THEART OF ILLUMINATION
23 artists use medieval techniques to create an exquisite modern Bible
The image glows from 30 feet away. Up close, its gold embellishment is meant to awe, and reflect, an onlooker.
Using techniques hundreds of years old, a handmade Bible brings an ancient artistic tradition into the 21st century. Although created with swan quills, vellum and soot ink, it also uses images of DNA, soundwaves and at least one photo taken by satellite.
Medieval illuminated manuscripts absorbed DNA from the anonymous monks and others who made them. Hundreds of years ago, those scribes knew nothing of genetic codes. For the St. John’s Bible, completed in 2011, a modern artist understands that his fingers and even spit have left a scientific mark.
Classic materials combine with modern imagery in the St. John’s Bible, a 15-year project that involved 23 artists and an undisclosed amount of money.
“We’d never do it again,” says Tim Ternes, who has the unique job of director of the Bible project. But all involved are proud of the Bible, which is more than 1,100 pages and kept in a climatecontrolled space at Hill Museum & Manuscript Library at St. John’s University in Collegeville, Minn.
A fine art copy has come to St. Louis, on loan to the Archdiocese of St. Louis, which hopes to buy it. The price of the reproduction is better known: about $150,000.
Ternes, in town to introduce the Bible, spoke to archdiocesan staff at the Cardinal Rigali Center who eagerly took in the exquisite artwork and discussed images that evoked Scripture. And not just Scripture, but popular culture, as the director points out in connection to stories of creation and
Adam and Eve.
Adam and Eve for the 21st century don’t look anything like the blueeyed blondes in Minnesota, Ternes says, getting a laugh. In this image, they appear African, with a coral-type snake in vivid attendance. For a Nativity scene, the shepherds are women and girls, which was “probably the case at the time of Christ,” accompanying information says. On a page depicting Christ’s genealogy, the form of a menorah is used, with names in both English and Hebrew (the Egyptian Hagar also is written in Arabic, invoking all three Abrahamic religions).
Surprising many, Ternes told guests they could turn the pages as long as their hands were washed. Gloves are forbidden because wearers are more likely to bend pages, he says.
He reinforces his main message about the Bible: “It is communal, meant to be used and shared.”
Historic predecessors
The St. John’s Bible was the brainchild of a Welsh calligrapher, Donald Jackson, who had copied manuscripts since he was a boy. He is a scribe to Queen Elizabeth II and the House of Lords, creating official state documents.
In 1995, he approached St. John’s about the idea to create the first illuminated, handmade Bible in some 500 years. Money was raised from donors, and the commission began in 1998.
Roman Catholic monks, nuns and scholars at St. John’s brainstormed and discussed images for the new Bible while its layout was made by computer (so scribes knew in advance the first and last words of each page). It was decided to use the New Revised Standard Version translation, which is accepted by most Christian churches around the globe. Episcopal, Protestant and Jewish advisers were consulted.
Calligrapher Jackson did not put the first words down on paper until 2000.
The monks at St. John’s are Benedictines, who have a long history with copying manuscripts. Benedict of Nursia established a monastery in Monte Cassino, Italy, about 529. By about the 10th century, it had a famous scriptorium in which books from other nations were translated and copied in Latin.
Through the Middle Ages, books of calligraphy, primarily religious, became increasingly gilded with bright colors and gold leaf, indicative of the divine. These works of art survived the centuries more than paintings from the time did, and so they provide scholars with knowledge of art trends.
According to Fine Books & Collections magazine, illuminated manuscripts are among the splendors of Western civilization: “The volumes are embellished with illustrations called miniatures, deriving from two Latin words: miniãre, to color with red lead, and miniare, to illuminate.”
‘Visual meditation’
One thing the St. John’s book has over the medieval ones is that it can be read by English speakers.
Ternes says the work, with folios about 2 feet tall and 3 feet wide, is both a “visual meditation” and meant to encourage discussion. “It’s made to be used and experienced.”
None of its 160-plus artworks includes a “picture” of God, but the divine presence is represented by gold, often shown in small squares dancing across a page. In the artwork depicting the creation, seven vertical elements show images for each of the seven days, with one from a satellite photo of the Ganges River. Another day shows people illustrated by cave painters . Subtle gold squares form a triangle, invoking the Trinity.
The team of 23 artists, including at least six scribes, used swan, geese or turkey quills, which feel like an extension of one’s fingers, Ternes says. (For those who like minutiae: The first three flight feathers on a bird’s left wing best fit the curve of the scribe’s right hand.)
Artist Jackson already had purchased 19thcentury Chinese ink sticks. Other inks were made of lapis lazuli and vermilion pigments. A single piece of artwork could take four to eight months.
Among the most charming elements are its nine major mistakes: when a scribe accidentally skipped a line of text. The scribe then wrote the line at the bottom of the page, and an illustration of, say, a bumblebee with a pulley, shows where the line should go.
The original St. John’s Bible used calfskin vellum. The 299 copies, called the Heritage Edition, have cotton pages. Both the original and the reproduction have seven volumes: Pentateuch, Historical Books, Psalms, Wisdom Books, Prophets, Gospels & Acts, Letters and Revelation.
“Using ‘copy’ doesn’t really do justice” to the seven-volume Heritage Edition, which also took years to make, says Nancy J. Werner, chancellor for the archdiocese.
The archdiocese has trained docents to educate visitors and supervise removing the Gospels & Acts volume from its glass case. Other volumes may come and go from St. Louis.
“Everybody just explodes when they see it,” Werner says.
Ternes quotes one humorous reaction, even though he says he doesn’t know what it means. A sister looking at the book declared she got “goosebumps like only a nun can get.”