Egypt means Coptic and other things!
Marge Zerbyl, Salem Arts Committee
Monday September 23
A couple of weeks ago, a group of six friends including myself visited the St . Mary’s Egyptian Coptic Orthodox Church Festival on a lovely 6.5 acre campus on Frederick Road just past the Howard County fairgrounds.
It was a beautiful summer day, and our group took a tour of a most intriguing exhibit filled with warm welcoming Christian friends who are trying to raise funds for a new Church. Our tour included both church areas covered with Coptic Christian Saint icons and paintings and an art filled museum area where the guide relayed stories From Egypt, including the time Christ’s family took refuge in Egypt, fleeing Herod’s brutality. The group learned that Coptic Christians in Egypt and other places in the Middle East have experienced persecution for generations up until today. Coptic Christians must pay additional taxes in addition to other injustices. We were amazed to learn that this church offers liturgy in three languages: English, Egyptian Arabic, and COPTIC language – both recited and in writing. Egyptian music flowed everywhere. Our guide was very knowledgeable and gave us a run down of various Coptic orthodoxies.
Also it was interesting to note that the monks who became Coptic priests were not allowed to marry, but the ones who had not become monks were allowed to marry.
The savory scents of exotic spices filled the air where church members offered Kebabs, kofta, shawarmas, stuffed grape leaves, falafel, fresh dates and varieties of desserts like kanafah, a cardamom rice pudding, fresh dates and other delights for the fundraiser. The children were offered chances to dress like a pharaoh, ride a horse, play outdoor games, have their faces painted – while adults could be treated to henna paintings on the hands and wrists. Henna treatments are used to celebrate weddings. They also had a table set up with olive wood carvings including crosses, bracelets, and statues from the Holy Land.
There were also art trinkets of pharaohs, the Sphinx, and pyramids. The members also had a display of brightly colored cloths and clothing made in Egypt, Kenya, and Palestine. In fact, they also had a booth set up to help those suffering in Gaza with various headdresses, t-shirts, honey and other foods hand made by Palestinians from Israel, Syria, Gaza and the West bank, to include pickled stuffed eggplant, eggs and other rarities.
It was a delight for those who had visited Egypt before and also a delight for those who have not to explore a distant exotic land that was so close to our early, early original Christian heritage. If next year they repeat this wonderful invitation to explore their world of early Christianity and culture, I recommend you visit! They are a bastion of early Christian stories that will make you feel closer to Christ.
Thoughts as I navigate the Detroit Institute of Art
Tricia Morgan, Salem Arts Committee
Saturday June 29
I parked the rental car in the parking area for a mere $7 for the day. It was about 10:30 on a Saturday, and I was surprised to see only a handful of other vehicles in the lot. In fact I’ve noticed a lot of “unpopulated space” in the Dearborn, Michigan area. The local mall was a ghost town, with rumors of closing soon. The roads, while heavy with construction everywhere, were virtually traffic free. While I was grateful for being able to drive easier on unfamiliar roads, it struck me as pleasantly eerie, if that’s a thing .
I began the tour by shoving my backpack into a museum owned locker, as backpacks were not allowed in the museum. I was a bit annoyed, as I was hoping to bring my iPad in to sketch, if the inspiration arose. I’ve been longing for a new dose of serotonin in pursuit of my next dopamine fixation. What art or craft will I fall onto next? But perhaps that was a way for God to tell me to stop, look, and listen, and I’m grateful for that.
The first area I went to was dedicated to Native American art. North and South American artifacts from burial sites, daily life, costumes, and modern Native American influences. I found what looked to me like a whistle with a particularly whimsical human character riding a toucan in flight. A black dual chambered jar with a hint of mica powder caught my eye as well. I rather enjoyed the rounded shapes, bold swirls, and bright colors that Native American traditions are known for.
Then I got lost and had to have a museum officer get me back on track before I accidentally wandered into a closed exhibit. And now that my anxiety was primed, it was time to visit the Romanesque hall. There was a gorgeously carved and painted choir seating for French nuns that made me thankful for the relative spaciousness in Salem’s choir loft. I poked around the exhibit to see an enormous carved stone baptismal font and rows of intricately carved columns from various middle eastern influences.
Tucked behind a corner, was a petite spiral staircase. Feeling adventurous (and praying it wasn’t illegal–it wasn’t roped off, after all), I climbed to the second floor. The colors and grandeur of the Italian Renaissance smacked in the face. I was definitely not ready for that! The second floor would have to wait. I still had other things to see downstairs. Plus, descending the spiral staircase made me feel like a pretty pretty princess…or at least the handmaid of one.
Next was arts of the Middle East. Here they organized the art in terms of materials. First outlining the technology of stone carving, then progressing to pottery and metallurgy. The thought that the purposes of these pieces ranged from tools to vessels for food and water, but then at some point all of the artifacts seemed to be nothing but weaponry, and it made me a little sad.
Following the ornate middle eastern room, I slipped into the wilds of Africa. Ceremonial dancing masks have always fascinated me. The sheer height of some of these face covers was astounding. The exhibit contained an abundance of masks and figures. Statues, finial forms, and headdresses. One ancestral screen made me wonder if it was a kind of coat rack, or weapon holder. “I’m home, dear! No weapons on the dinner table, put them on the ancestral screen, and come and eat”
Another display showed intricate beadwork that gave wonder to the artistry of the ancient world….until I noticed the date stamp was 1950. I looked more carefully to see that the male figure wearing this heavy garb had thick acrylic glasses…that were also beaded. It was the second African reference to Elvis I saw that day. Turns out, some tribes had the impression that the singer was a spirit of evil to be warded away.
On to the Islamic and Persian exhibits. The absolutely intricate detail, symmetry, and use of rich hues has always been one of my favorite genres of world art, and this exhibit did not disappoint. Rich woven textiles favored by medieval royalty, intricately painted tiles, and ornately carved doors were evenly displayed throughout the exhibit. Enamel inlaid earthenware, with polished gemstones lined well lit glass cases with mirrored backs so that one could see the back of the designs as well.
Then there was the calligraphy. It’s been ages since I picked up ink and stylus. The absolute perfection of the Arabic lettering on pages of glittering poetry and religious texts made me long for parchment and paints. I might have to dig out that particular craft when I get back…
Next was the Buddhist art gallery. Seeing the numerous busts that spanned centuries, it occured to me that the Islamic displays were scant on images of faces or human bodies. Whereas Buddha returned the human form to the forefront. Faces, heads, and hands flourished throughout, with hands and fingers particularly displayed more and more as I traveled into the Hindi exhibit.
Moving through Asia like the wind, I came upon the Noh exhibit of costumes, masks and musical instruments. A short video describes the samurai high society theatrical art form. I found it particularly interesting how the concept of balance was central to the work. Equal parts of sound and silence, movement and stillness. I may research this more later. I wonder if there are any Asian art exploration activities in Baltimore?
Another Japanese concept that I had never heard of before intrigued me. Tokonoma. It’s essentially an alcove to display meaningful works of art. A home’s personal little gallery. The artifacts would routinely be changed out. It’s a reflective place. I’m always impressed with the Japanese dedication to precision in their art. Every motion, every breath has a purpose, and voids are purposely considered. The ideal of balance is nurtured and religiously studied. People spend lifetimes perfecting one skill, with absolute thought and dedication to perfection in every aspect. It’s a curiosity with which I cannot identify. Stupid ADHD.
As I exited the Asian gallery, there was another display of calligraphy, this time from China. They referred to the use of “Treasures Tools”. I found it very pleasing to know that all of the pens, inks, and accouterments of artful writing were revered with that name. That’s definitely going to be a rabbit hole to go down when I get back.
Soon, I was back on the African continent, exploring Egypt in all her mystery. Of course 90% of this exhibit was associated with funeral and death rites, which was a bit depressing. And the fact that my light breakfast had worn off and I was getting a little peckish might have had some effect on the negativity in which I viewed this hall.
Thankfully, there was a lovely cafe that sold bougie french food, wine, and coffee drinks right around the corner. Unfortunately, the now very busy museum had overloaded the kitchen, and they stopped serving food for a time to let the kitchen catch up. No problem..been there, done that, and they had wine. I did peek over into the general cafeteria, but it reminded me too much of the roundhouse of standard mass produced confections that I get at work. I’m on vacation, I want to be culinarily impressed. The kitchen opened up soon enough and I was treated to the loveliest of lunches. I get truffle oil fries, a sandwich laden with turkey and brie on brioche, and an Italian Moscato. The creme brulee (my third favorite dessert) with Michigan cranberries, sealed the deal for a delightful and relaxing mid-day meal.
As it happened, my quaint spiral staircase was just to the left of this cafe. I felt that I was now ready to embark on the adventure of the Renaissance and all her gleaming varnish. I was not disappointed. I’m always struck by the sheer size of these grand paintings. Truly life-size or more, and rich in tone and figure.
The statuesque “Allegory of Hope” by Alessandro Turchy gave me a bit of a giggle as I watched the beautiful maid roll her eyes at the heavens, while gesturing to the earth with disdain. “You see what I have to deal with…making my job kinda hard, you know.”
Then as if in response, a few paintings down is Mary and Martha, the epitome of haggard and hostess. Mary, answering young Hope from the adjacent painting with “I know exactly where I belong and no one is going to tell me otherwise”. Onward were paintings of nobles, saints, and the entombment of Christ. The painting of the Ecstasy of Saint Francis was a bit too graphic for my freshly filled stomach, so I moved into the statue room filled with Renaissance iconography.
A picture of Jerome in his study by Jan van Eyck captured my attention a little too well. Among the giant portraits and frescoes was this tiny little about 6” x 8” oil painting of a man in a silly hat. I leaned in quite close to see if I could make out brush strokes or delineation of colors…they were so intoxicatingly vivid. The burly security guard’s “Ahem, ma’am, please stay at least an arms length away from the art” snapped me back to reality. Oops. Took a picture, will zoom in later. Sheesh.
Next I completely geeked out at seeing my first Monet, Manet, Cezanne, Van Gogh, Rodin, Renoir, Courbert, Degas, and Gervex….in less than a half hour. Spinning through the Impressionist halls like one of Degas ballerinas. I went back and just stared at them until they were imprinted on my retinas. Cafe Serene in Paris, by Henri Gerves particularly caught my attention. The thin beam of light on the woman to the right made everything seem so real. A day in the life of your average well-to-do Parisian. I’m pretty sure the walls of heaven are adorned with art like this.
And I daydreamed about it for a while until I turned the corner to see the most pastoral Seurat. I stared at the Seurat for a good 10 minutes before I recognized the thick swirling colors to my left. …then THE Van Gogh. My heart flew. Words can’t describe the emotion in his works. He made the Gauguin self portrait next look dull. I never really understood the appeal…his paintings always seemed so adolescent to me. But in person…they…glow. Not like the gilded and illuminated Renaissance virgin Mary. Not even like the Egyptian burnished brass and copper sarcophagi. No enameled Iranian chests or Chinese combs could compare. Van Gogh has a richness in his simple paints. There is such a balance of light and dark, open and busy spaces, and flowing yet quickened brush strokes. The absolute delicacy that he takes with the simplest of mundane tasks.
I thought that starry night would be my favorite (it was not at this museum, but MoMA is on the list!), but I was inexplicably drawn to “The Diggers”. I want to paint it. I want to live in it. I can feel the bits of dried grass in my shoe. I can smell the fresh earth they’ve recently overturned. What are they digging for? Truffles? A grave? Pulling up a stump? You really can’t appreciate it until you see it from every angle. It changes, softens or sharpens depending on proximity and angle. I can’t get over it. I went in circles in this room. The Seurat, the Bank of the Oise at Auvers, Basket with Oranges, Van Gogh self portrait, the Diggers, and back to Seurat. There were other pictures, other artists, I think. Happening upon the Seurat for a sixth time tripped me out of my hypnosis. There was still so much to see and the sun was heading west. I really wanted to see the Tiff Massey exhibit before they kicked me out.
I don’t particularly care for modern art. I appreciate it as another form of expression, and I’ve gotten over the “ugh, I can paint a yellow square, but would never make $3.6M off of it”…mostly. But this artist is representative of a plethora of genre. African American, woman, Detroit native, about my age (or at least the age I feel). Her wall sized pieces and giant metal sculptures are reminiscent of the grade school playground, but with a heftiness to them. The weight of the world on a strong, black, girl’s shoulders. A wall of green hair do’s, representative of all the style of a woman of color, from beads to Barrettes, weaves and braids. From 30 foot ceiling to floor, expertly woven directly into the canvas and intricately coiffed for every confident queen that can hold her head up. The little girl in me still envies the clicking beaded braids of my schoolyard companions. The next room housed giant sculptures of Bling. Fancy chains remind us that beauty is on the inside, but accessories make it shine.
A new confidence arose within me as I swished down to the museum gift shop. I HAD to find something with The Diggers, and did finally find a reasonably priced umbrella. Mom will be so proud that I skipped the $90 silk scarf. Nevermind the expensive coffee table books about Motown and Van Gogh that made it into my suitcase somehow.
All in all, this impromptu trek was a gleaming success. I look forward to coming back to the DIA in the near future. I’m also looking forward to visiting other museums in the US and abroad, although, I wonder if others will compare.