In his new book, Seeing Medieval Art , Herbert L. Kessler examines the most recent scholarship and methodological approaches to the art and artifacts of the medieval period. At the outset, in his introduction, he acknowledges that many recent scholars in the field are not necessarily art historians: "Early on, the close relationship between images and words on many works caught the attention of semiologists; frequent quotation and reuse of materials have been amenable to post-modernist approaches; and the functionality of the objects has appealed to scholars with anthropological concerns." In his introduction, Kessler also defines and clarifies his area of concentration: the Latin West, generally from around 800-1300; functional objects such as books, altars, containers of relics and church doorways in addition to painting and sculpture, with architecture left to experts in that field. Kessler's approach is a response to a principal medieval claim that the function of art is to "show the invisible by means of the visible."
Utilizing a highly readable, straightforward style combined with a wealth of illustrations including 42 black and white figures and 12 color plates, Kessler leads his reader through eight different aspects of medieval art, one per chapter. Serving as chapter titles, these aspects are, Matter, Making, Spirit, Book, Church, Life (and Death), Performance and Seeing. Chapter 1, Matter, examines both the materials and the materiality of medieval art. It is Kessler's contention that the materials of medieval art were intended to maintain their own identity, and that this identity, separate from the identity of the image being presented, held its own significance. Part of this significance was underscoring the "artificiality" of the arts--it was left to the viewer to utilize his/her own inner vision to bridge the gap between the material object and the image. Additionally, some materials held their own specific meanings; gold and gems suggested heaven as the place of spiritual reward, while bronze suggested "trial by fire." Stone, as the material for a sculpture of Christ, suggested the "rock." It was the visibility of the material that assisted the viewer in negotiating between the work of matter and its spiritual significance, internally visualizing the sacred through the stimulus of the visible.
Making, the subject of the second chapter, looks at the medieval concept of the artist. Kessler here suggests that applying the modern concept of the artist as an individual creativity may be a mistake; even in such famous cases as the lintel at Autun where Gislebertus' prominently carved name prompted nineteenth-century writers to credit the work to him, Gislebertus may, in fact, have been the donor rather than the carver. Kessler outlines a highly plausible scenario of interactive group efforts involving not only donors or patrons, but also designers and fabricators, utilizing quotation and widely circulated pattern books, rather than relying on individual creativity. He also looks at the relationship of monasteries and courts with the individual fabricators; monks were often artists themselves, bringing together divinity and skill to create work that could invoke spiritual reflection. The ability of the work to evoke this spiritual feeling is the issue addressed in Chapter 3: Spirit. The purpose of tangible, material art was to provoke not only spiritual feeling, but also to bring Christ to memory. Kessler suggests that while the Latin West did not formulate a specific defense of art, such as that developed in Byzantium, a general rule based on the Incarnation of Christ did develop. It was felt that as the earthly and divine Christ were inseparable, images of the earthly Christ would evoke the divine, which could not, of course, be represented.
Book, Chapter 4, suggests that the Book was adorned to facilitate the Word becoming one with the reader--ingested as food and drink. Kessler cites examples of text written in the shape of a cross; an "I" illuminated to resemble a crucifix made the word and the image one and the same. In like manner, the Church, the subject of Chapter 5, was seen as God's house, and decorated like a manuscript. The decorations in the churches were often justified as books for the illiterate, although many images included lines of text. The church was seen as a precursor to the heavenly city of God, with the apse often serving to join heaven and earth. While the main body of the church was generally decorated according to standard practice, the side chapels were sometimes a place for experimentation; the whole served as preparation for the eternal, heavenly home.
Chapter 6, Life (and Death), documents a growing acceptance throughout the medieval period of the natural world. Naturalistic representation, tied to existing forms and events, gained popularity during both the classical revival of the Carolingian period and again through Frederick II. Thomas Aquinas drew on the newly reintroduced Aristotle to argue that nature was God's masterpiece, further justifying naturalistic representation. Kessler follows this with examples of increasingly naturalistic secular art, particularly works depicting the follies of love, sensuality and courtship.
Chapter 7, Performance, looks at art as an aid to ritualistic performances such as instruction, preaching, and pilgrimage, among other applications. Suggesting that art was understood as a pagan invention particularly well suited to conversion and education, Kessler cites specific examples in a variety of settings.
The final chapter, Seeing, looks at specifically medieval ways of viewing works of art. Art was intended to appeal to the senses in order to incite religious desire directed toward the Divinity, who remained unseen. Despite criticisms, such as Theodulf of Orleans suggestion that art was "food only for the eyes," and later Cistercian assertions that seeing art was "ocular lust," most Christian commentators agreed that art's value lay in its ability to provoke inner contemplation. One of the ways this was achieved, according to Kessler, was that the viewer, like Doubting Thomas, "saw one thing and believed another." Another means was the utilization of ambiguous forms: in Ottonian and Anglo-Saxon manuscripts, God's becoming visible was shown as a cloud. Light was seen as God's means of communicating with the human soul, and was used in a variety of ways, particularly stained glass. Although sight was considered the most powerful of the senses in the medieval period, art was also touched, kissed, felt, eaten and smelled. It was pictures, however, that made God's Word memorable--as they appealed to physical vision to evoke a mental image of that which could not be represented.
Overall, Herbert L. Kessler has done a wonderful job of addressing his subject: Seeing Medieval Art. Rich with examples and images, his text traces not only the contexts in which medieval art was utilized but the ways in which it was incorporated into medieval thought and practice, and the way it was intended to be seen. In conclusion, Kessler's own words best sum-up his idea that "what is needed to comprehend medieval art is still an informed imagination. The magnificent objects seen with human eyes only go so far. As was true centuries ago, the perception of the invisible world these objects represent requires the mind's eye."