A Grand Capital Art Project

Stylized depiction of Washington D.C.'s cherry
blossoms on a pole near the Smithsonian Arts
and Industries building.

I've always had a soft spot for Washington D.C. Aside from my fondness for capital cities, old and modern, D.C. is a special place for me because it was part of the first proper road trip I took when I was 9 years old. I suppose this trip was the start of my wanderlust. In the summer of 2014, I had the great fortune to visit D.C. once again.

One can hardly mention Washington D.C. tourism without the Smithsonian coming to mind. The Smithsonian Institute describes itself as the "the world's largest museum and research complex, consisting of 19 museums and galleries, the National Zoological Park, and nine research facilities." Indeed. One can easily spend weeks exploring only the many Smithsonian museums without seeing much else of the city. Of course, D.C. is a wonderful city, highly underrated in my opinion, so I wouldn't recommend skipping it!

Of the many museums to visit, the most popular are the Natural History Museum, where you can view such wonders as the (in)famous Hope Diamond, and of course the Air and Space Museum, where airplanes and moon rockets abound.

If this giant mural doesn't make you want to become an astronaut, I don't know what will!

On this particular day, I instead headed to a couple of the smaller, lesser known museums, specifically the Freer Gallery of Art and the Arthur M. Sackler Gallery. Both museums are dedicated to Asian art. Charles Lang Freer, an American industrialist with a love of Asian art, donated his vast private collection to the U.S. government in the early 1900s. The museum has been exhibiting some of the finest works of Asian art since 1923. The Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, which opened in 1987, is named after an American physician and entrepreneur who also donated his private collection for public benefit. While separate institutes, museums share the same management are also literally connected with an underground passage. These (literally) cool galleries were the perfect places to be on a boiling hot Washington D.C. summer day!

The sign on the National Mall
pointing to the Freer and Sackler
Galleries.

As far as Buddhist art goes, the Freer and Sackler Galleries have an especially rich collection from China. From our modern perspective, it's easy to think of Buddhism as being a natural part of Chinese culture. However, this wasn't always the case. The transformation of Buddhism from an obscure, foreign cult into a pillar of Chinese culture is a long and fascinating story way beyond this scope of this post. The artwork on display in the galleries I was wandering through gives us a glimpse from an especially interesting period, the 6th-8th centuries.

I call this period interesting because it was a transitional period for Chinese Buddhism and art. By this time, Buddhism had already been in China for about 500 years and had grown deep, stable roots in the country in spite of (or maybe because of) centuries of political, social, and economic instability. Artistically, early Chinese Buddhist art had very heavy Indian and central Asian influences. Now, however, a distinctly Chinese style emerged and would continue to advance during the Tang Dynasty (7th-10th centuries), the golden age of Chinese Buddhism.

Chinese Buddhist art in the Freer Gallery.

The Freer and Sackler collection spans many countries and historical periods from the Buddhist world. One of my favorite works were reliefs from Gandhara, the region that encompassed modern western Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan. The Afghan city of Kandahar takes its name from this old country. Gandhara, being at the crossroads of Indian, Greek, Persian, and central Asian cultures, produced the very first Buddha images. Aside from their historical significance, I find Gandharan art to be just plain beautiful; it's probably my favorite style of Buddhist art.

Gandharan relief showing the celebration of the birth
of prince Siddhartha Gautama, who would
later become the Buddha.

Siddhartha, now enlightened, teaching his disciples.

My favorite work of art in the galleries was not from ancient China or Gandhara but from the medieval Nepal. Walking into the Himalayan gallery, I was greeted by a stunning 14th century sculpture, a near life-sized representation of the bodhisttva Avalokitesvara. This particular bodhisattva is known for taking many forms and the one represented here was the "white Avalokitesvara" (Sanskrit: Amoghapasa Lokeshvara). The museum description stated this form of the bodhisattva is very popular in the Kathmandu valley. Rather than attempt a poor description, I'll just say that the masterful lighting effects really made it feel as if the bodhisattva statue was emanating a calm and peaceful aura.

The almost glowing bodhisattva white Avalokitesvara. Wow.

Seeing all the wonderful art from so many countries and time periods made me think more about the future rather than the past. With Buddhism now having arrived and become established in Western culture, I wonder what our contribution to Buddhist art and symbolism will be? Centuries from now, what would a gallery devoted to Western Buddhist art look like? Would we see African-looking Earth Store bodhisattvas and Nordic-looking Guan Yins? Or perhaps new teachers and personalities yet to be born will be venerated? Maybe completely new and yet to be imagined forms of art will be our contribution? Whatever winds up happening, artists of the present and future will have no shortage of material to draw inspiration from.

We Who Are About To Get Soaked Salute You!

The Amphitheater of Trier.

Not long after I had moved to Germany, I was sitting in my German class one day and was chatting with the instructor. Like most Germans, she had a perpetual case of Wanderlust (a word, funnily enough, not actually used in modern German). While chatting about our travels and interests, she made an offhand mention to a small city in the very west of Germany called Trier. She told me it had two major claims to fame. First, it's the oldest city in Germany (founded as the Roman city of Treverensis). Second, it's the hometown of Karl Marx. My initial reaction was, "Cathedrals and communists? I gotta get check this place out!" A few days later I found myself on a long day trip to Germany's oldest city.

A typical sight for the
Mosel Valley (Wikimedia).

I took a gamble on the weather and lost miserably: it was a chilly, rainy day. While the weather was dreary, the scenery on the way to Trier was a welcome distraction. From the trains, I could see many lovely green hills, picturesque valleys, and vineyards. Lots and lots of vineyards. Trier, it turns out, is in the heart of the Mosel valley, one of Germany's most famous wine-growing regions.

After a short walk from the main station, I was greeted by one of Trier's most famous and oldest sites: the Porta Nigra. Dating from the second century A.D., the Porta Nigra is part of Trier's UNESCO World Heritage listing, which includes many other sites throughout the 2000 year old city. After snapping a few photos under the safety of my umbrella, I slowly walked through this ancient portal. It was the first time I ever walked through a proper Roman gate. The blackened, battered stones of this proud structure made me feel like a time traveler walking through the ages.

City-facing view of the Porta Nigra.

 Looking through the Porta Nigra.

The Three Magi.

Before checking out the rest of Trier, I popped into a Coffee Fellows for a much needed hot drink. While sipping my coffee and checking my trusty guidebook for places of interest, I spotted a really striking painting on the wall of the cafe. Showing the Three Wise Men, it was one of the coolest depictions I'd ever seen of them. I couldn't quite tell if the painting was a reproduction of an old painting or if it was a modern take on the Bible story. While Trier has a very rich Catholic history (more on this later), it's the city of Cologne that's most closely associated with the Magi. In fact, the majestic Cologne Cathedral is said to contain their remains.

Rather than give a detailed account of everything I saw, I'll just focus on three of my favorite sites. The first was the mighty Aula Palatina, better known as the Constantine Basilica. As the name implies, this structure built was on the orders of the Constantine the Great, Rome's first Christian emperor, in the 300s A.D.

The Constantine Basilica.

The beautifully austere interior
of the Constantine Basilica.

By this time, Trier was already one of the most important Roman cities north of the Alps. As the Western Roman Empire gradually collapsed during the 400s, the Catholic Church increasingly filled the void of power. During the Middle Ages, the rich and powerful diocese of Trier would become one of the most influential members of the Germanic Holy Roman Empire. Aside from it's strategic location and status as an old provincial capital city, Trier's major source of prominence was religious. Pilgrims from all over Europe would visit Trier to catch a glimpse of the alleged Holy Tunic of Jesus, housed at the Trier Cathedral, and to visit the relics of the Apostle Matthias, who was chosen to replace Judas. Trier still draws pilgrims to this day, some of which continue their long trek all the way to northwestern Spain on the Way of St. James. In light of this long and rich Catholic history, I was shocked (and somewhat amused) to discover that the Constantine Basilica is a Protestant church these days. The explanation requires another little history lesson. 

Statues inside the basilica.

The Protestant kingdom of Prussia gained the Catholic Rhineland territories, which included Trier, after the defeat of Napoleon in the early 1800s. In the mid-1800s, on the orders of Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the basilica was renovated and restored to its original Roman state. It was at this time that the basilica was converted into the first (and now oldest) Protestant church in Trier. While it might seem like a case of blatant discrimination, Friedrich Wilhelm IV did ease relations with the Catholic Rhinelanders by sponsoring the completion of the Cologne Cathedral, which had been lying uncompleted for centuries.

As for the actual structure of the Constantine Basilica, I loved its cavernous interior. The exposed bricks were another interesting feature of the building. Far from being purposely decorative, the walls were left in this state after being damaged from fires during bombing raids in the Second World War. The simple, basically unadorned atmosphere was a perfect fit for its role as a Protestant church.

A map of Roman Trier. The amphitheater is
to the upper right in the map.

Ground level entrance
to the Amphitheater.

The second of my favorite sites in Trier was the amphitheater, which is tucked away in a residential section of the city next to a vineyard (of course) and some upscale houses. With space for 20,000 spectators, the amphitheater hosted all the events you would expect a Roman amphitheater to host; gladiatoral death matches, public executions, and exotic animal exhibitions. I followed the recommended tour path to get a good view from the top.

The high view of the amphitheater included fall foliage, a peek at a vineyard, and lots of rain.

I thought the most interesting part of the site was what was underneath it. Literally. An intricate series of chambers and pathways run directly beneath the arena. It was here that the gladiators, animals, and condemned persons were corralled before the bloody spectacles would begin. Much of the place was damp and soaked but it was still interesting to see the "guts" of the amphitheater.

The large staging area directly beneath the amphitheater.

The third and admittedly most interesting of my favorite sites in Trier was the Matthias Abbey, which houses the remains of the Apostle Matthias.

View of the rain-drenched Matthias Abbey.

Interior of the nave.

Records show that a monastic community has lived on this site since at least the 400s. In the late 900s, the community became a part of the Benedictine order and has remained a part of it ever since. According to legend, the Roman empress Helena, mother above the above-mentioned Constantine, sent the remains of the Apostle Matthias to Trier in early 300s. Constantine had tasked his mother with finding Christian relics throughout the empire. Her famous pilgrimage to the Holy Land was a huge success and church historians credit her with discovering, among other things, the One True Cross and Nails of the Crucifixion. The previously mentioned Holy Tunic and the Matthias relics in Trier were also discovered by her. Helena's prominence in early Christianity is so important that she's even venerated as St. Helena of Constantinople by the Catholic, Orthodox, and Lutheran traditions. Funnily (or appropriately) enough, she's also revered as the patron saint of new discoveries. If that weren't enough, Helena's skull is said to be among the many treasures and relics inside of the Trier cathedral (I didn't get the chance to see it when I was there).

I've written before on this blog on how many old churches in Europe feel more like withering museums instead of living spiritual centers. This wasn't the case with the Matthias Abbey. As soon as I stepped in, I felt what I can only describe as a calm vibe. The fact that the cathedral was dry, somewhat warm, and nearly empty also added to the relaxed atmosphere. The only other people I saw inside were a couple of Jack Wolfskin clad tourists. In the very center of the nave was what appeared to be a sarcophagus surrounded by massive candles (~ 1 m/ 3 ft) and fresh flowers. It was a simple and very touching display of devotion that perfectly fit the monastic setting.

Effigy of the Apostle Matthias.

Sarcophagus of St. Matthias.

The crypt directly underneath the nave contains the tombs of Eucharius and Valerius, the bishops who established the archbishopric of Trier in the late 200s A.D. Also in the crypt is the ancient stone container said to hold the actual remains of the Apostle Matthias. It lies directly underneath the effigy in the nave. There was something very intimate about walking around all alone inside of the apostolic crypt. Here was one of the holiest Catholic shrines in Germany (and perhaps all of Europe) and I just happened to have it all to myself at that moment. Who would've thought? I was a wonderful experience to be there and I felt very grateful for the opportunity. My body was still cold but my spirit and heart were definitely warmed a bit by the experience. 

 

The Name's Theotokópoulos. Doménikos Theotokópoulos.

This post is the third and final of a three-part series about my recent travels through Spain.

View of Toledo from the top of La Iglesia de San Ildefonso.

The Vision of St. John (1608-
1614). Metropolitan
Museum of Art.

Many years ago, during my first trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I spotted a totally out of place painting. Taking a closer look, I thought someone had screwed up and accidentally placed a modernist painting in the European art galleries covering 1600-1800. Surely the artist who created the twisted and ethereal forms I was seeing was from the 20th century and not from hundreds of years earlier, right? Wrong. The painting, called "The Vision of St. John", actually dates from the the early 1600s. I was simultaneously baffled and awestruck. My initial thought was, "who the heck was painting in such a style back in the 1600s?!" The answer, as I found out a few seconds later, was a fellow from Crete who spent most of his life in Spain. His name was Doménikos Theotokópoulos (Δομήνικος Θεοτοκόπουλος), more widely (and perhaps more conveniently) known as "El Greco".

This painting, as well as the other works I saw by El Greco, amazed me. There was just something so haunting and so otherworldly about them. In the course of my travels, I would go on to see a number of El Greco's paintings in various museums, like San Francisco's Legion of Honor or Munich's Alte Pinakothek. Finally, I had the chance to make it to El Greco's adopted hometown, the old Spanish city of Toledo.

The history of Toledo is so rich and so complex that I won't even dare to attempt even brief overview with this post. What I will say is that Toledo is known as the "City of the Three Cultures", which refers to the days when it was a capital city with a vibrant cultural mix of Jewish, Muslim, and Christian inhabitants. Founded as a Roman city, Toledo would become the capital of the Visigothic Kindgom in the Iberian peninsula and then a center of Muslim-ruled Spain. Once the city was reconquered by the Christians in the 11th century, it became capital of the Kingdom of Castile and then served as capital of a unified Spain until the mid-1500s. Nowadays, the city effortlessly and proudly totes it's vast cultural offerings and draws tons of tourists. While there were many, many sites to see in Toledo, this post focuses on those sites connected with El Greco.

The sumptuously Moorish
interior of Toledo's
train station.

I was up quite early and was one of the many tourists heading out to Toledo in what would be a (very long!) day trip. The trip from Madrid's Atocha station to Toledo via the high speed train only takes about 30 minutes. As soon as I stepped out of the train, I was already impressed. Toledo's train station, while rather small, is a gem of neo-Mudéjar (Moorish revival) architecture. The lovely station has been welcoming passengers to the city since the 1920s.

Although it's quite possible to walk from the station to the old city center in about 20 minutes, I decided to hop on a bus to save some time. I would need it. The bus dropped me off at the Plaza de Zocodover, which was a short distance from my first stop: the Museo de Santa Cruz.

Courtyard of the Museo de Santa Cruz.

The Museo de Santa Cruz as an institution dates from the 1960s but is housed in a former hospital built in the 1600s. Museums adapted to fit old buildings are a favorite of mine and I thought the arrangement of the museum was quite lovely. Strolling through the quiet courtyard, which had Roman, Visigothic, Arabic, and Christian artifacts on display, was very pleasant. There were a few other visitors at the museum but it was still relatively quiet and relaxing. The lack of tourist hordes made visiting the painting galleries a particularly intimate experience. In addition to many works by other Spanish Golden Age painters, there were of course many works by El Greco. One work in particular made a very strong impression on me. 

It was a painting called "The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception". Dating from around 1611, the painting shows the Holy Spirit and a heavenly host of angels surrounding the Virgin Mary. The Immaculate Conception was a popular subject in European religious art and yet El Greco's phantasmagorical rendering of the scene easily stands out as one of the most distinctive. I can't say that I've ever had an ecstatic mystical vision but I'd imagine it would look something like this painting. In this work, like so many others, El Greco isn't painting earthly figures and simple portraits. He isn't just presenting a snapshot of a story. He's painting souls and spirits as a gateway to the supernatural realm.
 

Virgin of the Immaculate Conception (ca. 1611).
Museo de Santa Cruz, Toledo.

Catedral Primada Santa
María de Toledo.

Having finished up at the Museo de Santa Cruz, I then wandered toward the center of Toledo to visit the famous cathedral. Wandering through Toledo's winding, narrow streets is a fun, if disorienting experience. For me, it went something like this: I plan my path very carefully, head out, get confused and totally lost, decide to forge ahead nonetheless, and then somehow wind up at exactly where I wanted to be having taken a completely different path than originally planned. And so, following the above procedure, I emerged from an alley and somehow found myself at the main entrance of the cathedral.

Toledo's iconic cathedral was built in the 1200s and like Toledo as a whole, the architecture is a unique blend of Gothic and Mudéjar styles. There are literally many layers of history surrounding this grand structure. The present cathedral was built over the remains of the city's great mosque, which itself was built over the remains of an earlier Visigothic cathedral. The Toledo cathedral was also meant to be a symbol of spiritual and temporal might. The powerful and highly influential Archdiocese of Toledo was said to be the second richest after Rome and with such prestige, it makes sense that there would be heavy investments in masterpiece art. Among the many artists to receive commissions for the cathedral was El Greco. One of the paintings by El Greco that adorn the cathedral is "The Disrobing of Christ". This work is particularly significant for a number of reasons. The first is that it's the earliest example of El Greco's work in Spain (dating from 1577-1579). The second, is that it remains one of his most famous works. As you can see, the painting somehow simultaneously contrasts and integrates the sacred and earthly realms. Although Jesus is shown being tormented by his captors, his demeanor and physical presence (expressed by the flowing red robe) are also shown to transcend them. While it's always a great experience to view masterpiece art in a museum, nothing compares to seeing such works of art in their intended settings. There can be no better place for a painting like this than a soaring, majestic cathedral.

The Disrobing of Christ (1579). Cathedral of Toledo.

Courtyard of the Museo del Greco.

My tour of Toledo led me to the old Jewish Quarter, located in the southeastern section of the old city. Aside from having two of Spain's three surviving synagogues, this area also houses the Museo del Greco. The museum, which opened in 1911, occupies an old house from the 1500s. It was originally thought this house was where El Greco himself lived and the museum is still commonly referred to as "Casa del Greco" or "The House of El Greco". Even though El Greco himself didn't live here, the museum is packed with artifacts from the period he lived and gives a good feel for the domestic life of a Spanish Golden Age artist in Toledo. As you might expect, there are many works from El Greco to be found here. While viewing an exhibit containing portraits of various Apostles, I noticed an elderly German fellow with a small video camera, filming each painting and giving a softly spoken commentary of some sort. When I came nearer to this guy, I realized he was saying some pretty weird stuff. For example, while looking at a painting of St. James, he mumbled something along the lines of "Mmmmm, St. James...with these colors....we can see...everything...that we wish..." I quietly (if quickly) moved on to the other paintings.

There were three paintings in particular that really stood out for me. The first was a portrait of St. John the Evangelist. Showing St. John holding a golden chalice containing a dragon, the composition and especially the sharply shaped face of the figure reminded me more of a modern anime series instead of a Spanish Golden Age representation of a Biblical figure.
 

St. John the Evangelist (ca. 1610).
Museo del Greco.

The next painting was one titled "The Tears of St. Peter". Here, St. Peter is turning to heaven, begging for forgiveness after denying Christ during the Passion. I've seen a lot of sorrowful figures in a lot of melancholic paintings but this is certainly one of the most emotive. Seeing this painting up close, it really seemed as if holy tears were seeping out of the canvas.

The Tears of St. Peter (ca. 1582).
Museo del Greco.

While El Greco is most famously known for his religious paintings and portraits, he also painted a few landscapes as well. Only two survive and one the one display at the museum was the "View and Plan of Toledo". Here, El Greco presents a mystical view of Toledo. 

View and plan of Toledo (ca. 1610).
Museo del Greco.

La Iglesia de Santo Tomé.

A sign pointing the way to
the cathedral entrance.

After some more hours of exploring Toledo, I finally (and somewhat unexpectedly) arrived at the church I had been waiting all day to see. La Iglesia de Santo Tomé is a small church in the middle of the Jewish Quarter. To be honest, it was really just another old church: Mudéjar style, lots of done up Catholic imagery, old wooden pews, etc. This church, however, does have one massive claim to fame. It houses what is one of, if not the most famous and iconic work of El Greco, "The Burial of the Count of Orgaz". Don Gonzalo Ruíz, the Count of Orgaz, was a well-known philanthropist and pious devotee of the Catholic church in the 1200s. According to legend, a miraculous event occurred at his funeral. It is said that St. Stephen and St. Augustine entered the church dressed in golden bishop robes and personally placed the Count of Orgaz in his coffin. El Greco's take on this legend is so rich and vivid that I won't even attempt an analysis or explanation. I'll just say that St. Stephen is the young bishop, St. Augustine the old one, and that El Greco included himself in the painting (he's the seventh from the left, to the upper right of the hand).

The Burial of the Count of Orgaz (1586). La Iglesia de Santo Tomé.

The tourist tram.

After some more hours of exploring Toledo, I found myself back at Plaza de Zocodover, where I saw a cheesy looking tourist tram. My first thought was "oh man, how kitch", but when I looked at the route the tram would take, I immediately bought a ticket. Aside from a good audio guide and a nice roundabout circuit through the city, the tram also stopped at the hills overlooking the city. Although walkable, I was quite tired and didn't have the energy (or the time) to hike all the way up there. With the sun starting to go down, the tram stopped for about ten minutes to give us passengers time to enjoy an amazing, El Greco style view of the city.

Holy Toledo!

At the end of a very long day, I took a leisurely stroll back to the train station. On my way, I noticed an advertisement for huge exhibition called El Greco 2014 (showing St. John the Evangelist). The festivities will celebrate four hundred years since the passing of the great painter and will feature many exhibitions all over the city. Surprisingly, this is the first event of this sort to take place in Toledo. While El Greco has gained much appreciation in the modern age, many of his contemporaries and later critics viewed his unconventional style as bizarre. If by "bizarre" they meant "distinctive", then I'd be inclined to agree. El Greco's style is highly distinctive, which is exactly why I love it so much. He's one of those very, very rare artists that truly transcend style and time. As for the "El Greco 2014" festival, I have no doubt it will be a huge success and inspiration to many, like El Greco's art itself.