Portals in medieval churches were often imbued with imagery of the contrast between sin and salvation, punishment and redemption. The bronze doors of San Zeno, famous for their stunning 48 narrative panels, told its medieval audience a familiar catechism of the progress of the world from Creation to Apocalypse to the Celestial Jerusalem. Though anti-semitism was rampant through medieval (and later) religious art, these doors are striking in their endeavor to foreground the instruction of right Christian belief as in opposition to Judaism. On the one side of the double doors, the Old Testament elements are shown as a progression toward or foreshadowing of Christianity. The not-so-covert message is that the progression from Genesis to Revelation is refutation and stigmatizing of those who are Jewish, conflating the Jewish people with evil and error within Christians themselves.
The bronze doors in the main portal of the Basilica of San Zeno, though re-shuffled and warped over the centuries, remain largely intact. The follow a program also seen in other doors, separately telling the Old Testament stories on the right-hand door (as one enters), and the New Testament stories on the left-hand door. This would make sense theologically, because many medieval portals would depict Christ in Majesty (on Judgment Day), and those scenes on his right side in the tympanum (and flanking walls, as in Moissac's Cathedral) would be recognized as the saved. Art on a portal's right would refer to the story of Christianity and salvation. This is borne out at San Zeno by the stone bas-relief panels beside these doors on the church's facade are New Testament scenes on the left of the door, and Old Testament scenes on the right, just like these doors.
These doors have over time been re-assembled and some damaged panels replaced in the Middle Ages, so near the bottom there's a mixing of the narrative panels. (And, for some reason, there are two versions of the Sacrifice of Isaac on the right door). The individual panels were created among at least three different bronze-casting workshops. Some of the panels were made by artisans in Hildesheim, which is arguably the more splendid door of the period, and perhaps the inspiration for the San Zeno doors. (For what it's worth, I think the panel on the Hildesheim door depicting God accusing Adam & Eve & the Serpent of wrong-doing is one of the funniest single panels of medieval art that I can think of, showing all three of them passing the blame to each other.)
As with a lot of the medieval art I write about in this blog, The San Zeno doors are quite complicated, in poorly-lit spaces, and difficult to appreciate as the throngs of visitors get annoyed if you stand in their way too long. So, I've tried to give you some guidance and particular images to help you appreciate the panels, whether you visit them in person, or study them from your internet armchair. Please forgive me if the quality of some of the photos is far from what you'd find in a professional art-history text, but some panels were a several feet over my head, others in a puddle of darkness near my feet, and in general were lit by some of the harshest or feeblest lighting one could find. I offer no pull-back shot of the doors as a whole, because they are kept ajar in a tight foyer behind newer, plain doors, and are only displayed as they were originally kept on special holidays.
Such conditions as they are, here I will show you some of the most striking of the panels; each one is its own little gem of dynamic story-telling. Let me know any of your favorites in the comment section below.
San Zeno Casts Out a Demon
I've started here with my favorite. It's not a biblical story, but one of a handful of scenes from the miracles of San Zeno, a 4th century African bishop. He is shown casting a demon out of a young woman, with a monk restraining her. The exuberant demon leaps from the woman's mouth, wrapped in a snake, almost like a performer bursting from a birthday cake. Nietzsche said to take care that in casting out your demons that you don't exorcise the best thing in you. Here, it looks as though the hapless young woman is losing a joyful, mischievous spirit. This panel must have been very popular among the parishioners of the church, because her belly has been rubbed so often that it is significantly tarnished. One other delightful touch to this piece is the careful sculpting of the monk's tonsure, such that his shorn bald-spot is a dome atop his thick hair.
Creation of Eve, The Temptation
This panel, the first one at the top of the right door, is what my grandparents would have called a "twofer." The artist skips right to the chase in Genesis, to start us out with the key events precipitating The Fall: the creation of Eve, and her (with the serpent), tempting Adam. Notice that in the upper register that God isn't even looking at Eve as he pulls her from Adam's side. Below, though, the serpent lunges toward her in trying to meet her gaze. A subtle touch to note here is that God is given a cruciform halo, which usually denotes Christ, but there seems to be some conflation here.
God Discovers the Deception of Adam & Eve
The second panel, featuring the scene where the couple lie to God and are condemned, probably done by a different artist from the previous panel. Look how the tree (of Life?) divides God from the sinners. The tree's branches make it resemble a foliate Trinity. The fig leaves (not looking very accurate) droop deadly in front of them. The blank banner held by angel makes me wonder if the doors were painted originally, and we've lost the message to Time.
Expulsion from Paradise
The last panel on the top level shows the Archangel Raphael expels Adam and Eve from Paradise. The angel straddles both realms (suggested by the arches above them), pushing out the sinners. Each human raises a hand to his/her face, in mournful reflection. The angel's wings are in different positions, but his left wing reinforces the gesture to push Adam and Eve out of the garden.
Another Expulsion
This panel is worked in a much cruder style than the preceding one. Its placement is on the opposite door, in the bottom row. The angel's sword and arm have broken off, but the push out is still clear. This time, they're expelled with only their fig-leaves. These figures, in their more-accessible position, have tarnished heads, where many who entered may have rubbed them for good luck.
First Labors
This one has flummoxed me, and I think it's because of the strange way these figures occupy space. The church's placard just titles this "First Labors," but I didn't find anything to suggest this was a common theme, nor have I seen it presented quite this way in other places. What I can tell is that figure in the upper-left is a woman working with a very large medieval spindle. The bottom figures are working a plough, with the woman (Eve) harnessed like a plough-horse. The two figures in the upper-right? I'm going out on a limb here to guess that Eve is drawing a naked Adam into the new world of work. I'm open to other interpretations/clarifications or guesses in the comments section.
Abraham Counts the Stars
In the third row of the Old Testament door, we find a rare image: God promising Abraham, who was then childless ("without issue" in the King James Version), that if he takes Yahweh as his only god, he will have descendants as numerous as the stars in the heavens. Here we see the conversation, with Abraham's age indicated by his cane and long beard. God has the cruciform halo (which is just the arms of the Cross behind his head). He holds a scroll that looks a lot like a contract to be signed, and gestures to the firmament, which is bounded from both of them on earth. The stars have a high-relief quality to them, which makes them look more like sea urchins or sea-shells--the largest one, in the middle at the top, looks as though a Greek cross is incised into it.
Promises to Abraham
This panel was done by a different artist from the one who made the preceding one, I believe. Above, Abraham is greeted by three angels. Below, Abraham (not the angels, it seems) gives Sarah the news that she will become pregnant with a son. I love that Abraham's tent becomes a small medieval sanctuary, with a great wooden door.
Sacrifice of Isaac
This scene shows the sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. It appears in sequence, in the third row of the Old Testament door. Abraham's sword is stayed by an angel with a beautiful flowing wing, Abraham's left hand gestures in prayer. Isaac sits amid kindling on a medieval-style altar, appearing to beseech his father not to kill him. Isaac's halo is more elaborate than his father's. The ram on the left is almost impossible to discern due to the harsh light and shadow, but if you're really committed to the effort, you can see his hind-quarters dangling down from thicket, and when you find one of his horns, you can squint into the shadows to (barely) make out his muzzle. The weird grass that Abraham stands on looks more like tongues of flame.
Another Sacrifice of Isaac
At the bottom row of the same door, we find, again, the Sacrifice of Isaac. It's in that crowded, chunkier style. I wonder if there was some fight involved between workshops over whose version to use of this and the expulsion plaques, with using both as a compromise. Otherwise, I'm a bit stumped. This version has its own charms. There's the little horse or donkey they road up the mountain. The lamb resembles a dog, and looks as though it's climbing the bush to crop it. The angel and Abraham lean toward each other as the sacrifice is halted. Either the Isaac figure was damaged, or it's an infant. I have no accounting for the trees and bushes to alternate leaves phalluses. (!?!)
The Ark of Noah
This one must have been so charming when it was new. We are looking at Noah's ark, while it is under construction (one of his sons is shaping a beam on the lower-left. Noah appears to be bringing up two dogs (?) or pigs (?), and one is being hauled up by its ear. Look closely at the ark, though. Those holes suggest to me that some of the figures are cast separately and then affixed to the panel, rather than the whole piece being cast as a whole. We're missing at least 4 animals. The door seems to have had a place for either an animal or one of Noah's family to stand within. Even more intriguing to me is that the boat has a figurehead on its bow that resembles a dragon (as warships in the artist's time may have), and, the hull of the boat is etched to look as though it's already on the water.
Balaam and his Ass
I think the placard offers scant reason to assert this is the theme, largely going on just the fact that there's a Jewish man with a banner and a scourge on a donkey. The donkey does look quite skeptical of its rider, breaking the frame to gaze out at the viewer with a "Would you get a load of this guy?!" If the painting on the banner the rider holds had survived, we'd have more to go on. On the same row, the end panel is like a bookend to this one, with a king on a beautifully appointed horse coming fro the opposite direction, bearing his own blank banner. I think it's more likely that the pair are a representation of Synagogue and Church. The figure above implies that the Old Testament is an imperfect foreshadowing, while the royal rider is the fulfillment and "perfecting" of the religion of Yahweh by coming to Christianity. You can compare his below.
Tree of Jesse
This is the panel between the two riders, and I think it makes sense as the bridge between Judaism and Christianity. This is a tableau known as the Tree (or Dream) of Jesse. It appears frequently in medieval churches, perhaps most famously as a tympanum in Rouen's cathedral, and as stained glass window at Chartres Cathedral . As Jesse sleeps, a family tree rises and branches into all his descendants--kings of the Jewish tribes, including David and culminating in Christ. The use of the tree as emerging from his loins is a non-too-subtle phallic metaphor.
So, the Jewish rider on the left of Jesse, and the Christian rider to his right mark the move in the origins narrative of Christianity which the door narrates. After this row the subjects on the Old Testament door become a bit of a jumble, featuring a lion's head, miracles of San Zeno, and some repeat panels, detailed above.
Annunciation
We begin at the top of the New Testament door with one of the saddest Annunciation scenes I've ever witnessed. It varies in structure from most examples. Here, Gabriel and Mary are quite close. She appears to be standing outside with the angel, rather than having the dove of the Holy Spirit swooping down on her through a window, whilst Gabriel kneels before her and presents a lily. Mary stands and appears mournful, or aghast, or resistant, holding her hands before her face, with her palm warding off the angel. Gabriel seems to be trying to reassure or persuade her, with one of his wings almost enveloping her. Not sure about the building on the right.
The Magi, the Shepherds, and the Nativity
Here is another panel from the artisan who likes to crowd multiple scenes into one panel. At the bottom, the Magi present their gifts to a Madonna and Child who decline to look at them. The Christ child has a mini-version of his cruciform halo. Mary seems to be more on a throne than in a barn. Above left, we see Mary, recovering from childbirth. To her right, Joseph sits in the customary pose of him contemplating his doubts about his role as step-father to his wife's divine child. Above the reclining figure is the infant Jesus in the manger.
In the upper-right is something that really deserved its own panel--the angel announcing the birth to the shepherds. They gaze up, with the wind in their hair. The angel is motioning them to look at the star, which is only half-drawn. A little sheep is (weirdly) tumbling down the hill from its shepherd, nearly crashing down on Mary's head. It could have been a very touching scene, if given its own space to be seen, but it's quite the chaotic jumble as shown.
The Beheading of John the Baptist
Now we get into the out-right lurid row of the New Testament door. Whereas other panels may have had one or two narratives, the artists have dedicated THREE panels to the beheading of John the Baptist (notably, ignoring the more significant baptism by John which is conspicuously absent). The first panel has the actual beheading of John, with Salome carrying off the head, and the poor standing corpse in the center of the piece. Salome's mother rubs her hands with glee from her tower. The executioner, at the top, seems dispirited by what he's done.
The Dance of Salome
Next, we have Salome appearing, I think, three times. She is given the head from Herod, as a reward for her dancing, and presents it to her mother. Herod and a companion seem in awe of the scene before them: before the table, in a style that makes it very difficult to discern, she is bending over backwards in her dance, with her head nearly touching the floor. (I had to work a long time to edit a shot which would make her visible--originally, she's in total darkness under the table.) Then Salome seems to be carrying the head out of the scene.
Herod's Banquet
Strangely, here we are again. It's nearly the same scene as above (but with high relief tableware). It lacks, however, the dance. I am again left wondering what happened in the production and finishing process that lead to these panels which duplicate stories.
Entry into Jerusalem
Moving right along, we are treated to Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. He comes in from the upper-right on his jenny (her colt is not depicted). In front of him, someone is wielding a bunch of palm fronds as if they were balloons for sale at a fair. Next to a bizarre-looking tree, one disciple waits with a palm and another shakes out his cloak to lay on the ground before Jesus' passage. What makes this whole panel really pleasurable for me is the way that the artist went all in on garments and fronds. Every figure has some wavy, stripey flow to it. Jesus himself is almost lost in all the dynamic motion in the piece.
Pontius Pilate and the Scourging of Jesus
We're back to the more minimalist artist in this panel. Lots of figures, most with Jewish hats, but, to be picky, this is the Roman court of Pontius Pilate (upper left, looking a bit hesitant about the whole event), and all of the scourgers should be his minions at the court, and not anyone Jewish. So, there's some virulent anti-semitism here. Jesus is the largest, central figure, gazing out calmly at the viewer, while the lower-right figure flagellates him with a flail. He wears his halo like a crown. None of the art on the doors ever suggests that Jesus or his parents are Jewish.
Deposition from the Cross
The next panel cuts right to the end of the Crucifixion. It's a singular panel, because it seems to employ some color (traces of paint? differently-treated bronze?). Above the cross, are angels signal the eclipse of the sun at Jesus' moment of death with the angel before the sun and another covering the moon. Jesus' crown of thorns is now a royal crown. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus (both wearing the pileus hat, to mark them as Jews, not disciples) take down the body, with one holding enormous pincers to remove the nails. Mary is a tiny, wretched-looking figure on the left (Christ's right, as in Last Judgment art), and John is on the right, looking gutted, holding his hand to his shocked face.
The Empty Tomb
This may be the most affecting panels on both doors. The lighting certainly helps. Two of the Marys enter from the right, looking solemn and small. On the left, a large angel perches on the empty sarcophagus, with Jesus' shroud draped and discarded. Behind them all is a riot of what may be vines, as though life is springing forth everywhere from the resurrection. Somehow, this panel, which is arguably one of the most highly decorated, seems like the simplest. There's no action here--it's surprisingly static, except for the tracery. A powerful solemnity exudes from figures and their setting. The technique of affixing separately cast pieces to the panel's background is at its highest relief here.
Christ in Majesty
The final representation of Jesus on the door goes back to the more minimalist, cruder artist. It's the scene of the apotheosis of Christ. This has all the elements of the Christ in Majesty on Judgment Day. Attending angels censers to perfume the air about him, as he sits enthroned. He raises his right hand in triumph as he rests the book of life (?) on his sumptuous robes. The two bottom angels (with multiple sets of wings, suggesting they are seraphim), as though standard bearers for a coat of arms, hold up the cross, which looks to me as if it was made to appear gem-studded.
Two mothers, perhaps also Church & Synagogue
I've saved for last the most unusual panel, which the placard blandly titles "Two Mothers." I've never seen this theme before, but I've spent some time parsing it out. The background is the same riotous foliage as in the empty tomb panel, but what is foregrounded is two trees. Each emerge out of the backs of the women (almost like a reversal of the idea in the Tree of Jesse motif). The women are the base of these trees--they don't seem to be figures stuck on to the background, as the Empty Tomb figures are. If they are stuck on, each mother is of a piece with her tree. In Christianity, the usual mention of two trees is associated with Genesis (yes, a Jewish text, but spun as a foreshadowing in Christian teaching) is the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The mother on the right could easily be an extension of the Tree of Life: she nurses two babies and the branches above her have birds perched in them.
What of the other mother, on the left? She is "nursing" snakes, with them biting her breasts. Above her, yet another serpent is in the tree. She could be the fallen woman at the base of the Tree of Knowledge, where the serpent who seduced Eve lurked. She is a femme-aux-serpents, who represents the sin of lust in many, many artworks in medieval churches.
Given the strong contrasts the artistic plan of the bronze doors emphasizes between Jew and Christian, incorrect/evil and correct/good, fallen and risen, I think this panel is a version of the medieval trope of Church and Synagogue. One is deemed sterile or corrupt, and the other is fruitful and strong.
The doors of San Zeno are amazing art, but the overall message of the doors is the equating of Judaism with Sin and Death.
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7月09日
Those are fabulous pictures, especially of the upper panels considering their unfortunate placement and lighting indoors in the tight space you describe. And your comments are very interesting and thought-provoking. For its scale, range, complexity, and prominence, it's really not discussed enough. A couple of observations... I've seen the figures in the upper right of the "Labors" scene identified as Cain and Abel, though Cain and Abel would then be another of the duplicated scenes. I'd go with the traditional identification of Balaam: the ass turns dramatically to the viewer, reflecting the story where it refuses to move and then speaks. Balaam is then able to see an angel; no angel here, but he ends up looking towards the Tree…
Those are fabulous pictures, especially of the upper panels considering their unfortunate placement and lighting indoors in the tight space you describe. And your comments are very interesting and thought-provoking. For its scale, range, complexity, and prominence, it's really not discussed enough. A couple of observations... I've seen the figures in the upper right of the "Labors" scene identified as Cain and Abel, though Cain and Abel would then be another of the duplicated scenes. I'd go with the traditional identification of Balaam: the ass turns dramatically to the viewer, reflecting the story where it refuses to move and then speaks. Balaam is then able to see an angel; no angel here, but he ends up looking towards the Tree…