I am back at The Cupboard Under The Stairs again after my exile for reasons of the total power down of the building for a few days. The electricity is flowing, but it is still dark in here. But that’s another story.
As a wrap up, here are some items from my last couple days which didn’t make it into earlier posts.
You might recall that I had been searching out fabrics for sets of Pontifical vestments in white (to take some pressure off of the gold set) and in rose (because every diocese needs a Pontifical set in rose). Hence, I stopped at the ecclesiastical fabric company in Manhattan’s Garment District (on the block opposite to where Holy Innocents is), La Lame. I was looking for trim.
At the Met, I saw this. This is “Laughing Fool”, Netherlandish, c. 1500.
What is interesting is the inclusion of the eye-glasses in juxtaposition to the way he peeks through his fingers, thusly implying that he knows more than he says.
From the ridiculous to the sublime, this is a 13th c. French ivory in a style that harks to the era of St. Louis IX (+1270). Note the Child reaching to touch the face of the Virgin, often found in Byzantine icons.
Another… in oak, also Parisian.
On a larger scale, a statue Meune Valley, 14th c., from a chapel of the Beguines of St. Catherine.
And in limestone, Lorraine, early 14th c.
What’s up with this? Behind this is probably a verse from the Song of Songs (2:6 with some context):
I am the flower of the field, and the lily of the valleys. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters. As the apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired: and his fruit was sweet to my palate. He brought me into the cellar of wine, he set in order charity in me. Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples: because I languish with love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me. I adjure you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and the harts of the, fields, that you stir not up, nor make the beloved to awake, till she please. The voice of my beloved, behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills. My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart. Behold he standeth behind our wall, looking through the windows, looking through the lattices. Behold my beloved speaketh to me: Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come.
One then needs time at The Strand – a great bookstore – before meeting friends for lunch.
I especially enjoyed a couple racks of old pulp fiction. I must get that vampire novel done.
A visit to St. Francis Xavier Church horrified me.
Look what these barbarian Jesuits did to the altar of this otherwise beautiful church.
So, arrogant. So… effete.
And let’s make sure the jazz band is in the sanctuary.
What they did to a confessional by the door. No.. no… don’t put a priest in it during the day for the people who just pop in. They might see an opportunity to GO TO CONFESSION and… and… take it!
So tasteful. So… dainty.
So as not to leave you with a bad taste, here are some lovely water lilies by Monet.
And my aforementioned lunch choice.