It's thrilling to see Chris Gollon's work in a Cathedral which is enlivened by the witness of saints; in intimacy of the Galilee Chapel the lives of Bede and Cuthbert are joined by a company of women who know the depth of love and the pain of loss. We might 'know' their stories; we might be encountering for the first time today. They, like us, are confront the messiness of life: despair and hope, vulnerability and power; passion and endurance.
It's humbling to be here, in this holy place alongside as we encounter these women face to face; women whose stories we hand over to Christ and receive back afresh. Humbling because 20 years ago this weekend I was a fresher at Trevs; a young woman grappling with theology, trying to make sense of vocation, establishing friendships, student life between first love & final exams
Tonight our lives intersect for a moment. A moment where we rightly enjoy wine and conversation. A moment when we look at faces other than our own, and perhaps see ourselves differently. A moment where we see the fullness of humanity laid bare in Chris's images. He invites us to pay attention to particular lives; to be drawn into moments of exhaustion, trepidation, hope and decision alongside them.
Chris makes us wait with these women - some of them iconic others unknown: Rachel, Hannah, Lucy, many nameless wives, the women of Jerusalem and the woman caught in adultery. Their loves and losses, prayers and cries interact with ours. Our lives, yours, mine and those of today's freshers, express the same hopes, fears and potential
Chris Gollon (2015)
Jesus and the Woman Taken in Adultey (Jesus Draws in the Dust)
And yet, Chris invites us to contemplate something more. There is humanity in his art; but there is also transcendence. Amidst darkness there is an intensity of light; amidst heartrending cries, bruised skin and the hands that plead, nurse, protect and accuse there is something transformative and compelling. As the Irish poet Micheal O'Siadhail puts it 'even in our brokenness something of the beyond is breaking in'.
In Mary we see intimacy of a mother cradling an infant son, in a glow of radiant light. She holds the one who is God with us. We glimpse a creative love that will not let us go. In Judas' Wife we see grief writ large in its incomprehensible disruption and alienation. In the Pieta we see the cost of redemptive love as Mary bears the dead weight of her son, with prayerful resilience. In Mary Magdalene's exhaustion and tenacity, we see new light at the foot of the cross. We might call it grace, or hope; a glimpse of resurrection.
How do we make sense of our stories in the context of a story with cosmic significance. Chris brings illumination in new images shown for the first time. Images which reveal our frailty and the intimate otherness of the Word made flesh. In the triptych entitled Jesus and the Woman Taken in Adultery (Jesus Draws in the Dust), Chris draws us into a moment fraught with tension and frailty. The crowd is hostile, impatient and accusatory; the woman is fearful, humiliated and condemned. Jesus draws in the dust – he risks giving us space and time to look at ourselves; to see things differently.
Inspired by Rowan Williams' reflection on this story and shaped by our conversations, Chris extends this moment – rooting it in earth and flesh; infusing it with light and assurance. Wagging fingers, tear stained eyes, trembling lips and Jesus’ gaze holding the hope of forgiveness and release. Judgment is made in the subversion of judgement. As we wait for fears to disperse, we glimpse a moment of grace.
The graced-ness we see is the enduring power of a love that will not let us go; that will not stop forgiving. Love that reaches to the depths of betrayal and despair; love that restores us in exhaustion and misdirected desires; love that draws us into new hopes and possibilities. Love we glimpse in gestures these women make; the pauses we hold. Incarnation is the fullest expression of love.
Chris releases light radiating from the Christ figure - addressing one woman and a volatile mob. It's a light that captures his power to heal. The crowd is crowding in on him in need. Person by person, they encounter him; his touch restores and makes whole. Such transformation extends beyond the canvas. His light draws us in; it irradiates us.
Chris Gollon 2015
Jesus Healing the Sick
Thank you Chris for holding a series of moment and inviting us to glimpse eternity in humanity; for letting us explore love, intimacy, grief and renewal. Thank you for giving us permission to be provoked and inspired; to wait, to walk away and to see what unfolds moment by moment.
© Julie Gittoes 2015
