Friday 8 November 2013

Jewish Symbolism and Art, Part 5



Chaos, Truth and Beauty


But if power grows and liberty declines, if chaos spreads over the greater part of the world, as it does today, then even out of that darkness the individual can speak in his still, calm voice.  And the substance of his message ? From the mouth of the philosopher we call it truth, from the artist, beauty, but the poet Shelley called it love…[i]

Unlike Herbert Read, who attempts to conceive of the components of art and its functional aspects in society from a general, secular and certainly not a Jewish perspective, the role of the various types of creative individuals who constitute the « artist » is to generate general truths and transcendant beauty or love.  A very Romantic idea, as the citation from Shelley makes evident.  But when talking about Jewish artists, works of art, and concepts of aesthetic beauty, something else comes into play.  The ancient Scriptures and the ongoing discourses of the rabbis speak in terms of the Law, Justice and then of Truth as dependent upon them and from which eventually flow the notions of Love and Beauty.  Where the ancients saw their world emerging from a primal chaos, an anarchic swirl of competing forcves, powers and energies, the Jewish sense of creation and the resultant world order derive from an orderly, rational plan, conjuring forth out of previously non-existing reality the materials that are gradually—day by day, as the opening antiphonal hymn of Genesis describes it—put in place, each new element dependent on what came before and providing the matrix for the existence of what cos next.  None of these materials, energies or beings are autonomous or independent, and all take on meaning, significance and function from the projection of the Divine Mind.  Yet they are also not determinate and inert but rather free-flowing and dynamic, so that when the sixth day of Creation comes to an end and there is a day of rest, everything is ready to pick up and begin again : all is good, in the sense of good for developing, improving and thinking about.  

The human participation in this creative endeavour is not just ongoing, but it also allows for the secondary creation of what was not put into motion and determined ; such a participation depends on processes of analysis, logical organization by diverse forms of likeness and contrast, manipulation of the elements into new configurations of meaning, and application to keep in harmony with (shalom) and by generating justice through measured responses to the ever-developing overall patterns of reality.  There is no danger of an inevitable or likely lapse into chaos because the balance and harmony of all these independent and yet interdependent aspects of the created world (ha’olam hazeh) keeps rediscovering itself, as water finds its level eventually to fit with the patterns of perfection in the primeval Torah from which God sent out his creative energies (ha’olam ha-bah).  Just as the rabbinical discourses of analysis and application of the Law (Torah) is ongoing and seeking to keep all things in balance from generation to generation (dor v’dor), so the memory and affective representations in the various arts seek to express themselves in patterns of apt, pertinent, and significant Justice and Truth.

 Crafts, Arts and Art
Why are so many Jewish artists in the past either overlooked or considered merely incidental to the development of mainstream schools ?  Is it that too many were merely craftsmen or imitators, and thus there is no critical mass of objects d’art by recognizably Jewish geniuses or manifest influence on the non-Jewish works around them ?  What we need to consider is not merely the quantity of Jewish art, but its quality.  However, it is not simply a question of aesthetic value in relation to prevailing standards in Christian or Moslem civilizations.  There are times when Jewish artisans and artists come up to the standards of the contextual cultures and other times when they play a minor or non-existent role in the consciousness of these other societies, and that seems a matter of sociological significance. 

After all, many non-Jewish individuals who left behind their family’s direction and support in craft-guilds and small-scale decorating production—those who designed wallpaper, crafted fans and pordcelaine dishes, painrted store-fronts and prepared lithographs of museum art—grew up to become the very genieuses we admire as founders of the great aesthetic movements of the second half of the nineteenth century.  The churches and aristocratic mansions in the past were cram full of minor works, even masterworks, creasted by workshop apprentices following a master’s lead and learning from traditional design books, few of the artists venturing into individual expression ; yet their total œuvre, as it were, preserving ancient models of excellence and gradually shifting into new styles.  In a sense, the whole emergence and spread of aesthetic tastes and appreciation throughout European history, from ancient through medieval and Renaissance times, depends not so much on a single genius here or there as it does on the steady competence of hundred or thousands of workers to provide the matrix into which—and out of which sometimes—those geniuses will appear.  If most wooden synagogues were burnt down, if most Jewish homes were reduced to rubble or ashes during pogroms, and if many budding young artists did not live through massacres and expulsions, surely enough remains, fragmentary as is the evidence, to indicate that the civilization they belonged to was not utterly bereft of artistic talent and aesthetic sensitivities.

But if Jewish art is not measured in terms of masterpieces, of high art, then, does it exist at all?  Joseph Brill, the school teacher in Cynthia Ozick's novel The Cannibal Galaxy, makes his first visit to Louvre in Paris and discovers to his shock, "It was as if there had never been a Hebrew people, no Abraham or Joseph or Moses.  Not a trace of holy Israel".  He does not ask, however, such questions as : Why do the curators of the Louvre not put on display the works of Jewish artists ? Can we trust the attribution of all those masterpieces hanging on the walls and set up in the hallways and on the broad stairs to be accurate and not represent prejudice and bigotry ?

Let us leave this matter for the moment.  We shall come back to the phenomenon of the so-called School of Mountparnasse, the Circle of Montmartre and the Litvak Group, and thus to the breakthrough of Jewish art into the consciousness of the West later in the twentieth century.  The point we are concerned with now is more intellectual or aesthetic than historical.  Is there a specific, identifying Jewish mentality articulated in the realms of the plastic and the visual?  We certainly know about the vital contribution of rabbinical sensibilities to the verbal and the intellectual in general.  Benedict S. Isserlin, in his study of "Israelite Art During the Period of the Monarchy," suggests that "[ancient] Israelite art does seem to have developed certain attitudes which to some extend distinguish it from the art of the neighboring nations, and also from that of the Canaanites..."[ii] These are "a fairly strong sense for the flowing and elegant line, a tendency also exemplified in the Judaen script," and, out of this, a tendency to reduce complexity to a "naturalism" achieved "not through the accumulation of detail, but by 'split second' observation."  He sums up in this way

                   A sense for elegancy, and a sharp gift for observation, combined with a liking for simple but gracious forms;  these things seem somehow not out of place in Judah and particularly in Jerusalem which we can sense from the very strictures of the prophets.  Their words seem to evoke a city active, noisy, alert, and curious of things foreign;  skeptical and witty;  brilliant, gay, and profoundly worldly.  It seems in some ways a little Athens rather than a Heavenly Jerusalem...[iii]
                                                                                                               

We can recognize in this tension between Athens (the thought among the nations or Epikoros) and Jerusalem (the rabbinical mentality), not only the question of the pagan Greek exaltation and worship of beauty, form and sculpture, which to a Jewish mind were concomitants of the triple dangers of the otherness of the gentile societies—idoltary, sexual licence, and bloodshed—but also the talmudic debate between the rigidities of The House of Shammai and the liberalism of The House of Hillel.  In such intramural controversies, the question was not so much whether the visual arts should be excluded from Jewish precincts, but the extent to which representational and symbolic images were permitted.[iv]  The exclusion need not be complete because it was not the image that was false or degrading but the intention.  A rabbinical gloss on the name of Noah's son Japhet, who appears in Genesis 9:27, as a progenitor of the Greeks and their arts and aestheticism, reads his name as meaning "beautify", and hence "Simeon ben Gamliel, the president of the Sanhedrin in the first century AD, interprets the blessing to mean: `May the beauty of Japhet be found in the tents of the Semites' (Bab.  Talmud Megillah IX:B)".  In other words, according to Michael Koniel, who cited the passage, when the spirit of Judaism prevails over the Greek, beauty is stripped of its pagan sensuality and stands revealed in its pristine glory."[v] Another interesting talmudic passage which shows the liberal attitude of the rabbis to art and their position vis-à-vis the pagan world of Rome is apropos here.  It also is cited from the Talmud by Michael Koniel as follows:

When a Roman official taunted Rabbi Akiva, the great second century Talmudist, that the Jewish rite of circumcision is evidence that God created man as an imperfect creature, Rabbi Akiva readily agreed that according to Jewish tradition this was a God-given opportunity for men to complete God's work.  He then placed a sack of wheat and a row of pastry before the Roman official and asked him to make his choice.[vi]                                                                         

This moshel or rabbinic exemplum raises a more incisive aesthetic question in how a Jewish artist, like any Jew, can complete and continue God's work.  It is related to the implications of what Isserlin takes as a peculiar vision and insight in ancient Judea for subsequent Judaism.  Is it a specific aesthetic trait, this penchant for the quick, graceful line and the focus on the process of being?  Does this sense of Jewish enhancement of God's created world, moreover, match with the "victory of the conceptual over the perspective and of the optical over the plastic"?  Maximilian Cohen, speaking of "Jewish Art at the Time of the Second Temple", categorizes Jewish art as a "separate style within the art of the Near East" by its "attempt to combine the structure logic of the Occidental composition with the visual-emotional tendency of the Orient...a tendency to leave a plain and unadorned surface as background for the outline of the element or combination of elements."[vii]
                                                                             

I think we can begin to see analogies between these characteristic aesthetic features picked up by art historians and what we know of Jewish tendencies within the narrative and interpretive commentaries of the text.  There may be more or less use of representational figures in an illustration but the dominant feature is its action, and also very much its stylization of a movement caught in a moment of history.  This kind of approach, rather than a postured symbolic stance meant to evoke worship or delimit the boundaries of theophany, offers the viewer and the reader—for in Jewish terms there is no absolute difference—leads towards a sense of the beautiful as something that is at once an enhancement of the world as it is perceived and recollected by all those invoilved in the world of art and as it is understood through processes of analysis, recontextualization, decoordination of the constituent elements, and subject to displacement, replacements and allusive connectors.  Simon Appelbaum thus can speak of "the quality of movement" found in animal and human figures in the art of the Talmudic period as "surely something specifically Jewish."[viii] The fullness of the scene is less important than the moment of its depiction, of what Appelbaum calls "the idea he was seeking to express", just as in the Talmud there is little regard to contextual history;  but a stress on the interactive, dialogic moment.  This fits with what Koniel finds in the pre-Christian Byzantine-like narrative paintings in the Dura Europos synagogue:

                   They mark altogether a singular, significant and dramatic divergence from the sensuous realism of the Hellenistic painting of Greece and Rome towards a new spirituality.  The emphasis on physical beauty and the perfection of the human body and form, so characteristic of the three-dimensional representation of Hellenistic and Roman art gives way to a lofty spirituality as expressed in the delicacy and grace with which the figures are drawn.

                        While human figures abound in all the scenes, they are subordinate to the story or action depicted in the scene.  The distinctively Jewish style of art of the Dura painting, emphasised by the continuous narrative sequence of scenes, was homiletical...[ix]                                  


There is thus a leaning away from perspective and depth, insofar as they imply a forced imitation of reality, and instead a conceptualizing of the archetypical situation, its intellectual and ethical status above its sacramental timelessness or its ethereal or numinous presence, or what Koniel calls "their soaring spirituality". [x]In these pre-modern types of Jewish representational Jewish art, the naturalism which is evident derives from a non-mediated sense of the sanctified grounds of the world's existence.  No one is waiting for a saviour from outside the world to wrap a community of the faithful into another realm of supernatural cult.  Instead the community itself is studying its way towards sanctification of this world so that a saviour may come into it.  In fact, the Messiah is constituted by the sanctified achievement of Israel.  Hence Michael Koniel asserts that a basic tenet of Judaism is, "And you shall sanctify yourselves and shall be holy, for I your God am holy" (Leviticus 12:44-45).[xi]   But we can only come to grips question of a visual, plastic articulation of the Jewish mentality if we begin to look at exactly what has been produced.  What are the kinds of symbols and depictions extant in Jewish art?  Do they have any special way of being significant?  And do they indicate some continuing, continuous Jewish identity?



[i] Herbert Read, The Grass Roots of Art: Lectures on the Social Aspect of Art in an Industriual Age (London: Faber and Faber, 1955) p. 33.

[ii] Benedict S. Isserlin, "Israelite Art During the Period of the Monarchy," in Roth, Jewish Art, p. 76.

[iii] Isserlin,  „Israelite Art“ p. 118.

[iv] The questions concerning other arts, such as music and dance, sculpture or even architecture, have a different dimension; as they were eschewed partly out of deference for the loss of the Temple and the Land of Israel as a viable political identity or under pressure from the contextual societies.

[v] Koniel, The Art of Religious Judaism, p. 9.

[vi] Koniel, The Art of Religious Judaism, p. 9.

[vii] Maximilian Cohen, "Jewish Art at the Time of the Second Temple," in Roth, Jewish Art, p. 154.

[viii] Simon Appelbaum, "The Minor Arts of the Talmudic Period," in Roth, Jewish Art, p. 246.

[ix] Koniel, The Art of Religious Judaism, p. 15.

[x] Koniel, The Art of Religious Judaism, p. 16.

[xi] Koniel, The Art of Religious Judaism, p. 3.

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