Stone-Faced

It has been five days since I returned from a storybook trip to Italy, and five days of doing humdrum chores as I fight my way back to reality and to responsibility.  I do not want to clean and fold an endless supply of laundry.  I do not wish to sort through the stack of mail to find the bills in want of payment.  I do not care to apply the software updates that will grant me access to the network where my day job awaits.  I want to wake up far from here, where my greatest dilemma is to choose upon which priceless work of art I will cast my eyes.  I have stood in the presence of everlasting greatness; I just cannot bear to clean toilets or take out the trash.

While my ethereal self lingers a bit longer in the memories of relics and fresh pasta, I drag my lazy ass back to work.  In my mind’s eye, nonetheless, I am still standing before Michelangelo’s Pieta, its backlit glow rising up behind the bulletproof glass to caress the Carrera marble.  By my mother’s report, I have seen this sculpture before.  It was transported from Italy only once since Michelangelo himself placed it in St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican.  It was displayed at the New York World’s Fair in 1964.  I have only a bare wisp of the memory of visiting this masterpiece; a 5-year old Jewish girl would have attached no meaning to such a vision.

Today, however, this sculpture beguiles me and will not leave my mind.   Having had the opportunity to explore several Michelangelo works up close in the last couple of weeks, I have a fresh understanding of the art of sculpture, of the choices that are made deliberately, and of the challenge of communicating through the form and composition of the work itself.  There is a reason that we use the expression “set in stone” to mean something that is permanent and specific.  Sculpture takes more careful planning and execution than painting, and it is because of this that it is unique among vehicles for artistic expression.

‘Pieta’ is a term applied to all artistic representations of Mary grieving over a dead Jesus.  Michelangelo’s Vatican Pieta is remarkable for the choices that the master made, conveying multiple meanings. It is almost editorial in nature.  For example, Mary, who was in her fifties when Jesus died, is depicted with the face of a young girl.  Many critics hypothesize that this symbolizes her virginity.  Perhaps Michelangelo is representing her as she appeared at her moment of motherhood, underscoring the unique loss that is hers alone.   On her right side, she is grasping the lifeless body of her son, her grief evident through the tight grip on his rib cage.  It is a heart-wrenching portrayal of that greatest of all sorrows: the loss of a child.  For her, this is a private moment.

On the other hand, Mary’s left side tells a different story—one of her sacrifice.  Rather than clutching the body, her left palm is stretched upward, resigned.  On this side, the legs of Jesus do not hang lifelessly across her lap; rather, they are carved in full relief, floating unassisted, as if weightless.  Perhaps Michelangelo means to represent Jesus’ own divinity.  Or perhaps through her stoic acceptance, Mary’s burden is at last relieved.

You need no religious faith to appreciate this masterpiece of storytelling in stone.  The beautiful depiction captures the conflict of this central figure whose own human life is caught in the divine birth of a new faith.  She maintains a visage of humility and a gesture of sacrifice even while indulging her private moment of loss.  She looks neither left nor right, concealing to the observer whether her own inclination is toward one or the other.

Many artists, both before and after Michelangelo, have created interpretations of the Pieta.  Some have tried to emulate the gestures of Michelangelo’s sculpture (he actually created 3 different Pietas) but fall short of capturing the grace of this masterpiece.   This is a work of art that speaks to all, whether you are looking for the religious inspiration of martyrdom, or simply feeling the bonds between mother and child.  It is a testament to the power of art to move, and to the power of genius to be everlasting.