Tag Archives: Barcelona

Sharing St. George’s Day

Many Christian countries, regions, and cities have St. George as their patron saint, so today is a day of celebration for many of them.  Were I lucky enough to be in Barcelona, my favorite spot in the world, right now, I would be enjoying the “Day of the Book”, which I talked about in this guest post I did for author and speaker Dawn Eden on her website this time last year.  And I could wander all over the city admiring the many images of St. George and the Dragon, as I showed in this photo essay from a couple of years ago.

Jordi

St. George and the Dragon by Franz Pforr (c. 1815)
Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt

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London’s New Orbit Tower: An Olympian Failure

While watching news coverage of the lead-up to the London Olympic Games over the past few days, I became aware of the existence of the Orbit Tower, more formally the “ArcelorMittal Orbit Tower”, which is without question one of the ugliest public monstrosities that Britain has built to date, at least since the “Cool Britania”-era Millenium Dome – now known as the O2 Dome –  was plopped down like a rusting metallic jellyfish impaled on a sea urchin made out of Tinkertoys along the south bank of The Thames in Greenwich.  The difference between the two, of course, is that we are told that the Orbit Tower is in fact a work of sculpture in the form of a building, whereas the Millenium Dome is simply a building.  This means that we can be force-fed different ways of looking at the issue by the press, by Olympic organizers, and by those whose goal is to advance their own social-climbing, as is the case here.

The line between sculpture and building can of course become blurred. The famous Statue of Liberty at the entrance to New York City’s harbor is both a sculpture and a building. Lady Liberty has stairs, rooms, and so on inside of her, but appears to be a giant sculpture from the outside, because she is clad in her iconic copper skin, gone verdigris from time and the elements.  The Eiffel Tower on the other hand, was not intended to be a sculpture but a building, designed to be an entrance gate to and an observation platform for the World’s Fair – or more properly, the Exposition Universelle – held in Paris for the centenary of the French Revolution. Over time, some critics have called it more akin to a work of sculpture since it serves no practical purpose, and has sculptural qualities.

In fact the Eiffel Tower is a good point of comparison for the Orbit Tower, for despite the fact that the former was considered a building and the latter considers itself a sculpture, both serve the same purpose, which is no real purpose at all. Neither tower was particularly popular at the time it was built, either. However what has changed in the century or so since the construction of the former has been the gradual deterioration of all sensible debate over the question of whether a work of art or architecture is actually any good.

Back in Eiffel’s day, a who’s-who of the French art and literary establishment tried to get his tower stopped, complaining that the construction of what would become, and still is, the tallest building in Paris would ruin the skyline. “To bring our arguments home, imagine for a moment a giddy, ridiculous tower dominating Paris like a gigantic black smokestack, crushing under its barbaric bulk Notre Dame, the Tour Saint-Jacques, the Louvre, the Dome of les Invalides, the Arc de Triomphe, all of our humiliated monuments will disappear in this ghastly dream. And for twenty years … we shall see stretching like a blot of ink the hateful shadow of the hateful column of bolted sheet metal.” Guy de Maupassant, quite possibly the greatest short story writer in France, supposedly ate lunch in the Eiffel Tower’s restaurant every day in protest, saying it was the one place in Paris where you could not see the Eiffel Tower. Nowadays, of course, most people (though not this writer) love the Eiffel Tower for its lacy symmetry, and cannot imagine Paris without it.

Will people one day say the same of the Orbit Tower? The answer is almost certainly no, though I am prepared to revisit this blog post in 20 years’ time and see whether public reaction to it has changed. It is an asymmetrical, twisted mess, demonstrating no talent or ability other than that of wasting other people’s money, and then daring anyone to question whether it is any good by bringing out the black turtleneck brigade to attempt to insult those with common sense.  It looks for all the world as though someone forgot to do their class art project until the night before it was due, and then rapidly scrunched together a bunch of odds and ends from around the house, and said, “Here: this is art.”  Art it may be, but bad art it certainly is.

In fact the designer of this structure, the untalented but inexplicably popular sculptor Anish Kapoor, has said that he was inspired by – brace yourself – the Tower of Babel. “There is a kind of medieval sense to it of reaching up to the sky, building the impossible. A procession, if you like. It’s a long winding spiral: a folly that aspires to go even above the clouds and has something mythic about it.” However the Tower of Babel, lest you forget your Genesis, was a story about human ego and pretension, hubris and failure: about how man sought to make himself equal to God, and how he failed miserably.

That whopper of a quote aside, quite possibly the most head-scratching statement I have read thus far on the Orbit Tower comes from Lakshmi Mittal, often listed as the richest man in Britain, and the man without whose deep pockets, bad taste, and need to climb the social ladder the project might never have come to be.  Mittal apparently told the Associated Press that people just need to get used to the building – er, sculpture.  ”People are still trying to criticize the Mona Lisa,” he says.  That is true, except there is one major difference: if you don’t like the Mona Lisa, you don’t actually have to go to The Louvre and look at it.  Londoners who live within sight of this utter waste of materials, manpower, and money are going to have to look at this doomed-to-demolition monstrosity every day for the next several decades, until a more sensible generation has the sense to knock it down.

So, enjoy your broken roller coaster wrapped around the Seattle Space Needle for as long as it stands, London. My guess is that about 24 hours after the games end, petitions for this tower to be demolished will begin finding their way to Boris Johnson’s office.


The Orbit Tower, London

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A Golden Age in Two New Exhibitions

Having specialized in Spanish art of the 17th century when I was studying at Sotheby’s in London, I have continued to keep my eye on the art market and news from the museum world about art produced in Spain during that Golden Age of culture on the Iberian Peninsula.  Thus, some news caught my eye this morning which involves two of the most important painters working in Spain during the 17th century.  One is a major rediscovery for art historians, which has been announced in Barcelona, while the other is an exhibition on the work of a well-known Spanish Old Master painter that has recently opened in Madrid.

Juan Bautista Maíno (1581–1649) is not a household name in the history of art, partially because we know of very few of his paintings to survive – only about 40 or so are known or believed to be by his hand – and partially because he became a Dominican friar when he was in his 30′s. However his influence on the development of Spanish art was tremendously important. Maíno left his native Castile and studied painting in Rome, soaking up the influence of painters like Caravaggio and Reni, and then brought this more theatrical style back with him to Spain. He became a popular, if not prolific painter, and helped the careers of many up-and-coming young painters, including Velázquez, the greatest of all Spanish artists.

Now the National Museum of Catalan Art (“MNAC”) in Barcelona is exhibiting, after a lengthy restoration process, a very large painting depicting “The Conversion of St. Paul” on the road to Damascus, which after careful study has been definitely attributed to Maíno. It had been in the collections of the MNAC for many decades, but incorrectly attributed to another artist, until it was damaged in a fire and had to undergo restoration. Given the scarcity of paintings by Maíno, this is a major find for art historians. The newly restored work will be on display as part of a special exhibition from July 5 to September 30th, along with a short documentary film, a contemporary sketch of the painting on a smaller scale, x-rays from the research process, and other information detailing the giant painting’s restoration.

Meantime at The Prado in Madrid, a new exhibition has opened on works by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617-1682), whose name or at least whose art is well-known to most students of art history. The stark realism of Velázquez was later supplanted by the softer, more dreamy qualities of Murillo’s style of painting, which often reflects a kind of golden, mellow light. Murillo was one of the greatest painters of children, in all of their innocent beauty, and his work has a sentimental quality that later influenced many French, English, and American salon/society painters of the 19th century.

The show “The Art of Friendship” which opened at The Prado a few weeks ago and runs until September, features paintings by Murillo which he created for or as a result of commissions obtained through the artist’s good friend, Justino de Neve.  Father de Neve was one of canons of Seville Cathedral, and a great friend of Murillo, who helped the artist to obtain a number of his most important artistic commissions. This included paintings Murillo produced for the hospital of elderly and disabled priests in the Andalusian city, which de Neve himself founded, several of which are in this exhibition. The show will later move to the former hospital founded by Father de Neve in Seville, before continuing on to The Dulwich in London.

If you happen to find yourself in Barcelona or Madrid this summer, and can avoid the rioting leftists, then both of these exhibitions would be well-worth paying a visit.


Josep Serra, Director of The MNAC, examines the newly-restored
“The Conversion of St. Paul” by Juan Bautista Maíno

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Knight and Pages: A Guest Post for Author Dawn Eden

My friend, the author Dawn Eden, asked me to write a guest post for her blog as she has a new book coming out entitled “My Peace I Give You: Healing Sexual Wounds with the Help of the Saints”. The launch event will be taking place at the Catholic Information Center here in D.C. this coming Monday, April 23rd – which happens to be the Feast of St. George.  As this is a special day for Catalans (or in my case, half-Catalans), in my post I wrote about a long-standing custom in Barcelona of exchanging a book and a rose on this day, and what we can take away from the stories about St. George’s exploits with respect to the context of Dawn’s new book.

You can read my post on Dawn’s site by following this link, and I thank her for the opportunity of sharing some of my thoughts with her many readers.

A man giving a rose and a woman giving a book on St. George’s Day in Barcelona

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Is Epiphany A Holy Day, Or Isn’t It?

Today the Church marks the Feast of the Epiphany, the 12th day of Christmas, as we recall the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child.  As I wrote about yesterday, in Barcelona and in many other parts of the world, gifts are exchanged on this day rather than on Christmas itself.  However it should also be noted that in Spain, Italy, and many other countries, today is also a Holy Day of Obligation for Catholics to attend mass, apart from their obligation to attend mass on Sundays.  Why is this apparently not the case in the United States?  The answer, as you shall see, is a little bit tricky.

In both the Western and the Eastern Churches the Feast of the Epiphany is, in fact, a Holy Day of Obligation.   In the Western Church, things are a bit more muddled than in the Eastern Churches.  Some Western countries, such as Spain, celebrate the Epiphany on the date on which it is supposed to fall, twelve days after Christmas.  Yet in many other countries, such as  the United States, Epiphany is a sort of default Holy Day of Obligation.

Here in America, the celebration of the Epiphany always takes place on the Sunday that falls between January 2nd and January 8th.  Sometimes that means it will be celebrated on its proper date, January 6th, but obviously that does not occur every year. And because Sundays are a Holy Day of Obligation for Catholics anyway, this is one of those “two-for-one” specials that the Church since Vatican II seems to be foisting on us more and more frequently.

Regular readers will know how displeased I am when the celebration of a holy day such as the Ascension of the Lord, which brings to an end the Easter Season, is transferred to the nearest Sunday, rather than being commemorated on the date when it is actually supposed to fall.  I find this to be a regrettable policy which the Church really does need to reconsider.  Our grandparents or great-grandparents did not seem to have a problem getting to mass, so why has that obligation been abrogated or transferred when we have things so much easier than they with respect to transportation, reduced work hours, and modern conveniences?

The knee-jerk response to my position – inevitably –  is the following: “There’s nothing to stop you from going to mass on January 6th, if you want to.”  The problem is, that response is based on false reasoning.  It assumes that if I attend mass on the date when a feast actually is supposed to fall, that I will be attending the liturgical celebration written for that feast, with the scripture readings and prayers proper to that day.

Take a look at the mass readings for today, January 6th, on the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops’ website.  Not a single mention of the Magi, is there?  It is simply a “Christmas Weekday” mass, as one can see from the heading.  That is because the liturgy for the Feast of the Epiphany has been transferred to this coming Sunday; today’s readings and prayers have nothing to do with the Epiphany of Our Lord to the gentiles.

It would seem to this writer that the cause of this, as usual, is the Baby Boomer generation and their adherents, who continue to dominate the Church – for now – and brought us liturgical dancers, nuns who refuse to wear habits, and the campfire “hymns”  of third-rate Jim Croce-wannabees like Marty Haugen and Dan Schutte, taking a lowest common denominator approach to issues such as mass attendance.  The laziness which they displayed in catechising us, their children, is mirrored in their laziness toward liturgy, the celebration of the sacraments, and many other important areas of Catholic life and practice.  They assume that reducing the number of days when Catholics are required to attend mass outside of Sundays will increase mass attendance, when as we are all very much aware, the reverse has happened.

There is an old idiom that the definition of “crazy” is to keep doing the same thing over and over again in the same way and expecting a different result.  We have now had nearly forty years of making things easier for Catholics, with respect to our obligations to God, to the Church, and to one another.  And yet many continue to think that if only things were just a *little* bit easier still, then the churches, seminaries, convents, and schools would be bursting again.  This is nonsense: such changes are not going to occur so long as this lazy view of Catholicism continues to hold sway at the diocesan, the parish, and the religious community levels.

Fortunately, we can see that things are changing, and the announcement today of the elevation of a good man like Archbishop Dolan of New York to wearing the Cardinal’s hat portends more good things to come.  Yet we still have a long way to go.  In the meantime, we must try to do our best and hope that the changes which will eventually take place, as older generations of leadership are replaced, will bring about a renewal of connections to the long traditions of the two-thousand-year history of the Church.

Let not the reader come away from this piece thinking I am some sort of sede vacantist, on the one hand, or a Martin Luther on the other.  I know my place, and far be it from me to disobey what I am told I must do, such as celebrate Epiphany on January 8th this year rather than January 6th. I will do so as the rules prescribe, and I will choose to look charitably on the fact that the transfer of this date for the celebration will actually extend my Christmas commemorations by two additional days – not a bad thing.

Yet I do have to at least raise the question as to whether it would be such a terrible burden to ask us to attend mass on the actual Feast of the Epiphany itself, even when it falls in the middle of the week.  I have yet to be provided with a reasonable justification for the change to the nearest Sunday, a practice which to me seems to water down the impact of the celebration.  With so much secularism characterizing the celebration of Christ’s Birth, surely making a stand for remembering exactly what it is we are celebrating is not something harmful, but ultimately beneficial, to all of His Church.

“The Three Kings” from this year’s official Barcelona City Nativity Scene
Plaça Sant Jaume (St. James’ Square), Barcelona

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