Titanium white pigment

Titanium white pigment: a metaphor for modern times.

I learnt a very important lesson when I started to write religious icons do not use Titanium white for mixing especially for skin tones.  If you do the colour becomes bland and greyish or at best  Miami Vice pastel‚ as I call it.  Instead Zinc white should be used as it mixes with other pigments and lightens and works with colours rather than overpowering them like Titanium white does. Zinc white is less opaque making the coloured undertones more nuanced to a greater degree than pigments mixed with Titanium.

Zinc oxide was first suggested as a pigment in 1782 while it wasn't  until 1916 that Titanium white pigment suitable for artistic purposes was introduced replacing Lead white which had been restricted because of its toxicity 1.   Titanium it seems has become the white pigment of our times.

Titanium white is used in writing/painting icons but only sparingly. Traditionally the very last thing an iconographer would do is apply the highlights to the eyes of the saint with Titanium.  This is done on the edge of the iris but the pupil does not have a highlight for the figure portrayed ‚ is outside the condition of time.2  The true source of Light shines from Divine presence and permeates all things.  This in itself suggests unity, balance and perfection which is what an icon should reveal.

Broadening out this theme of unity and balance consider practices, structures and political and economic systems which when left unchecked or when a mandate becomes too large have a negative or destructive effect on people and the environment.

In his book Columbus and other Cannibals‚  Jack D. Forbes describes the Native American term Wetiko as referring  to a cannibal or, more specifically, to an evil person or spirit who terrorizes other creatures by means of terrible acts including cannibalism.3  Forbes then defines Cannibalism as the consuming of another  life for ones own private purpose or profit.4 Cannibalism as defined by Forbes is not the literal eating of another mans flesh but rather is the act of consuming the other, their values, their culture, their land and their voice by a oppressive regime intent on overpowering and destroying for its own benefit. This destructive culture is understood as rife with sickness, Wetiko.   A major symptom of Wetiko is greed particularly for wealth and power.

I don't agree with everything Forbes writes but I do appreciate what he says about the spread of this sickness.  This greed for wealth and power is not a trait of one particular race or culture but rather can be found everywhere.  But when this greed becomes normalised or excused  a culture becomes unbalanced and the tilt towards the greedy results in the manifestation of huge social injustice, disempowerment, then eventually a slow emergence of  simmering discontent and finally a full blown rage by the oppressed.

Also as a counter to the call for justice, some people in positions of power will use smear tactics and gross generalisations to undermine voices of dissent against greed and social injustice.  Such tactics are the domain of the intellectually lazy and greedy.  Their voice is in part motivated by a fear of loss, loss of wealth and status and yet calls for social and economic justice do not require this but rather ask for a system where people and nature are  not chewed up and spat out for the benefit of a few.  As we all know greed will always be part of this world but when the colours and diversity of this world become muted by a small overpowering element it becomes time to act.

Perhaps if we begin again to understand and believe in this world as an icon of beauty and that its mix of colour expresses a divine truth then we might begin to wake up from this slow destructive illness that can cloud our vision and harden our hearts.  Titanium white has its place on the universal palette but only in small controlled applications.

1:  Pigments through the Ages‚ www.webexhibits.org/pigments/indiv/history/titaniumwhite.htm2:  The Technique of Icon Painting‚ Guillem Ramos-Poqui, Morehouse Publishing, 19903:  Columbus and other Cannibals‚ pg. 24 Jack D. Forbes Seven Stories Press 19794:  Columbus and other Cannibals‚ pg. 24 Jack D. Forbes Seven Stories Press 1979

Pilgrimage of the heart

Sometimes there is an artwork which stays  in your heart and mind.  The Isenheim Altar piece is for me one one such work.

My first degree was in Religious Studies and Art.  For my dissertation I studied the Isenheim Altarpiece attributed to Mathias Gruenwald and painted in 1506 - 1515. Originally painted for the Monastery of Saint Anthony in Isenheim it is now on display in the Unterlinden Museum in Colmar, France.  The monks at the monastery were known for their work with people with skin diseases and from the Altarpiece's tortured figure of Christ on the Cross you can see the artist had this in mind.

I don't have a copy of my dissertation but I certainly remember writing it.  It was during Lent 1996. I was staying in the house of a Franciscan Nun (third order) who was away.  In Dove Cottage there was no television and few disruptions so I could focus on the task at hand. For hours I meditated on the crucifixion and explored its symbolism, form and theological meaning and of course the house was full of other religious imagery. Deep stuff but also quite poignant as I was myself going through a period of grief and suffering.  I can remember stuffing the stove with wood to keep warm and huddling beside it giving thanks that I wasn't called to be a monk!  My suffering though was not caused by the cold but rather was an ailment of the heart.

I wrote of the arms of the crucified figure of Christ being stretched out to the cosmos distorted by the hatred of man.  Hands that had once been the hands of a carpenter, hands that created. I reflected on the feet of Jesus so disfigured and grotesque a large nail tearing them apart.  It was all very disturbing.  I wrote a letter to Sister Wendy Beckett a famous art critic to ask her thoughts about images of the crucifixion.  She very kindly wrote back saying she found it to painful to spend time meditating on such images.  I cherish this letter. Fifteen years later I travelled to Colmar to see for the first time in real life the Isenheim Altarpiece.  Travelling through beautiful countryside on the train from Paris I shared with a friend memories of my time in the cold little house of the Franciscan nun, my need for warmth and of my inner turmoil at the time.  Memories flooded back. I remembered a retreat to a Franciscan Monastery in Dorset not long after my stay at Dove Cottage. Sitting in the chapel I gazed at the Franciscan Cross. Unlike the Isenheim Triptych the Jesus on this cross is sleek and beautiful. For a moment I visualised him leaning over and surrounding me with his arms in a warm embrace followed by the cross which enveloped us both.  I felt a mixture of love and empathy mixed with a little fear. I wondered about the significance of this vision (if I can be allowed to call it that). Is love never experienced without suffering?

Standing in front of the Isenheim triptych I gave thanks for past lessons. Lessons learnt? Well thats another blog entry but I certainly stood as someone without regrets.  I was also pleased to see the altarpiece had been displayed so that all the panels could be seen. The beauty and vibrancy of Gruenwald's resurrection stood in stark contrast to his crucifixion.  Here Christ dances in the air in a flamboyant display of joy and victory swathed in beautiful colours and divine light.  Fifteen years is a long time to wait to see the resurrection but I was happy.

For the remainder of my time in France I stayed with my friend's uncle and aunt who showed wonderful hospitality.  I sat in their garden feeling the warmth of the sun, ate great food  and listened to my friend play the piano while we sang songs of love and memories. www.musee-unterlinden.com/isenheim-altarpiece.html

Horomatangi

I grew up by Lake Taupo.  It has always been a beautiful place but just under the surface of what can be at times a perfectly still and mirrored lake is a bubbling cauldron of thermal activity.  Lake Taupo is a huge crater lake.   I myself have nearly drowned in it three times but Horomatangi hasn't managed to get me yet!

A taniwha in Lake Taupo.

This fierce taniwha lives by Motutaiko, an island in Lake Taupo, in an underwater cave on the western side.  People used to avoid the island because Horo-matangi, if he saw them, would lash the water into high waves, overturn their waka and carry them down to his cave.  This happened in good weather as well as bad.

At times Horo-matangi assumes the form of a reptile, or the form of a black rock.  Some say he is an old man red as fire.  His attendant Atiamuri, a taniwha in the shape of a man, was not dangerous in himself but would act as a decoy, attempting to lure unsuspecting travellers in Horo-matangi's direction.  At twilight he would paddle a waka towards a settlement by the lake, going just near enough to be dimly seen.  When the villagers called a welcome, he would disappear into the darkness and they would realise that Atiamuri had been trying to lure them to their death.

Many people have considered Horo-matango to be the custodian of the mana of Lake Taupo.  Certain tohunga were his mediums, such as Te Ihu at Tapuaeharuru, who was said sometimes to live with him in his cave.  As well, Horo-matangi is associated with two stone dogs high up on the Karangahape cliffs, on the lake's western shore.  These dogs are never seen but may be heard howling on misty mornings.  If paddlers on the lake were ever foolish enough to insult them by pointing their paddle or calling to them, Horomatangi would at once send a storm.

The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Maori Myth and Legend.  Margaret Orbell  Canterbury University press 1995. pg. 67

Regan O'Callaghan 'Horomatangi' acrylic painting, taniwha, Lake Taupo, Mount Ruapehu, Mount Tongariro,

Blood Tree

Sitting on the bus traveling to the studio I read in the paper the sad story of the murder of Vittorio Arrigoni an Italian pacifist and peace activist he had been based in Gaza for three years working to promote the rights of Gazan fishermen.  You can read the article here.

There is video footage of Vittorio where he speaks of his love for the Palestinian people and his desire that they have freedom.  While some of what he says seems a little naive I couldn't  help but be moved by his sincerity, his passion and his openness.

I arrived at the studio with a painting in my mind and in my heart.  Initially I had pictured a peace tree in honor of all the peacemakers who work for the betterment of all humanity. What emerged instead was a tree that seemed to pulse with blood drawn up by its roots from the blood soaked earth, blood that coursed through the trees limbs and then dripped out from its branches back into the soil where the blood would be drawn up again continuing an ongoing cycle.

In the article Vittorio's mother Beretta is quoted as saying: "Vittorio always said: "Let us remain human, even in the most difficult moments". I would ask him "How can you stay human at certain times?" And he would answer: "Because, despite everything, there must always be humanity within us. We have to bring it to others". (The Guardian ¬†Pg. 17, Saturday 16th April 2011).

The Blood Tree is about sacrifice and suffering but it is also an expression of my belief that these things are not necessarily in vain. Such examples of meaningless violence including the murder last week of Israeli actor Juliano Mer-Khamis, who ran a theatre in the West Bank city of Jenin grant us obvious choices, to ignore or to remember.  To ignore is at the cost of our own humanity.  To remember is also costly and at times painful but to remember honors what Vittorio said we must do which is to bring our humanity to others.  By sharing our humanity we share ourselves at the deepest level, a state of being that not only reveals our interconnectedness, our blood ties, but also our rootedness to the earth to which we all belong and ultimately to the heavens which we yearn for and reach out to.

Te Aroha O Rongoheikume

Regan O'Callaghan lucy's wharenui, Taupo Museum, New Zealand

Te Aroha O Rongoheikume(For the love of Lucy)

" Between 1924 and 1927 Tene Waitere (my great great uncle) worked on a set of carvings for his niece Lucy Rongoheikume Reid (left), daughter of Taima Te Ngahue. Lucy is my great-grandmother. The carvings were for a wharenui (house) which wasn't built. They were bequeathed to the people of Taupo in 1960 but mostly stayed in storage until 2000 when the wharenui was finally erected in the Taupo Museum.

When you enter the wharenui it is customary to take off your shoes. Inside are more panels carved by Tene. They represent our ancestors. Growing up I can remember in my grandmothers back garden another carving by Tene. It was slowly rotting away. I drew it as part of a project for school.  The design was used on the cover of the end of year school magazine. Tene was a renowned master carver.  He was often commissioned to carve pieces for visiting dignitaries including the Prince of Wales in 1921 and the Duke and Duchess of York in 1927.