Glesca Culture

[f4f3]

Two for the price of one.

Salvador Dali's "Christ of St John of the Cross" was recently voted top of a public poll of Scotland's best loved paintings. It has hung in the Kelvingrove Art Galleries for around 50 years, and every time I see it I feel like I've revisited an old friend.




I've always wondered about Dali's choice to exclude the suffering of Christ from the painting.

Edwin Morgan is probably Glasgow's best loved poet (pace Liz Lochead), and he seems to share my love and confusion.

Edwin Morgan
Salvador Dali: Christ of St John of the Cross
It is not of this world, and yet it is,
And that is how it should be.
Strong light hits back and the arms
Coming from where we cannot see,
Ought not to see, another dimension
For another time. At this time, we
Share the life of bay and boat
With simply painted fishermen
Who give no Amen
Even if clouds both apocalyptic and real
Made them look up and feel
What they had to feel
Of shattering amazement, fear,
Protection, and a wash of glory.
Was it an end coming near?
Was it a beginning coming near?
What happened to the thorns and blood and sweat?
What happened to the hands like claws the whipcord muscles?
Has the artist never seen Grünewald?
'I have to tell you John of the cross called,
Said to remind you light and death once met.'

Comments

[amelia-eve.livejournal.com]

Since I wasn't especially familiar with this painting, I did a bit of Googling and read that, in addition to the atomic stuff, it was inspired by a vision that John of the Cross described (and possibly illustrated). I think there is probably a whole dialogue there about "Spanishness," as John of the Cross is apparently considered a major poet in Spain, beyond his specific spiritual insights.

On the "Spanishness" side, I also see a lot of El Greco in the chiaroscuro treatment. When I went to the Prado and saw all that El Greco and Bosch, I got a whole new viewpoint on Dali's inspirations, knowing that he had spent a lot of time there. (I also discovered that the whole Prado goes a lot faster if you just ignore Velasquez, but that's a different discussion.) I'd never really grokked El Greco until I saw that particular exhibit and was able to appreciate his work without feeling that taste of velvet Elvis that sometimes lurks within it.