Showing posts with label Norwich Cathedral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norwich Cathedral. Show all posts

Saturday, 28 March 2015

Hope in waiting and brokenness


Chris Gollon's exhibition "Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible" was at Guildford Cathedral last year and now on a national tour of cathedrals.  His work has a tremendous capacity to draw us into stories and moments that are unanswered and unresolved. These paintings capture sexuality and power, longing and loss, tenacity and exhaustion,   tenderness and violence.  Gollon pays attention to the detail: to little things; to nameless women and those women whose stories we think we know.  His images have compelling intimacy and the horror of brutality.

Gollon enables us to inhabit even familiar stories without knowing the outcome; or rather, despite knowing what happens next, we are caught up in glimpses of prayer, sorrow, contemplation or bewilderment.  

 Chris Gollon: ‘There Was No Remedy (Gollon Version)’ 2012

In this image, he refuses to resolve the moment for us.  Here is a woman whose expression conveys a depth of hopelessness.  Perhaps the honesty of that is strangely liberating – it expresses a truth that sometimes we find ourselves beyond words. We cannot escape the reality that unfairness, cruelty, illness and even our own tendencies to shut ourselves off can isolate us.  In those moments we can do nothing other than go through it.

That waiting creates a capacity to endure; it forms our character.  It is sometimes all there is: this abiding in love; this refusal to collude with a naive optimism; this facing of the darkness as the tears dry on our cheeks.  Gollon makes us fix our gaze on one for whom there was no remedy. As she abides and endures, Paul's words to the Romans echo within us:  suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because  God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us (Romans 5:3-5).

Hope is the confidence placed in God: which faith expresses and which love makes known. Such confidence, the substance of such hope, flows from an experience of God. This experience of being accepted is not just in relation to Paul’s personal encounter with the risen Lord. He is expressing a conviction rooted in the content of faith.  He is convinced about human reliance on God in the midst of suffering.  Patience is not for him a stoical attitude; rather it is about assurance in the face of adversity which leads to greater resilience and character. Justine Allain-Chapman in her book ‘Resilient Pastor’ takes this argument further to say it also increases our capacity to be altruistic. She argues this not just on the basis of Scripture and the Christian tradition, but psychological studies.

Hope does not disappoint because we are not reliant on human resources, but on the love of God poured into our hearts by the Spirit. Paul invites us to trust in God’s love poured out in creation; that love made manifest in Christ as life-giving power; and in the Spirit as the channel of that ongoing sustaining and character forming love. 

That overwhelming love is revealed in the cross: here love human and divine is poured out.  Mary is emotionally exhausted and spiritually spent; yet there remains a physical strength.  In boldly choosing to focus on the base of the cross, Gollon intensifies the harrowing reality of her suffering; but he also makes us pay attention to the faithfulness and endurance of a woman whose life is woven into the Gospel, whose story continues to arouse our curiosity.  We have to wait with her as she waits alongside her beloved Lord.


Chris Gollon: Mary Magdalene at the Base of the Cross (2013)

She is named as Mary Magdalene - a woman who is restored to wholeness and dignity through her encounter with Jesus.  The stories of other nameless women are attributed to her: stories of sexual impropriety or exploitation; of penitence and restoration; of mental anguish and healing. She is the type of women who witness to who Jesus is: lavishly anointing his feet with oil and tears; crying out with fear and despair on the way to Calvary; waiting at the cross, near the tomb and in the garden. Our imaginations are shaped by all that is told in memory of her; all that is told points to a reality beyond our imagining.

In this particular painting,
Gollon draws us into a moment of sheer endurance in the face of suffering. Mary has refused to walk away.  Her exhaustion is a moment in a vigil that is yet to come to an end; her whole being responds to the one who transformed her life in and through love.  Love has been poured into her heart by Jesus - the one who is the fullness of God's love made perfect in human weakness. Gollon presents us with a woman whose character has been formed by sorrow, acceptance, loyalty, challenge and compassion. Her character is seen in sinew and touch; in her poise and closing eyes.

Mary Magdalene has both passed beyond and also anticipates this moment without remedy. She has confronted the horror of the cross and sleep weighs heavily on her. Yet when she awakes she will stand bewildered before an empty tomb; she asks through her tears 'where have you laid him?'  She waits in the hope of being able to treat her beloved Lord with dignity in death.  Yet before we reach the garden, Gollon refuses to allow the darkness to overcome.  As in Watts' 'Hope', this woman cannot see - her eyes closed in exhaustion; caught up in the deep sleep of grief.  Unlike 'Hope', she is not making a note on her broken lyre; instead her hand grasps the base of the cross.  Here the love of God stakes a claim in the midst of all that appears calamitous, hopeless and final. For Watts, light was a single star; here light breaks in like the dawn.

As the poet Micheal O'Saidhail writes in ‘Knowing’  A majesty and awe, but even more the wonder/That something is where nothing might have been. Even in our brokenness a beyond is breaking in.  Vivid oranges and yellows infuse this moment with hope. A hope that does not disappoint because it is rooted in the love of God which is being poured out in sorrow and at the end, at the moment of final breath. It is  a love being poured out in endurance that means this moment is also the beginning of life. Love has taken root in Mary's heart; a love that she will recognize when her risen Lord calls her by name.  She will bear witness to what she has seen - love welling up in her heart.


© 2015 Julie Gittoes

Wednesday, 18 February 2015

What is this?

Reflections on Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible at Norwich Cathedral.

Having seen Chris Gollon's paintings at Guildford during Christmastide last year it's thrilling to discover new levels of intimacy and challenge as they go on show here during Lent, into Holy Week and Easter.  It's profoundly moving & exciting to see Canon Dr Peter Doll and others deepen this conversation. I want to say a few things about Chris's work, Julian of Norwich and what this exhibition might say as we gather here at the start of Lent.


Julian of Norwich
Chris Gollon 2013

Chris Gollon's work has a tremendous capacity to draw us into stories and moments that are unanswered & unresolved. These paintings capture sexuality & power, longing & loss, tenacity & exhaustion, tenderness & violence.  Gollon pays attention to the detail: to little things; to nameless women and those women whose stories we think we know.  His images compelling intimacy and the horror of brutality.

I'm not going to tell those stories for you:  you can face them, read about them, ponder them.  Chris invites us to pay attention with patience & endurance. In this exhibition we can't escape the cries, the faces, the physicality; the touch of hands; the bruised skin.  He refuses to yield to a false optimism: he makes us wait with Hannah, Rachel, Mary, Judith and  the women of Jerusalem. These are lives that are deeply particular yet their stories are cosmic in scale. Chris asks in the face of all these moments 'what is this?'

Julian of Norwich asks that same question: what is this?  As David Tregunna has already said, her painting is especially apt for this show.  She's a scholar and a theologian, writing in English; she's an anonymous woman who's named after a place. In the face of her own illness (and possible death), she had a vision of light and love.  It is a vision of the divine.  In the face of the complexity of humanity, our frailty and mortality her attention is drawn to a tiny object in the palm of her hand. She asks 'what is this?'. What sense to I make of this? What meaning to I find in this?

As she gazes on what in tradition is regarded as a hazelnut, she begins to contemplate the mystery of God - of the transcendent, the other, the beyond breaking into our brokenness.  She realised that all that is made is loved and sustained by the love of God.  The arch of that love takes us from delight creation, through the disruption of what we call sin or the fall, to the glimmer of consolation in God with us as infant and adult.

As we gather on the cusp of Lent our attention shifts from nativity to calvary; from birth to death.
As we make that move, Chris draws invites us to pay attention to an apple. As David has said, this is the first time the 'Madonna of the Apple has been shown.  An apple in the hand of Eve: a symbol of temptation, misdirected desires, our human propensity to mess things up. An apple in the hand of Mary: a sign of redemption, self-giving love, God propensity to forgive and restore.


Madonna of the Apple
Chris Gollon 2012

Julian captures that arch of meaning - of a love that will not let us go; and the assurance that all shall be well.  Chris invites us to inhabit that story afresh - allowing space to ask questions about loss and renewal, grief and gift; questions which are more spacious than answers.

Tonight and over the coming weeks,  we are drawn into the intimacy of seeing these face - paying attention to them; letting these paintings see us; waiting with them.  And perhaps, we catch light in Hannah's wordless prayer; in Julian's serious attention; in Mary Magdalene's refusal to walk away; in Lucy's fearlessness; in a mother cradling a son in infancy and in death.

Perhaps moments such as these are less like endings, but new beginnings. Perhaps our stories will be woven into them.  Perhaps we will catch a glimmer of  hope and renewal that we come know, with baited breath, like a breaking dawn, as resurrection.

Thank you Chris for opening up this horizon that takes the story of incarnation and these women beyond words.

© 2015 Julie Gittoes

Friday, 13 February 2015

Mary Magdalene - love poured into human hearts


Magdalene at the Base of the Cross
Chris Gollon 2013

Twelve months after its opening at Guildford, Chris Gollon's solo exhibition  'Incarnation, Mary and Women from the Bible' begins its national tour at Norwich Cathedral (from 17 February). On Sunday 8 February, Gollon spoke on BBC Radio Norfolk about his depiction of Mary Magdalene at the foot of the cross. She is emotionally exhausted and spiritually spent; yet there remains a physical strength.  In boldly chosing to focus on the base of the cross, Gollon intensifies the harrowing reality of her suffering; but he also makes us pay attention to the faithfulness and endurance of a woman whose life is woven into the Gospel, whose story continues to arouse our curiosity.

She is named as Mary Magdalene - a woman who is restored to wholeness and dignity through her encounter with Jesus.  The stories of other nameless women are attributed to her: stories of sexual improprity or exploiation; of penitence and restoration; of mental anguish and healing. She is the type of women who witness to who Jesus is: lavishly annointing his feet with oil and tears; crying out with fear and despair on the way to calvary; waiting at the cross, near the tomb and in the garden. Our imaginations are shaped by all that is told in memory of her; all that is told points to a reality beyond our imagining.

In this particular painting, Gollon draws us into a moment of sheer endurance in the face of suffering. Mary has refused to walk away.  Her exhaustion is a moment in a vigil that is yet to come to an end; her whole being responds to the one who transformed her life in and through love.  Love has been poured into her heart by Jesus -  the one who is the fullness of God's love made perfect in human weakness. Gollon presents us with a woman whose character has been formed by sorrow, acceptance, loyalty, challenge and compassion. Her character is seen in sinew and touch; in her poise and closing eyes.

Gollon refuses to resolve this moment for us. We have to wait with her as she waits alongside her beloved Lord. That waiting creates a capacity to endure; it forms our character.  It is sometimes all there is: this abiding in love; this refusal to collude with a naive optimism; this facing of the darkness as the tears dry on our cheeks. In an earlier painting, Gollon makes us fix our gaze on one for whom there was no remedy:


There Was no Remedy 
Chris Gollon 2012

Mary Magdalene has both passed beyond and also anticipates this moment without remedy. She has confronted the horror of the cross and sleep weighs heavily on her. Yet when she awakes she will stand bewildered before an empty tomb; she asks through her tears 'where have you laid him?'  She waits in the hope of being able to treat her beloved Lord with dignity in death.  Yet before we reach the garden, Gollon refuses to allow the darkness to overcome. 

As the poet Micheal O'Saidhail writes in Knowing  'A majesty and awe, but even more the wonder/That something is where nothing might have been. Even in our brokeness a beyond is breaking in'.  Vivid oranges and yellows infuse this moment with hope. A hope that does not disappoint because it is rooted in the love of God which is being poured out in sorrow and at the end, at the moment of final breath. It is  a love being poured out in endurance that means this moment is also the beginning of life. Love has taken root in Mary's heart; a love that she will recognise when her risen Lord calls her by name.

She will bear witness to what she has seen - love welling up in her heart.

Yet, in this moment she abides with us at the base of the cross - where love human and divine is poured out.

As she abides and endures, Paul's words to the Romans echo within us:  'suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because  God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us' (Romans 5:3-5).

© 2015 Julie Gittoes