UNDERNEATH THE BUNKER

[The second review from 'Photography in Focus', a short-running series published in 2006...]

THE LAST JUDGEMENT By Jan Maarsveld (1987)

The field of religious photography is lightly populated. The odd bovine grazes in a grassy corner, watched by a rambler or two leaning over a rickety fence. Oblique references to religious subjects are made in many photographs, but very few devote themselves seriously to religious themes, certainly not those of an eschatological nature.

In this way, the Dutch photographer Jan Maarsveld is somewhat of an anomaly: a modern artist working in a modern medium concentrating on ‘traditional’ subjects in a postmodern pseudo-medieval mode. He combines the devout style of Hans Memling or Van der Weyden with a twentieth century ironic sensibility. And whilst it is not known for sure whether his compositions are provoked by any kind personal faith, I feel sure that they are not intended to mock.

‘The Last Judgement’ (above) is typical of Maarsveld’s middle period. Technically speaking it is not of the highest quality, but this is a constant feature of the photographers work; that which imbues it with its particularly peculiar if not spiritual atmosphere. In one sense, the way in which Maarsveld takes a picture owes a lot to the medium of painting, especially that of the early Netherlandish variety. His photographs are highly staged, almost assemblages: a group of conventional yet ostensibly unrelated objects arranged in an aesthetically agreeable configuration. There is also a certain clumsiness to them, as if they were not finished works but studies for paintings that were never made. The lighting is often substandard; compositions let down by slight deficiencies in the straightness of lines, as if the process were hurried. And yet the intellectual content of the photographs frequently belies this ungainly approach.

‘The Last Judgement’ is no exception to the rule. At first sight there is an awkward simplicity to it, offset by an aura of ambiguity that is accentuated by the impenetrable shadows with which it is suffused. A quintet of objects provide the substance for closer interpretation, to be considered both separately and, more importantly, in relationship to each other; enlightened all the while by the work’s title. On modern weighing scales, from left to right, are assembled a small plastic cow, a lemon and a small plastic frog, all of these lighted from above by a desk lamp. This is a relatively common set-up for a Maarsveld photograph; though it has no exact precedence, there is certainly a proliferation of small plastic animals, fruit and common household objects throughout his work. This provides another link to the tradition of Netherlandish painting, where animals, fruit and various homely items were regularly utilized for their symbolic content. However, Maarsveld’s exploitation of this historical symbolism – which was never a fixed system in the first place – is far from simple. On occasion he appropriates meanings in their traditional sense; on others he invents new meanings according to a modern convention and, more commonly, to his personal whims. Therefore, his works must be read with caution.

Though in many ways more symbolically undemanding than his other works ‘The Last Judgement’ serves as a good example of this. Four out of three of the objects relate to the tradition of eschatological art. What do we expect from a depiction of the last judgement? The resurrected bodies rise up from the mud and join the initiation ceremony which will send them forth either to heaven or to hell. Christ is usually present, as well as St. Michael, rarely seen without his weighing scales, with which he weighs people’s souls. On one side of the picture we expect to glimpse the horrors of hell; on the other the wonders of heaven.

Maarsveld’s version of the last judgement contains most of these elements, albeit in a simplified form. Christ/God is present in the form of the lamp that shines its light onto the proceedings. St. Michael’s weighing scales are merely updated; a revision which may or not be problematic depending on how you interpret the nature of the comparative weighing scales we are used to witnessing in old paintings (where one soul is weighed not on its own but in relation to another soul). Otherwise, there is much to admire in the re-enactment of those delicate ancient metal scales through this elderly but yet modern bathroom habitué. Needless to say that the twentieth century equivalent lacks the grace and charm of its predecessor.

Sitting on either side of the weighing scales are two toy animals. These can be fairly easily read as symbols of heaven and hell. Frogs have long been associated with the devil, though academics differ when it comes to defining exactly how long this has been the case, or why. Most invoke the age of witchcraft, drawing our attention to witch initiation processes which involved the compulsory licking of four hundred frog buttocks in honour of the devil himself. This association with the devil, however, was surely lumped on frogs several hundred years before. According to Byzantine legend, the devil was said to have collected frogs as a hobby (along with toasting forks). Before then there is evidence for the belief that the devil owned a pet frog, whom he called Bill. This may have in turn led to the ancient Scottish saying ‘beware the dreaded bluebell’, thought to have originally contained a warning against ‘Blue Bill’ – the devil’s cohort. Whether or not Maarsvelds frog is blue, it is difficult to say from a black and white photograph, but I suspect that this may be the case.

Cows, on the other hand, have long been employed as symbols for goodness. This is especially true in the case of the Dutch, who owe a lot to cows (not least cheese). Dutch painters have traditionally thanked cows for sacrificing the fruit of their udders by painting their portraits. However, as we all know, hallowed respect for the cow also exists in the East, particularly India (it is from here that we get the phrase ‘holy cow’). Less known, yet, is the presence in our very day and age of a religious sect in the Netherlands who call themselves the ‘Brethren of the Cow’ or ‘The Bovites’. Originally an offshoot of Catholicism, this group believe much the same as their ancestors, except that they firmly believe that God is some sort of cow (probably a Jersey). Though there is scant evidence for it, I am quite certain that Jan Maarsveld is himself a Bovite and that he attends daily services wrapped in raw beef (as is the custom).

The state of play thus far: under God’s light the frog (devil) and God’s agent (cow) judge the worth of a being or entity that is represented in the shape of a lemon. Our last symbol to be interpreted is, then, the lemon. Interpretations of the lemon differ, but I believe that the meaning is obvious. As I have already mentioned, the forces of evil (frog) and good (cow) typically fight over the human soul, which is in the process of being weighed. Therefore lemon = soul or ‘sole’. Some critics have shied away from this reading, but let me assure you, to have at the centre of his work a faintly silly pun is entirely typical of Maarsveld. This is a photographer who has on several occasions used a cigarette lighter to represent Christ. Sacrilegious? Not in my opinion. Through staging religious subjects with toys and household objects, he captures the atmosphere of humility that is central to the Christian message.

I would like to end by focussing on an oft overlooked detail of ‘The Last Judgement’. Though the photograph represents a general subject, there is no need to discredit the theory that it also captures a specific moment within this event. Does the lemon stand in for every human soul that is to be judged, or is it merely one of many souls? Surely, we are looking at the latter case. This lemon embodies a single soul. If we look closely we can even get a sense of what sort of soul this is; by noticing the results of the weighing (the tendency, incidentally, is for the heaviest souls to go to hell, weighed down as they are by material goods). How much does this particular soul weight? Curiously enough, the answer is less than nothing: the dial hovers below the base of 0. Can we perhaps ponder whose buoyant soul this is? I cannot help thinking – could the artist be suggesting that this is his soul?

Text by Lucia Noisenbach