Hugh of Saint Victor: socio-economics of copying

Mystic Ark of Hugh of St. Victor

To prepare for lectures he gave about 880 years ago, Hugh of Saint Victor painted an extraordinarily intricate, multi-color teaching aid on the wall of the Abbey of Saint Victor in Paris.  The painting was probably about 4 meters tall and 4.5 meters wide.  It was “the most complex single work of figural art from the entire Middle Ages.”  Called the Mystic Ark, it placed a neo-platonic macrocosm / microcosm into a God-centered understanding of creation.  Unfortunately, neither the painting nor any copy or drawing of it has survived.

However, one of Hugh’s students wrote a 42-page verbal description of the Mystic Ark painting.  That description is a dull, matter-of-fact, non-literary text with “bare, utilitarian, even hurried description.”  It is not effectively organized, step-by-step instructions for duplicating the Mystic Ark.  It contains no illuminations or drawings of any parts or aspects of the painting.  Verbal descriptions of paintings were apparently so little valued in the Middle Ages that no other such descriptions longer than a single sentence has survived.  Nonetheless, the student’s verbal description of the Mystic Ark became a highly popular text by medieval standards.  Eight-eight manuscripts of it have survived across nearly nine centuries to the present.[1]

With years of research and painstaking effort, Conrad Rudolph, professor of medieval art history at the University of California, Riverside, has visually reconstructed the Mystic Ark.  Rudolph synthesized the textual description with relevant images that have survived from the period, place, and culture of the text:

Rudolph digitally reconstructed the painting using hundreds of individual images from a contemporary work of art, images that range from signs of the zodiac, celestial choirs and a map of the inhabited world to the biblical stories of the Exodus and the Ark of Noah, the arrival of Jesus Christ, and the Last Judgment. The stylistically consistent images were then painstakingly recombined digitally – cut up, flipped, altered, joined – over a period of nearly eight years… . [UCR Newsroom]

The U.S. National Gallery of Art commissioned a full-sized, digital printing of the Rudolph’s reconstruction. The print was first displayed on December 14, 2008 for Rudolph’s lecture at the National Gallery.  I attended that lecture and took a picture of the reconstructed Mystic Ark with my portable digital camera. That copy is displayed at the top of this post (a better, higher-resolution image, courtesy of Professor Rudolph, is here).

Factors other than the absence of digital cameras help to account for the popularity of the verbal description of the Mystic Ark.  The Mystic Ark concerned knowledge of major importance to the elite of its time.  The painting of the Mystic Ark was huge.  Because it would have cost far too much in parchment to paint on parchment, the Mystic Ark could only have been painted on walls. Hence a painting of the Mystic Ark could not be transported  and exhibited elsewhere.  Because the Mystic Ark has important, intricate details, a scaled-down painting or drawing of it would have obscured  lessons and arguments that it sought to teach.  Thus its specific content precluded cheaper, smaller-scale visual reproductions.  A verbal text was much cheaper to copy than was a large-scale wall painting.  For gaining knowledge of the Mystic Ark, a verbal description provided considerable value leverage.

The verbal description of the Mystic Ark also served personal and political interests. Among monks and cannons striving for places in hierarchies of knowledge and status, having a master or other teacher visually recreate the Mystic Ark showed that person’s authority. The imprecision of the verbal description accentuated the visual recreator’s authority.  The verbal description of the Mystic Ark thus served personal and political interests as a writerly text.[2]

At the same time, the intrinsic connection between the verbal description and the painting signaled knowledge beyond an endless stream of man-made textual arguments. In his Didascalicon: De studio legendi (1128), which was written about the same time as his lectures on the Mystic Ark, Hugh affirmed the unity of knowledge.  He declared that reading and meditation are the two principal activities by which a person advances in knowledge, and he set out comprehensive instruction on the activity of reading. The unity of knowledge assured that even a crude verbal description of the Mystic Ark ultimately led to the same knowledge as the painting of the Mystic Ark.  Shared confidence in the unity of knowledge supported broad demand for a politically potent verbal description.

The Morgan Picture Bible provides an interesting counterpoint to the painting and verbal description of the Mystic Ark.  Monastic readers dedicated to life-long study probably would consider the Morgan Picture Bible to be an extravagantly expensive device useful only for instructing the inattentive and illiterate among the rich and powerful.  However, like the painting and text of the Mystic Ark, the Morgan Picture Bible asserts the unity of knowledge. The Mystic Ark emphasizes the unity of salvation history and the natural order of the cosmos.  The Morgan Picture Bible, in contrast,  emphasizes the unity of salvation history and personal, bodily experience.

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Notes:

[1] The statements in this and the previous paragraphs have in the past been a matter of considerable scholarly debate. I assert them based on Conrad Rudolph’s convincing recent arguments in his ongoing work on the Mystic Ark. He described his work in two recent lectures at the U.S. National Gallery of Art: on December 14, 2008, “Time, Space, and the Progress of History in the Medieval Map”; and on December, 15, 2008, ” “Cosmic Politics: Hugh of St. Victor’s ‘The Mystic Ark’ and the Struggle over Elite Education in the Twelfth Century.”  See also Rudolph, Conrad (2004) “First, I find the center point”: reading the text of Hugh of Saint Victor’s The Mystic Ark. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, v. 94, pt. 4. Philadelphia, PA: American Philosophical Society.  The quoted phrases are from id. pp. 1-2, 76.  The dimensions of the painting are Rudolph’s estimates, based on his extensive work in reconstructing the painting.  The page count for the textual description is for a modern critical edition.  The textual description of the Mystic Ark orginally did not have a proper title, but it is now commonly titled The Mystic Ark.  To avoid confusion between the text and the painting, I explicitly specify either the textual or painted Mystic Ark.

[2] Such interests also motivate scholars to take a much more active role in organizing texts.  Developments of tables of contents, summaries, consistent chapter and verse numberings, indices, new page layouts, alphabetic indexing, and other such information technologies were quite dramatic with the rise of scholasticism from about 1140 to 1240.  See  Illich, Ivan (1993) In the vineyard of the text: a commentary to Hugh’s Didascalicon. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. The agency of readers has become a major strand in the ironic, essentalist narrative of post-modernism.

modern art of commerce

Art collections and art exhibitions tend to focus on things that can be collected and moved — artifacts.  Yet digital technologies and the Internet make particular human creative efforts potentially available to everyone, everywhere.  Unlimited Edition, a juried show that opened on December 12 at the Arlington Arts Center, highlights “works that explore mass production, marketing, and commodification.”[*] The show poignantly displays economic, social, and environmental circumstances of creative production and circulation.  It’s one of the best modern art shows this year in Arlington, a must-see show for everyone interested in art and society.  Admission is free.

Unlimited Edition‘s most impressive aspect is best appreciated on a sunny afternoon when few other persons are there.  Just inside the main entrance, in a near frame of monumental wooden stairways, one looks up to see in the middle of the raised main hall Cynthia Connolly’s Bicycle Postcard Rack.  It’s positioned like an ornate fountain in a stately, historical building. The deep, narrow view behind the sculpture leads through a bright, double-frame with a fringe of outdoor brick to end in a baroque, sun-yellow stained-glass portal.  No mere photograph could capture the effect of being there.  No other art exhibition could integrate place, history, and human creativity like this.

In striking contrast, Alexis Granwell’s and Josh Rodenberg’s solo exhibitions in rooms off the main hall lack radiance.  The two small rooms, with dull-white, newly painted walls and grey, institutional carpet, overwhelm the formal contrasts between Granwell’s and Rodenberg’s works.  The rooms diffuse to those works a common sense of cheap construction and clutter.  A cold, glossy, high-ceilinged space would have shown much different art.

Susana Raab’s photographs in Unlimited Edition display the familiar bizarreness of human interests and entertainments.  My favorite among these photographs is entitled The Unfortunate Result of the Demise of the Public Phone Booth.  This photo shows a man in a Superman costume stepping out of a portable toilet.  With head turned ninety degrees to his direction of step, he looks directly at the camera taking his picture.  By the way, Arlington County possesses one of the few remaining public phone booths in the greater D.C. metro area. I enjoy collecting photographs of phone booths, and I would like to add The Unfortunate Result of the Demise of the Public Phone Booth to the humorous section of my collection.  But Raab is limiting copies of her photograph to fifteen and selling them for $800 each.  I can’t afford to spend that much for a copy of an image.

Krista Birnbaum’s digital prints of weeds and garbage are magnificent.  Trash Pile with Weeds is a monumental print that conveys depth of space and time.  Happy Meal Wallpaper arranges weeds and garbage like a classical Chinese landscape.  I can think of no better advertisement for McDonalds than falsely believing that more Happy Meal detritus would generate more such landscapes.

Other works in Unlimited Edition address more conventional interests.  Carolina Mayorga’s Leeps-teek seems to me overwrought, as does use of lipstick in general.  Christine Bailey’s series of untitled black-and-white photocopies reminds me of bureaucratic work.  Joannie Turbek wraps for mailing pieces of porcelain birthday cake for her work, The Good Friend Project.  She apparently was swapping the site of her project when I attended the gallery.  She snatched away my naive enthusiasm for a rust-etched metal table top by authoritatively informing me that it was not part of the exhibition.

The most conceptually challenging work in Unlimited Edition is Kathryn Cornelius’s ReDOIT.  Cornelius’s work offers reflexive artistic critique and subtle but daring social commentary.  I missed the opening-night performance in which she, present in the Chairman’s Gallery via webcam, executed in her studio instructions persons interested in her work sent to her via Twitter, email, and through an on-site keyboard.  The day after her performance, the Chairman’s Gallery showed just two large, dead, wall-mounted screens separated in the corner by a dead keyboard.  This work provides an unsettling expression of digital art.  The unlimited editions of our electronic age are as transient as its power supply.

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Unlimited Edition, juried by Kriston Capps, Martin Irvine, and Welmoed Laanstra, is at the Arlington Arts Center through January 17, 2009.

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Note [*]: This is the description on the postcard for the show.  An Arlington Arts Center blog entry states that the shows explores “marketing, mass reproduction, and commodification in art.”  The exhibition website states that the show explores “the relationship between consumption, mass reproduction, marketing, and art.”  Mass reproduction might excite some more than mass production.  Whatever.  Who reads this stuff anyway?

virtual worlds

A whirl, light,
and within an opened
plane stands every bookspine.
Multitudes offer typed
fellowship, windows cross
blare and vanish.

Remember the white
box below the mirror.
The velvet compartments
that folded out,
stone rainbows with hinges,
frozen stars and clasps,
touching pearls.

Remember the mirror,
and off to the side
a single greying photograph
of mom and dad at their wedding.

celebrating access reform

Ninety-five years ago, on December 19, 1913, AT&T Vice President Nathan Kingsbury sent the U.S. Attorney General a letter in which AT&T agreed to allow other companies to interconnect with AT&T in order to provide long-distance telephone services. This Kingsbury Commitment was the beginning of access reform in the U.S.

The U.S. access reform centennial is now only five years away. Access reform, along with related intercarrier compensation issues, remain ongoing regulatory concerns in the U.S., in the U.K., and in many other countries around the world. More appreciation for the long history of access reform might help to inform current policy analysis.