An English Haunting part two



St Michael & the Devil by Jacob Epstein (born Nov. 10, 1880, New York, N.Y., U.S.—died Aug. 21, 1959, London, Eng.)
Commissioned by Coventry Cathedral Reconstruction Committee
Unveiled 1960
Cast in bronze by Morris Singer Art Founders
The cathedral church of St Michael stands alongside the ruins of the earlier St Michael's cathedral which was largely destroyed by bombing during WW2. Built by John Laing Construction Co. Ltd. to a design by Sir Basil Spence, it was consecrated in 1962. Sandstone faced. A grade I listed building.

SAINT MICHAEL—ARCHANGEL
Feast: September 29
St. Michael, who ranks among the seven archangels, is also one of the three angels mentioned by name in the Scriptures, the others being St. Raphael and St. Gabriel. St. Michael is spoken of twice in the Old Testament, and twice in the New. The first reference occurs in the Book of Daniel (chapter 10), where Michael comes to comfort Daniel after he has had a vision, and promises to be his helper in all things. In Daniel 12, Michael is called "the great prince who standeth for the children of Thy people." In these references Michael is represented as Israel's great support during the seventy years of the Babylonian captivity. Daniel, wise and holy leader that he was, wanted his people to understand that God had not forgotten them, and that, even though enslaved, they had a royal champion. In the New Testament (Jude 9), we are told that Michael disputed with the devil over the body of Moses; this episode is not mentioned elsewhere in the Bible.

In the Apocalypse (chapter 12) we find the most dramatic reference to St. Michael. Here John recounts the great battle in Heaven, when the wicked angels under Lucifer revolt against God, and how Michael, leading the faithful angels, defeats the hosts of evil and drives them out. In this role he has been painted by many artists, and the poet Milton, in book vi of Paradise Lost, recounts the famous struggle. Because of this victory, St. Michael is revered in Western tradition and liturgy as the protector of the Church, as once he was regarded as the protector of the Israelites. In the Eastern Church, as well as among many theologians in the West, St Michael is placed over all the angels, as prince of the Seraphim. He is the special patron of sick people, mariners, and grocers; in Asia Minor many curative springs were dedicated to him. His cult has also been popular in Egypt, Rome, France, and Germany. His emblems are a banner, a sword, a dragon, and scales. The name Michael is a variation of Micah, meaning in Hebrew, "Who is like God?"

Saint Michael, Archangel. Scriptural Saint. Celebration of Feast Day is September 29.
Taken from "Lives of Saints



Coventry Cathedral was bombed 12th November 1940.

There existed an apocryphal story that two of the original beams from the 1033 construction had fallen in the shape of a cross. The cathedral stonemason, Jock Forbes, saw two wooden beams lying in the shape of a cross and tied them together. A replica of the wooden cross built in 1964 has replaced the original in the ruins of the old cathedral on an altar of rubble. The original is now kept on the stairs linking the Cathedral with St. Michael's Hall below.
A symbol of righteousness in a holy war against a satanic enemy. For a people who were damaged & disspirited by Nazi blitzkrieg it is difficult to believe that this story would have been discouraged. This is the same kind of propaganda that the Nazis were using under Ernst Kraft. Marx was right when he said that religion was the opiate of the masses. Whether they believed it or not both sides used religion as part of their psychological armoury.


The will to resurrect the cathedral that prompted Epsteins commission has its roots in this kind of myth building. It has been reported that there were initially reservations about the choice of Epstein among the members of the reconstruction committee that were allayed by Basil Spence, the architect of the new cathedral.
There are several factors that combine to make this piece resonant.
The religious symbology of the figure of St Michael, the need to regenerate the will of the industrial heart of England, the juxtaposition of the heroic & the personal.
As a displaced Polish Jew Epstein would have been aware of some of what was happening to the first ally, Poland under Nazi occupation. His interpretation of the story of St. Michael & the Devil takes this struggle & places it within the shattered heart of Englands industry as a message of hope. Polands situation was an indicator for the rest of the world, trapped between Soviet & Nazi aggression.
In the initial stages of the war England was alone in its battle against Nazi Germany & can be viewed as the sole protector of freedom during those years. St Michaels role as protector of children is more important than his role as simply patron protector of the church & more crucial as it represents triumph over adversity with a rich & relevant personal imagery that has resonances plucked from the same source as the apocrypha of random pieces of firewood making secret signs, cathedromancy.
What Eptein could not have known was that St. Michael was mortally wounded & was to limp away to lick his wounds under the wreckage of Europe after the rain. England was broken beyond repair in those years & it was clear by the time of the conference at Yalta that her position was drastically reduced. Where now the protector of children?
While England tried to assist the risings against the Nazis across Europe it was clear that Stalin was in a race against the other allies to annexe as much territory as possible & that there was little that the other parties could do for fear of inflaming the great Russian bear, so badly needed in the struggle against Nazi Germany. Poland still weeps for her children.
America had no agreement with Poland so her situation was entirely in the hands of the exiled government in London through English representation & beaurocracy, already beleagured with its own siege position.
When England & America tried to drop supplies to the Warsaw rising the Red Army attacked the formations & refused to allow refuelling in Russian held territories forcing 60% losses on the few sorties that were actually sanctioned out of England & Italy.

It is a sweet & beautiful mistake to portray England as St Michael. There is something of the zealotry of the immigrant in it. By 1954 when the sculpture was made the strongest part of Soviet grip on Europe was passing, Stalin was dead & England was only just out of rationing. As if waking from a bad dream there was still a memory of the war ever present. The proselytising spirit of those days when local rumour turned to holy war superstition exists in this sculpture. It is hope in bleak times. Summoning magic of the basest kind. Superstitious & ignorant & sentimental.
It is also generous, grateful, vaultingly beautiful. A wish & a hope that yearns in its intent.
The symbolic aquires its relevance by way of the personal & suffering is at the heart of the power of this work.
Epsteins children Theo & Esther died in 1954. Theo whilst being restrained in the back of an ambulance on the way to a mental institution, Esther was reportedly so traumatised that she attempted suicide twice in that year succeeding on the second attempt in November.

Theo Garman


Esther Garman


Esther Garman, Mark Joffe, Kathleen Garman, Jacob Epstein

I prefer the bronze of Lucifer from my days in the mueseum in Birmingham that echoes the faces of all his children. It has the face of Kathleen as did all of his children & St Michael.

Lucifer by Jacob Epstein
Birmingham Mueseum & Art Gallery

Damaged & petulant, this is a truer representation of the personal aspects of attaching the flood of despair that the war exercised upon Coventry, upon Poland, upon Europe though devoid of the rage that fires aggression. Aggression is surely the androcratic impulse that is closest to a personification of Lucifer & the aspect that along with pride distinguishes him from god & is responsible for his situation? The impulse that fires the belly of the beast & drives the war machines that were used to such devastating effect during the second world war?
I find no violence in Epsteins works of this period. Considering the subject of St Michael & the devil this is surprising. The prone figure of Satan is more reposed than vanquished, it is not even a beatific interlude but disassociated. In the following work by Diane Powers the figure of Satan is even contemplative.
The artist is the world's scapegoat, but does that mean that the artist is without anger? From whichever point of view, St Michaels or the devils, it is strange that it should be absent here.

Diane Powers Angels & Demons

It was in conversation with Diane that the germ of this post came about. I was struggling to find an atmosphere in the previous post An English Haunting to use in a painting with Title at Dudley Wood. This was an attempt to find new methods of drawing & to document the process of thought that results in a painting. I was stuck as to where the meaning would arise, Title was already finished on the wall & I had begun with the Abigail resting canvas, been out with Kal Ahmed to Key Hill Cemetary to photograph atmospheres but was still not conneting with the wall. When Diane mentioned her time in Coventry Cathedral the echoes of the past, the war, Epsteins sculpture, the fate of Poland, the disjointed aspect of the absence of violence all formed instantly into the figure of St Michael crawling under the wreckage of Europe to die slowly sfter a noble struggle against the Nazis.
This is the true nature of the sword of perception, when the whispers of the past form a single voice & speak. Ghosts do exist & everything that we do is informed by the intents & choices made generations ago, we can read them in the architecture & the absences that surround us daily or in our DNA.
Independently of this Diane produced Angels & Demons from shots taken at Coventry & caught the essence of Epsteins figures so eloquently & added an entire layer of meaning that I had glimpsed but could not articulate adequately.
Today I am returning to the wall to continue through the wind & the rain to try to capture something..........

An English Haunting




Autumn


Worm Witch


Lady Lazarus

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it--
A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a Nazi lampshade, My right foot
A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin O my enemy. Do I terrify?--
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand and foot-- The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies
These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident.
The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut
As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout:
'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart-- It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash-- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--
A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware.
Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

Sylvia Path
23-29 October 1962


Daphnarcissus

Cris d'aveugle

L'oeil tué n'est pas mort
Un coin le fend encor
Encloué je suis sans cercueil
On m'a planté le clou dans l'oeil
L'oeil cloué n'est pas mort
Et le coin entre encor

Deus misericors
Deus misericors
Le marteau bat ma tête en bois
Le marteau qui ferra la croix
Deus misericors
Deus misericors

Les oiseaux croque-morts
Ont donc peur à mon corps
Mon Golgotha n'est pas fini
Lamma lamna sabacthani
Colombes de la Mort
Soiffez après mon corps

Rouge comme un sabord
La plaie est sur le bord
Comme la gencive bavant
D'une vieille qui rit sans dent
La plaie est sur le bord
Rouge comme un sabord

Je vois des cercles d'or
Le soleil blanc me mord
J'ai deux trous percés par un fer
Rougi dans la forge d'enfer
Je vois un cercle d'or
Le feu d'en haut me mord

Dans la moelle se tord
Une larme qui sort
Je vois dedans le paradis
Miserere, De profundis
Dans mon crâne se tord
Du soufre en pleur qui sort

Bienheureux le bon mort
Le mort sauvé qui dort
Heureux les martyrs, les élus
Avec la Vierge et son Jésus
O bienheureux le mort
Le mort jugé qui dort

Un Chevalier dehors
Repose sans remords
Dans le cimetière bénit
Dans sa sieste de granit

L'homme en pierre dehors
A deux yeux sans remords

Ho je vous sens encor
Landes jaunes d'Armor
Je sens mon rosaire à mes doigts
Et le Christ en os sur le bois
A toi je baye encor
O ciel défunt d'Armor

Pardon de prier fort
Seigneur si c'est le sort
Mes yeux, deux bénitiers ardents
Le diable a mis ses doigts dedans
Pardon de crier fort
Seigneur contre le sort

J'entends le vent du nord
Qui bugle comme un cor
C'est l'hallali des trépassés
J'aboie après mon tour assez
J'entends le vent du nord
J'entends le glas du cor

Tristan Corbiere
1873





Don't think that this is over! It is never over! We are surrounded by ghosts every day & we are the bacteria that grow on them.
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear -- "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.' Percy Bysshe Shelley

More progress shots


Justyna profile in progress


Moonchild in stages


William Walton drawing progress


Abigail resting
Since this I have changed the figure entirely knowing that I shall attempt this on a large scale collaboration with Title.