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MARY MAGDALENE: RENAISSANCE ICON

By Elizabeth Lev

After a year of being maligned by Dan Brown in his best-selling fictional novel, "The Da Vinci Code," Mary Magdalene deserves to have some of her dignitas in art restored. Brown makes the fantastic claim that in Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper, the person figured on Jesus' right is not the apostle John, but indeed Mary Magdalene, who was really the wife of Jesus and mother of his bloodline. Despite the historical absurdity of this claim, millions of eyes-Catholic or not-perceive Mary Magdalene through this lens, overlooking who she really was and what she meant to Renaissance art and artists.

While the Magdalene has inspired artists throughout the centuries, her influence was particularly felt during the Renaissance, when the individual person took on a greater significance than ever before. Like the Church fathers before them, Renaissance artists identified Mary Magdalene as an amalgamation of several Gospel figures: the "sinner" of Luke 7:36-50, who anoints Christ's feet; "Mary of Bethany," the sister of Martha and Lazarus in Luke 10:38-42 and John 11; and "Mary Magdalene," from whom seven demons had been cast out, present at the foot of the cross in all four of the Gospels. The fusion of these three people into one allowed artists to present many different elements; worldliness, sin, passion, repentance and love by focusing on different facets of one person.

Renaissance art embodied a new awareness of the human being and the expressive possibilities of the human form. Side by side with greater volume in figures came an increased emphasis on their actions. It was in this moment in the history of art that Mary Magdalene came into her own.

Mary Magdalene erupted into Renaissance art as a great dramatic figure in Masaccio's "Crucifixion" in 1426. This stark panel, showing a foreshortened Christ on the cross, flanked by the Blessed Mother-presented as a voluminous mass of blue drapery-and St. John-in a drooped-shouldered, clasped-hand attitude of grief-was transformed by the innovative representation of Mary Magdalene. The placement of Magdalene was not unusual. Giotto had placed her at the foot of the cross as had Pietro Lorenzetti, but never before had she obscured the other figures through the intensity of her portrayal. Seen from the back, her face hidden from the viewer, her gestures speak more eloquently than any grimace or mournful facial expression. She kneels, head bowed beneath the feet of Jesus, her arms thrown skyward. The contrast of colors electrifies the painting, with her flowing, scarlet robes and golden hair cascading down her back.

Hair in itself provides an essential key for understanding Magdalene. While commonly accepted that Mary Magdalene's name comes from her place of origin Magdala, some scholars have proposed the theory that Magdalene's name derives from a Talmudic expression meaning "curling women's hair," which ancient Jewish writings identified with adulteresses. Renaissance society considered long hair on a young unmarried girl as appropriate, whereas on an older woman it was indicative of loose morals. Therefore, the representation of flowing, unveiled hair on Mary Magdalene allowed for an allusion to her sinful past, but also to her rejuvenation through Christ's forgiveness.

Masaccio's use of perspective indicated how the viewer should relate to this new, unexpected image. He slumps the head of Christ into the shoulders, attempting to show Jesus from the point of view of a spectator below. He then places Mary Magdalene under Christ's feet with her robe and hair streaming downwards towards the viewer. The placement of the figure with her back to us unites us to the Magdalene in contemplating the scene.

In contrast to the weighty dignity of Our Lady's grief, and the contained sadness of John, Magdalene invites us to grieve openly, passionately and intensely for the sacrifice of Christ and like her, throw ourselves at the foot of His cross.

A new, even more surprising image of the Magdalene appeared in the 1450s when Donatello unveiled his "Penitent Magdalene." Carved from poplar wood, this free-standing statue shows a saint emaciated after years of fasting in the wilderness, an image drawn from the patristic tradition of Magdalene's dedication to penitential exercises after Christ's ascension, in reparation for her former life of sin. She is clothed only in her hair, which falls in heavy locks and clumps around her body. A recent restoration showed that the artist had gilded her hair gold and painted her skin tan from years in the elements.

Donatello carved the figure of Mary with remarkable skill and anatomical knowledge. The skeletal structure is visible and barely covered with taut muscle rather than soft flesh. Her arresting face-deeply carved with gaunt cheeks, hollowed eyes and missing teeth-gives the figure a haunting, almost repellent quality.

Yet a closer study of this work reveals traces of attractiveness. The cheekbones, eye sockets and line of her jaw, speak of a once lovely bone structure. The slightly elongated hands and fingers add a touch of elegance, the proportions of the figure hearken back to the canons of classical antiquity rather than the unnatural curves of Gothic art. The external trappings of good looks have been consumed by the internal fire of repentance, but the structure of beauty remains.

For the Florentines, so accustomed to the grace of Ghiberti, the unearthly loveliness of Fra Filippo Lippi and the delicacy of Fra Angelico, this work must have come as a shock. As the Florentines labored to recover the beauty of the human figure in art, Donatello was stripping it away.

In this sculpture, the artist uses Mary Magdalene to show the viewer the meaning of penitence. Her hatred of her sin, here implied as a worldliness attached to physical beauty, led her to detach herself from the world through fasting and prayer. Instead of engaging the viewer with her gaze, her eyes look inwards. The clasped hands and introspective pose reinforce the sense of her contemplative nature, while the toes of one foot edge off the base towards us as a reminder that she was once of our world.

The chosen materials also assist the viewer in interpreting the work. Mary is carved of wood, one of the poorest and more perishable materials. The simple material, however, was cloaked in gold, which would have allowed a play of light symbolizing grace flowing over the penitent saint. As in Masaccio's Crucifixion, her important role in the crucifixion scene makes itself felt as well. Mary owes her very existence to wood, the wood of the cross, the obedient death that brought saving grace.

Another, no less surprising transformation came about during the first decades of the 16th century. In 1531, Titian painted for the Marquis of Mantua what would become the most famous of all the Magdalenes and set the standard for the future generations.

As in Donatello's Penitent Magdalene, Mary is clothed only in her hair, but this time she is seen not as a shrunken wraith, but a luminous, glowing, voluptuous woman bathed in warm light. Her half-length figure fills the space of the panel. In the dark of her penitent's grotto, an alabaster jar glows at her side echoes the pearly white of her skin and calls to mind Luke's sinner in the house of Simon the Pharisee. Her arms cross her body, pressing a mane of red-gold hair to herself in a gesture of modesty drawn from one of antiquity's most famous statues, the Venus Pudica.

This fourth century BC work, known only from copies and ancient texts, showed the goddess of love surprised while bathing and attempting to cover herself. From Masaccio to Botticelli, it became the standard for rendering beauty in art. In the hands of Titian, it also became a way of showing love: not of an earthly nature, but the intense transcending love of God.

The reddish tinge Titian employed in Magdalene's hair not only brings out the vibrant tone of her flesh, but also allows to viewer to note the red accents in her eyes, a remnant of the many tears of repentance shed.

Titian used an intriguing diagonal construction for this work, drawing the viewer's eye from the jar in the lower left hand corner, along the arm clasping her hair to her waist, then along the arm crossing her chest and culminating in the luminous face and lifted gaze of Mary. This visual journey mirrors the Magdalene's spiritual journey. From the unnamed sinner anointing Christ's feet, to the sister of Martha and Lazarus, sitting at His feet in adoring contemplation, to the weeping figure at the foot of the cross and the first witness of Christ's glorious Resurrection, each moment of Mary's journey can be found in this work. Magdalene's transformation from a woman attached to things of this world to the saint of extravagant love for God becomes a lesson for all humanity of how to harness and channel the passionate love of the human heart.

These ideas regarding love and beauty grew out of the Medici circle during the late 15th century under the tutelage of Lorenzo the Magnificent and his principal humanist, Marcello Ficino. The "Convito," published in 1484, spoke of Love as link between Divine and mortal and beauty and as that which generated love by "calling the soul to God." This thinking would permeate Renaissance art for the next half century. Titian's painting earned immense popularity during the 16th century and the artist found himself inundated with requests for copies from such exalted figures as King Phillip of Spain and Card. Alessandro Farnese.

Looking at the development of Mary Magdalene's image throughout one hundred years of the Renaissance, one notes a fascinating progression. The recognition of the greatness of the human person in art blossomed into an awareness of God's love for man and therefore the need for man's love to be offered to God. Mary Magdalene, so passionate at the foot of the cross, so intense in her repentance and so enraptured by her vision of the Divine became a channel for artists to show viewers how to choose "the better part."

Elizabeth Lev teaches Christian Art and Architecture at Duquesne University's Rome campus