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Harmonious Proportion in the Architecture of Annapolis, Maryland

Here are some photographs of buildings and streets in Annapolis, Maryland. Annapolis is the state capitol and one of the oldest cities in the US. In common with all state capitals it has at its centre a domed capitol building which is the home of the state government. It has a large number of houses in the colonial style. What interests me is that many of the buildings still display the classic threefold proportion. Have a look at the window sizes particularly and you see that rhythmical progression of gradually decreasing size as you go up for three layers (or more), with the first relating the second and the second relating to the third. Many houses from this period have had the windows replaced in standard sizes as the wooden frames rot. Double glazing usually comes in standard sizes and these do not correspond to the traditional range of proportions. When this is done it destroys so much of the beauty of the old houses.

Annapolis is the home of the US naval officers college and and old port.

The proportions of these buildings are derived from those used by the ancient Greeks which were subsequently used by the Romans and then Christian culture up to about 1900.American colonial architecture is similar to the British Georgian style, which is based upon Italian Palladian architecture of the High Renaissance. The proportions for this came from the rediscovery of a text book on architecture written by a Roman architect called Vitruvius. The Roman text book was published in England in the 17th century, in translation (although given a Latin title) under the name 'Vitruvius Brittanicus'. As a British colony, this style was used in America (with the addition of French style window shutters!) and then retained after independence.

If there are any architects reading this who are looking to make a name for themselves, then take note. A modern building could as easily be built using these proportions as any other, and the beauty of the buildings that use them always attracts attention. So any architects reading this, here is a way of raising your reputation as an architect, and adding value to buildings at very little extra cost.

 

 

It's not always possible to have three storeys in a house - but even if you have two, the basement window is made (through the size of the glass panels within it) to look as though we are seeing the top section of a much larger window that projects below ground, so mainting this sense of threefold rhythm.

You can see the state government house in the distance with the dome.

 

Actually (just in case any were going to comment on the fact) this isn't in Annapolis, but in Frederick, Maryland, which is smaller town of similar age.  I took these photos on the same trip to Maryland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Learn to Live the Way of Beauty at Thomas More College

The Summer Program 2012 of the Way of Beauty Atelier at Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, Merrimack, NH. We are pleased to be offering three courses this summer - an icon painting week and two weekend retreats - Traditional Paths to Creativity and Inspiration. (Follow the links just given to apply) No experience or specialist knowledge is necessary for any of these courses. They take place in July 2012. Both retreats offered teach about the forms of traditional art focussing on the baroque, the gothic and the iconographic, and how to pray with visual imagery especially in the context of the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours. The weekend is lived in conformity to the rhythm of the Church's liturgy. However, the emphasis is different in each one.

The first weekend is a repeat of what we offered last year and has a greater emphasis on the talks about the culture.

The second is more reflective and focusses more on the prayer, chant and contemplation of visual imager. It would be of interest to anyone, but was created in response to those who attended the first retreat last year and wanted to repeat the experience, but didn't want the same same lectures. So this is of a form that can be repeated year on year if you wish: I will pick out particular paintings to talk about as exemplars of each tradition; and we will spend more time learning the techniques of the prayer of the whole person including chant. As such, the hope is that anyone who has been through this would be able to teach members of their family or parish to chant the liturgy of the hours. No one need feel worried that they do not have the required musical ability. The chant is simple enough so that anyone who can approximately hit a note can learn it through listening; and beautiful enough that they want to.

 

 

The Symbolic Content of Rembrandt's Holy Family, by Dr Caroline Farey of the Maryvale Institute

This short posting, which focusses on the symbolic content in a painting is written by Dr Caroline Farey of the Maryvale Institute. She and I work as a double team, teaching in July at the residential weekend of the one-year distance-learning course about Catholic art and culture called Art, Beauty and Inspiration in a Catholic Perspective. This is the first a series on the symbolic content on art by Caroline and Dr Lionel Gracey, also of the Maryvale Institute. The Maryvale Institute is the only Pontifically recognised Higher Institute of Religious Sciences in the English speaking world and the course, in distance learning form with one residential weekend is offered through its base in Birmingham, England and in the US in Kansas City through the Maryvale Center at the Diocese of Kansas City, Kansas. For further information go here.

Caroline writes:

The Holy Family by Rembrandt

In this painting we ponder particularly on Our Lady, as Mother of God, Mother of the saviour of the world, Mother of her Son.We can discern a triple revelation here.

The first act of revelation is from the Old Testament Scriptures to Mary.The light picks out the eager attentionon Mary’s young face and on the Scriptures that she is reading. Mary has suddenly but quietly turned in her chair from the text she has been reading to the fulfilment of those words that she now contemplates as ‘made flesh’ in the basket cot beside her.The Scriptures are telling her who her Son is.

But both her face and the book have parts in shadow too. Similarly Christ’s face is part in shadow and part illuminated.The shadows remind us of the shadow of the suffering and death he will endure, as she will, suffering foretold also in the Jewish Scriptures – the Old Testament.

The second act of revelation is by Mary to the world.She holds back a richly embroidered veil: by this she reveals Christ to us the onlookers.Mary has a place in God’s revealing of his Son.

The third act of revelation is by the sleeping child himself. In his sleep, he holds back a bright red coverlet revealing a lining of lamb’s fleece. Christ reveals himself, even as an infant fast asleep.The red coverlet, as we have seen in paintings before, flows over the edge like blood poured out, and it is highlighted further in its brightness in its juxta-positioning against the richly deep red of Mary ‘s skirt. Mary and the child both wear red. By the fleece Jesus is revealing himself as the lamb of God who is to be led silently to the slaughter.

The revelation taking place at the centre of the painting, through an interplay of light and movements, cloths and colours, is reinforced by other details surrounding Mary and the crib.Firstly, of course in the top left hand corner are the angels bursting in on the scene revealing to us that this is no ordinary carpenter’s child.Where are they looking? One is looking lovingly at Mary, the other looking soberly at the baby.Diagonally opposite the angels in the bottom right hand corner is the fire which, together with the angels is the main source of diffused light across the bare boards of the floor and the barren wall behind, with what look like further parts of the yoke being made by Joseph.A contemplative scene, which, despite looking so humble and ordinary is nonetheless imbued throughout by the grace of the Incarnation of the Son of God through Mary, Theotokos, Mother of God.

A Course about Traditional Proportion in Architecture, by Geoff Yovanovic

Geoff Yovanovic is a young architectural intern (with an architecture degree from the University of Miami who came to our Way of Beauty summer program last year. He recently attended a course of proportion run by the ICAA (The Institute of Classical Architecture called Theory of Proportion: A Perennial Pathway of Beauty. What he described sounded interesting so I asked him to give us a brief write up about it. If you want to know more about this, then do contact him on g.yovanovic@gmail.com. He is especially keen to here from any architects working in a traditional field who are looking to take on an intern! Before we read it a couple of things are worth pointing out. First that word 'Perennial'. This is referring here to a particular worldview - the Perennialist philosophy. This is a modern analysis of traditional cultures which seeks common principles based upon the premise that each is offering alternative routes to the same God. Perennialists tend to join one religion or school of thought and take a traditionalist path, in order to follow what they seek to be the pure, original revelation, as it was presented before man diluted it. I have met Christian, Islamic and even Platonist perennialists. In my experience, Plato and Platonists such as Plotinus, are presented as authorities. However, for all the fact that they outwardly look like very traditionalist adherents to a religion to the degree that they hold to the perennialist philosophy, they sit outside the religions that they claim to follow (certainly this true for Christianity). It can be confusing at times, because they will draw heavily on the authorities of the religion in question when it is consistent with the philosophy (for example often citing scripture)  but in their own interpretation (through a perennialist prism so to speak), and not fully consistent with the magisterium (although they will often give the impression that they are in agreement with each religions).  The people to look for who formulated this perennialist outlook are names such as Titus Burckhardt, Rene Guenon, Ananda Coomeraswamy and Frithjof Schuon. Because of their great respect for tradition and the religions of the world, they have done much good work in redirecting many genuine adherents to their own traditions. For example, It was perennialists at the Prince of Wales's school of tradition arts in London who made me aware of traditional Christian ideas of harmony and proportion. The teacher of the course below, incidentally, was taught at the Royal College of Art in London by the founder and first principal of the Prince's School.

Second, consistent with the fact that this is a modern philosophy they will tend, in my view, to overemphasise the importance of the Golden Section in traditional design. Those who are interested to more about my views on this can read the article 'Golden or Fallen - a Note on Phi' in the articles page of this blog.

With these caveats in mind, the course Geoff describes seems to be worthy of consideration. Here is what he wrote:

'I attended recently a one day intensive on the theory of proportion presented by the Institute of Classical Architecture and Art.  It was called Theory of Proportion: A Perennial Pathway of Beauty. The ICAA describes itself as an organization which is "dedicated to advancing the classical tradition in architecture, urbanism and their allied arts".  With chapters throughout the USA, the ICAA presents educational opportunities ranging from the Beaux Arts Atelier in New York City to walking tours through historic neighborhoods to a variety of classes like the one on proportion which I attended in Atlanta hosted by the Southeast Chapter.

The intensive was taught by Steve Bass an architect from New York City, and a Fellow at the Institute of Classical Architecture and Art.  Mr. Bass was trained in the modern practice of architecture, but soon found it empty, he told us, and searched for a deeper meaning in design.  This lead to study at the Royal College of Art in London which has a focus on the ancients such as Plato and Plotinus (a Platonist from the 3rd century AD) and their ideas on geometry, presented through the prism of the modern Perennialist philosophy.

Starting with a rapid survey of ancient history and philosophy, the class soon settled on a discussion of beauty and its importance. Drawing from the writings of Plotinus, connections were quickly made between beauty and the good: "This is the soul's ugliness, not being pure and unmixed, like gold, but full of earthiness; if anyone takes the earthy stuff away the gold is left and is beautiful, when it is singled out from other things and is alone by itself."

For the ancient Greek, described by Plotinus, beauty was the memory of unity.  It was the joyous state of the soul as it remembers unity.  In our Christian tradition, beauty is our recognition of God.

The foundation for the rest of the class was laid with an introduction classical number theory described in detail by Plato and attributed to Pythagoras.  Using this theory and tying it to Genesis and Plato's Timaeus, Mr Bass presented a symbolic story of creation using the arithmetical ideas of the monad, oneness, the dyad, twoness, the triad, threeness, and on through the decade.  For example, fourness or the tetrad was connected with the fourth day of creation in Genesis.  On the fourth day, "God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear."  Geometrically, the tetrad or fourness is represented by the four sided polygon or a square.  Applying these theories into recognizable form in architecture, we can look at a dome in a church especially an early Christian church such as the Hagia Sophia.  A dome is a sphere resting upon a cube.  In an even simpler geometric study, we see a circle and a square.  Geometrically, the dome is composed of a square, the tetrad, meeting a circle, the monad.  Applying Genesis to the dome in a church, a dome is the location where heaven, the monad or oneness, meets the dry land, the tetrad or square.  Therefore, the geometry symbolizes the meeting of Heaven and earth, or the meeting of the Communion of Saints which occurs during each Mass.  In some early churches, this union of Heaven and earth was emphasized by the decoration on the pendentives which were the four triangular transition supports between the vertical columns and the dome. Depictions of this unity such as the Annunciation of Mary, the Nativity, and other Christmas scenes were painted on the pendentives to emphasize this symbolic geometric parallel.

The class transitioned into a study of the evolution of different geometric creations and their  integration into architecture.  From a circle, different geometric creations were derived such as the 45-45-90, 30-60-90 triangles, .618 or phi, and finally arriving at the golden section.  Using the golden section as the primary tool, it was proposed that the ancient Greek temples were designed through geometric derivations of a circle.  Demonstrations using a few simple drafting tools such as a 45 degree triangle, a compass, and a scaler showed the evolution of a Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian temple originating from a circle.  The entire temple from the overall recognizable temple form to the acanthus leaves in the Corinthian capital were derived starting with a single circle.

While the primary goal of the class was to emphasize the importance of beauty in design, it was not presented through a Christian perspective.  It focused on many ancient ideas which, for a large part, were eventually baptized by St. Augustine and integrated into Christian thought.  Despite the differences, both schools of thought present proportion and geometry as a path to beauty.  And beauty is an essential thing.

Murals by John Singer Sargent at Boston Public Library

Yes really, I do mean at the Boston Public Library. It is quite a surprise to go into the public library and find a wonderful set of murals painted by the great American artist. One room has a huge set of murals on an Arthurian theme and then right at the top of the building is a room that the library calls quite simply 'Sargent Hall'. This are adorned with a set of Christian sacred imagery all conforming to a unifying schema.I had heard about them before but only this past month have I seen them for the first time. They are oil on canvas set into the wall, with some painted plaster cast reliefs and were painted in a 20 year period from 1895. What surprised me was how Catholic the imagery is for civic buildings. Boston's Irish Catholic heritage is well known, but I hadn't anticipated that this Catholic influence would have reached up to the level of the dignitaries of the city at this time. Perhaps there is a high Episcopalian influence here as well? We have murals of the Old Testament prophets, of the crucifixion with the a representation of the dogma of the Trinity and angels carrying the instruments of the passion, Our Lady of Sorrows and the 15 mysteries of the rosary. Apparently when artistic tastes turned against the naturalistic style around the early middle 20th century, they were almost destroyed. Luckily for us were saved and the suggestion to paint over them was opposed. If these had been painted in England at the same time by any other artist, they would most likely have been in the pre-Raphaelite, and indeed there is some of that feel about them. However, Sargent, who is vastly superior to the English pre-Raphaelites, in my opinion, brings his knowledge of the 17th century baroque (which is the authentic liturgical root of the Western naturalistic tradition) into play. So just we would have seen in this earlier original period, we see in Sargent's work here the controlled intensification and depletion of colour; and variation in focus, carried out selectively to ensure that our eyes are drawn first to the most important points in each composition. The pre-Raphaelites in contrast painted with sharp outlines and even colour and so they overburdened their paintings with detail. It is very difficult to manage complicated compositions with many figures Sargent handles the variation of these components so brilliantly and subltely that I find it difficult characterise further what he is doing beyond knowing that he is doing it. The room, which is just a 3rd floor hall in the library leading to others containing library books, is difficult to photograph and so I give you the best I have been able to get hold of. One thing to point out about the style is that even though Sargent was trained as portrait painter, he seems to have understood the difference between sacred art and portraiture. The faces are less emotional and quite often placed in shadow, allowing us to identify with the general human characteristics of the person portrayed. This is in contrast to other sacred art of the 19th century and in accord with what a master of the 17th century, such as Zurburan, would have done. I have talked about this in more detail in an article called Is Some Sacred Art Too Naturalistic? We can see this brought out especially in the sketches for one of the mysteries of the rosary. The ones shown are for the finding of the boy Jesus in the temple. As I studied these I was trying to picture these as a focus of prayer if they had been placed in a church. My personal taste in this regard is for the iconographic or gothic, so I am not the best person to make a judgement here, but my sense is that for those who are strongly attracted to the baroque style as liturgical art, these would seem appropriate and helpful. Certainly, I think that those Catholic artists who are interested in painting sacred art and have been trained in the academic method should study Sargent's style, which owes so much to the earlier 17th century form. This will help them to avoid the trap of imitating inferior artists of the late 19th century such as the aforementioned pre-Raphaelites and William Bougeureau (the reason that his style should be avoided, in my opinion, is described in the article linked above).

Our Lady of Sorrows

The 15 Mysteries of the Rosaray: three groups of five, each with a central mystery surrounded by four. From the left the sorrowful, glorious and joyful.

Wood Carvings of Johannes Kirchmayer

Here are some photos of carvings by the German born American Johannes Kirchmayer. He lived from 1860-1930 and his Wikipedia entry is here. He lived and worked most of his life in the Boston area and his work is in the American gothic churches of New England. There are some who consider the neo-gothic of the 19th and early 20th century to be faux gothic, that is, just a poor pastiche of earlier styles. I am not of this opinion. While the sacred painting of this period is not so good, I think that in the areas of architecture and sculpture particularly we have a case study of how the study of the past has inspired a tradition that characterises its age in its own way. In fact the writings of AW Pugin, the architect who did so much to inspire the whole movement at the beginning of the 19th century, provide a case study in how study the past in order to establish a living tradition. Pugin who converted to Catholicism in his early 2os and this directly affected his approach to architecture. I think of 19th century gothic not as derivative in an inferior way, but rather as a tradition in its own right that should be taken seriously. The city of Boston has many fine examples of churches in the American gothic style. There are some also who feel that this style is not an authentic New England style, citing the earlier colonial as more genuinely of New England. This I do not agree with this assertion either. In architecture at least, each is a style based upon timeless principles. If anything it is the 19th century gothic that is more clearly a Catholic Christian tradition, owing so much to the work of Pugin. And like all earlier liturgical traditions, it became the standard for the protestant churches too.

These wood carvings are in the protestant Unity Church, Easton, Massachussetts.

 

 

 

Why Are Some Icons and Gothic Faces Green?

I always used to wonder why some faces painted in tempera had a green tinge to them. I had been told at some point, that this was the underpainting showing through and that the colour of the skin had somehow faded. This is possible: in the 15th century Cennino Cennini described a method in which monochrome underpainting is undertaken in terre verte, an earth green, before a thin transparent layer of skin tone, a pale orange, is applied. Cennino Cennini's method is described in a book called The Method of Tempera Painting). But even so, why put the green there in the first place? It was obviously intended originally to give a greenish tinge to the skin (even before the colour changed over time).When painting icons I was encouraged to use red and green washes in shadows but it was an intuitive process and I wasn't sure what principles were guiding me or why they were used (I probably hadn''t been paying attention in class!). It wasn't until I went to study portrait painting in Florence that I felt I understood what was going on here. I was taught that we see the deepest shadows are red or red brown and the half-tones are a green grey. The colour is obtained by mixing ivory black, yellow ochre and white. Ivory black has a touch of blue in it and so creates a grey-green when mixed with the yellow and white. The colour produced matches almost exactly the colour of the veins that you see, under the surface of the skin. So if you look at your wrists you will see this colour in the visible veins under your skin there. What the icon painters and gothic artists are doing is just what the portrait painters were trying to do: match the colour scheme of their paintings with what they see in nature. It shows that even in the highly stylised forms so much is based upon observation of nature.

Above: a study I made under direction in which the deep shadow lines are red (see the line above the upper eyelid and defining the nose for example); below: a mosaic by a master from Istanbul in which the artist has defined the deep shadow lines in a red brown colour, and the half tones are in earth green. This is handled superbly and has a natural appearance.

Above: a pastel portrait completed while I was in Florence the deep shades are red-brown while the half-tone skin colour is grey green; below: a portrait of 18th century society beauty Lady Hamilton by master George Romney in which he is very skilfully handling the transition from green to red as the shadow gets deeper. And below that is a self-portrait by another the 18th century English master, Sir Joshua Reynolds. Romney and Reynolds are part of the British school that can be traced back to Sir Anthony Van Dyck who was, in turn the star student of Rubens.

 

Work by Thomas More College Students Learning the Academic Method

Made Possible by the Generosity of Readers of this Blog. In the autumn I asked for donations towards the tuition of Thomas More College students who wished to take art classes at the internationally recognised Ingbretson Studios in Manchester, New Hampshire, which teaches the academic method of drawing and painting. The academic method has its roots in the methods developed by Masters of the High Renaissance such as Leonardo da Vinci. They are taking this training in addition to all their academic work at the college and are expected to maintain the same standard and effort in their academic work. I am pleased to say that two generous donors came forward and the money they gave helped two students to study for the semester. So on behalf of Liam Mitchell and Jaqueline Del Curto, I would like to thank you and thought I would show you the work they did during the semester. For both Jaqueline and Liam, this training is part of their career aspirations. Jaqueline wants to be and artist and Liam wishes to go into film and so this will develop his sense of how to communicate visually. They both realise that in addition to the training of the skills, they must have that grounding in philosophy and theology that will form them as individuals and enable them to understand how form communicates meaning. Accordingly they both work hard in academic and practical study towards being the new breed of ambassadors of the Faith, engaging with the world as part of the New Evangelisation.

 

 

 

 

 

What is the Purpose of Veiling? Can you Veil an Icon?

In a recent discussion about the tradition of placing metal cladding around some icons, it was suggested that one purpose of the cladding was to convey a theological message. It performed the function of veiling of outward appearances in order to reveal an inner, or invisible, holiness. This point is worth further discussion I think. My understanding of this principle is not sophisticated (and so may by flawed or incomplete) but nevertheless here it is: that in order emphasise the point that there is an invisible reality to whatever is seen, some of the visible elements are veiled in order to emphasise and so to reveal to us this inner reality. This is true for all veiling - human veils, humeral veils, chalice veils and so on. How does this work?

First veiling is not hiding. When veiled the form beneath may not be visible directly, but it is still perceptible albeit in a less distinct form. We know what is veiled. For example, the form of a person is still discernable when clothes are worn. The form of the chalice is still recognizable even when veiled, as much by how it is handled as by the outer form. It relies on our knowledge of what is beneath it. If we did not know what a woman is, or a chalice is, we would not have a sense of a chalice veiled, but rather of an object in which the fabric we see represents the surface of it and is intrinsic to it.

When we recognize a veiled object it makes the point that there is an inner reality that is not directly visible. So the veil is visible, but beyond it is the chalice, perceptible but invisible. In grasping this reality, it makes the point to us that the object itself, even when unveiled, has essential elements that are both visible and invisible. When unveiled, we can be so absorbed with the visible elements that perhaps we fail to grasp fully the invisible realities. So the partial hiding of the visible elements allows us to focus on the invisible.

In order for this to have any force at all, there must be invisible realities present in the object veiled. The human person is both body and soul; the body is visible, the soul is not. The chalice contains the wine in which after consecration Christ will be truly present, despite outward appearances.

Now to icons: if we apply the same argument, in order for the cladding on an icon to play the part of veiling, the icon must contain essential elements that are invisible and worthy of veneration. In point of fact the icon does not. Therefore, the cladding does not play the part of a veil.

Icon is an image worthy of veneration only to the degree that it is visible. The relationship to the person depicted is set up through the imagination of the viewer and by virtue of what is seen. In this sense the cladding becomes the icon and that part that is hidden ceases to be so. In this we follow the theology of Theodore the Studite, the Eastern Father who settled the iconoclastic controversy in the 9th century. “Theodore quotes a custom already mentioned by Leontius of Neapolis and by Patriarch Germanus: once an icon is worn and has lost its imprint’ (charakter), it will without hesitation be thrown into the fire “like any useless piece of wood’. If the icon as such were a grace-filled object, nobody would dare burn it. It would in itself be some kind of sacred relic. Different from John Damascene, who positions icons and relics on the same level, Theodore the Studite sees the sacredness of the icon entirely in its character, its portraying depiction.’ ”(p226, Christophe Schonborn, God’s Human Face pub. Ignatius)

 

Organ Music by Frederick Stocken - St Gabriel

Here is the third excerpt in as many weeks of Frederick performing his Archangels trilogy. This is the third movement inspired by the Archangel Gabriel.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MftfbE_O60&feature=related

Based in London,  Frederick Stocken is a composer who is creating modern compositions in the classical tradition. By this, I mean that he creates works that seek to follow traditional principles of harmony and with a melodic richness and complexity appropriate to it - ie his work is neither dissonant nor minimalist. I first became aware of him when he spoke to Joanna Bogle's Catholic Cultural Group in London about the principles of beauty in musical composition. What struck me particular was his approach to understanding the principles of the tradition in which he is working, so that he apply them in modern era. Much of what he articulated became the inspiration for my own approach to resurrecting a culture of beauty with a focus on art.

Shortly after I met him I heard his First Symphony premiered at the Royal Albert Hall in London. I am used to the concert program in which they lure the paying customers in by playing something familiar from the classical repertoire, perhaps Beethoven or Mozart, and then inflict upon the paying customers the premier of a modern piece that is so horribly dissonant and you hope you never have to hear again. It is so predictable, that whenever I see the phrase 'World Premier' in the program I wonder if it is just put after the interlude to raise drinks receipts by encouraging people stay on in the bar a bit longer rather than listen to the clashing chords. i have even heard Catholic composers talk about their aim of producing beautiful music and drawing people to God, and then when you hear the music, it is difficult to distinguish it from any other modernism. Frederick's work is not throw-back or pastiche, but unlike all the others, he is at least prepared to allow the tradition to guide him what he does and you can hear it immediately in his work.

For those who might be within striking distance of Leed in England, he is speaking at the cathedral there on January 4th. The title is: Sing a New Song to the Lord? Musical reflections on the sacred and the secular, tradition and modernity.

Here is an article I wrote about Frederick's music and his approach to composing, it is called Dispelling the 12-tone Blues.

Every Artist Should Read This Book

The Techniques of Icon and Wall Painting by Aidan Hart. This is the best art instruction book I know of. In my opinion it should be read and absorbed by all artists regardless of the medium and the tradition they are working in. It is available in the US from Holy Trinity Bookstore, and in the UK from publisher Gracewing's website, here. It has 480 pages, 450 illustrations and 130 drawings. It comes in hardback and costs 40GBP or $70. Aidan Hart does a wonderful job in explaining the methods of the media that he works in: egg tempera, fresco, secco and gilding, with great thoroughness and right through to varnishing and even photographic artwork for publicity shots. As an experienced practitioner and teacher he anticipates the difficulties and questions of the students at every turn. At every stage links what is done to the underlying principles of the tradition, and this opens the door to so much more.

First, once the parameters that define the tradition are well understood, it gives the student the flexibility to start creating original work without straying beyond its bounds. Hart takes us step by step through that process.

Second, for those working in other traditions it gives a deep understanding as to how form (ie style), choice of medium, compositional design, even the framing is affected by the invisible truths that the artist is seeking to communicate. The way I paint man is determined by anthropology – my understanding of what a man is. The reason that we can distinguish between different traditions, for example the gothic and the iconographic, is that each is seeking to emphasize different aspects of the anthropology. Understanding how the iconographic tradition is governed by these considerations will help artists in other traditions, for example the baroque, to see how the theology governs the form of their chosen tradition as well.

The first two considerations are what transforms an artistic style from pastiche into living tradition, that is capable of developing and responding to its time, without compromising its core principles.

Third, he gives a simple and easily understandable explanation of the different variations within the iconographic traditions, and unusually, includes the Western variants such as Celtic, Carolingian, Ottonian and Romanesque icons and explains just why they are iconographic.

Aside from this even much of what he is teaching at a technical level is of use to all painters: especially colour theory, harmonization of design, and the different attributes of using line and tone to articulate form. Although vital, drawing skill is not enough. Hart has as well a wonderful sense of composition and colour harmony and this book gives us great insights into how he does it. He shows us that as well as experience and good judgment, there are many guiding principles that the artist can make use of. For example, as well becoming lighter and darker, colours actually change in light in shade – a green might become bluer in shadow, rather than simply dark green. Aidan explains sytematically, colour by colour, how to adjust for light and dark so as to keep a coherent, unified image. In my opinion it is worth buying the book for his personal insights in this area alone.

All this is supplemented by over 400 pictures, which include not just complete pictures of paintings, but also many which focus on small details that what he describes in the text.

Aidan Hart is Orthodox, but he does not snipe at the Western Church (as sometimes happens with other Orthodox writers) and so Catholics can read and enjoy it without worry. That said there is one small note of caution: in accordance with St John of Damascus, he describes the icon as being ‘grace bearing’. Catholics should be aware that their own tradition can describe it slightly differently. In accordance with the 9th century Eastern Father St Theodore the Studite, it tends see the action of the icon as one that is analogous to a sacramental, ie, that seeing it makes us more susceptible to the action of grace, but it is not in itself a channel of grace. I discuss this more deeply in a previous article, here.

This book is recommended as reading for anyone interested in sacred art and will, I believe do much in the future to aid the development of sacred art in the Church. Well done Aidan Hart.

Organ Music by Frederick Stocken - St Raphael

More video of Frederick Stocken performing his own organ composition. Following on from last week's posting of Frederick playing the last movement of his music inspired by St Michael, this week and next week I will post more excerpts from Frederick Stocken's trilogy of sacred works inspired by the archangels. Today we have the second movement from St Rapheal. For those who are coming across this little series of blog postings for the first time, I repeat the text that introduces my friend Frederick and his music:  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScW8NVsS0Ho&feature=related

Based in London,  Frederick Stockenis a composer who is creating modern compositions in the classical tradition. By this, I mean that he creates works that seek to follow traditional principles of harmony and with a melodic richness and complexity appropriate to it - ie his work is neither dissonant nor minimalist. I first became aware of him when he spoke to Joanna Bogle's Catholic Cultural Group in London about the principles of beauty in musical composition. What struck me particular was his approach to understanding the principles of the tradition in which he is working, so that he apply them in modern era. Much of what he articulated became the inspiration for my own approach to resurrecting a culture of beauty with a focus on art.

Shortly after I met him I heard his First Symphony premiered at the Royal Albert Hall in London. I am used to the concert program in which they lure the paying customers in by playing something familiar from the classical repertoire, perhaps Beethoven or Mozart, and then inflict upon the paying customers the premier of a modern piece that is so horribly dissonant and you hope you never have to hear again. It is so predictable, that whenever I see the phrase 'World Premier' in the program I wonder if it is just put after the interlude to raise drinks receipts by encouraging people stay on in the bar a bit longer rather than listen to the clashing chords. i have even heard Catholic composers talk about their aim of producing beautiful music and drawing people to God, and then when you hear the music, it is difficult to distinguish it from any other modernism. Frederick's work is not throw-back or pastiche, but unlike all the others, he is at least prepared to allow the tradition to guide him what he does and you can hear it immediately in his work.

For those who might be within striking distance of Leed in England, he is speaking at the cathedral there on January 4th. The title is: Sing a New Song to the Lord? Musical reflections on the sacred and the secular, tradition and modernity.

Here is an article I wrote about Frederick's music and his approach to composing, it is called Dispelling the 12-tone Blues.

Cherubim, Cherubs and Putti

How should we paint cherubim? Painting a spiritual being is always going to be bit problematic. The representations that we see are most commonly based upon those instances in scripture where they have appeared visually. Even then it's not always straight forward. For example, the vision of Ezekiel describes a being that is a compound image of faces, wings, wheels, mulitiple eyes, fire and chrysolite (whatever that is).Reading through the biblical passage, its difficult to imagine how everything fits together and if I had been set the task without any tradition to refer to I don't know where I would start. Looking at the various traditional images, artists seem to pick up on particular details and represent those and do not seem to try too hard to create a single picture with everything present. It gives me the impression that perhaps what Ezekiel is describing may not be a steady image, but shimmering changing picture in which different things stand out at different times. One thing that definitely doesn't come to mind, however, is a podgy baby. Quite how the figures of the Renaissance and the baroque equated these with any descriptions of cherubim from scripture I don't know. Perhaps there is a passage that I am unaware of that leads one in this direction artistically? If so, I am confident that a New Liturgical Movement reader will be able to direct me to the right place. And then, even if we've established that we can employ this form, we have to be careful to distinguish between putti and cherubs. The source of this style of image is, as with all the art of the High Renaissance and baroque, classical sculpture. Putti are impish, 'little men' that are based on figures such as Eros, non-material beings with mischief in mind. By the baroque era cherubs were represented in exactly the same way. The distinction was simple, if the painting was sacred, then the person was a cherub, if is was secular/classical, then an identical representation would be a putto. Regardless, this isn't something that will engage my thoughts for too long. I have no intention of representing either cherubs or putti in the baroque style. Much as I admire the baroque, this is one aspect I am not pushing to see again. I'm going to stick to trying to paint wheels with wings and eyes made out of chrysolite...however hard that may be.

Images: first two, iconographic wall paintings (I'm not sure precisely where they are); third: Christ in Majesty, 12th century English with four cherubim shown, each with a different face visible.

Below: Bacchus (putto) and perhaps the most famous cherubs of all, in Raphael's Sistine Madonna

Sacred Organ Music Recently Composed by Frederick Stocken

St Michael the Archangel Based in London,  Frederick Stocken is a composer who is creating modern compositions in the classical tradition. By this, I mean that he creates works that seek to follow traditional principles of harmony and with a melodic richness and complexity appropriate to it - ie his work is neither dissonant nor minimalist. I first became aware of him when he spoke to Joanna Bogle's Catholic Cultural Group in London about the principles of beauty in musical composition. What struck me particular was his approach to understanding the principles of the tradition in which he is working, so that he apply them in modern era. Much of what he articulated became the inspiration for my own approach to resurrecting a culture of beauty with a focus on art. Shortly after I met him I heard his First Symphony premiered at the Royal Albert Hall in London. I am used to the concert program in which they lure the paying customers in by playing something familiar from the classical repertoire, perhaps Beethoven or Mozart, and then inflict upon the paying customers the premier of a modern piece that is so horribly dissonant and you hope you never have to hear again. It is so predictable, that whenever I see the phrase 'World Premier' in the program I wonder if it is just put after the interlude to raise drinks receipts by encouraging people stay on in the bar a bit longer rather than listen to the clashing chords. i have even heard Catholic composers talk about their aim of producing beautiful music and drawing people to God, and then when you hear the music, it is difficult to distinguish it from any other modernism. Frederick's work is not throw-back or pastiche, but unlike all the others, he is at least prepared to allow the tradition to guide him what he does and you can hear it immediately in his work.

Anyway, make your mind up. Here is a recording of the third movement of his organ composition St Michael the Archangel. It was recorded

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Sn0R4aGjzY&feature=related

For those who might be within striking distance of Leed in England, he is speaking at the cathedral there on January 4th. The title is: Sing a New Song to the Lord? Musical reflections on the sacred and the secular, tradition and modernity.

Here is an article I wrote about Frederick's music and his approach to composing, it is called Dispelling the 12-tone Blues.

The Privileged Person - the Cosmos is Made for Man, and Man is Made for Liturgy

Both Modern Astrophysics and Ancient Cosmology Confirm that the Heavens Proclaim the Glory of the Lord and that Man is Made to Discover It I have posted a longer article (see 'Articles' page in this site) inspired by the Discovery Institute film, The Privileged Planet. This film used recent developments in astrophysics to assert that the planetry conditions that are necessary for intelligent life to occur in the universe are the same that will allow that intelligent life to observe the rest of that universe. It also says that the chances of these two sets of conditions occuring are negligible and point the fact that there is very unlikely to be anyother intelligent life in the universe; and that if the laws of physics and chemistry were the only factors contributing to the beginning of life, that it would never have happened at all. It's findings are consistent with the idea that man is hardwired, so to speak, by God to see the work of the Creator in his Creation; and that he is in a unique position to observe the that Creation. I love this film and often show it to our students at Thomas More College as it supports so many of the assumptions behind the observation of nature by artists. However, I feel that the argument could go even further. We could explore the question as to why God would do this?

To me it seems there are three great lessons to be learnt by looking at the cosmos. The first is the general principle that it's beauty causes awe and wonder in us and motivates us to wonder at the One who created it.

Second is that once having stirred in us a desire to praise and worship God, it then gives us the pattern to which our praise and worship should conform. The Church's liturgy is based upon the movements of the bodies in the cosmos. This then indicates why we have those institutions so hated by modern man - organised religions. Religion is not just a private affair, for if my worship is modelled on the cosmos, so will everybody else's and the end result is that we worship together. The cosmos is the organising principle behind organised religion.

Third is that every aspect of human work can, potentially, be organised on the same principle and historically it was. Christian culture has always been rooted in a reflection of the beauty of the cosmos, articulated numerically. In this way it participates in the beauty of God and both stems from, and points us too the liturgy.

The beauty of the cosmos, therefore, becomes an argument for the religion being liturgical, rooted in worship and not just morality. It answers the question, if I believe in God, why do I need to go to church? The answer is that in participating in the cosmic liturgy, we are opening ourselves up to God's grace in harmony with his offering of it. It is therefore, just as the Church tells us, the most powerful and effective form of prayer and therefore, the most powerful and effective route to a joyful life.

To see this argument developed in more detail go to the 'Articles' page in this website and read the article entitled 'The Privileged Person'.

 

 

 

 

The Apocryphal Gospels as a Source for Imagery

I was recently asked a question about the fact that many icons of the Annunciation portray our lady holding a scarlet or purple thread. This reflects a detail that comes from one of the apocryphal gospels the Protevangelium of James. The Catholic Encyclopedia describes it as follows: “It purports to have been written by ‘James the brother of the Lord’, i.e. the Apostle James the Less. It is based on the canonical Gospels which it expands with legendary and imaginative elements, which are sometimes puerile or fantastic. The birth, education and marriage of the Blessed Virgin are described in the first eleven chapters and these are the source of various traditions current among the faithful. They are of value in indicating the veneration paid to Mary at a very early age. For instance it is the "Protoevangelium" which first tells that Mary was the miraculous offspring of Joachim and Anna, previously childless; that when three years old the child was taken to the Temple and dedicated to its service, in fulfilment of her parents’ vow. When Mary was twelve Joseph is chosen by the high-priest as her spouse in obedience to a miraculous sign — a dove coming out of his rod and resting on his head.” In regard to this particular detail, according to the Protevangelion when Gabriel entered Mary’s house to announce the joyous news of the Incarnation of the Logos, she was spinning purple and scarlet thread to make a veil for the temple. She was chosen because she was a virgin. Mary with this detail therefore to emphasize her virginity. If purple is shown, it signifies also her descent from the royal house of David. If Mary is shown holding scarlet thread, the colour of blood, then this signifies the fact that the Saviour took flesh and blood from her flesh and blood.

The portrayal of Mary weaving began to occur about the fifth century onwards with basket and bobbin of thread. From about the ninth century onwards, the basket seems to have been omitted. The portrayal of the Annunciation in the West, seems to be less consistent in including this. I have shown a Spanish Romanesque painting that has Our Lady with thread, but not scarlet or purple. El Greco and de Champagne, in quite different styles, show a basket of cloth, but containing white material. The final image by Guido Reni has no illusion to the making of the temple veil at all that I can see.

How do we make sense of this? In regard to apocryphal writings, The Catholic Encyclopedia makes the point that it need not be a negative term, and can be interpreted as simply, non canonical. (No writings that are in the bible, therefore, New or Old Testament, should ever be referred to as apocryphal). Some apocryphal writings can be useful and some are heretical. I certainly do not feel qualified to sift through these documents and the supporting research which decides which are valid and which are not. For the most part, when there are details included that are not scriptural and which I do not understand, if they appear regularly make an effort to understand why they are there. If I cannot get to the root of them I do not include them. In this case, given that there is a long history of its inclusion and it does seem to have accepted as valid, I might include it if asked. Given that the source is non scriptural I my instincts are not strongly in favour and it would need to be well and truly embedded in tradition for me to consider it. One thing I won’t be doing is reading these documents in detail with a view to using them as a potential source for new symbols.

The Western portrayals often show Mary reading scripture opened to the prophecy of Isaiah: “Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son...” (Isaiah 7:14). Given the scriptural reference, my personal instincts tend towards favour this form.

Above: 13th century iconographic (Romanesque) Annunciation consistent with the iconographic style; and below by El Greco, de Champagne and Guido Reni respectively.

A Carved Gospel Book Cover by Jonathan Pageau and Andrew Gould

Here is a gospel book cover. The relief carving in the central portion is by Jonathan Pageau a Canadian based in Quebec and the striking veneer frame is made by Andrew Gould who is based in South Carolina. Both are part of a group of liturgical artistans who call themselves New World Byzantine Studios. For the icon painters amongst you, they make gessoed icon boards with raised borders as well

Andrew told me that the inspiration for the marquetry work came from both Christian and Islamic sources. I am interested especially in his reference to the crossover between the Christian and the Islamic in geometric pattern. We have seen it before in articles about Romanesque Sicily for example. Here, Andrew describes how he based his designs on Greek designs from the 17th century (when occupied by Turks) and also modern Islamic designs from north Africa. He wrote as follows:

"My design for the gospel cover has two sources. In the 12th-13th centuries, it was common for the western church to set an old Byzantine ivory icon in a gold frame as a gospel cover. Orthodox gospel covers are usually a little different. They either consist of one large icon covering the whole cover, or five small icons (evangelist around the crucifixion). The former is impractical for stone, and the latter too expensive. So I decided to go with the western style in order to accommodate one of Jonathan's carvings. The back cover bears a second icon, with the resurrection. In Orthodox practice, the gospel is placed on the altar with the back cover facing up during Paschatide, so this icon must be on the back.

The marquetry frame around the icons is a style that was very typical in Greek Orthodox art in the 17th century. There is still plenty of furniture on Mt Athos and other old Greek Monasteries that is covered with this sort of inlay. It is really an Islamic style of woodwork, still current on Moroccan and Egyptian imports. I find it highly flattering to relief icons, and it reads very well in the dim light of Orthodox churches, so I advocate reviving this sort of ornamentation for Orthdox liturgical use.

I used marquetry inlay banding (which is available for musical instrument makers) and salvaged ivory from pipe organ keys. There is no specific explanation for the pattern itself, except that I wanted it to convey the power and significance of the events depicted."

 

 

Society of Catholic Artists

I would like to bring to readers' attention a society that has been established, inspired by Pope Benedict XVI's call to artists to be 'custodians of beauty'. The Society of Catholic Artists, web site here, describes it's aims as fraternal, spiritual and intellectual. So it puts artist (and media professionals) in touch with each other; it promotes the idea that the work of the artist is founded upon his spiritual life and that artists develop intellectually so that they understand the tradition and their place within it. There is a strong emphasis on the liturgy and the events they have organised, each time in New York City, are talks and recollections organised in conjunction with Mass and, very encouragingly, the Divine Office. Two of the figures involved are very strongly interested in this connection between liturgy and culture: Fr George Rutler is based in New York and is well known as a speaker and broadcaster and is soon to be speaking in Boston Thomas More College's symposium entitled the Language of the Liturgy, Does it Matter? at the President's Council event on Saturday December 3rd at the Harvard Club (more details here). The is Fr Uwe Michael Lang who I remember from my time of attending the London Oratory, that beacon of beautiful liturgy in London. Fr Lang is a published author on the liturgy and his book Turning Towards the Lord had a preface from the then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger.

One thing that the society has avoided is endeavouring to promote contemporary art and artists. This seems to me to be a good decision. It is a difficult balance to strike. On the one hand we want to be encouraging to those people who respond to the Pope's call and are prepared take the risk and try to be those custodians of beauty in service of the Church. But on the other, how do we decide who has been successful? Inevitably personal choice has to play a part. Choice by committee, especially if that committee contains artists, always seems to move towards mediocrity. Artist's tend not to want to openly criticise each other, because they know that it then gives others assent to be brutally frank about their own work. Also, if competitions or exhibitions are held, then in order to have sufficient paintings to show, the organisers of any such exhibition must compromise standards. This immediately undermines the idea that they are trying to encourage the highest standards and undermines the credibility of their message, which in all other respects might be very good.

Behind the idea of having exhibitions and competitions to promote artists is the assumption that the top quality artists are out there, it's just that we don't where they are. In in the naturalistic forms I do not think this is correct. There are very few artists that match up the highest standard and we already know who the best ones are. As someone who paints, my belief is that at this stage our work is one of the training and education of artists and re-establishing the principle of tradition. Perhaps the next generation of artists will emerge as capable of emulating or even surpassing the glorious work of the past by building on what some us hand on to them. Many of friends who are artists, and some of them are in my opinion the very best of those around today, happily admit that they do not compare with the greats of the past, but hope to contribute to the training and formation of the next generation in service to the Church.

So bereft are we at the moment of genuinely high quality artists, that those of genuine ability stand out in the crowd and do not need to be promoted by a non-for-profit organisation. There are already enough channels of communication to get their work out there - today more than ever. Their work speaks for itself and looking at this, my instincts tell me that market forces are the best mechanism for distribution. Those who are paying, choose what they want. It's not perfect, but I can't think of anything better.

This does seem to be what happened in the field of iconography, where the reestablishment of the tradition began earlier (in the early/mid 20th century). We are now several generations of artists into this renewal of this tradition and we are seeing steadily more top quality artists who are getting commissions. On the whole, it is their work is their greatest advertisement. The lesson for all artists here is very clear in my opinion (and I acknowledge very happily that this applies to me): if patrons are not hammering at my door to commission work, then the one thing that I can try to change is the quality of my work. I must become a better artist if I want to sell more paintings.

For all this, and strange as it may seem, I am not pessimistic about the future. I do think that things are moving the right direction. We see signs of cultural renewal, in the wake of liturgical renewal (which forms arists and patrons alike). We should be realistic about where we are, but at the same time strive to encourage artists to continue to improve. It seems that the Society of Catholic Artists recognises this and aims to help them to do so.

The images are from the top: St Luke (patron saint of artists) by El Greco, in which he points to the famous icon of Our Lady and Our Lord, the 'hodegetria', that he painted; the ox is the symbol of St Luke the Evangelist and below an icon by an unknown Russian iconographer of St Luke painting his icon.

 

Should a saint always have a halo? And should it always be round?

When I was learning to paint icons I was taught that the halo is not simply an arbitrary symbol, but rather a direct representation, albeit stylised, of the uncreated light shining from the saint.This immediately raised the question in my mind as to the validity of some halos I had that were in the form of a detached floating hoop, as we might see in a Raphael or a Leonardo (whose painting is shown below). Although clearly derived from this original idea, it's form had drifted so that it could no longer be seen as uncreated light, but rather an abstract symbol. Initially, my reaction was to argue that this form indicated a lack of understanding of what the halo really is and should not be used. Then it occured to me that given that the art of the High Renaissance and Baroque is aiming to portray historical man (and not as with the icon eschatological man united with God in heaven), what the artists are doing might in fact be consistent with this. One might propose that because the aura of uncreated light, the nimbus, would not be as visible (to the same degree at any rate) in fallen man, even if that man is a saint. So it would seem that the artist might choose not to portray a halo very feintly, as a slight glow, or even not at all; or else to indicate sanctity with a symbol derived from the heavenly sign. We see each of these possible avenues in the art of the 16th and 17th centuries. As a complication to this, recently I became aware of different shapes of icons in both Eastern and Western traditions. I was giving a lecture at Thomas More College about the portrayal of the Trinity in art and one of the students asked about the triangular halo in this example of an iconographic fresco fo the Trinity at a monastery in Mt Athos. I hadn't really thought about this before and guessed that it was an indication of the Trinity but couldn't really account for it with any certainty. Then, the next slide up in the lecture there was a Velazquez with the same triangular halo portrayed as a detached floating triangle on the same person of the Trinity, God the Father.

Later , when digging around a bit to find an explanation I found this site, which gave lists of many different halos, here. This listed quite a number of traditional halo shapes, most of which I had not been aware of. While not always showing a clear understanding of the Catholic view of things, this is good resource, I think, not to say unusually attractively presented for a website.

So there are two different considerations that come out of this. First, in more naturalistic traditions, should it be retained. And second, should we change the shape of the halo in different situations?

My opinion on the first is that we can happily follow the example set by the Masters of the Baroque tradition and employ whichever solution of the three list the artist prefers, for each, it seems to me, is consistent with the theology.

In regard to the second point: for me the debate is similar to that in regard to all the traditional symbols. Symbolism is only useful if it helps to communicate truth. If only a few understand it, it does the opposite, it mystifies. We have to consider this when considering whether or not to resurrect a symbolic language of the past. So if the symbolism is intuitively obvious then it might be worth using; otherwise we would need a huge job of education just to get people to recogniseit. This effort would be to great to make it worthwhile, I suggest, except where that symbolism is drawn directly from scripture.

In regard to triangular halos: it is not drawn from scripture - I am not aware, for example, of Ezekiel describing visions of triangular halos; but you might say that when placing a triangle over God the Father, in these examples shown, because the known symbolism of three, that it is to large degree intuitively obvious what it is saying, so for this reason might be worth using.

In my own case, while I would not object to any other artist using a triangular halo for the reasons given above, I think am going to keep it simple stay pretty simple on halos: a gold disc for eschatological man, and no halo for historical man. This is just a personal choice based upon what I feel looks best.

From top: A triangular nimbus in an iconographic portrayal of the Trinity at a monastery in Mt Athos, Greece; the halo represented as 'floating' triangle and disc in Velazquez and Leonardo in more naturalistic styles of Baroque and High Renaissance respectively; and the 17th century baroque approach in Guido Reni's St Matthew portrayed without halo of any form.

Islamic Tile Patterns Point the Way to Modern Nobel Winning Mathematicians and Chemists

I have written before, here, how the study of sacred geometry and harmony and proportion can point the way to scientists, when describing the discovery of quarks in the early 1960s. Here is another example and the end of the story is this year's Nobel Prize for Chemistry. Anyone who has studied geometry will know that only threefold and fourfold symettrical patterns are preferred when covering large areas because patterns based on this symmetry will fit together exactly without creating gaps. The Islamic craftsmen of, for example, 13th century Turkey, overcame this difficulty by developing a system of longer range order and using irregular shapes filling the gaps, but creating the sense of a regular order. This way they could create geometric patterns based upon, for example, fivefold symmetry.

Move forward to the 1970s and Cambridge mathematician Roger Penfold developed the same idea (independently and unaware of his Islamic predecessors). He called his irregularly shaped insertions 'darts'. About 20 years later the similarity of Penfold's darts to the Islamic tiled patterns was noticed.

These abstract patterns could be extended into three dimensional structures and in the early 1990s microstructure of materials were observed by an Isreali chemist that included, in essence, three-dimensional darts. Here were real materials whose microstructures had been anticipated by the Islamic artists of the 13th century. The discovery of  Daniel Schechtman went against the established ideas of what a crystal was his work was not accepted initially. The lab that he was working for asked him to leave. Finally, his work has been recognised now, 20 years later, as ground breaking and he has been awarded the Nobel prize.

The study of traditional proportion and harmony is the study of the natural patterns and rhythms of the cosmos. For the ancients the starting point was those aspects for which there was a consensus of beauty, for example, in enumerating musical harmony. What is so interesting to me is that the patterns seen in a macro scale are observed in atomic and even sub-atomic scale by scientist.

It reinforces the point I made in my first article. That a traditional education in beauty will enhance the creative process. Even in scientific research, ideas are not generated by reason. The process of scientific discovery comes through the observation of nature and then 'seeing' solutions to problems. These solutions just occur as ideas or hunches. The scientist sees the symmetry and order in the situation and can intuit what is missing or what completes the picture, so to speak. Reason is used to test these hypotheses and to confirm or reject them. Of course, this also means that any discipline in which creativity is an asset would benefit from such and education...which is just about every situation in life.

There is another interesting aspect to this tale. It emphasises how the scientist, the mathematician and the artist are all seeking to represent the natural order in different ways, but in their different approaches arriving at the same solution.  The scientist is describing mathematically the order that he observes in nature; the mathematician seeks to portray perfect pattern and order in the abstract world of mathematics that conforms to logic and reason; and the geometer seeks to reveal the beauty of the idealised natural order. They are all approaching the same underlying truth and revealing it in different ways.