigued by the curvy word scroll here; its shape forces you to read the twisting words "out of order." Does the sinuous scroll actually evoke the shape of nimbus clouds? Or do the twists and turns of the scroll evoke the ethereal sound of a cloudy voice from the heavens?


National Gallery of Art, November 2009.