Art for Lent (30): ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ (2004), by John Byrne

John Byrne’s ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ in the Italian Quarter off Lower Ormond Quay, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

My choice of Art for Lent this morning (3 April 2014) is John Byrne’s controversial ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ in the Italian Quarter off Lower Ormond Quay, Dublin. This Dublin version of the Last Supper is the centrepiece of the Italian Quarter on the north bank of the River Liffey at the Millennium Bridge.

John Byrne’s ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ was completed in 2004, with photographs screen-printed onto vitreous enamel. It measures 220 x 930 cm. It consists of a cast of 13, and depicts a re-enactment of Leonardo da Vinci’s famous masterpiece, but with an ethic mix of disciples, modern dress, women and contemporary food.

John Byrne’s ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ was installed in Dublin’s ‘Italian Quarter’ ten years ago and was opened on 31 July 2004.

This work by was commissioned by the Wexford restaurateur and TD, Mick Wallace, and his company, M&J Wallace Ltd, for the courtyard at Bloom’s Lane, Lower Ormond Quay on the north side of the River Liffey. The project was curated by Cliodhna Shaffrey.

John Byrne sees his ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ as an expression of “positive politics and his faith in ordinary people,” and this mural reflects a changing society and the growing cultural mix in Dublin.

He says its message includes the suggestion that neither institution nor religion has a monopoly on goodness.

To assemble the apostles, Byrne walked through Dublin and approached people asking them if they would like to take part in the Last Supper.

The final selection, dressed by the artist in emblematic garments, could – without these garments – represent a cross-section of people you or I could meet in any ordinary day in the streets of Dublin.

Large numbers of tourists, workers and diners pass John Byrne’s ‘Dublin’s Last Supper’ every day and every night in the Italian Quarter in Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

The thirteen, from left to right, are:

Bartholomew: Jude O Dochartaigh, a tattoo artist;

James the Less: Vernoica, a librarian;

Andrew: Eddie Salim, from east Africa;

Judas: Frank Conlon, an actor and drama facilitator;

Peter: Henry;

John: Julie Kerrigan, an employee at Pavee Point Travellers’ Centre;

Jesus: Kulpreet Singh, a PhD student at Trinity College Dublin;

Thomas: Willie Crowley, an ecologist;

James the Great: Leighton, a student at Cornell University;

Philip: Diana Sabogal, a student at the American College, Dublin;

Matthew: Alan Kavanagh, an architecture student at Dublin Institute of Technology (DIT);

Thaddeus: Aloysius McKenna, a building worker;

Simon: Michael Foley, a network analyst.

Did you notice the extra hand behind Judas? This is the hand of Jonathan Hession, the photographer on this project.

John Byrne worked in collaboration with a team that included: photographer, Jonathan Hession; stage director, Laragh Pittmann; Photo Retouching, Rory McAllorum; Costumes, Jean Cronin; Film Processing, Ciaran Rooney; and Assistant Photographer, Fionn Hession.

The table for the supper is laid with wine, fruit, Irish soda bread, salt, bitter herbs and a tea pot.

Making the work was something akin to staging and shooting a movie scene. The photographs were shot in Saint Michael’s and Saint John’s Church in Temple Bar. The background scenes were shot separately and include St Luke’s Church, now a fire-damaged ruin in the Coombe in Dublin’s Liberties, and the dome of the Four Courts, photographed from the roof of Temple Bar Gallery and Studios.

John Byrne is known for his satirical wit, and for his ability to get under the skin and to hit a pulse. His previous works included The Border Interpretive Centre (Louth/Armagh, 2000) and his video Would you die for Ireland? about Robert Emmet. His work has been praised in The Observer for its “slightly mad but strangely instructive” qualities and he was described in the Sunday Tribune as “one of surprisingly few Irish artists who consistently deals with issues focusing on Ireland, its history, and Irishness.”

The curator of the project, Clíodhna Shaffrey, felt that an artist like John Byrne, might respond to the nuances of Mick Wallace’s persona, with his interest in politics, philosophy, Italy, wine and passion for soccer.

Byrne manages to please his patron when he places a Juventus shirt in the corner, behind where Simon is sitting, and when he adds the Italian club’s name in its signature font to the wall of old Saint Luke’s which is crumbling and covered in graffiti.

Some thoughts and questions for reflection

Byrne’s mural is a popular place for tourists to have their photographs taken, but it caused controversy and has upset many people who have found it offensive or even sacrilegious. Do you find it offensive, and if so, why?

The word holy implies being set apart for God. Do you you think this is a good or bad example of how to make Christian symbols relevant to today’s culture?

Do you think it is acceptable or offensive to have a mural of the Last Supper in a street or square that is surrounded by many restaurants?

Do you think Leonardo da Vinci may have caused offence by using contemporary models for his Last Supper?

Should John Byrne have portrayed three of the disciples (in this case James the Less, John and Philip) as women?

Is the portrayal of Judas as a modern-day banker or Peter as a priest seeking to make the images relevant to today’s society?

Or is the artist criticising banking and the Church or saying they have lost authority in Irish society today?

Further details about this project are available from Cliodhna Shaffrey: cshaffrey _at_shaffrey.ie. Larger images available of this work can be seen here.

Tomorrow: ‘Ecce Homo’ by Patrick Pye.

Seeing and believing … two stories of healing and restoration in Lent

Do we see clearly? Do we see what is before our eyes? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)

Patrick Comerford

Church of Ireland Theological Institute,

2 April 2014,

5 p.m., The Community Eucharist,

I Samuel 16: 1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5: 8-14; and John 9: 1-41.

May I speak to you in the name of + the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Last Sunday [30 March 2014] was both the Fourth Sunday in Lent and Mothering Sunday. It’s a Sunday when we probably hear little about this Gospel reading (John 9: 1-41) at the expense of a lot of repeat sermons on the benefits of motherhood and apple pie and the stellar qualities of “Mother Church” or of a cathedral as the “mother church” of the diocese.

But I wonder and worry at times how many women feel isolated and marginalised by some of those sermons on Mothering Sunday – women who have had miscarriages or seen their children suffer and die; women who would love to but have never given birth to children; people who have grown up in families where the mother figure was absent or ill, died early, or was abusive or violent?

In our Gospel reading this evening, Christ meets a young man in Jerusalem who has been blind since birth. The disciples ask Christ: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (verse 2) He answers them: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world” (John 9: 3-5)

Many grieving and suffering mothers hearing this Gospel reading on Mothering Sunday must have wondered why their children are suffering and how or where their sufferings and the sufferings of their children fit into God’s plans for the fullness of creation.

Indeed, while we must agree the blindness of this young man could not possibly be due to his sins or the sins of his ancestors, how many of us blame other people for their plight, and how many of us still believe that those in poverty and deprivation simply need to “pull themselves up”?

In healing this young man, Christ puts into action what he has already proclaimed in the synagogue in Nazareth as being the heart of the Gospel. We heard this in the first reading here in the chapel yesterday evening [Tuesday, 1 April 2014]:

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’ (Luke 4: 18-19)

This evening, Christ moves beyond compassion for the young blind man in Jerusalem to actually healing him and restoring him to the place in society those around him would deny him. But he avoids falling into the trap others want to set for him, those who want him to pass judgment on those they see as being sinful and deserving of divine wrath.

Christ’s compassion, his caring and his non-judgmental response, are in stark contrast to some of the attitudes we find today. For example, I recently came across this posting: “Christians who by their failure to proclaim the Christ of the gospel of the kingdom while they treat AIDS victims in their suffering here and now show themselves not really to believe all that the Bible says about fleeing the wrath to come. In the end, it is a practical atheism and a failure in love.”

Practical Christianity is reduced to practical atheism in this sharp judgment without any reference to the example of Christ in the Gospel.

Compare this with Christ’s own words later in this Gospel, the end of the Gospel reading on Maundy Thursday: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13: 35; see I John 3: 14; I John 4: 20).

John Myatt’s mural on a wall in Bird Street, Lichfield, commemorating Samuel Johnson (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2013)

Meanwhile, it is worth asking: What would you miss if you were blind?

So often, we take for granted not just our health and well-being but our physical senses too – our sight, speech, hearing, sense of smell and touch.

Even when we have the gift of sight, when we have 20/20 vision, we do not necessarily have the gift of being insightful. Throughout the Fourth Gospel, there is sharp contrast between darkness and light, and also between seeing and believing. It is an interplay worked out very carefully yet very dramatically in this chapter, and also, for example, in the post-resurrection story of Thomas who refuses to believe until he sees (see John 20: 24-29).

Our eyes can play some nasty tricks on us, catching us out by surprise, not allowing us to see what is actually there.

Things are not always as we see them or as they seem.

Many of you are familiar with the match-stick play on the letters that make up the name of Jesus. It takes some time to puzzle it out. Then, once we have worked it out it becomes impossible to see the composition the way we had seen it in our ignorance.

In art, I particularly like mosaics. If we look at the detail we miss the whole picture. Sometimes 20/20 vision can be a barrier to clear vision and we have to squint our eyes to see the full picture, to see what the artist wants us to see.

I don’t have 20/20 vision and I am also colour blind – yes, I actually have a form of red/green colour blindness that means I see some shades of green and orange as brown, which all goes to make an interesting political point.

So, in looking at mosaics in old churches or on Byzantine floors and walls, I have to squint my eyes or even rely on someone else to help me pick out the colours before I get the full picture.

I had to do this for the first time when I saw a mosaic of Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) on a street corner near where I once worked in Lichfield. This mosaic, by the controversial artist John Myatt, is based on a portrait of Dr Johnson by Sir Joshua Reynolds and was completed in 1976.

Perhaps it is appropriate that you have to squint when you are looking at this mosaic for the first time so that you get the whole picture, because Samuel Johnson was almost functionally blind since childhood, and to read he had to squint and peer. Yet he became one of the most important writers in the 18th century, and next only to William Shakespeare he is perhaps the most quoted English writer.

Samuel Johnson could have identified with the story of the blind young man in today’s Gospel reading. A childhood infection left him deaf in his left ear, almost blind in his left eye, with impaired vision in his right eye, and with scar tissue that disfigured his face. He was so blind and disabled that a family servant carried him on her back to and from school each day.

But he refused to allow his near-blindness and his visible disabilities to put him on the margins of society, or to blame his parents or himself for the disabilities that made him almost sightless and almost unsightly (see I Samuel 16: 7). Indeed, all this served to strengthen and to grow his faith as he matured.

In his diary he wrote one Easter:

“Almighty and most merciful Father, who hast created and preserved me, have pity on my weakness and corruption. Let me not be created to misery, nor preserved only to multiply sin. Deliver me from habitual wickedness, and idleness, enable me to purify my thoughts, to use the faculties which thou hast given me with honest diligence, and to regulate my life by thy holy word.”

As a young man, he was deeply influenced by reading William Law’s A Serious Call To a Devout and Holy Life, and he went on to live such a saintly life that he is commemorated by the Church of England in the calendar of Common Worship on 13 December. Later in life, he bemoaned the fact that the observance of Lent had fallen into neglect in Britain and in Ireland in his time, and he fasted strictly on Good Friday.

He is best known for his pioneering Dictionary of the English Language (1755), editing Shakespeare’s works, and his essays. Before writing those essays, he would pray in these words:

“Almighty God ... without whose grace all wisdom is folly, grant, I beseech thee, that in this my undertaking thy Holy Spirit may not be withheld from me, but that I may promote thy glory, and the salvation both of myself and others.”

I find Johnson’s last prayer, as he was about to receive Holy Communion for the last time, an appropriate prayer to mediate on during Lent, and also before receiving Holy Communion:

“Almighty and most merciful Father,
I am now, as to human eyes it seems,
about to commemorate, for the last time,
the death of your Son Jesus Christ our Saviour and Redeemer.
Grant, O Lord,
that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits and his mercy;
enforce and accept my imperfect repentance;
make this commemoration confirm my faith,
establish my hope and enlarge my charity,
and make the death of your Son Jesus Christ effectual to my redemption.
Have mercy upon me and pardon the multitude of my offences.
Bless my friends, have mercy upon all.
Support me, by the grace of your Holy Spirit,
in the days of weakness and at the hour of death;
and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness,
for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

He died quietly on the evening of 13 December 1784.

Samuel Johnson turned his back to the smiters and did not hide his face from shame. His life story is one of darkness turning to light, of moving from blindness to sight, of rising above the harsh judgments of others to redemption, restoration and a living faith.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) ... the portrait by Joshua Reynolds inspired John Myatt’s mural in Lichfield

John Myatt’s mosaic in Lichfield depicts the recognisable face of Samuel Johnson, including his squinting eyes. It is made of small plywood blocks painted with emulsion and marine varnish in a variety of colours. It is larger than life, measuring 2.32 m (7.61 ft) high x 3.36 m (11 ft) wide.

John Myatt is a controversial artist and a convicted forger who carried out “the biggest art fraud of the 20th century.”

At art school in Stafford he discovered an amusing talent for mimicking the styles of other artists. He began teaching art at a school near Tamworth in 1968 and opened a studio in Lichfield, where he created original works and in 1976 painted this street mural of Samuel Johnson.

Meanwhile, he was also travelling to Birmingham at weekends to study paintings by the Pre-Raphaelites and artists like Pissarro. It fuelled a passion that turned into quite a skill – undetectable fakes.

His first wife left him in 1985, and he gave up teaching and tried to make a living by painting original works in the style of well-known artists. In 1986, while struggling to raise two children on an art teacher’s salary, he placed a notice in Private Eye offering “genuine 19th and 20th century fakes for £200.”

John Drewe, a regular customer who claimed to be a professor of nuclear physics, resold some of these paintings as genuine works, and forged papers for their provenance. When he told John Myatt that Christie’s had accepted one of his paintings as a genuine work and paid £25,000, he became a willing accomplice to Drewe’s fraud, and began painting in the style of masters like Marc Chagall, Le Corbusier, Matisse and Graham Sutherland.

Drewe sold them to auction houses, including Christie’s, Phillips and Sotheby’s, and to dealers in London, Paris and New York.

Myatt was arrested in 1995. He quickly confessed, admitting he had created the paintings using emulsion paint and K-Y Jelly. He had made around £275,000, and he offered to return it all and to help to convict Drewe. They went on trial in 1998, and a few months later Myatt was sentenced to a year in prison and Drewe was sentenced to six years.

On his release, John Myatt’s arresting officer from Scotland Yard became the first new customer for his “Genuine Fakes.” Since his release, John has continued to paint portraits and copies, now marked indelibly as fakes. Some have sold for up to £45,000.

In 2005, he and Stephen Sanders restored the mural of Samuel Johnson. Now John is a well-known Sky Arts presenter and is happily remarried. He is back living in Lichfield, where he is a committed Christian, and where he plays the organ in his local church every Sunday.

His story is not just a story with a happy ending, but a story for Lent about wilderness times, fall, redemption and restoration.

A street view of John Myatt’s mural of Samuel Johnson in Bird Street, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)

Both John Myatt and Samuel Johnson found themselves in the wilderness, but they moved from the trials of Lent to the hope of Easter.

Their stories are stories of compassion, and of how the compassion of Christ not only extends to but also embraces those who are pushed to the margins by others.

Those we think are blind can often see clearly and come to full faith in hidden ways. We can see, but do we have a faith that others can see in us, in how we live, how we pray, and how we show compassion to those who others would push to the margins or all too easily think are suffering because of their sins and the sins of their families?

Tertullian quoted a pagan official saying about the Christians: “Look at how much they love each other!”

We may see, but do we show we believe? We may believe, but do others see that we believe?

And so, may well we think, say and do be to the praise, honour and glory of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Wise words from Dr Samuel Johnson in the Hedgehog Vintage Inn, Lichfield (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2013)

Collect

Lord God
whose blessed Son our Saviour
gave his back to the smiters
and did not hide his face from shame:
Give us grace to endure the sufferings of this present time
with sure confidence in the glory that shall be revealed;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Post-Communion Prayer:

Father,
through your goodness
we are refreshed through your Son
in word and sacrament.
May our faith be so strengthened and guarded
that we may witness to your eternal love
by our words and in our lives.
Grant this for Jesus’ sake, our Lord.

Canon Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and an Adjunct Assistant Professor, Trinity College Dublin. This sermon was preached at the Community Eucharist in the institute chapel on 2 April 2014.