Glencairn Museum News | Number 9, 2021

The exhibition *Spain, 1000-1200: Art at the Frontiers of Faith* is currently on view in the Fuentidueña Chapel Gallery at The Met Cloisters, New York City (August 30, 2021-February 13, 2022). Photo: Bruce Schwarz, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Works of art created in the deep past that survive to the present day have what art historians sometimes call “long lives.” Glencairn’s diminutive ivory box displaying scenes from the Book of Kings (Figures 1–4) is an excellent example of just such a long-lived object. Made in Spain approximately one thousand years ago to hold chrism, or holy oil, it was used in Christian ceremonies of anointment, which include baptism and also, though less frequently, royal coronations. At some point in its history, the box traveled from the kingdom of Navarra in northern Spain to a monastery in Normandy in northern France, a journey likely facilitated by the political ties that united these lands during the late Middle Ages. By the nineteenth century, the box ended up in the possession of a series of French owners. The last of these sold it to the Parisian art dealer Georges Demotte—who sold it, in turn, to Raymond Pitcairn in 1926. The box then crossed an ocean to a place that its medieval makers could scarcely have imagined existed, eventually forming part of a museum collection—an equally foreign concept in Spain around the year 1000.

Figure 1: Solomon’s journey to Gihon (04.CR.49). The Glencairn Museum collection.

Figure 2: The judgment of Solomon, ivory casket with scenes from the Book of Kings, 10th-11th century, ivory, made in Spain (04.CR.49). The Glencairn Museum collection.

To some critics, an object’s acquisition by a museum might seem like the end of its life, especially for those objects that, like the ivory box, originally had a functional purpose apart from adornment. Yet perhaps we should think of museums as places of active retirement. Medieval objects may no longer fulfill their original functions (and many are too delicate to do so, anyway), but they still participate very directly in modern people’s endeavors to make sense of the past. And sometimes they even travel! In December of 1954, Raymond Pitcairn sent his ivory box to The Cloisters, a satellite museum of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages, for an exhibition of Spanish medieval art organized in honor of the art historian and Spain devotee, Dr. Walter W.S. Cook. In August of 2021, the box made the journey to The Cloisters once more (carefully cradled in a crate custom-made to protect it during the trip up the New Jersey Turnpike). This time, it plays a key role in a new special exhibition, Spain, 1000–1200: Art at the Frontiers of Faith.

On view through February 13, 2022, this exhibition (Figure 5) explores the nature of artistic exchange among people of different faiths. In particular, it draws upon an essential and defining aspect of the history of medieval Europe: the coexistence of Muslims, Christians, and Jews in the Iberian Peninsula for almost eight hundred years, from the first Arab and Berber invasions of 711 to the expulsions of Jews and Muslims in the late fifteenth century. For the first half of this broad time period, Muslims ruled the majority of the peninsula, a territory known by the Arabic name of al-Andalus. By the second half, the Christian kingdoms initially based in the northern peninsula had come to rule most of Iberia. The exhibition’s chronology focuses on the mid-point of this story, the eleventh and twelfth centuries, when the first shifts occurred in the balance of power between Muslim and Christian rule in Iberia. Glencairn’s Spanish ivory box joins 40 other objects drawn primarily from The Met’s collection, together with a few other loans from regional museums and libraries, to shed light upon the visual arts during this pivotal period of Iberian history.

Figure 5: Gallery installation of *Spain, 1000–1200: Art at the Frontiers of Faith*. Photo: Bruce Schwarz, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Relationships among the different faith communities of medieval Iberia certainly varied, from harmonious coexistence to outright violence. Notably, throughout the two centuries highlighted in the exhibition, the armies of Muslim and Christian rulers clashed. Yet at this time, these confrontations were fueled less by religious ideology and more by a desire for land and other resources. Most encounters among different faith groups during this period occurred off the battlefield, in lively settings such as urban markets or princely courts. In these spaces, there were ample opportunities to converse and share ideas and objects regardless of religious belief. Such interactions benefitted all aspects of medieval Iberian culture, from language and literature to music and the visual arts.

Representing art-making at the earlier end of the exhibition’s chronology, the Glencairn box plays an important role in setting the stage for visitors of Art at the Frontiers of Faith. Among the first objects displayed near the exhibition’s entrance (Figure 6), the box presents a rare surviving example of early medieval art from Christian Spain. Though tiny (only 5 inches long and 3 ½ inches high), it is crammed with information. The carved reliefs capture scenes from the Book of Kings. One of the long sides illustrates the young Solomon’s journey to Gihon to be anointed king (Figure 1), while the other shows the judgment of Solomon, presenting the wisdom of the mature ruler (Figure 2). One short side shows an elaborate building (Figure 3), likely Solomon’s temple. The other depicts three figures, including an angel that appears to touch the forehead—a gesture of anointing—of the person at center, who might be Solomon or David (Figure 4).

Figure 6: Glencairn’s ivory box on view in the exhibition. Photo: Bruce Schwarz, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The box’s decorations reveal its makers’ deep interest in biblical models of kingship, with Solomon serving as a paragon of a wise king blessed by God. The emphasis on sacred rulership strongly suggests that this chrism container was used in the ritual of anointing with holy oil that Christian Iberian kings underwent upon ascending the throne. In medieval Iberia, the practice of anointing kings—an act that signals the ruler’s direct connection to God—was only adopted by Christians, thus confirming the box as a Christian ritual object. Another feature further supporting the box’s use by Christians is the way in which it shows the journey to Gihon. In this image, a long-haired Solomon, riding a mule, approaches figures carrying palm branches. This representation rather strikingly resembles imagery of Jesus entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Because linkage of the Old and New Testaments is a core element of Christian theology, the connection drawn between Solomon and Jesus in this image would have been both intentional and deeply meaningful.

Despite its firm identification with medieval Christian belief and practice, some of the box’s features place it more broadly within the cultural sphere of the multi-faith Iberian Peninsula. One is the very choice to decorate the box with Solomonic imagery. Solomon is revered by Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. During the Middle Ages, Solomon’s example of sacred kingship inspired all three faiths, and each religion’s art and architecture aspired to evoke aspects of Solomon’s temple, palace, and throne as described in the Bible and Qur’an.

Beyond depicting the king himself, the image of Solomon’s temple on the box’s short side (Figure 3) demonstrates the medieval fascination with representing the biblical king’s works. The design of this particular structure also bears witness to the world of Iberian architecture c. 1000. A two-story structure with a pitched roof, the building is supported by rows of horseshoe arches, which curl inward to create a curve of greater than 180 degrees. This type of arch, probably innovated in the Iberian Peninsula long before the arrival of Islam, is associated perhaps more than any other architectural feature with Iberia, where it was used for structures as diverse as the mosque of Córdoba, the church of San Miguel de Escalada, and one of the two surviving medieval synagogues of Toledo. In addition, the stacking of horseshoe arches observed in the ivory relief evokes real architectural models as varied as the mosque of Cordoba and the monastery church of San Millán de la Cogolla.

In addition to their use in actual works of architecture, representations of horseshoe arches such as those seen on the Glencairn box were also important, as they underscore the connections among the three religions of Iberia. Comparison of several works in the exhibition shows the range of ideas that such a basic form could communicate. On the Glencairn box, the tiny image of Solomon’s temple reminds of the great works of a blessed king. Next to the box in the same case in the exhibition is a bronze incense burner made in Muslim-ruled al-Andalus, the body of which is pierced with horseshoe-arched openings to allow smoke and scent to escape (Figure 7). In this example, essentially a secular domestic object, the arches evoke a fine palace in miniature.

Adjacent to this case in the exhibition, visitors encounter two fragmentary Islamic grave markers from twelfth-century Almería. Their horseshoe-arched frames originally evoked the mihrabs, or prayer niches of mosques that emphasize the direction of prayer toward Mecca (Figure 8). In a neighboring vitrine, a fourteenth-century Hebrew Bible (Tanakh) made in Castile is open to a page of commentary also framed by horseshoe arches (Figure 9). This decoration perhaps evokes the memory of the lost Jerusalem Temple, given medieval Spanish Jews’ frequent description of the Bible as the Sanctuary of God. Together, these examples show that the common visual form of the horseshoe arch transcended differences of belief in early medieval Iberia, taking on specific meaning depending on the context. It also alludes to the shared importance of the sacred city of Jerusalem among the three monotheistic faiths.

Figure 8: Gallery installation showing two grave markers from 12th century Almería, Spain, on loan from the Hispanic Society Museum and Library (D223, D261). Photo: Bruce Schwarz, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Figure 9: Hebrew Bible, 1300-1350, ink, colors, and gold on parchment, made in Spain. The Cloisters Collection, 2018 (2018.59).

Figure 10: Pyxis carved with plants and animals, c. 950-77, ivory, made in Córdoba, Spain. The Cloisters Collection, 1970 (1970.324.5).

In addition to considering the box’s decorations, the exhibition also provides an opportunity to explore the significance of its material, elephant ivory. Around the year 1000, elephant ivory imported from Africa was abundant in the Iberian Peninsula. The craft of ivory carving had reached an apogee, with highly skilled sculptors producing exquisite objects of utmost delicacy. Yet those sculptors worked in Muslim-ruled al-Andalus, forming part of a royal workshop in the palace-city of Madinat al-Zahra, located just outside of Córdoba, then the capital of al-Andalus. In the exhibition, a cylindrical container sharing a case with Glencairn’s box represents the Andalusi mastery of the craft of ivory (Figure 10).

In contrast, there is little surviving evidence for the practice of ivory carving in Christian lands during the late tenth and early eleventh centuries, at least in part because the Andalusis effectively had a monopoly on African ivory at this time. The carvers of the Glencairn box, most likely working in the Christian-ruled north, may have had to obtain the materials from al-Andalus, given its booming markets for luxury goods and raw materials. Those examples that do survive from Christian lands—and Glencairn’s box is an important one—do not, for all their charm, display the same level of skill and panache in their carvings. This raises a number of questions about how the box came to be made at all, given the scarcity of material and technical know-how for working ivory in the Christian-ruled lands of northern Iberia.

In light of this, it is tempting to consider the possibility that the sculptor of the Glencairn box was trained in al-Andalus, and perhaps was not even Christian. To that end, while the box seems to have been made for Christian use, it features no explicitly Christian markers. The lid decoration includes two forms, partially covered by the box’s later copper-alloy mounts, that at first glance resemble crosses, but which in fact have six arms each (Figure 1). If these forms were indeed meant to be crosses, then their unusual representation raises questions about the sculptor’s awareness of Christian symbolism. Yet, although it is an intriguing option, it is not possible to definitively prove the carver’s religious identity. In the end, the closeness of the box’s imagery to Christian manuscript illustration, together with the relative awkwardness of the carving, rather suggests a Christian, perhaps even monastic artist working in an unfamiliar medium.

Regardless, the goal is not to prove the personal faith of the individual who made the box—something we can, one thousand years later, never hope to know. Rather, the goal is to explore all the possibilities that the box offers, through its subject matter, decoration, and materials. In its imagery, it speaks to a shared aspect of the three principal faiths of Iberia, the equal reverence for an ancient king who sought to do well by God. In its materials and manufacture, it highlights medieval supply chains, regionally renowned skills, and the sharing of both raw materials and skills across traditions. Finally, it is also an unlikely object, both because it was made at all, in a northern setting with neither abundance of ivory nor extensive technical knowledge, and because it survived to tell us its story, some ten centuries later. Spain, 1000–1200: Art at the Frontiers of Faith seeks to uncover more stories like this one, with the aim of revealing, through complicated objects, the complexity of medieval Iberian society—which in many ways, mirrors the complexity of our own.

Julia Perratore, PhD
Assistant Curator, Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters
The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Spain, 1000–1200: Art at the Frontiers of Faith is on view at The Met Cloisters through Sunday, February 13, 2022. Visitor Information for The Met Cloisters.

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