“Do you see those eyes in the angel’s wings? I’ve looked around the rest of the pattern, and it’s only here. Do you know what it means?” a stranger asked me.
I craned over the 11th century Epitaphios, intertwined with gold. As a Greek Orthodox Christian, I was in awe to see such a traditional part of my faith—a representation of the shroud of Christ—in almost perfect shape, dating back hundreds of years. I replied, “It could be the Cherubim or Seraphim.”
Heaven and Earth: A Collection of Byzantine Art at the National Gallery presents about 170 works and artifacts from mosaics to books and jewelry never before seen in the United States. Collaborating with the Benaki Museum of Athens, the exhibition highlights the prosperity and glory of the Byzantine Empire until its devastating fall in the 14th century.
Upon entering the exhibit, reverence silenced not only me, but everyone else who stepped into the museum wing. Even small children holding their parents’ hands sensed it was turned into a sacred place. Perhaps it was the familiar sounds of Gregorian chant that turned us all to respectful silence.
Transitioning seamlessly from religious items to secular pieces used in everyday life, I can see Heaven and Earth appealing to all art-lovers, be it for the artifacts’ historical context or merely the mysticism behind every angel and warrior’s heavy-lidded, almost sad eyes.
Yet for me, it was not the icons—so similar to those that I see in Greek Orthodox Churches today—but the mosaics that adorned the tops of churches and bathed everything in a celestial, golden light that amazed me. The gallery also featured a video, showing monasteries and churches scattered across the Greek countryside. Of course, the bottom halves of these churches would be barren, stripped by wars, aged by time. But the tops of the churches, where the enemy couldn’t reach, allowed the art’s beauty to survive. Ceiling mosaics of religious figures, birds, and the cross stood high and mighty above the destruction below. Intricate patterns covered high arches, all glittering in hues of gold and blue.
The vivid color that still remains on seccos done hundreds of years before is awe inspiring. Color and light dance across the walls, but most impressive is the shocking glow that envelops visitors in the gallery. It comes not from the lights themselves, but from the gold shining underneath glass cases.
Gold, gold, gold—I had forgotten how the Byzantines used gold leaf on everything from booklets to bracelets to icons themselves. Despite many of the pieces’ tattered condition after surviving attacks from the Ottomans, each piece still glowed, reminding us of the glory that Byzantium once wielded.
The National Gallery
Monday-Saturday, 10 am – 5 pm
Sunday, 11 am – 6 pm
nga.gov
