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Saint Jean l'Évangéliste ; La Croix Vivante ; Le Donateur en prière
Details
ÉCOLE BRUXELLOISE, 1506
Saint Jean l'Évangéliste ; La Croix Vivante ; Le Donateur en prière
inscrit 'aetatis mee lvi' (sous le volet droit) et daté '1506' (sous le panneau central)
huile sur panneaux formant triptyque, dans un cadre engagé
triptyque ouvert : 56,7 x 66,6 cm (22 1⁄3 x 16 ¼ in.)
triptyque fermé : 56,7 x 38,3 cm (22 1⁄3 x 15 1⁄16 in.)
Saint Jean l'Évangéliste ; La Croix Vivante ; Le Donateur en prière
inscrit 'aetatis mee lvi' (sous le volet droit) et daté '1506' (sous le panneau central)
huile sur panneaux formant triptyque, dans un cadre engagé
triptyque ouvert : 56,7 x 66,6 cm (22 1⁄3 x 16 ¼ in.)
triptyque fermé : 56,7 x 38,3 cm (22 1⁄3 x 15 1⁄16 in.)
Provenance
Vente anonyme, Christie's, Londres, 14 décembre 1990, lot 256 (comme école de Bruges vers 1510).
Acquis par le père de l'actuel propriétaire ;
Puis par descendance dans la famille, France.
Acquis par le père de l'actuel propriétaire ;
Puis par descendance dans la famille, France.
Further Details
BRUSSELS SCHOOL, 1506, SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST; THE LIVING CROSS; THE DONOR IN PRAYER, OIL ON PANEL FORMING A TRIPTYCH, IN AN ENGAGED FRAME, INSCRIBED (UNDER THE RIGHT WING) AND DATED (UNDER THE CENTRAL PANEL)
The present triptych unfolds the iconographic program of the Living Cross, a Eucharistic allegory of which almost all surviving examples are mural paintings (A. Timmermann, 'The Avenging Crucifix: Some Observations on the Iconography of the Living Cross,' Gesta, 2001, 40, II, p. 143). Examples on panel therefore constitute a notable exception within the tradition of the genre, and suggest the work’s distinctive devotional purpose.
The monumental Cross rises before a vivid red cloth of honour, a colour signifying both the blood that was shed and liturgical glory. The crucified Christ occupies its absolute centre, crowned with thorns, his head slightly inclined. In the canonical definition of the type, four hands emerge from the arms and shaft of the Cross: the right hand blesses or crowns Ecclesia, the left hand pierces Synagoga with a weapon, the upper hand opens the gates of Heaven, and the lower hand destroys Hell (ibid., p. 141).
At the foot of the Cross, two clerics in liturgical vestments celebrate Mass: this substitution of the allegorical figure of Ecclesia by a priest officiating is characteristic of the later versions of the type. It appears precisely in the panel by Hans Fries (1465-1523), preserved in the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire of Fribourg (inv. MAHF 7957), likewise dated 1506, where Timmermann notes that this choice refers to the insistence of the Chrurch post Lateran IV that only an ordained priest can confer sacramental reality upon the Eucharistic elements (ibid., p. 146). The Church that triumphs here is not that of the saints: it is that of the priesthood in action.
To the right, at the foot of the Cross, a gilded statuette on a column forms a counterpart to the Christian altar. In later versions of the type, the defeat of Synagoga is sometimes accompanied by the fall of an idol, thus associating idolatry with rejection of the Old Law (ibid., p. 154): the statue in our painting belongs to this same logic, setting before the Eucharistic sacrifice the inert and vain image of an obsolete cult.
The lower register, populated by tormented bodies and demonic creatures, represents the defeat of the enemies of the Church, the functional equivalent of the lower hand of the Lebendes Kreuz, which in canonical examples shatters the gates of Hell or destroys Death (ibid., p. 141).
The side panels articulate the central program according to a devotional symmetry. On the left, Saint John the Evangelist, clad in vivid red, stands to Christ’s right side, that of grace, that of Ecclesia. Witness to the Passion and voice of the Apocalypse, his presence is not ornamental: he is the textual and visual guarantor of everything the central panel proclaims. On the right, the donor, in a white robe, kneeling in prayer before an open book on a prie-dieu, is integrated into the very structure of the image. His symmetrical position opposite Saint John places him too on the side of grace. The inclusion of devout figures alongside the Living Cross is consistent with the function of the genre: Timmermann recalls that such images offered centres of Eucharistic devotion to their patrons (ibid, p. 155). This triptych thus binds the spiritual destiny of its commissioner to Christ’s victory over His enemies; it is at once a theological program and an act of private devotion.
The most revealing parallel for situating the work within the long history of the iconography is the Croce Vivente of Ferrara by Sebastiano Filippi, called Bastianino (1528-1602) (fig. 1, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin, inv. 2028597), painted for the church of Santa Caterina Martire in Ferrara around 1565-1570, to which the Berlin institution devoted an exhibition in 2021 (Bastianino: The Living Cross of Ferrara. The Restoration of a Forgotten Altarpiece, 13 April-12 September 2021). The two works share the same argumentative framework: Ecclesia on the side of grace, Synagoga defeated on the other, and the Eucharistic act staged at the foot of the Crucifix.
Our triptych belongs to the northern visual culture of the turn of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth centuries, a moment when repeated challenges to the sacramental supremacy of the Roman Church, of which Hussite demands had been the most violent manifestation, continued to fuel reflection on the legitimacy of the priesthood and the centrality of the Eucharist (ibid, pp. 152-155). This is precisely what the replacement of Ecclesia by a priest celebrating Mass asserts in the present painting: in 1506, on the eve of the Reformation, the argument had lost none of its urgency. Bastianino, half a century later, reactivated the same program in a Mannerist idiom and in the service of the post-Tridentine Catholic Reformation. That the same argument could traverse two centuries and two radically different visual languages without losing any of its force is perhaps the most eloquent sign of the rhetorical strength of the iconography of the Living Cross.
The present triptych unfolds the iconographic program of the Living Cross, a Eucharistic allegory of which almost all surviving examples are mural paintings (A. Timmermann, 'The Avenging Crucifix: Some Observations on the Iconography of the Living Cross,' Gesta, 2001, 40, II, p. 143). Examples on panel therefore constitute a notable exception within the tradition of the genre, and suggest the work’s distinctive devotional purpose.
The monumental Cross rises before a vivid red cloth of honour, a colour signifying both the blood that was shed and liturgical glory. The crucified Christ occupies its absolute centre, crowned with thorns, his head slightly inclined. In the canonical definition of the type, four hands emerge from the arms and shaft of the Cross: the right hand blesses or crowns Ecclesia, the left hand pierces Synagoga with a weapon, the upper hand opens the gates of Heaven, and the lower hand destroys Hell (ibid., p. 141).
At the foot of the Cross, two clerics in liturgical vestments celebrate Mass: this substitution of the allegorical figure of Ecclesia by a priest officiating is characteristic of the later versions of the type. It appears precisely in the panel by Hans Fries (1465-1523), preserved in the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire of Fribourg (inv. MAHF 7957), likewise dated 1506, where Timmermann notes that this choice refers to the insistence of the Chrurch post Lateran IV that only an ordained priest can confer sacramental reality upon the Eucharistic elements (ibid., p. 146). The Church that triumphs here is not that of the saints: it is that of the priesthood in action.
To the right, at the foot of the Cross, a gilded statuette on a column forms a counterpart to the Christian altar. In later versions of the type, the defeat of Synagoga is sometimes accompanied by the fall of an idol, thus associating idolatry with rejection of the Old Law (ibid., p. 154): the statue in our painting belongs to this same logic, setting before the Eucharistic sacrifice the inert and vain image of an obsolete cult.
The lower register, populated by tormented bodies and demonic creatures, represents the defeat of the enemies of the Church, the functional equivalent of the lower hand of the Lebendes Kreuz, which in canonical examples shatters the gates of Hell or destroys Death (ibid., p. 141).
The side panels articulate the central program according to a devotional symmetry. On the left, Saint John the Evangelist, clad in vivid red, stands to Christ’s right side, that of grace, that of Ecclesia. Witness to the Passion and voice of the Apocalypse, his presence is not ornamental: he is the textual and visual guarantor of everything the central panel proclaims. On the right, the donor, in a white robe, kneeling in prayer before an open book on a prie-dieu, is integrated into the very structure of the image. His symmetrical position opposite Saint John places him too on the side of grace. The inclusion of devout figures alongside the Living Cross is consistent with the function of the genre: Timmermann recalls that such images offered centres of Eucharistic devotion to their patrons (ibid, p. 155). This triptych thus binds the spiritual destiny of its commissioner to Christ’s victory over His enemies; it is at once a theological program and an act of private devotion.
The most revealing parallel for situating the work within the long history of the iconography is the Croce Vivente of Ferrara by Sebastiano Filippi, called Bastianino (1528-1602) (fig. 1, Gemäldegalerie, Berlin, inv. 2028597), painted for the church of Santa Caterina Martire in Ferrara around 1565-1570, to which the Berlin institution devoted an exhibition in 2021 (Bastianino: The Living Cross of Ferrara. The Restoration of a Forgotten Altarpiece, 13 April-12 September 2021). The two works share the same argumentative framework: Ecclesia on the side of grace, Synagoga defeated on the other, and the Eucharistic act staged at the foot of the Crucifix.
Our triptych belongs to the northern visual culture of the turn of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth centuries, a moment when repeated challenges to the sacramental supremacy of the Roman Church, of which Hussite demands had been the most violent manifestation, continued to fuel reflection on the legitimacy of the priesthood and the centrality of the Eucharist (ibid, pp. 152-155). This is precisely what the replacement of Ecclesia by a priest celebrating Mass asserts in the present painting: in 1506, on the eve of the Reformation, the argument had lost none of its urgency. Bastianino, half a century later, reactivated the same program in a Mannerist idiom and in the service of the post-Tridentine Catholic Reformation. That the same argument could traverse two centuries and two radically different visual languages without losing any of its force is perhaps the most eloquent sign of the rhetorical strength of the iconography of the Living Cross.
Brought to you by
Olivia Ghosh
Specialist