Gates of Heaven (PDF)
The Bible in Bronze (PDF)
Praying with the Doors (PDF)
This spring, the Seattle Art Museum is privileged to host a
once-in-a-lifetime exhibit of three panels of Lorenzo Ghiberti’s Renaissance
masterwork, the bronze doors of the baptistry of the Cathedral of Florence.
A series of inserts in the bulletin will help us celebrate this event and learn
more about “the Gates of Paradise” and our own magnificent bronze doors created
by Ulrich Henn.
On Saturday, March 29, St. James Cathedral parishioners are invited to
gather for a special event with dinner, Renaissance music, a lecture from Chiyo
Ishikawa (SAM curator), and a private viewing of the panels. The cost is
$125 per person. For information, contact
Maria Laughlin,
206-382-4874.
_____________
In
April, 1424, Lorenzo Ghiberti oversaw the installation of his new doors
for the baptistry of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. These doors,
depicting twenty scenes from the New Testament, weighed thirty-four thousand
pounds and cost twenty-two thousand florins. Ghiberti, now 44 years old,
had labored at them for twenty years—his entire adult life.
The Merchants’ Guild of Florence, who had commissioned the doors so many
years before, were delighted with the results. No sooner had they seen the
doors in place and heard the raves from every side, than they decided to
commission another set of doors from Ghiberti. This time, they told him,
he was to pull out all the stops. “He had permission to do anything he
wished so that the doors would turn out even more elegant, rich, perfect, and
beautiful than he could ever imagine. Nor should he worry about the time
or the expenses, so that just as he had surpassed all other statuary up to that
time, he could now outdo and surpass all of his own works” (Vasari).
Ghiberti threw himself into this new project with zeal. Finally he had
a worthy rival to compete with: himself! For twenty-four years, he
labored at this new set of doors, revolutionizing art as he went, making
breakthroughs with each panel, in perspective, relief, and in the casting and
finishing of bronze. The doors, which were finally installed on the east
side of the baptistry in 1448, depicted stories from the Old Testament, from the
creation of Adam and Eve to Solomon in his glory. Many years later,
another Florentine artist, Michelangelo Buonarotti, was seen pausing to look at
them. “When he was asked what he thought of them and whether they were
beautiful, he replied: ‘They are so beautiful that they would do nicely at the
entrance to Paradise’” (Vasari).
At
St. James, we know that the age of great church-doors is not in the past.
In the early 1990s, Father Ryan—like the Merchants’ Guild in Florence so long
ago—was in search of an artist who could create bronze doors for St. James
Cathedral. While the Merchants’ Guild had held a contest which drew
artists from all over Tuscany, St. James Cathedral cast its net far wider.
“After spending considerable time on research and study,” Father Ryan has
written, “we began an international search for an artist to handle the
commission. Artists from across the country and around the world, including some
fine ones right here in the Northwest, submitted proposals for consideration. In
the end, the decision was made to award the commission to the internationally
recognized German sculptor, Ulrich Henn.” Well-known in his native
Germany, Henn had completed only one commission in the United States—the
magnificent gates of the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. After
receiving the commission, Henn visited Seattle, taking the measure not only of
the building but of the community as he commenced work on this new project.
Henn’s bronze doors were the work not of days or months, but of years.
Fifteen feet high, the great central doors were to depict the journey to the
heavenly Jerusalem, beginning with Adam and Eve in the garden, through Noah and
Moses, and the story of Christ’s ministry from his Baptism in the Jordan to his
lonely journey to Calvary. As in Ghiberti’s day, sculpting the doors was
only the beginning of a long, immensely complex process developed by the Romans
before the Christian era—the lost wax process.
—M & C Laughlin
Read more about the Cathedral connection to the Gates of Paradise in the
Catholic Northwest Progress
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION
- Doors have great symbolic significance in our culture. We speak of
being “on the threshold” of something, of someone “opening doors” for us, of
having the door “slammed in our face.” In your life, when have doors
opened for you? When have they closed?
- Jesus said, “I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be
safe” (John 10: 9). The doors of a church, not unlike the altar and
the ambo, are a sign of Christ in the building. Ghiberti’s “Gates of
Paradise” and our own doors created by Ulrich Henn are unlike ordinary doors
in that they have no handles: they can only be opened from within. How
did you first enter the Church? Who opened those doors for you?
—M & C Laughlin
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The Bible in Bronze
Lorenzo Ghiberti. Adam and Eve
Lorenzo Ghiberti chose to depict
not one image of the story of Adam and Eve, but multiple moments simultaneously.
He is radical in his non-linear approach to narrative. He invites the viewer to
“read” the story of our first parents, from creation to the expulsion from the
garden—but not necessarily in that order! Chronologically, we begin in the lower
left-hand corner, with the creation of Adam, in very deep relief (1).
The story continues with the beautiful vision of the creation of Eve in the
center, portrayed in “middle relief” (2). We see Adam asleep on
the ground, while Eve, supported by angels and encircled above by another flight
of angels, is drawn from Adam’s side. Next is the temptation in the garden (3),
in low relief on the middle left hand of the panel. Finally, we see the figure
of God the Father (4), surrounded by angels, commanding his
angel to send Adam and Eve from the garden. Their exclusion is represented by a
portal (5) through which we see the angel pointing the way out,
while Eve looks up in anguish; Adam is barely visible behind her. Wonderful
details abound in the panel, including the birds sitting in the trees (look for
the wise owl!), and two tiny lizards meeting in the foreground at Adam’s feet.
Ulrich Henn, in the ceremonial
bronze doors of St. James Cathedral, tells the story of a journey—our journey
with Jesus to the heavenly city. The figures themselves form a path, “winding”
along the door, from the bottom to the top. The story is told entirely through
figures, their gestures and expressions; there is no background, no landscape,
no “perspective” as in Ghiberti’s doors. The story begins in the bottom left,
with the Baptism of the Lord. John the Baptist points to Jesus (1).
Next we move to the bottom right (2), where we see Christ
gently healing the man born blind (whose hands express both eagerness and
hesitation about meeting the Lord). Above, we see Christ (3)
healing the man whose friends have lowered him down through the roof on a
stretcher. Witnessing this miracle is a figure in the foreground
(4)
who turns toward us, the viewer, and seems to shout, “Who but God alone can
forgive sins?” (Ulrich Henn himself has said that this man is the most important
figure in the doors, because everything depends on our answer to his question.)
Moving on, we see Jesus teaching, surrounded by his followers (5).
These figures listen with different emotions to the word of God and reward
careful study! Next we see Christ entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (6).
He is surrounded by women, men, and children waving palm branches and shouting
“Hosanna!” Jesus himself is represented as somewhat withdrawn in this scene. His
hands bless, but they also suggest obedience, resignation. He knows what is so
soon to come. Next week: Praying with the Doors.
________________________________
Praying with the Doors
Our ceremonial bronze doors, beautiful as they are, weren’t made just to
look at—or to pass through on great occasions! They are intended to challenge
us, to make us stop and reflect on the great mysteries of our faith. The
following questions may help you reflect on the doors and perhaps look at them
in a different way.
-
Adam
and Eve. The journey begins as our first parents set out from
Eden. At the Easter Vigil, the great Exsultet reminds us, “O, happy
fault! O necessary sin of Adam that gained for us so great a Redeemer!” In
our Christian faith, the expulsion from Eden is inseparable from the
salvation Christ won for us. Do you see this Christian view of the
fall reflected in Ulrich Henn’s vision of the story?
- God’s Covenant with Noah. A rainbow arcs
overhead, and Noah kneels, in adoration, in awe, even in jubilation.
What a contrast this scene forms to the violence of the flood that lasted
forty days. When have you had an experience of God’s mercy following a
particularly difficult time in your life?
- Moses leads his people through the Red Sea. The
crowd of people that follows Moses includes all of us—young and old, men and
women. Some carry heavy burdens. A mother tenderly protects her
infant. A young child turns around in amazement at the sight of the
waves like a wall on their left. Who do you identify with in this
crowd?
- The Baptism of the Lord. What does Jesus’ gesture
and expression reveal about his attitude toward baptism? What does the
figure of John the Baptist say to you?
- Healing Stories. Look at the figure of the
paralyzed man, sitting up for the first time. Jesus heals not just the
body, but the soul. Below, the man born blind reaches out for Jesus
with one hand while the other seems hesitant, unsure. Life in Christ
demands huge changes from us. Are we ready to be healed?
-
Beatitudes.
This scene is situated right before Palm Sunday, suggesting that acceptance
of Jesus’ teachings means setting out on the way of the Cross. Look at the
faces of those gathered around Jesus as he teaches. Find yourself
among them.
- Palm Sunday. Study the figure of Jesus. In the
images of Christ’s ministry, we saw Christ speaking, gesturing, healing.
How does Henn capture the silence of Christ during his Passion?
Sometimes Christian life demands action on our part; and sometimes simply
patient endurance of suffering. When have you experienced this in your
life?
- Crowning with Thorns and Crucifixion. We see
Christ surrounded by a turbulent, accusing, hostile crowd. This is
contrasted to the image of Christ, solitary, bent double, seemingly crushed
under the weight of the cross. Jesus experiences both the humiliation
of public disgrace and the desolation of total abandonment.
- Tympanum. The story of salvation is brought full
circle in this dramatic vision of the Heavenly City. An angel pointed
the way out of Paradise; now an angel points to the way back in—the
triumphant Lamb of God. The cross has become burnished gold. The
Lamb who was slain is at the center of the vision, and from him pour forth
rivers of living water, trees bearing an abundance of fruit. What does
this suggest about the Easter mystery we are about to celebrate?
Ghiberti’s “Gates of Paradise” were created not just to dazzle the
viewer, or to gain a reputation for the artist (though they achieved both of
these things surpassingly well!). As sacred art, they are intended to
challenge, to teach, and above all, to illuminate sacred mysteries.
- Creation of Adam and Eve. Many artists focus on
the anguish of the expulsion from Eden. But for Ghiberti, this story
is about beauty—the beauty of creation, the sublime beauty of the human
being created in the image and likeness of God. Are we able to see the
beauty of God in our fallen humanity? In the least of our brothers and
sisters? Does our own self-image reflect our belief that we are made
in God’s image and likeness?
-
Jacob
and Esau. In the story of Jacob, stealing his brother’s
birthright with the help of his mother, we see God “writing straight with
crooked lines.” Ghiberti’s composition of this panel suggests this.
The busy figures are grouped here and there, but the magnificent soaring
arches of the space in which they are situated suggest the divine order that
God brings out of human chaos. “I am the God of Abraham, the God of
Isaac, the God of Jacob.” God is not ashamed to be called our God.
- David and Goliath. This panel is crowded with
dozens of figures. A battle rages; Saul, clad in armor and raising his
sword aloft, plunges down on the enemy in his chariot. But it is not
Saul who actually wins this battle. In the foreground we see the
little figure of David, cutting off the head of the massive, sprawling
Goliath. The soldiers fight, but God has already given the victory—to
the most unlikely victor imaginable. It is not our strength, but God’s
grace, that wins the day. As David the Psalmist would sing, “Not to us,
Lord, not to us, but to your name give the glory.”
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