Stations

It took me a while to appreciate ARST 2200. That is, Survey of Contemporary Art History, the second required art history class for art majors at UGA. It was a crash course from de Kooning to Koons. It was also (at times) a little-known form of torture. There were things I hated about the class—the performance art unit in particular was excruciating. But I gradually learned to be more open-minded about contemporary art, and I cultivated a cautious appreciation for twentieth and twenty-first century work. Two of the artists that I ended up liking the most were Barnett Newman and Anselm Kiefer. Today I’ll write briefly on Newman: more specifically, his Stations of the Cross (Lema sabachthani) series.

In more traditional sects of the Church, the “Stations of the Cross” are contemplated to gain a deeper understanding of the trials and suffering at the end of Jesus’s life. There are 14 “stations,” each one representing an individual step in the Christ’s passion, beginning with his being condemned to death and ending with his being sealed in a tomb. Usually, visual representations of each station were meditated on (I assume because this tradition goes back to before literacy was widespread). Google the “14 Stations of the Cross” and check them out. Some of them are apocryphal, but the themes of suffering and degradation still persist. The first station of the cross is Jesus’s condemnation to death, and it usually looks something like (A), below. But Barnett Newman, an innovative color field painter, adds his own rendition of the Stations of the Cross in the newer visual language of abstract expressionism (B).

(A)

(B)

Which one is more powerful? A more traditional first Station (A) features Jesus, Pilate, and two other figures who are either Barabbas or a guard, or perhaps the boy who sent Pilate his wife’s message. Jesus stands serenely in white with an unreadable look on his face. Now, the Newman (B). Each Station (there are 14 paintings in all, one for every Station) is a variation of this one: one “clean” line, one “messy” line. You could go on forever in comparison of the two lines: neat vs. jagged. Uninterrupted vs. interrupted. Smooth vs. rough. Unbroken vs. broken. Order vs. disorder. Organization vs. chaos. And ultimately, divinity vs. humanity. This, to me, is the expression of Christ’s suffering on canvas—not a forgettable representational piece like (A).

Newman’s communication of the sufferings of the Christ may also recall the very essence of Gethsemane: the bitter cup, and the obedient acceptance of it. And of course, hearkening back to the title of the series—Lema sabachthani—"why have you forsaken me?"— the same applies. He suffered, but he also obeyed. Each composition reveals new insights into the stations of the cross in different ways. Despite the fact that I often don't "get" color field painting, Newman says more to me about Jesus's suffering than anyone else.

An interesting link: Barnett Newman's Stations of the Cross set to the Lacrimosa from Mozart's Requiem. The only thing that sucks about it is the black background, which at times impedes your ability to see the "clean" line that touches the margin.