|
|
 |
|
Messiahs |
|
written
by peeter / 10.20.2005 |
|
|
|
|
|
| Two Michelangelo sculptures |
1 of 1 |
|
| |
Assignment |
| |
Hierarchical. The term dominates my mind as I take a broad look at Michelangelo’s “Moses” and the accompanying statues in San Pietro in Vincoli. I observe a well-weathered man, a strong and unfaltering leader. I have a hard time separating the Moses that I know from my first impressions of this three-dimensional rendering. The man is so enormously muscular, with a massive skeletal framework worthy of such bulk. The stacked tablets tucked neatly under his right arm look more like my closed titanium PowerBook than cumbersome monoliths of God’s design. His beard makes me think of a river god, and I wonder if Michelangelo was not inspired by the two pagan deities at Campo d’Oglio for which he designed a grand staircase. But Moses is not resting like those river gods. His mind is rushing, and he sits, but only transiently. His left leg is not centered, so his foot cannot lie flat against the ground. His face is intently directed towards something away from the light. Ready to leave, his mind is elsewhere. The leader of a displaced people must have foresight, and this Moses lacks none.
Entering through the non-descript back door of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, I immediately notice the long, rounded, porcelain-white “Risen Christ” by Michelangelo. The statue does not commandeer the amount of light typically utilized by the artist, as if it has been moved from its original location. The light it does receive seems to be indirect; reflected off of the marble floor or inadvertently radiated from the penetrating beams of sunlight that shoot through the round windows in the central aisle and project downward. The sculpture is very soft, with really no severity that would rattle the gaze of a before-calm onlooker. The figure is quite muscular, but not excessively so, and he stares slightly away from the natural light. Though he holds a cross, his grip is not entirely firm. His right hand is grasped about it somewhat awkwardly; the cross almost supports *him*. It may be more able to stand alone than he. Christ stares with knowledge, as if he is aware of his imminent crucifixion. Not wholly present, his head is turned—almost strained—away from the cross that constantly reminds him of the pain he must endure. He is not able to fully embrace his calling, but he must. He holds a staff because he is the Good Shepherd; a leader; the Savior. His interaction with the cross indicates that he cannot put it down: It is attached to him, clearly not in a literal sense only.
Charged with leading God’s people to the promised land, Moses’ role would later be filled by the Messiah; the “New Moses.” Michelangelo portrays each figure as a conscientious servant; one meek yet resolved, one full of insurmountable power. The former persona is given to the man that is God, and the latter is given to a man simply called by God. Although this seems strange, it is appropriate: God is someone with whom we must relate; Moses was a hero to be admired.
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
|
|
