Fabienne Verdier- Retables, Waddington Custot, London - Flipbook - Page 28
Mary, whose humanity was embodied by the indentation on the other
side. The filaments linking the two tips sealed the divine bond that the
announcement had just established. To me, the ruddy ground suggested
the red curtain in the Virgin’s bedroom in the background of the Annunciation painted by Fra Angelico in Cortona. Through this blood-red colour,
the great Renaissance artist was also able to hint at the sacrificial destiny
of the unborn child. The disparity of our perceptions demonstrates just
how varied meaning can be when we are faced with a form reduced to its
dazzling essence. Everything is in everything; the formula may be hackneyed, but here it is efficient: to achieve such a concentration of meaning
with so little is extraordinary. How does art wield such enchantment to
encapsulate the boundless within a fragment? Is it not true that in Fra
Angelico’s works, angels served as Christianity’s conduits to embody invisible energies? The allegory inspired genuine virtuosity in the rendering
of angelic wings, their chromatic subtleties surely resonating deeply with
Fabienne Verdier. Never before had invisibility been so elegantly captured
as in the altarpieces of the Italian Renaissance.
Within the framework of her own altarpieces, over several years Fabienne
Verdier undertook an ambitious project that sought to depict all of nature’s
dynamic forces. From the Earth’s tectonics [Les Racines de la terre (The
roots of the earth)] to atmospheric mutations [Un ciel plein d’une force tourbillonnaire (A sky full of a whirlwind power), Aux échelles du vent (On the
wings of the wind)], these fundamental energies all carry with them a cataclysmic liability. Mountains [Les Aiguilles, de nuit et de silence (The needles,
of night and of silence), Au plein de la montagne (High up in the mountains)] are spawned by violent eruptions before being slowly eroded away.
Between horizon and abyss, between calm and fury, the separation is slight
on a human scale. In no time at all, a breeze can turn into a storm, mist into
thick smoke. The imperceptible essence of reality reveals its most formidable aspect in this cycle. Yet, amidst the shadows and menace, a joyful
refrain resonates, as softly expressed in the title of one work: Danser le
jour, danser la nuit (Dancing by day, dancing by night). This joyful spirit
permeates the pink ground of Assis sous les nuages (Sitting under the
clouds), akin to the Laetare (Rejoice!) celebrations of the fourth Sunday of
Lent. To me, this lively pink, reminiscent of details from renowned Renaissance altarpieces, embodies the resilience of creation persisting through
profound obstacles. Ici le ciel, ici la prairie, et là le vent du sud (Here the
sky, here the meadow, and there the southern wind) blends green and blue,
echoing harmony in Chinese painting between sky and earth, mountains
and water. The golden ground of the small piece Être deux (Being two)
evokes the emotional impact I experienced before portable altarpieces
crafted by the Italian Primitives. These miniature altars, popularised by
the Florentine painter Bernardo Daddi, were bearers of light and salvation in the midst of the most terrible epidemic known to mankind, the
Black Death. In 1348, the painter himself, who had placed his faith in this
consummate colour, succumbed to the disease. That same year, the first
university in Central Europe opened its doors in Prague.
The tumult of matter in Le chaos cosmique (Cosmic chaos) and Au chemin
des éclairs (On the path of lightning) can become song [L’Hymne de la
nuit (Anthem of the night) and L’Horizon de la nuit (The night’s horizon)].
I experienced this one evening while strolling along the seafront of this
Italian town on the Adriatic coast, where I have withdrawn to write. For
days, I had been contemplating the concept of cosmic chaos woven into
order. As I pondered this interplay of disorder and structure, I halted in
astonishment in front of a palm tree. Placed vertically, the grid of cosmic
chaos in the painting of the same name seemed a natural extension of the
interwoven structure of the sheaths of the old leaves on the palm’s trunk.
I found this all the more dumbfounding as, a few days before my departure,
Fabienne Verdier had shared with me how analogies with tree structures
were influencing her recent focus on verticality in her artistic endeavours.
One of her childhood memories, she told me, was the happy image
of playing in the old apple trees at her grandfather’s house [À l’ombre de
l’arbre (In the shade of the tree)]. Arborescence is among the most prevalent
28
Fabienne Verdier
Horizon #14
2023
Lucas Cranach the Elder
Jonah and the Whale
c. 1520–30
Jan Brueghel the Elder
Jonah Leaving the Whale
c. 1595
Fra Angelico
The Annunciation
detail from the Cortona Altarpiece
c. 1433–34
