Cultures evolve around patterns of belief in powers that reside outside ourselves, in the natural universe. Every culture venerates the mysteries embedded in symbolic references to these powerful—but unknowable— life-shaping elements.  Behind the impulse to embrace these hidden forces is a set of primal fears and suspicions, buried deep within our consciousness, having been a part of us for as long as man has considered the meaning of existence.  Elevated self-awareness only brings escalating self-doubt and longing—a deep yearning to search out a purpose for living and to be able to reassuringly root ourselves in the familiar world of sensation. Symbols of our faith, in form and flesh, become the psychological salve that heals our sense of alienation and isolation in a Darwinian, survivalist world.

Artists have treated this emotionally-charged topic in many ways over the centuries, appropriating the symbols of life and death, in ways that both illustrate and expound on their relevance to us. Particularly in the modern era, the ‘Age of Anxiety’, the bridge between symbolism-as-motif in the visual arts and our first-hand experiences of alienation and vulnerability remain particularly germane.  For purposes of comparison, the work of two artists, working more than one-hundred years apart will be compared and contrasted here; allowing for the thread of common themes to link the two, while observing how the symbols employed in each painting and the cultural milieu that produced each, differed widely.

The first is Ferdinand Holder’s, Night (1890). A little-known Swiss artist in the U.S., his work is held by only one museum in this county (Art Institute of Chicago).  Well-known in Western Europe in the early 20^th century, he was praised as one of the greatest artists of the time. His work was compared to that of Cezanne and one critic summarized his significance by seeing in him the realization of, “our era’s deep yearning for greatness and immortality.” [1] His early work however, continued to be largely representational portraiture and landscapes, “painted after nature exactly as the artist saw it.” [2]

It was only after 1885, that his recently exhibited work caught the attention of a group of Genovese poets, who embraced the French Symbolist lyrics of Mallarme and Verlaine.  Under their direction, Holder became more interested in abstract and philosophical themes, “…to make use of Naturalism to create the ideal.” [3] At that stage in his career, themes of the Eternal and the fragile relationship between man and the creative forces of the universe entered into a visual dialogue on his canvases.  Following the success of the first showing of Night, in 1890, amid some controversy in Geneva, the painting and Holder’s reputation as a Spiritualist quickly spread to other cities in Germany and the Netherlands.

The metaphysical themes of Night, in which the eerily-draped, amorphous form of the phantom of death, shrouded in black and crouching over the naked body of a terrified man, brings the evocative power of symbolism home to the viewer.  We find the man, who moments before, had been reclining amidst the ethereally illuminated figures of other sleeping figure, is now suddenly wrenched from the intimate scene of warm and sensually-rendered flesh, intimate contact between sleeping lovers and the mannerist posturing of figures, reflecting another, more classically-inspired time in historical painting.   Here, an expression of fear and panic isolate the single figure (thought to be a portrayal of the artist, himself), as the harbinger of death—faceless and nearly formless—bears down on his body and soul, about to reap his harvest.

This painting is a study in isolation and alienation, common themes among the intellectual forces of the late Victorian period, that were driving the discussion of man’s increasingly marginal role in an industrialized world.  Created at a time when Holder was plagued by fears of his own death, following that of his sister, the painting must have served to fix and allay those anxieties.  But, in accordance with the demands of Symbolism for the portrayal of the mystical, the full significance of the painting may be intended to defy clarification, with its mixture of the traditional and personal, the naturalistic and the abstracted. [4]

Yet, many elements of Western belief systems are represented in this piece: death’s visage as horrific and unexpected, leading to an uncertain and perhaps frightening final destination; the lone, suffering figure at odds with the uncertainty of his future in the world; the notion of being trapped or cornered by fate, where freedom and choice is suddenly limited by civilization around us and the marked indifference and non-participation of the other figures in the scene, represented in their ultimate state of naked vulnerability and private reverie.  The representation of death and destruction in the lives of Western man is often personified in art (though only hinted at here), where our God and his symbolic correlates posses an alien, other-worldly quality that intrude as unwelcome visitors in our lives, when least expected.  The adversarial symbol of death portrayed in Night is an aberrant and terrifying visitor, serving as a universal Christian symbol for our solo spiritual journey through a world, where temptation and its chilling consequences thrust us into an unremittingly tempestuous journey through the world around us.

Like the Romantics before them, the Symbolists opposed the values of rationalism and material progress that dominated (and continues to) western culture, exploring instead, the non-material realms of emotion, imagination and spirituality.  Ultimately, Symbolists seek a deeper and more meaningful reality than that encountered in everyday life.  They reject formal, stylized compositional structure in their work, favoring instead, the realm of the imagination and figurative ambiguity that reflect our mysterious and elusive connection to life and our surroundings.

In contrast to the more Western, formalized Spiritualistic constructs found in Holder’s Night, is the recent work of Cuban artist, Manuel Mendive and his narrative painting, Shangó y la Vida (Shangó and Life), 2004.  This painting, by one of Cuba’s most famous artists, is a blend of religious and spiritual motifs that define the very essence of the island nation.  A cultural admixture of indigenous Cuban, Spanish-Catholic, African tribal folk and religious traditions—and even Asian influences— go to make up a rich ethnic stew, known by the rich, meaty hotchpotch known as Ajiacó.

Raised in a blue collar neighborhood outside Havana, Mendive began painting in the 1960s, incorporating the vivid mythical traditions of his African, Yoruba tribal ancestors, with the Santería religious practices of Cuba.  Santería is a system of beliefs that merge the Yoruba religion (brought to the New World by slaves imported to the Caribbean to work the sugar plantations), with Roman Catholic and Native Indian traditions. The term Santería was originally a derisive term applied by the Spanish to mock followers’ seeming over-devotion to the saints and their perceived neglect of God.  It was later applied to the religion by others. This thin ‘veil’ separating the relationship between Catholic saints and Cuban Orisha (a spirit or deity that reflects one of the manifestations of Olodumare (God) in the Yoruba spiritual or religious system), however, is somewhat undermined by the fact that the vast majority of santerós in Cuba today also consider themselves to be Catholics, have been baptized and often require initiates to be baptized. Many hold separate rituals to honor the saints and orisha respectively, even though the disguise of Catholicism is no longer needed.

Mendive captures the vital forces of nature and his ancestral past in his painting. Shangó and Life, immortalizing the ‘Spirit of Thunder,’ the Orish that embodies power.  Shangó, known for his passion and virility, is represented in the center of the painting by a large phallus that links the two halves of the composition and then turns into a Royal palm. This tree serves as a symbol of Sangó’s divinity and home. He is a womanizer, charming, generous and a fearless warrior.  Of the many figures in the piece, each serves a particular function: there is ‘Osain,’ keeper of the jungle and plants, but has only one eye and hears out of just one ear; there are the ‘Ibeyi’ twins, sons of Shangó, who must remain tied together to avoid losing their power.  They represent fortune and good luck and here, offer their fruits.  Snails, roosters, goats, turtles, birds and fish nourish other figures. Here, in this single work, are found a pantheon of figures that represent the rich heritage related to Shangó. [5]

Spiritualism in a culture, like Cuba with its strong African and colonialist roots, having known so much pain and suffering has, by its very nature, evolved in a more forgiving and interactive light.  The surface of the Mendive painting (even its edges have meaning!) comes to life with an array of figures that offer nurturance, flexibility and hints of cultural unification, while evolving to remain steadfastly and pragmatically relevant to its community of believers, over generations.  In Shangó, the forces of nature unite in support of the people.  By comparison to Holder’s Night, with the terrifying consequences of life’s end being played out alone, in a shadowy room of the indifferent and unaware, Mendive’s colorful and mystical canvas, Shangó and Life, with its interactive spiritual panoply, tells the story of engagement and connectedness to the population; serving as a bridge to understanding in a complex, harsh and unforgiving world. -RF

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Citations:

[1.2.3] Museum Studies, Vol. 12, No.2, Art Institute of Chicago: ‘Ferdinand Holder, A Unique Note in the Birch Bartlett Collection’ (1986), pp. 166-187.

[4] Marilyn Stokstad, Art History, Vol. 2, Prentice Hall (2005), pp. 998-9.

[5] Gail Gelburd, ‘Ajiaco, Stirrings of the Cuban Soul’, University Press of New England (2009), prepared in conjunction with the Lyman Allyn Museum Exhibition, New London, CT