The first monk in the world had woodworm problems. What to do? A reflection on this masterpiece by German sculptor Tilman Riemenschneider.
The faces of wooden sculptures from the 15th and 16th centuries look very dated today. Those high shaved foreheads of the women. All those closed eyes, like those of the praying Blessed Virgin Mary. The men too are clearly a few centuries past their expiration date.
But then suddenly there is that deviant sculpture of a saint, the progenitor of all monks who began retreating into monasteries: Saint Anthony Abbot (251 – 356), the 105-year-old ‘hermit’ from Egypt.
What makes this model modern?
His face is too long and therefore modern again, like an artistic interpretation of a model by an artist. His posture is also not stiff, like that of other saints from that time. It looks as if Saint Anthony is standing behind a tree and peering through the branches. That doesn’t suit someone who withdrew from society to dedicate himself to prayer. The loss of his hands over the centuries further reinforces this image. Originally the monk would have held the Book of Books in one hand and probably a staff and a bell in the other. Ringing is the last thing you can use when spying.
Another detail that makes Saint Anthony a sculpture of this time: his split beard. Hipsters and other beard wearers know that this is a natural effect when their beard gets a decent length. There is even a name for it, the ‘Forkbeard’, a term like Saint Antony also coming from the Middle East: Iran. A Viking was even named after this beard style: Sweyn Forkbeard, king of Denmark from 983 to 1014. And that strange hat Saint Anthony wears? Doesn’t it look like the popular ‘beanie’ of today, made by both fashion designers like Paul Smith and the workwear line of Carhartt?
Saint Anthony surveys the world
The maker of this sculpture is considered one of the greatest wood artists ever: the German Tilman Riemenschneider (1460-1523). He too lived in the time when traditional wood carving art reached a peak, not only in the Low Countries, but also in Germany and Italy. The skill and detailing with which hair, beards and robes were carved in the late Gothic and early Renaissance has never been surpassed since.
Riemenschneider’s sculpture from the year 1510 symbolizes this cultural transition. This Saint Anthony Abbot no longer retreats behind dark monastery walls, but looks up and surveys the landscape. The tree behind which he hides stands on a high hill, with a gigantic view. He is not secretly watching women bathing in a river, no, he surveys the world, which was slowly opening up in the Renaissance. Riemenschneider also portrayed the humanist Erasmus, for example, in a group of sculptures with Saint Christopher and Eustace.
Hands lost
This is not, by the way, directly what art historians note when discussing this magnificent sculpture. I found on the internet a special lecture from Harvard Museum in which Gabriella Szalay delves deeper into the woodworms that have eaten away at Saint Anthony over the years.
Her interest is ‘material studies’: how are sculptures made? Szalay shows many round holes in the sculpture and addresses the dilemma: restore (and thus fill the holes) or conserve and leave the damage as it is? What should the Busch-Reisinger Museum in Cambridge (Massachusetts, USA) do as owner?
The art historian doesn’t seem to mind at all that Saint Anthony’s hands have been lost. ‘That gives us the opportunity to see how this sculpture was made. The hands turn out to have been made from a different piece of wood, which were later attached to the sculpture. Probably with a glue of bones and animal fat.’
Sacred growth
Riemenschneider chose lime wood, to be able to carve his sculpture as detailed as possible. The structure of oak wood, for example, is so much coarser and harder and at the same time more brittle to work in. What also played a role: in the 15th and 16th centuries magical powers were attributed to the linden tree. Amulets of lime wood were supposed to protect the population against plagues, such as the plague. Bark and seeds served as medicine. Linden in old German even means ‘sacred growth’. To this day, linden blossom tea is very suitable as a calming and pain-relieving sleep aid, for irritated mucous membranes, dry cough, colds and high blood pressure. Riemenschneider must have thought: Saint Anthony could use such sources of power, after he had retreated to the desert for a long time.
Riemenschneider left his sculpture unpainted, unlike many altarpieces from that time. In his workshop there was no room for a ‘fassmaler’, who also gilded carved wooden sculptures with gold leaf. Riemenschneider wanted to keep the wood visible, because of those special properties of lime wood. Even natural forms in the wood were given a place in his sculpture, such as in the saint’s cloak.
The curse of lime wood
The ‘curse’ of lime wood he accepted: woodworm – according to Szalay even ‘different species of worms’ – are very fond of the soft structure of lime wood. The result is that especially the bottom of the cloak and the shoes are riddled with black specks. The first task of a conservator is therefore to check whether the worms are still alive and if so, to exterminate them. At a temperature of 55 degrees Celsius the larvae die after half an hour, but freezing in a freezer cell at minus 20 degrees Celsius also works.
The museum left it at this treatment, a luxury choice that many church boards with worm-eaten wooden sculptures and organ casings are jealous of. Fortunately there are still some very skilled restorers, like my own teacher Jan van Harskamp. He constantly receives commissions to invisibly restore parts of sculptures, such as missing fingers on a hand of Jesus or the wings of angels.
