I realise that it’s a contrarian thing to say, but I’ve always hated Klimt. I find the combination of distorted figures and metallic gold in his most famous work to be off-putting — there’s something grotesque and unnatural about those hybrids of metal and flesh – so I was pretty surprised when I saw this painting on another blog (Happy Catholic) and loved it. I think my actual reaction was, “Finally, a Klimt painting I don’t hate!”
Later, I discovered that this painting was created before he entered that famous “Golden phase” that I dislike so much, which is a mystery explained. What a shame that the only work of his that I like was (presumably) destroyed.
John Duncan was an artist of the Celtic revival with a distinctly symbolist style. I saw this painting, St Bride, at the Scottish National Gallery in Edinburgh on New Year’s Day and was immediately captivated by the rich colours and the extravagant details of the angels’ robes. Apparently, it’s a depiction of the Irish saint, Bride, being carried to the Holy Land by angels so that she could witness and assist with the birth of Christ, then becoming his foster mother in the Celtic sense. It wasn’t a legend I’ve heard before but it’s a beautiful one, reflecting the importance of the custom of fosterage in Celtic Christian societies.
Being a symbolist painting though, Duncan’s St Bride doesn’t dwell on the end goal, the lowly stable in Bethlehem. That would be far too direct. The symbolists always aimed to implicitly evoke an effect rather than to explicitly represent a cause. It’s typical that the painting should focus on passage and transition rather than concrete arrival and achievement – it’s very modern in that respect. But St Bride is distinctly less modern in other respects: eyes closed, hands clasped in prayer, Bride (or Brigit as I’ve always known her) abandons herself wholly to the care of the angels, displaying a very old-fashioned (or possibly timeless) certainty and trust in the care of God. And the angels carry her with such delicate tenderness! Their hands don’t grip, clench or force, they support Brigit, almost caressing her. One angel looks back at her with an expression of concern, the other stares forward, eyes fixed on an unseen target – the Lord takes care of our present and our future. We, like Brigit, need only rest in His arms (or the arms of His angels) and trust that He will take us where we need to be. Not very modern at all.
As an aside, it’s funny how any work of art that makes me gasp with love on sight – as this one did – almost always turns out to be in some way connected with symbolism, and it’s funny how often these symbolists turn out have some Christian or Catholic feeling, even if the artists themselves did not practise. I think it comes from the symbolists’ belief in the importance of dreams, imagination and the spirit – the seed of the Divine is sown in all these things and when you seek to cultivate them, if you do not vanish down a rabbit hole of sensuality, self-obsession and ultimate self-destruction (as happened with many of the poètes maudits, the proto-Symbolists), you may well see that seed sprout and flower into beauty, as it did for John Duncan.
Catholic Commonplace 