Three almost life-size panels depicting the Madonna Breastfeeding, Saint Veronica with the Sudarium, and the Throne of Mercy Trinity sit in the Städel Museum in Frankfurt. The panels, painted between 1428 and 1430, continue to mystify art historical discourse, sparking argument over the authorship and reconstruction. Since works as large as the Flémalle Panels were often constructed by the hands of many artists under the same workshop, it is increasingly difficult to attribute all three panels to one artist. After Johann David Passavant discovered the panels in 1842, art historians were absorbed with uncovering the hidden identity of the artist behind the enigmatic work. Suggestions included Robert Campin, Rogier van der Weyden, and Hugo von Tschudi’s independent artistic personality the ‘Master of Flémalle’. Unfortunately, scholarship has not managed to settle on a widely accepted consensus, and the artist’s identity remains highly contested. The panels boast both an intensity of colour and a sumptuous rendering of texture, emphasising deeply skilled naturalistic virtuoso painting. When analysing the works themes of touch, sound, vision appear; made clear through a deep emphasis on materiality. Ultimately, the piece creates a sensual experience; and has been reconstructed to such a point that a new piece emerges.
Interacting with the retable would have been a deeply immersive process, emphasised by a progressive display of colour from grisaille to polychrome. A clear material hierarchy existed in Netherlandish altarpieces, in which exterior representations were known to be ‘fundamentally subordinate’ to those on the interior. Thus, the materials within multi-panelled altarpieces became progressively richer in both scale and narrative as the wings were opened. This revelation of polychromy on Sundays and high feast-days acted both as a tool and reward. The interior polychromed sculptures would have appeared as if ‘transcending their status’ as painted representations, giving the impression that the devoutness of the viewer had replaced a vision with the physical bodies of the Saints themselves.
Today, the panels are housed in the Städel Museum in Frankfurt, far removed from their original location at a high altar. Furthermore, the panels have been reassembled to introduce fresh iconographic combinations and unique public interactions. During 2008 and 2009, the Städel Museum and Gemäldegalerie hosted an exhibition called ‘The Master of Flémalle and Rogier van der Weyden’, which included the Flémalle Panels and explored the technical evidence behind the debate of the Master of Flémalle’s identity. Nevertheless, the very act of displaying an altarpiece in a secular gallery space violently wrenches it from its original context. Here, the Städel Museum displays the three panels alongside one another against a deep blue backdrop. The panels are motionless, now stunted and unable to perform their original purpose as moveable altarpiece wings. Additionally, all three panels are constantly visible to the public, separated from the liturgical calendar that dictated when they were opened and closed. In many ways, this reduces the importance of the coloured panels’ purpose in aiding devotional meditation. Alternatively, I would argue that displaying the panels as a triptych allows for an intimate interaction with the public that would have not been previously possible. Additionally, the public access to the panels is still restricted to the gallery’s opening and closing times; transforming the gallery into a quasi-religious experience that is similar to the retable’s original purpose.
In the context of a contemporary gallery space, the material hierarchy of the former Flémalle altarpiece disappears, and each panel becomes of equal importance. This allows for new iconographic and thematic connections that are far more compelling than if the piece were complete. As a newly formed triptych, the piece has a deep focus on Christ and his relationships. The Virgin panel follows the iconographic tradition of the ‘Madonna Lactans’, and depicts the Virgin Mary breastfeeding the infant Christ. Mary’s smooth, pale skin emanates a soft glow, emphasised by her pearlescent drapery and golden halo. Her youthful complexion acts as a central point to the piece, flanked either side by Veronica’s wrinkled face and the stony quality of the Trinity. These scenes emphasise the emotive qualities associated with Christ, the sorrowful Mary situated in the panel directly next to her crucified son, the elderly Veronica grasping the vera icon (true image of Christ) used to ‘wipe away the blood and tears’ from his face on the way to Calvary. The iconography used in the Trinity is known as ‘The Throne of Mercy’, rendering God holding the crucified Christ and the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove. The Trinity sits beside the image of the breastfeeding Virgin, presenting a trajectory of Christ’s life from infancy to crucifixion. This trajectory can be read left to right, and grants the piece a rhythmic element, replacing the original movement of the altarpiece’s wings.
Additionally, the theme of vision runs between the three panels. In the central panel Mary’s gaze remains fixed on her child; whereas the infant Christ stares out of the picture. The Father’s stony gaze compliments the deadened gaze of the gauze-like cloth, both projecting out of the picture plane. Christ’s head acts as an apex in the panels’ composition; the dull gaze of the vera icon floats beneath him while he looks towards his lifeless future self in a macabre fashion. Vision was a crucial theme within Northern Renaissance art, and the multiplicity of gazes within the Flémalle Panels served to encourage viewers in their devotion. Lastly, each figure in the panels carries something precious to them. The Virgin clutches her infant, Veronica the Sudarium, and the Father supports the recently crucified Christ. This iconographic programme supports Jochen Sander’s theory that the panels may have been used as a piece of liturgical furniture, perhaps a closed cupboard used to hold holy relics and eucharistic vessels. Christ’s presence is of clear importance in this piece and acts as a metaphorical glue creating subtle relationships between each panel, emphasising the sensual experiences of touch, materiality, and emotion.
Moreover, touch becomes a crucial theme that emerges from the combination of the surviving Flémalle Panels, brought about by a hyper-realistic rendering of material and texture. Northern Renaissance works are known for their virtuoso realism, viewed as ‘magical’ in the 15th century. This realism was highly contrived, simultaneously factual and symbolic; and its purpose was to encourage devotional thoughts and show off painterly skill. The Master of Flémalle uses highly skilled painterly techniques to evoke a sensory experience within the piece, weaving visual hints throughout the panels. Saint Veronica holds up the transparent gauze cloth of the Sudarium, rendered so realistically that Christ’s likeness appears as if it is hovering unnaturally in the space. The cloth creases lightly where Veronica’s hands pinch its corners; it appears as if it’s swishing gently, perhaps in the breeze generated when the complete retable was opened. Next to Veronica, Mary breastfeeds her infant child, his smooth, youthful skin brushing against her supple breast. Both Saints wear richly extravagant garments, their luxurious costume emphasised by the lavishly decorated brocade behind them. Elegantly ruched, the excess folds of Mary and Veronica’s garments tumble and heap at their feet. Crowning the heads of Mary and the infant Christ’s are two gold disk shaped haloes decorated in opulent pearls and gems, boasting an effective imitation of gold work. These elaborately decorated panels contrast with the cool toned Trinity panel, which renders the Father and Son as painted stone sculptures. The white, grey, and pale blue palette used in this panel successfully creates the illusion of a sculptural group sitting in a niche and contrasts the material sumptuousness with the illusion of chalky stone. These sensory explorations would have allowed Early Netherlandish viewers to move from a physical image to a mental image of devotion, the ideal form of devotion being an ‘abstract imageless contemplation of divinity’.
Alongside the theme of touch rendered through hyper-realistic depictions of material, the sensory experience of sound is explored throughout the panels. Each panel evokes a suggestion of sound, the viewer being expected to complete the action mentally, effectively transporting them to imageless devotion. For example, the rustle of Veronica and Mary’s tumbling robes, the impact of infant Christ’s tugging hands and kicking feet against his Mother’s torso, the soft sigh of breeze circulating the Sudarium, the crunch of grass beneath the Saints’ feet, and the echo of breath within the Trinity’s chamber. The use of sound brings another immersive element to the piece and would have aided Early Netherlandish viewers in achieving the sought-after ideal of imageless devotion.
Today, the piece is far removed from its original context as a retable in the high altar of a church. In many ways the piece is now stunted, unable to function with moveable wings. The colour weighting is imbalanced with the cool Trinity to the right, and the resplendent wealth of colour from the two panels to the left. By presenting all three panels alongside each other the previous material hierarchy is subverted and lost, along with the majority of the panels that once completed the piece. However, the remaining panels have been brought together to form a new piece, one that creates unique iconographic and compositional combinations. The piece now evokes a strong sensual experience, centred around sensations of touch, vision, and sound. Additionally, the new piece focuses deeply on Christ’s relationships and their emotive qualities. The Flémalle Panels have been reconstructed in such a way that the enigmatic piece constantly brings up new questions and possible explanations. Moreover, the piece is now located in a secular context, wrenching it from its original purpose and rendering it religiously useless. However, this allows for new interactions with the modern public, perhaps more intimate than in its previous context. Ultimately, the Flémalle Panels have been transformed into an amalgamated religious and secular piece, one that has a deep focus on sensory experience.
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