Jacked-up Jerome and Friends

I told you I was going to be random about these Spain posts. 

I’m going to backtrack to Seville for a moment and highlight some of the holdings of the lovely little Museo de Bellas Artes. It was two blocks from our apartment, and I think tickets were 1.50 Euros.

I posted some of these before, but I thought I’d revisit, post some more images and talk a bit more about them.

The boys and I took our grandson/nephew. It was a small enough museum that the five-year old wasn’t overtaxed.

(Remember, you can click on any image for a larger version)

First, St. Jerome:

 

 

Yes, this is St. Jerome, according to the signage. Who needs a lion with this build? It’s a great example of artists using the moment to show off their skills, isn’t it? Same with St. Dominic here:

He’s doing penance, gaze fixed on the cross. Clearly, what he’s holding in his right hand would have been attached to a discipline, probably made of leather strips or rope.

 

 

More saints. If you click on the images you can see more detail. Left to right: St. Ramon Nonato, who had his lips locked together by those who imprisoned him;  A martyr whose name I didn’t note with a knife in his neck; then in English, St. Louis Bertrand (in Spanish Luis Beltran) painted by the wonderful Zurbaran. Here’s why a dragon is coming out of his cup:

In Christian iconography, St. Louis Bertrand is often portrayed holding a chalice from which serpents are emerging. In the other hand, he displays a crucifix with a pistol at its base. These articles call to mind two stories from the great saint’s life when God miraculously saved him from attempts on his life by vile would-be assassins. The first recalls the story of Brother Louis’ missionary preaching in South America. A native priest, showing his jealous contempt for our saint, gave him a chalice of poison at the Holy Mass. Louis made the sign of the Cross over the toxic potion, and serpents sprang from the chalice, thus revealing its true contents and saving his life.

The second object – the crucifix/pistol – recalls another account of near-martyrdom in the life of St. Louis Bertrand. Set upon by a crazed gunman — we like to think it was one of his novices, but who knows — St. Louis calmly made the conquering sign of the Cross. With this most basic gesture of our faith, the barrel of the gun miraculously turned into a crucifix.

Speaking of dragons:

I loved this fierce, medieval St. Michael:

 

 

There was a series of large paintings depicting processions through Seville being held at various times of the year. We noted this detail in one of them. Proof, obviously, that dragons are real:

 

More saints and their miracles:

 

 

I have done some digging, and the best I can see is that the painting represents a miracle in which an artist was painting a portrait (not from life) of St. Francis de Paolo, he collapses (or dies) and an angel comes to finish the painting. The next painting in the series, right next to this one, depicts the angel-finished painting being borne through streets along which buildings are collapsing – it seems as if it is functioning as a protection.

 

 

This rendition of the souls in Purgatory was quite beautiful and affecting.

I just am so taken with the look on the little angel’s face: sad, concerned and a little angry.  All emotions appropriate to the moment.

I am not sure why I was moved to take a photo of this – except perhaps that I was struck by Christ’s gaze, directly at us.

 

 

We had big discussions about this Last Supper. First, obviously, concerning the naked mole rat “lamb” on the platter there. But – with the apostle on the left – I maintained that the painter had originally had him facing to the right, and then changed his mind. Or couldn’t paint profiles facing the other way. Either way – it’s a mess, it seems to me. It’s almost painful to look at it.

Art is so important as a window into the past. This late 19th century painting gives a glimpse into the devotional life of the period – the spiritual treasures of one elderly woman, held dear.

Now, from the sweet pink-garbed infant to …a more violent spiritual artifact. Prepare yourself:

 

 

 

Gaspar Núñez Delgado. I am trying to think of the setting in a church or chapel that would feature this piece – I am assuming it would have been on a platter, in some larger arrangement.

 

 

Random shots of the guys, plus the gorgeous ceiling they’re studying in the last photo. My grandson said he counted thirty-three “pictures” in the ceiling.

And now, two final intriguing pieces.

First – who’s this?

St. Joseph, of course. I’m sure dissertations have been written concerning the age of St. Joseph as portrayed in art, but I did see a few youngish San Jose’s in Spanish galleries and churches. This is by Murillo, whose statue stands in the square outside the museum.

 

And then – I saw three S. Sebastians in Spain – two pictured here, one from Seville the other from, I think, Burgos. A refreshing change from the writhing half-nude S. Sebastian one sees elsewhere:

 

 

 

I’ll say this for the Spanish: they may like their blood and gore, but they also like their fine garments.

Speaking of gore – I completely forgot that I’ve not written about, yes…the bullfight. Maybe that will come tomorrow.