Gormley’s simple, expressionless metal man greets us but we are not allowed to approach him, let alone touch his hand. In the next room Sassetta illustrates with almost Disnean colours episodes from the man’s life. Is this the same man? The same one we meet in the following room before the Egyptian Sultan painted by Fra Angelico?
The same that accepts a meek paw from a tamed wolf?
The same that has his hands pierced by rays emitted from a fiery, soaring cherub?
The extasy of this man unfolds with paintings by El Greco, Rubens, Zurbaran and, especially, Caravaggio in his almost Pre-Raphaelite narration.
The same that invented the Christmas Crib?
I could not believe at first such a valuable series had been assembled, some from America, in honour of this extraordinary being.
This man embraces the life of Christ and marries poverty. He loves nature and preaches to the birds. Yes, my namesake. A name signifying a French troubadour background and a free spirit. A nickname from his dad who later disowned him.Or was it he who disowned the dad?
This National Gallery exhibition is remarkably revealing of this simple yet complex saint. I remain confused at how a youth-about-town could give up chic clothing for sackcloth and chord, (present here as one of his relics),
how he could exchange marriage with a lovely girl for a marriage with poverty, how he could then tell that lovely girl to found a second Franciscan order based not just on poverty but on exclusion from the world.
Francis did not exclude the world. He embraced it and would have kissed the Sun and the moon as brothers and sisters if he could. Instead the saint from Assisi wrote a gorgeous canticle which is the first poem to be written in Italian and, moreover, is the foundation of green movements today.
His order recognized by the Pope, Francis did not seek to found another sect but aimed at returning Christianity to a true imitation of Christ. When the Pope allowed him to be tonsured Francis was overjoyed for this meant that the Church, which he so wanted to repair in brick, stone and spirit, accepted his friar’s rule.
I could not have accepted priestly tonsuring (which was only abandoned in 1974) and as for stigmata? Why does so much pain and poverty have to be associated with sainthood? Must all saints be martyred souls? Ok no pain without gain but even Zeffirelli mentioning his film (also shown here) on Francis confessed that he was disgusted by the man’s personal disregard for appearance and cleanliness.
These thoughts crossed my mind as I wandered through this amazingly comprehensive exhibition on someone who changed so much of our thinking on spiritual matters. Ranging from early mediaeval paintings (including one from Pistoia which is an almost direct copy of the earliest known portrait I know of Francis in his church at Pescia)
to strip cartoon comics accounts of his life
I felt truly touched by what I saw and was so glad to be there – and that through utter coincidence, since I had no knowledge of this event before flying to London from the country of the saint’s birth.
Here are some more of the ‘vignettes’ from the life of Saint Francis on show at the exhibition. (Ps the Giotto Frescoes are giant wallpapered photos.)
