14th century carved crosses on the walls of the Chapel of St. Helena
Thousands of tiny, "medieval" crosses are carved into the walls of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Masons or artisans carved these crosses, probably on behalf of pilgrims, who it is argued, kept the dust from each carving as a relic or sacred souvenir. What interested me in this work was the importance of the dust removal. When carving any dust is usually regarded as waste, but in this instance it is the carvings that are the remainder, the dust being central to an important ritual. This ritual gives the dust honorific value partly by it coming from a very holy place, (inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the hill of Golgotha, the site of Jesus’ crucifixion, as well as the Tomb of Jesus, where he was buried and from which he arose from the dead) and partly by it being generated by the activity of carving a cross. The making of a cross was a vital sign of not just being a Christian, but of the 'truth' or 'veracity' of one's actions. In this case each pilgrim was engaging in a ritual that resulted in their being able to take away a physical memory or talisman of their experience. I'm interested in these ritual actions because I have been making small ceramic 'votive' type objects and looking at the moment of 'transaction' between myself as a maker and the individuals that have a vested interest in thinking of these objects as externalised feelings or concerns.
Foot votives
The ceramic foot votives above were eventually turned into candles, their insides filled with wax and wicks inserted, so that a nighttime ritual could be developed around the idea of lighting someone's way. These feet were made for someone feeling 'lost', the foot candles giving that someone an excuse to punctuate their day with a moment's reflection, the feet representing both themselves and others, and being a reminder that in many ways we are all lost and seeking the 'right' path.
A votive made for someone with bad eczema
Sometimes votives were made in direct response to a physical pain or affliction, as in the one above. The important issue was however how an individual used their relationship with the votive to 'solve' their particular need. For instance they might bury it, smash it, give it to someone else or put it on display. Once the thought, idea or feeling is externalised, it can be 'done to' as you would any other thing out in the world.
A kintsugi repair
Kintsugi, relates to another type of ritual action that can be embedded into life. In its original form pieces of broken ceramic are put back together and repaired using golden lacquer, these repaired ceramic bowls becoming a reminder that what might have been an accident or flaw, could now be even more meaningful, as kintsugi converts what was a weakness into a strength and like the Kula exchange, as an object is given to another or has another action embedded into its history, it becomes more and more valuable, not in monetary terms but in emotional significance. This idea is reflected in the bowls chosen for Japanese tea ceremonies; bowls with imperfections are revered for their beauty and may be chosen over and above a bowl that is aesthetically beautiful, but without a lived experience.
Mizuko kuyo: A ritual figure
One of the roles of art has always been to help with a coming to terms with the bigger picture. We have however in a secular society perhaps forgotten how to embed ritual into our daily life. We all used to have to say a simple prayer, 'For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful' before every meal, as a reminder of how lucky we were to have food on the table, but this was in a time just after the war when food had been scarce and rationing was still in place. If we don't stop and have those moments of reflection, we begin to take everything for granted, and this has led to a difficult present whereby we have many luxuries but very few reasons to feel connected to a deeper vision of the world, one whereby we feel inextricably part of the natural order of things.
Historically the arts functioned to provide an emotionally felt and transcendent means of establishing contact with things beyond human understanding, often by creating an externalised visualisation of inner feelings or concepts, visualisations that could then be used during communal ceremonial rituals. Artists are still making externalised visualisations of inner feelings, but our very individualistic society has somehow lost its way and the communal ties of agreed communication are hard to see. But ritual does still happen, if we look at roadside temporary memorials or shrines, or the outpouring of grief that was written on the walls in relation to the Grenfell Tower fire, we see the need for ritual events and how some form of physical object needs to be used as a focus for them.
Roadside memorial
Grenfell memorial wall
There are though small rituals that are perhaps just as important in relation to our individual engagement with life. Roger Ackling's meditative mark making, whereby he used a magnifying glass to focus sunlight and make scorch marks on found pieces of wood, celebrates the central power of the sun in all our lives, his small controlled gestures still resonate and when we look at his work, especially if you are allowed to hold them in your hands as you do so, we are reminded that small repeated gestures can be very meaningful. (Think of how we use rosary beads).
Roger Ackling: Sun histories: sunburnt wood
Mudrā
Small rituals come in many guises and perhaps the simplest and most effective are those gestures that we make with our hands. For instance the hand gestures or mudrās in tantric rituals can be used to construct a complete symbolic world. In Buddhist and Hindu traditions rosary beads are called mala. They consist of 108 beads that represent the 108 human passions or sins that must be overcome in order to reach enlightenment. Touching the beads reminds the user of each different passion and the ways you might confront that passion and go beyond it. The beads are another way to externalise an idea and you could theorise this use as an extended mind concept, the beads becoming a substitute memory organ.
Many of us perform private rituals without realising that we are performing them. Perhaps metaphorically touching a piece of wood to ensure good luck, keeping our fingers crossed or not stepping on cracks in paving stones, these very basic ritual activities give meaning to daily activities and in their repetition these simple acts gradually acquire more forcefulness. However, what begins as a basic response, can over time become obsessive. People can find themselves silently repeating special words, repeatedly touching certain things or images, or counting and re-counting numbers. Obsessive compulsive disorders are perhaps not far away from private rituals, but all these things are part and parcel of being who we are and how we operate and as such they can be an entry into the way we think about how the making of art can have meaning. In this case I am suggesting that all art objects may work in a similar way to these objects of ritual, they are externalised ideas, ideas made concrete or materialised and as such they become extensions of our minds, extensions that allow us to see what we are doing a little more clearly or perhaps allow us to re-embody, hold on to or digest ideas by making body metaphors into realities.
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