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A New Medium for the Mystery: The Chester Mystery Play Quilt


I've shown you Last Judgment art in painting, sculpture (in stone and wood), architecture, and more, but here's something extra cool displayed in Chester Cathedral:  a quilt made by American artist BJ Elvgren in 1992.  She depicted the medieval-origined religious mystery plays that are put on in Chester in front of the Cathedral every 5 years (next performance, 2028).  It's an impressive piece.  Masterful planning went into the perspective, the fabric choices, and the story-telling .  Here's the full panel (about 6'x5').


Chester Mystery Play Quilt, B.J. Elvgren, 1992


Medieval mystery plays (with origins in the 5th century as products of the clergy) portrayed a series of miraculous events from the Bible, typically using carts with performers and stage elements that were pulled along like today's parade floats. These plays operated as a community ritual, intregral to an important feast day (such as Corpus Christi), where the laity would demonstrate their faith through enactment of stories that illustrated core values of their religion.


Sometimes, citizens who had been found guilty of minor heresies did penance by participating in the plays--by doing so, they affirmed their orthodoxy in performing it before the community. In other circumstances, local gentry or merchants with political cache might take a heroic part (up to and including God) to make a pious display in front of their subjects/clients. Over time, individual scenes would become the responsibility of certain guilds. For example, the textile-makers guild could be responsible for a depiction of the Shepherds (with their wooly sheep) and the Magi (bearing gifts from afar; i.e, importing, which would be important to their guild). The livestock farmer's guild might create a tableau of Noah's Ark, with its animals.


The benefit of performing the plays would be that everyone in the community could place themselves (and their neighbors) in these holy stories, and in doing so affirm their faith and the piety of the city.


While I want to foreground in this introduction that the quilt is a cultural object, I also want to point out to you the beauty, imagination, and skill of this quilt as a work of art.


Here's the performance of the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden.  Note the performers are in costume--flesh-toned leotards for the couple, and the serpent has a very clever costume.  God sits in the back on a raised dais; the artist has chosen to obscure his face. I love the angel Raphael carrying a flaming sword to cast out the sinners.  Some modern spectators are to the side.


I am impressed by how Elvgren can use so many differently patterned pieces of fabric in such a way that they can be background or specific elements (the red Tree of Knowledge, the blue palm fronds which top the pillars). If I were trying to do this, I'd find the variety of patterns discordant or distracting, but the artist is able to coordinate the pieces to the effect that the familiar elements of the story are both surprising and recognizable.


Expulsion from the Garden


The next scene is the sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham.  Look for the little ram to the right side on the wagon. The angel stands on a sky-painted box, commanding Abraham to stay his hand.  Notice the local Chester shops and shoppers in the background, who are as important to the composition as the narrative scenes, because they are witnessing a contemporary testament to the faith that is as important to them as the long tradition of the play. For the viewers of the quilt, the contemporary spectators depicted are vital to the concept it's designed to tell: witnessing this ritual, these stories connect all viewers--past, present, and future.


The Sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham


Next scene in the cavalcade:  Noah and the Ark, with animals approaching the vessel.  The bears are so cute, striding in as they do, and the artist has thrown in a pair of border collies as part of the crowd. They look as though they might be invited aboard.  The people in the elephant costumes seem to be enjoying themselves. I also like that Elvgren has placed two spectators right next to the performance; the only figures acting as though it's raining. Note that the black cat (next to Noah) is the only creature without a mate. Why? Is it a comment on their aloof nature?


Noah and the Ark


Then, we move on to the Nativity. I love the big star patch over the scene--its scale and its patternless pieces are high contrast, make it leap out from the surrounding elements. Mary is the dominant figure in the scene because her blue robe is such a bright, but saturated, color. The infant Jesus is swaddled in a lighter blue, with the hay surrounding him making him seem to blaze like a star himself.


The Nativity


In the center of the quilt, right by the city's market cross, are three figures on stilts. They appear to be acting as the night sky in the Nativity scene, where they are the backdrop for the Star of Bethlehem. They are dressed in dark blue, black, and purple, with large tricorn hats covering their faces. Their sleeves trail fabric embossed with small stars. I am intrigued that they are placed so prominently, with a strong visual weight in the middle of the composition, but, they are not major characters in the procession.


The Stilt Walkers


Below we see the sheep and one of the shepherds, following the star over the manger on the cart. What a great robe--as regal as a king's! And, another border collie (perhaps, centuries in the future, some grad student will write a dissertation on the significance of the border collie in religious art). The sheep come in from the very active frame-border of the quilt, where the strip of fabric looks like a fence they are leaping over to get into the scene.


The Shepherds Approach the Nativity


The procession of stories skips abruptly to the Last Supper.  I like the choice of having Jesus stand on the table, changing wine into his blood.  That's an altogether different kind of party than what's usually depicted.  Also, baguettes for the body in the First Communion is a whimsical touch. There's an apostle dressed as baker in the scene (right side)--perhaps the bakers guild sponsored this wagon?


The Last Supper


Nearing the end of the procession is the Deposition from the Cross.  If you zoom in, you can see that the artist made little blood stains on the head, side, and hands of Christ.  It's an amazingly small detail on such a big quilt. Oh, and is that blacksmith forging nails in the background a reference to a smithing guild?! It seems a macabre touch for such a solemn subject, but the macabre was a staple of medieval (and modern) religious art.


Deposition from the Cross


Last of all is the Judgment Day scene.  I absolutely adore it.  You see the people cavorting in their devil costumes.  The hell-mouth looks like a Bouncy Castle!!! The angels are on top, above the squee devil with green wings. A couple have Judgment Day trumpets. There's an avenging angel with a shield and sword below. This is all going down right by the cathedral, which is fitting, given that the church is the place to go to avoid damnation.  If some of the depictions seems irreverent, there exist church records in England which indicate that some townspeople who acted in the scenes would add (often naughty) humor. This is consistent with the spirit of Mardi Gras (carnival) that persists even now.  This quilt is spectacular (pun intended) for showing a centuries-old tradition continuing in the present day, and in a novel medium.


Judgment Day


The quilt itself operates on many levels: it's a portrait and a mirror for the city, affirming its identity and history; it's religious art, taking its place among the many other pieces narrating the faith to locals and visitors; it is one of the few religious articles in the cathedral (and in Christianity as a whole) which are not only made by women, but also assert women's presence as artists. But there is one purpose of the quilt that we haven't discussed which does come into play in the history of this work: utility. Apparently, in 2005, the quilt was stolen from the Cathedral. The citizens were quite shaken and there was an immediate and frantic search. The theory of its theft was that a "tramp" had taken the quilt from the cathedral to keep warm. In this speculation of the theft was a begged comparison of the preciousness of a quilt as art for veneration, and the idea of quilts as providing comfort--Christianity's command to comfort the poor. In another age (past or future), this version of the theft and return of the quilt, with its aesthetic beauty in tension with its succor for the poor man could evolve into a mystery tale of its own, the stuff of a hagiography. Would or will, the quilt, with stories like this accruing to it, be elevated to some sort of sacred artifact, like the Grail or the veil of Veronica? Elvgren's quilt is finding its way into becoming a story in itself.

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