"In Medieval and through to Renaissance works of painting, sculpture and literature, Saint John is often presented in an androgynous or feminized manner. Historians have related such portrayals to the circumstances of the believers for whom they were intended. For instance, John's feminine features are argued to have helped to make him more relatable to women. Likewise, Sarah McNamer argues that because of his status as an androgynous saint, John could function as an 'image of a third or mixed gender' and 'a crucial figure with whom to identify' for male believers who sought to cultivate an attitude of affective piety, a highly emotional style of devotion that, in late-medieval culture, was thought to be poorly compatible with masculinity. After the Middle Ages, feminizing portrayals of Saint John continued to be made..."
- Via the Wiki entry for
John the Apostle. I don't necessarily agree with the above paragraph, but I thought I'd add it to the mix.
Inset left is an utterly adorable young John painted by Fyodor Bruni (1801-1875). I don't know that women would identify with him, but little girls (and some little boys) might like to "jump his bones." Also appearing in the image is an eagle - one of John's symbols - which kind of looks like a griffin.
"The prevalence of these iconic displays of the beloved disciple resting on Jesus’ breast provided justification for same-sex male intimacy long before the contemporary search for a gay Jesus. Before the words gay or even homosexual were used to describe same-sex male relationships, those men whose sexual desires were oriented toward boys and other men pointed to this understanding of Jesus’ relationship with the beloved disciple. King James I of England (reigned 1603-1625), who was clearly homosexual, justified his sexual relationships with young men to his privy council by saying, 'Jesus had his John and I have my Peter.'"
- Via (Pastor) Frank Senn's
web-page.
Inset right is a statue from Germany (circa 1310) also found there.
***
In a previous post, I mentioned never having read The Da Vinci Code, which was true at the time, however, two weeks ago - and almost 20 years after it was written - I finally did get around to it! And, (surprise, surprise), it wasn't a half-bad story; a well-researched stew of speculation melding numerous, esoteric symbols - many of which have appeared on this blog - into one cohesive action-tale with enough suspense, espionage, counter-espionage and bloodshed to satiate the most demanding of audiences. And, yes, the hero gets the girl; what more could one ask for?
The thing is, the bulk of Brown's ingredients have been hashed and re-hashed by a number of (speculative) non-fiction authors in the past and will continue to bubble away on the back-burner. Alchemy, Freemasonry, the Rosicrucians, the Templar Knights, Rosslyn Chapel, the Cathars, the Black Madonnas, The Holy Grail, etc., are subjects that various researchers seem compelled to cobble together into one vaporous, homogenized form or another... as if all things of an esoteric nature must be intimately connected. Dan Brown attempted to accomplish the same feat with his fictional tale by adding several more symbols to the mix - the pentagram, the rose, the Fibonacci series, and the anomalous presence of (what appears to be) a female figure amid the disciples in Leonardo da Vinci's
The Last Supper - all in support of the tale's major premise: the clandestine marriage of Christ and his "womb," Mary Magdalene, the alleged progenitors of the French Merovingian dynasty. And, to show his heart was in the right place (that is, the 21st century) Brown added a healthy pinch of Goddess-worship to the mix. In other words, even feminists could climb on board his train of thought.
The problem is, while Brown didn't actually invent his own symbolic definitions, he tailored the existing ones to fit his tale. While attempting to somewhat mitigate the (wrongfully) tarnished reputation of the pentagram - and it's about time someone did - he also referred to it as an exclusively pagan symbol which represented the Sacred Feminine. What he fails to mention is that it was an early Christian symbol as well, and, in a former incarnation, was (metaphorically) indicative of both genders (as was the triangle); in it's upright position it represented masculine (aggressive) qualities and forces and in its "inverted" position represented the feminine (passive) counterparts. Inset left (above) is the stunningly beautiful (north) rose window at Amien's cathedral in France featuring an inverted pentagram.
The larger problem, however, rests with the enigmatic feminine figure in Leonardo da Vinci's The Last Supper; a figure (shown below the jump) which a number of speculators assume is a woman and Mary Magdalene the logical choice. As for Brown, his novel's entire theme is hinged on the womanhood of this figure, all interpretations to the contrary are ignored...
Traditionally, the figure represented the apostle John, sometimes referred to as Christ's "beloved." As it stands,
John the Apostle was the only clean-shaven, youthful apostle and was often portrayed as a somewhat effeminate (and somewhat submissive) young guy. But, if one looks closely at his face in
The Last Supper - and is familiar with the prettiness of long-haired young men - his gender should not be in question. In my opinion, he is a he.
Inset right is a stained glass window of John. Another can be found here.
Now, in regards to the detail shown (above), it is actually
not the work of Leonardo, but, instead, a copy made by his follower Giampietrino (Giovanni Pietro Rizzoli; active 1495–1549), whose lovely
Leda with Her Children (and a golden spiral) introduces this post. The reason I chose the copy over the original is that the copy is clearer, less distressed. and the figure is no less feminine. It is a matter of fact that Giampietrino's copy is considered so accurate, it was used as reference for the restoration of the
original.
Moreover, when it came down to the usage of the golden ratio, Giampietrino seemed to be the more informed. His "Leda," although similar in some respects to Leonardo's version, goes one step further and incorporates a fabulous GTS! Once again, as in the case of Caravaggio's Amor, Leda's actual posture in the painting can only be truly understood once the spiral has been identified; it almost appears she's presenting the spiral to us on bended knees.
Leonardo, however, while certainly aware of the golden ratio - he illustrated the book (!), Pacioli's Divina Proportione - I've found little actual "gold" in his work and the one GTS I did find may have been unintentional. So, I'm not really sure why Dan Brown dragged the golden ratio into the mix. It's not even as if Leonardo's Vitruvian Man is based on the golden ratio. Via Wiki:
"Leonardo's collaboration with Luca Pacioli, the author of Divina proportione (Divine Proportion) have led some to speculate that he incorporated the golden ratio in Vitruvian Man, but this is not supported by any of Leonardo's writings, and its proportions do not match the golden ratio precisely. Vitruvian Man is likely to have been drawn before Leonardo met Pacioli."
As for the GTS, it was found in Salvator Mundi, a recently discovered painting tentatively attributed to the artist. Two orientations of the spiral are posted below. Note the tiny triangular reflection in the glass globe. I've seen it deciphered as a constellation (the Summer Triangle?), but if a GTS was used, it might just simply refer to the second pentagonal golden triangle (the landscape triangle).
And that brings us to end of Part 1 of "Da Vinci" and Other Codes; Part 2 will follow. I had not intended a second post regarding the same subject, but I suddenly find I have no choice in the matter. No doubt, if you've been following the progress of this blogging travesty, you are, by now, utterly confused. My apologies.
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