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Tag: Jan van Eyck

“good news from Ghent”‏

the only thing that rang in my ears ever
about Ghent until contemplating the van
Eyck Altarpiece was Robert Browning‘s
poem about it, “How They Brought the
Good News from Ghent to Aix
“, the
idea, like in his “Pheidippides“, of
dying valiantly for a cause had mightily
impressed me

that cause is incidental, of course,
dependent on the beliefs and situation
of that particular stalwart person

it might make you unforgettable, that
unfettered and irevocable devotion, as
it did for me, for instance, the heroes
of these two poems, such an exalted
mission is an ambition for lots of folks,
very much for a young boy, especially,
such as I was when I read these

Rose Valland rose indeed to the occasion
when it came to saving priceless art before
the onslaught of ruthless Naziism, wherein
the very van Eyck Altarpiece, and also even
Raphael‘s incandescent “Sistine Madonna“,
to my utter horror, from another, and opposite,
corner of Europe, Dresden, could’ve been
forever lost

but the “good news” was in kind returned
to Ghent, eventually, in this fascinating
documentary, “Hitler’s Museum: The Secret
History of Art Theft During World War II”,
part 1, part 2, just click, from its hiding place
in Altaussee, a mountain fortress in Austria

The Adoration of the Lamb” now resides in
its rightful Ghent, even more, after so fraught
a trek, a wonder

also returned to Dresden, incidentally, the
Sistine Madonna“, that city’s own defining
artwork

it is to be noted that a task force had been
set up by no less than the Americans to
save the purloined art of Europe in that
however fraught time

this hasn’t been at all the case in their
recent military forays, what do you gain,
I ask, if you lose your ideals, what exactly
do you conquer

Richard

psst: Browning‘s “news”, if you’re wondering,
was of the “Pacification of Ghent“, 1576

my C***mas card‏

          Madonna and Child with Canon Joris van der Paele - Jan van Eyck

           Madonna and Child with Canon Joris van der Paele” 

                                                (1436)

                                          Jan van Eyck

                                                           _______

 
though I’ve long professed to not being
a Christian, having opted for the more
colourful pageant of Ancient Greece’s
Olympian divinities, and its attendant
metaphysical perspective, wherein
nature is honoured for its bounty
rather than saddled with the guilt of
Original – I ask you – Sin, I nevertheless
revere the spirit that spurred great
painters to such spectacular, even
exalted, heights  
 
in Bruges we saw van Eyck‘s Madonna
the blue of the prelate’s cape on the left
still reverberates in my subconscious
 
as though I’d discovered a new colour
 
 
the blue on the right on St George, the
patron saint of van der Paele, who
commissioned the painting, rendered
appropriately humble, even kneeling, 
in white, is only slightly less impressive
for being not less pungent but more pale,
noble yet understated, gold armour doing
the definitive rest
 
the ecclesiastic is St Donatian, patron
saint of Bruges, who knew how to
dress, apparently, for so vaunted an 
occasion  
 
 
merry C***mas
 
may your capes ever be as eloquent 
 
may your blues be ever as sublime   
 
 
Richard
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

my Ghent, December 6, 2013‏

 The Ghent Altarpiece - Jan van Eyck

                            “The Ghent Altarpiece (1432)

                                                    Jan van Eyck  

                                           ________

 
our room at the Ter Brugge was called
the van Eyck, after, of course, the most
impressive, perhaps, of the Flemish
painters, if you’ll put aside the
magnificence of the impish Bruegel,
the ubiquitous Rubens, and the
masterful van Dyck, for instance,
among countless other inspired 
artists of their rightly celebrated,
and wondrous, golden age  
 
what’s “Ter”, Mom asked, we see it
everywhere, “Ter” here, “Ter” there,
“Ter”, as I said, everywhere, and every
day of course at the Ter Brugge  
 
it means “at”, Staf said, as in “at the
bridge” for “Ter Brugge“, ever ready
to shower us with courtesy and 
attention
 
how obvious, I thought, and faulted
myself for not having already figured
that out
 
much like Kerkstwat, in Amsterdam, or,
more accurately, Kerkstraat, instead of
the more pungent pet name I had given
it, turned out to be Church Street, a
breeze when I’d set my mind to it
 
 
books then even followed, fresh fruit by
the handful, beer, voted the best in the
world, from a monastery in Belgium, he
said, and verily presented us with proof
of that high accolade, our favourite
Classical music over breakfast, not to
mention transportation back and forth
to the bus stop, for us too impracticable 
a distance 
 
we met him or Annemie at 8:11 every
evening there after our Brugesfest, they
were never, nor we either ever, late   
 
 
Staf had urged us to go to Ghent, a more
Romanesque city than the Gothic Bruges,
and putting two and two together I
remembered the GhentAltarpiece, The 
 
duh, chided myself
 
 
once there we had been given a proposed
route to follow to witness the sights, but
winds, cobblestones, and too short a time
for the visit halted us in our tracks at the
 
no, I don’t want to go up to the top, Mom
said, she’d climbed both the Frauenkirche
in Dresden and the Dom in Cologne,
Königstein even in Königstein, a few years
earlier, indeed so had I, but would not
undertake so steep again, and arduous,
an ascent
 
nor would I
 
 
we went next door instead to the Cathedral
we spent an hour marvelling, it is profoundly
inspired, a vision in complexity, colour, and
execution, all multiplied exponentially by
devotion, in all connotations of that word  
 
we were too, however, profoundly inspired,
and foreshortened, therefore, our tour of
Ghent, Ghent went   
 
 
later in Bruges we ate at what became there
our favourite restaurant, Maria of Something-
or-Other* – right beside Maria-of-Somewhere-
Else**, my next favourite restaurant, if you’ll
excuse my faltering memory, – on cordiality,
fine wine and hearty victuals before making
our way back home for 8:11, having indelibly
taken in Ghent  
 
no one was late
 
 
 
Richard 
  
 
** Maria van Bourgondië, read the menu, take
     the virtual tour, just click