Medieval Spain and Modern Germany Meet at the Morgan

Above: The Pierpont Morgan Library. St. Michael Slaying Dragon, Christ in Majesty Above; Beatus of Liébana, from Las Huelgas Apocalypse, Spain, 1220; Below: Third Trumpet: Flaming Star Falls in the River, Beatus of Liébana, from Las Huelgas Apocalypse, Spain, 1220; (Images courtesy of the Morgan Library and Museum)

Two featured exhibitions at the Morgan Library and Museum come from two very different eras: the Middle Ages and the early 20th century. They also derive from countries geographically far apart in Europe: Spain and Germany. You would be excused for thinking that they have nothing in common—but you would be mistaken. In fact, the juxtaposition is surprisingly jolting.

The first, “Apocalypse Then,” refers to medieval illuminations from Spain, originally bound in a book, the Las Huelgas Apocalypse, made in the year 1220. (The exhibit also includes a work from the year 945, and two Flemish examples from about 1475.) The occasion for the exhibition is the dismantling of the book to make a facsimile, which visitors are now free to leaf through, as well as view 50 original, full-page miniatures for the first time.

The second show, “From Berlin to Broadway: The Ebb Bequest of Modern German and Austrian Drawings,” consists of 43 early-20th-century German and Austrian drawings from the collection of the famous Broadway lyricist, Fred Ebb (1928-2004). It could almost be subtitled “Apocalypse Now,” if that title had not already been appropriated!

Both exhibitions display art works from turbulent times: that of the Middle Ages, and the era of the two world wars. Both predict disaster and yet, at the same time, look ahead to the modernism of the 20th and 21st centuries.

How can that be?

The works of incredible beauty, abstraction, and fantasy in the first show combine the fear of God and the Devil with monstrous beings prophesizing the end of the world. The Book of Revelation (also known as the Apocalypse), the last book of the New Testament, is both complex and frightening. Perhaps for those very reasons, it has provided inspiration for numerous artists of different eras. This show predicts 20th-century Surrealism in the form of fantastic, winged creatures that support Christ’s mandorla (an ancient symbol of two overlapping circles) in the image of St. Michael Slaying the Dragon, Christ in Majesty Above. A great red dragon with seven heads, upon which are seven diadems, appears in heaven above a woman giving birth in Woman Clothed in the Sun and the Defeat of the Seven-Headed Dragon. The abstract formats of The Third Trumpet: Flaming Star Falls in the River and The Devil Chained in the Abyss and the Dragon make you gasp at their modernity. This latter work illustrates the story of how the Devil was chained for the duration of the millennium in an abyss, after which he would be loosed once again to do battle with Christ and the saints. In evoking modern millennial fears, it reminds me of Ingmar Bergman’s unforgettable masterpiece, The Seventh Seal, which refers to this very prediction.

Above: The Pierpont Morgan Library. Emil Nolde: Conferencier (c. 1910–11), brush with ink and watercolor on Japan paper; The Pierpont Morgan Library, bequest of Fred Ebb, 2005; Below: Erich Heckel: Seated Man (Self-Portrait) (1912), oil over traces of graphite pencil on laid paper; The Pierpont Morgan Library, bequest of Fred Ebb, 2005. (Images courtesy of the Morgan Library and Museum)

The second, 20th-century, show is not as ornate and colorful as the medieval one, but it is every bit as terrifying. The torment, angst, and frenzy in “From Berlin to Broadway” match those emotions in the exhibit of medieval illuminations. Both depict the foibles of humankind, trying in vain to escape the inescapable.

One particularly poignant example in the Ebb bequest is Erich Heckel’s 1912 Self-Portrait, slashed onto the canvas with jagged lines and colors. The artist—with his greenish-yellow, jaundiced skin, surrounded by garish blue, pink, and lavender and scribbles of black—could be sitting in hell. At the same time, Emil Nolde’s Conferencier (1910-11) looks a bit like the character of the Emcee in Cabaret. You can almost hear him singing, “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome.” Perhaps this is no coincidence, as Fred Ebb began collecting these works after the 1966 success of his Cabaret, which was set in Berlin between the two world wars.

Otto Dix’s We Want Bread! (1923) starkly contrasts a stereotyped group of decadent, hypocritical rich people with the angry, marching proletariat. The rich amuse themselves, drinking and smoking in a cafe. They are all either too fat or too skinny. One skull-headed man (the Devil?) has pointy fingernails and wears a swastika on his lapel. The fat woman next to him wears a crucifix above her flabby breasts and a tiara in her hair. She mirrors the seven-headed dragon with diadems on its heads in the Huelgas manuscripts. The proletariat include a war veteran on crutches and a pregnant woman holding a little child by the hand.

Max Beckmann, in his 1947 drawing Nightclub, shows a bare-breasted, acrobatic woman doing a split in the air, each leg held by a clown, against a background of musicians frenetically playing. And Karl Hubbuch’s The Film Star Spends Two Minutes in Her Parents’ Garden of 1932 is almost humorous, but the poor neighbors rushing out to see her from the other side of the fence recall concentration-camp victims in a manner that is a bit too close for comfort.

Both shows are very much worth seeing. The earlier show is far more complex, and the symbolism more difficult to comprehend. But it is well worth the effort. Obviously, the 20th-century one is closer to our immediate understanding. It starkly illustrates and comments on differences between rich and poor, and on the grotesque and terrifying conditions in Germany before and during the two world wars. The combination of eroticism, violence, and poverty with the frenetic attempt at escapism surely strikes a chord with contemporary Americans in the wake of 9/11, the current wars, and fears of terrorism.

The Morgan Library and Museum provides a stately and calm venue for viewing art, an oasis in New York City. Do not miss John Pierpont Morgan’s original library and the wonderful collection of musical manuscripts while you are there. The Morgan is located at 225 Madison Avenue between 36th and 37th Streets. “Apocalypse Then” runs through the end of June; “From Berlin to Broadway” runs through September 2.

Art historian Greta Berman has been on the liberal arts faculty since 1979.