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Showing posts with label saints. Show all posts
Showing posts with label saints. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

When Saints Are Both Things

Once again, let’s talk saints and the horrible ends they met.

via wikipaintings
Not long after I posted about ol Captain Flaps — and considerably longer after I posted about St. Agatha’s boob plate, St Lucy’s disarming stares and the cephalophore — I received a letter from a reader who brought up a good point. Why are saints depicted as both things? Here, read:
so, I know I'm the art historian whatever, but you're the recovering large-c Catholic (you never recover from being a small-c catholic, it's too all-permeating) so maybe you know:

why are saints depicted as both things?

like, why does st bart hold his skin but also, mostly, has skin? and why does st lucy have eyes, and also hold her own eyes? it's not like cephalophores (you know, those fish they thought were extinct)(ahem. head-bearers.) have a head...and also a head to carry. There's clearly no leaning away from gore in Catholic iconography, so what gives? why the hesitation?
I hadn’t thought about it, and I lack the background in art history to give a definitive answer. But I could take some guesses. My response:
You bring up a good point that I had considered but which I have no good reason for. It doesn't really lend itself to Googling -- believe me, I tried -- so I can only offer you this.

On one hand, Catholics believe that losing, like, a limb in life doesn't mean you'll be an amputee in heaven, so it's possible that this artistic meme results from the belief that the martyr, having ascended into heaven, gets back the things the lost on earth -- eyes, skin, boobs, nose (probably there's one this happened to) -- but they're proud of their martyrdom and so they're showing off their lost body part like it's a kind of trophy.

My other guess, which seems less likely to be true, is that some people just weren't good at depicting the insides of bodies and therefore just didn't. But this wouldn't account for, say, a lack of breasts, which doesn't seem that hard. And let's face it: Most of the people living in these eras probably did see bodies torn apart, since that was reality TV back then, to say nothing from the constant farm accidents that I imagine claimed ranch hands of yore left and right.

Surprise third guess that I just thought of: Perhaps certain depictions were not meant to be gory, or would be posted in a location where gore would have been unacceptable -- like a children's room??? -- and they therefore did a sanitized version of the dead saint, so as not to offend. The cephalophore, conversely, would have been shown in a place where a decapitated person would have been, like, fun and edgy.

Do any of these seem reasonable?
Now what do you think? I’m genuinely curious if there’s consensus about this. I mean, I suppose it makes about as much sense to show St. Bartholomew simultaneously with and without his skin as it does to pose St. Sebastian (pictured above) like he’s a gay pin-up despite being punctured by arrows. (That takes quite a bit of composure, really.) But clearly the artists made some aesthetic decisions, and they must have had reasons for making them.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

St. Bartholomew, a.k.a. Captain Flaps

Hi. Do you work in the leather industry? Are you perhaps a butcher, a bookbinder or a purveyor of Florentine cheeses? If you said yes to any of these, then the saint to whom you should be praying is Bartholomew. And he’s not just any saint. He’s one of the twelve apostles that formed Jesus’s famed gang of bachelors. But this post isn’t so much about St. Bart’s biography as it is about the last sentence of his biography: He was skinned alive, or at least that’s what the most popular story says and that’s consequently how St. Bart is portrayed in art.

Have a look. Please note some artists make the odd but strategic decision to depict him holding his skin but also still wearing his skin. (Drawin’ guts is hard.)

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I really want St. Bartholomew to also be the patron saint of footie pajamas.

Previous saintly oddness:

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

I’ve Only Got Eyes for You

(With the you in question either being God or the jerk who actually took her eyes.)

Long, long ago, I wrote about St. Agatha, the Catholic patroness of bell-makers. How did she achieve this association with bells, you may ask? When St. Agatha was martyred, her breasts were cut off, and subsequent depictions of her show off her martyr wounds by having her display her severed breasts on a platter. Out of the context of her story, the severed breasts resemble bells. I mean, why else would she so proudly show them off?

Today, I present to you another sad sack saint, whose shtick is almost as horrifying: Saint Lucy, patroness of the blind. Guess what part she lost on her route to martyrdom?

Here, then, are eight images of St. Lucy, showing off what she doesn’t have anymore:

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image via, although this apparently is not mary
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Most disturbing of all is this last one, in which St. Lucy sports her eyes on a sprig of foliage, for no reason other than to appear more horrifying:



I present these not to offend but to marvel at the darkly surreal image of a woman serenely presenting her eyes, even when she seems to still have her eyes in her head. Also, isn’t it strange how the artists often choose to represent her eyes how they might have appeared on her face instead of as eyeballs — like they would have looked had they been removed from her face? Yes, Catholicism is a strange, strange practice. Case in point: cephalophore, a strange and wonderful word used to refer to someone carrying their own head.

God bless!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Pope: “I’d Rather Not Learn New Saint Names”

There is a German man who lives in Italian castle. Some people believe this man to have magical powers. And because of this, world media has to take note when he makes a statement, even if the statement has no bearing on life as it is lived now on this particular planet. I think it’s like when Carlos Santana gets a Grammy nomination, and everyone involved quietly acknowledges that the nom is a nice gensture even though Mr. Santana’s time has passed and his new music doesn’t have the impact the old stuff did way back when.

But the pope’s most recent statement doesn’t only remind us how out-of-touch and backwards the Roman Catholic Church is but also indicates that Pope Benedict is just old, as it’s one of the most classic old people statements he could have made. The statement goes something like this: “Names aren’t good today! Your new names are stupid! You should name your kids good, old-fashioned names like they had in Bible times!” That is it, basically, with the addendum that children given names not drawn from the Bible or the list of saints are missing out on the Holy Spirit, which apparently prefers Josephs and Margarets to your flash-in-the-pan Carters and Addisons.

i would totally take child-raising advice from this man

To an extent, I agree with the pope’s line of thought. I would be a lot more likely to take seriously a person with a “normal” name, rather than one that seems very off-the-moment (Kaylee, Aiden), stripperish (Amberlee, Jaide) taken from vampire culture (Cullen, Sookie), or like a normal name spelled in the manner of someone trying to get ride of Scrabble tiles (Korynne, Jaysen). A lot of the most popular names of 2010 are actually old-fashioned names, and I’m more or less okay with that, even if I might want to name my child something that would decrease his or her chances of being reduced down to an initial. My name? Not that weird. But I made it through my formative years without every being Drew M. And I like that.

Of course, the pope’s statement focuses more on the religious nature of baby-naming, and on this subject I’ve always been curious: Isn’t it true that if all Catholic children were only named after full-fledged, canonized saints, then there would never be a new saint with a new name? And even if one of those weirdos with a crazy, “new” name — like, say, Jennifer — converted to Catholicism, she should logically drop her pagan name and take a good Catholic one. She could have Jeonilla! After St. Jeonilla! Who was hung by her hair, lacerated and finally beheaded!

Obviously, despite Jeonilla’s steadfast faith in the face of physical suffering, her name isn’t very pretty by today’s standards. And while your new daughter Jeonilla may have a church-sanctioned name, she might also grow into her name and become a plain, sad woman who ends up murdering her mailman, whom she deludedly thought would love her even though it turned out he never could. Not the way to salvation, Jeonilla. (My condolences.)

Which brings up my second point: A lot of saints’ names are pretty awful, and if you saddled your kids with them, you’d probably be doing more harm than good. Please have a look at a list of names that would likely (but not certainly) set children down darker paths:

  • Odilio
  • Fanchea
  • Melchior
  • Bartilla
  • Canute
  • Basilissa
  • Reingold
  • Otho
  • Idea
  • Felician
  • Emerentiana
  • Cadoc
  • Haberilla
  • Chrysostum

No exaggeration: That list represents just only the saints celebrating feast days in January, and therefore is only one-twelfth of the bummer names the church would be okay with you calling a child.

Lest Pope Benedict forget, unusual and decidedly non-Catholic names have been attached to many sainted and beatified people. Take Kateri Tekakwitha, a Mohawk-Algonquian woman who converted to Catholicism in the 1660s. Yes, she chose Kateri because approximated the Mohawk pronunciation of Catherine (as in St. Catherine of Siena), but the connection isn’t obvious and no one refers to her as Catherine Tekakwitha. (Also, she’s not St. Kateri yet, but Blessed Kateri, as she hasn’t yet passed the final stage of canonization.) It boggles me that Kateri could get the pope’s approval by virtue of a tangential relationship to Catherine while something like Jayden (lame and insubstantial as that name might be) couldn’t squeak by with the explanation that it’s a variation on James. And who knows: Maybe little Jayden will grow up to be a bringer of many miracles and a thousand years down the line the Robot Pope will be urging space parents to name their kid-pods after St. Jayden so they might always remember his sterling example.

In closing, I’d like to say that this would be a rare fumble in what we can all agree is a pretty terrific record that the church has as far as interactions with children.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Saint Justus, California

A quick follow-up to yesterday’s Hollister-related post: The name of my town would have been something else, if it wasn’t for a certain naysayer. According to Wikipedia, my hometown — originally founded as the San Justo Homestead Association, which took it name from Saint Justus, who attempted to convert the heathen Anglo-Saxons to Christianity in the seventh century — was initially going to be known as San Justo. Henry Hagen, a man described as a Napa vintner and a member of the homestead association, allegedly argued that California already had enough towns with Spanish saint names and that perhaps the city should honor “someone less holy.” That’s how Wikipedia puts it, anyway. Those on the name selection committee eventually found a namesake in William Welles Hollister, the famed state-crossing shepherd who founded Hollister before deciding to move on to Santa Barbara, where he died. The name San Justo still exists in various places throughout the county, maybe most prominently in the name of Rancho San Justo Middle School.

memorialized here if not in my town’s name

No idea if Wikipedia has this right, but I love that my hometown got its name on what sounds like a whim. “Oh, you don’t like this one? Then how about this thing we just came up with? It doesn’t sound all Spanish-y. And junk.”