Layne Redmond Interview

The leader of female frame drummers, Layne Redmond interview at Los Angeles by Japan Frame Drum Association.

Women in art

A collection of some of the most beautiful women and romantic art through history. Music by Jimmy Gelhaar.





Music:

Beethoven: "Moonlight Sonata"
Bach: "Air On The G String"
Debussy: "Clair de Lune"
Dvorak: "The New World" [from Symphony number 9]

Sad, Mad Vincent, how we both wandered, never really going home

Everywhere I look
Oh I see the magic
And I somehow
Try to capture it
It's been the only way
To turn from lonely
Even though
I'm losing grip

Oh I just
can't
I just can't stay

It's really hard to sleep
With these paintings everywhere
It's sad to see this beauty
When I'm dieing of despair
I can't sleep
And I can't go on
Been so lonely here today
Been so lonely -
so lonely
for so long
Oh I
I just can't stay
Oh really
I can't stay

Day in day out something drives me and I
stop to paint
all these miracles of color
Don't want to listen to all these
voices in my head
telling me that this ain't life
that I should choose another...

Arles, a town in the South of France
When the sun bursts from the clouds, bursts from behind and beyond doubt -
if you're lucky
Vincent
All you'll remember seeing are the rooftops
A town of rooftops
Not a town painted in pain

It ain't funny.
What a difference,
a day don't make.
It's kind of frightening?
How you let yourself,
get this way?

You had time.
That was back when you had it made.
But you sold out time
Like you had so much time,
left to save.

Gonna take an earthquake
To hit you
Right between the eyes
Gonna take an earthquake
Just to get you,
to read between the lines
Man it ain't funny……

Sad mad Vincent
you can hear the children laughing
they've made you part of their children's game
You stumble through the dusty street
wondering if even the whores
will right away forget your name

It's getting harder to believe
any more
that anything is true
You never set out to
hurt no one
you could never be that cruel

There's voices in your head
today
the voices you can't drink away
They're taunting you
like the children's game
Telling you "Don't put that gun away."
If only they would let you sleep

If only Paul had stayed
if only there could be some rest
not just the kind you'll find in death

Sad mad Vincent
the gypsies dance in Avignon
They mutilate their children
So they'll beg better - bring a lot of money home
How could you have ever known?
You'd feel this sad until you finally had to go?

Sad mad Vincent
I also stared all night at a gun
held it in my hand like a lover
but i threw it down in shame and prayed that i'd see tomorrow come
Sad mad Vincent
I also wandered midnight streets alone
But i prayed that there'd be someone somewhere
who would take me in before i choose to let it all go

Hey Vincent, remember the gypsies
in Aix en Province?
Do you remember the punk from Chicago
he was back from Marseilles after sleeping in the park by the train station with
his guitar chained to his arm?
The drunks gave him wide berth because he was "sick and dirty
more dead than alive?"(Lou Reed)

Or did i see you?
Mad sad Vincent in all the hallow eyes of all the
rag-tags and hopeful hopeless ones who hadn't much of anything to carry with them and eyed my guitar with careful strategy and in fact that morning on the beach in Brindisi, I awoke with a start, inhaling the foul stink of decayed fish and then the fetid breath, wine - stale garlic coming from the mouth of that skinny Italian hood who was trying to cut the guitar case away from my hand and who could have had it - the hand, the guitar, but i sneered and mouthed "Musica - man you're taking my life - Lavida - life!!! and he left with reluctance while i dug up the bottle of wine I'd buried the night before when the kids from the boat left me after warning that the beach was not safe and was i fucking insane to think i could sleep there without getting robbed - sliced up like a loaf of warm bread but i didn't pay them any heed and woke up with the hood's knees pressing into my gasping chest and
Sad mad Vincent -
i was heading to see where you'd painted and loved and drank and smoked and died in the town of roof-tops - Arles and then i'd lay back in that beat hotel room with windows open - calling out at all the whores in Avignon
but me too
i
as well
as you must have known as we must have passed each other by, a million times on that troubled trip through France and the world and always
i can't wipe away the slander from my sore and tired red eyes
could never, Vincent, ease enough pure joy into my heart to stop feeling so fucking sad -
you'd of had to know that you couldn't stay so sad so all alone for ever that there would be other's and that's always
how you'd pass me by
two forever unknowns - hipsters bent on deciding that what's worth it rarely is
so then must be
ain't gonna
or will never
we pass each other by
infinitely sad we could barely hold back tears when all around us there is always laughter and it is often emanating from the words and expressions we have lauded - have thrown as sacrifice or payment of passage
it's laughter we have brought to all those others, and eternal goofs-
we clown and sometimes in no particular hurry,
we die.
Passing through Paris and hating being hated to the point it all was funny enough to
dash madly through the rain and the crowds and jump over the turn-styles to make the famous elevated - high speed trains filled with workers and stuffy going nowhere Parisians who have loafs of bread under their arms
and Vincent I also passed you by on the Island in Greece where I know you hardly had time to rest before they were throwing me out of hotel after hotel for sexual fiasco's and broken beds after the slow boat left with my heart broken as i sat with the itinerant dog - another Iggy.
We watched that boat it took a hundred years to drift off with her still leaning on the back rail, our eyes locked and she had given me what money she had left and was on her way back to London and her blue eyes were gifts of magic she lent to me
before i was sure that like you Vincent - sad and mad, i was sure that i was going to love her for ever and the whole village was jealous that in only one day i had taken away from their Latin macho sensitivities, the most beautiful of all tourists to come to the Island that year and half that village hated me more than hatred while the other half laughed and applauded as i fell out of their hotels and finally had to sleep in the unfinished construction project i had been working on with George the pirate -
Vincent - you have gone and done all these historical moments before i had even been born but each step of the way
i saw you
and you sadly shook your head when
you knew all too well that i would one day
find it all too much and you could only pass me by

And…
Vincent, my sad, mad Vincent
you talked about that special radiant sunshine and
what it could do to color and how the wind moved so your lines also
moved , I wonder how often you talked of living when each day you were dying in the coldest atmosphere – an atmosphere of indifference.
Your brother Leo,
sometimes it was all one big party and
he always helped but he couldn't believe – he
didn't believe and that was dieing too Vincent. Yeah that was dieing too.
You never sold a painting.
You gave them away for your heart breaks were also breaking from the kindness of the street.
I passed you by, huddled in a doorway in Florence, you, called to me
You passed me a bottle and I drank like I had done in all the worlds' doorways and alleys and early morning mist.
When Tinkers, bleeding and foul in that alley behind the bar in Sligo Bay, Ireland, when I was sixteen and they had me go by that cheap cider and we smoked and drank and I thought that I was finally living but you Vincent, you could already see that I was dieing all the time and had started a
fantastic slide to so many depths of alone and outcast, and knew that I would have to be
bold and would have to be strong if I were to continue dieing each day and
cared to feel - to see, all and everything that was out there in one mad glance and wanted more – always more, like the Tinkers in the alley wanted more Hard Cider
and later Vincent you must have
smiled to see me worried when the Tinker on the horse-cart, whipped his animal and guide hard
upon its sweating flanks and the horse just took the cart around and around in front of that fancy restaurant and
unsure what exactly the man was screaming about and making such a fuss, the horse continued moving in circles.

I was also moving in circles Vincent, unsure and still looking steady and straight ahead so that sometimes I fooled everyone into believing I was their leader. But I guess you knew – you knew all along.
Sad, mad Vincent Van Gogh
You had to know that we could only just
Only just almost make it – look as if we belonged, look as if we were strong, looked as if we were happening.

it turns out
fallin apart took me to pieces
and i wandered today
afraid this time
for the sun to go away
feeling like
there just won't be a reason
strong
enough
except maybe just a hug

Sad, mad Vincent all through my journey I had hoped that I'd emulate surpass are just find heroes. You falling apart watching me fall apart like I had been this forgotten fighter in the ring of chance pugilistic, chin tucked into my only reserve, throwing aside caution to live and you who had paid also so dearly to live in a cold atmosphere where we have sat and gazed blank eyed into the distance where memories have been stored forever for the day when you could just not make me understand that I had better stay down, or I'd eventually get…..

No one believed.
That it could turn out this way.
So beaten and dragged.
In so too much pain.
Each breath's a struggle.
Like a to be or not to be
day.
Could i have missed it?
That I may not last?
Can't plan the future -
when there's so much
that's been lost still, in the past.

Weak, dragged and I'm
asking why it still
matters that much?
To keep on swinging,
long after, there ain't
no more punch?

'Cause from the corner,
softer,
each time.
Like Sirens singing.
Man it'll drive me
outta my mind.

They're saying - stay down boy
stay down boy,
stay down.

Aw no one's that tough.
So for your own good
stay down
But you know
that you'll never get up
Still they're steady saying
stay down boy, stay down boy.
stay down.

Kilde: Unknown

The Troubled Life Of Vincent Van Gogh by Bonnie Butterfield

The 19th century European society of Van Gogh's day was not ready to accept his truthful and emotionally morbid way of depicting his art subjects. His internal turbulence is clearly seen in most of his paintings, which set the stage for the direction of a new style of painting called Expressionism. It is characterized by the use of symbols and a style that expresses the artist's inner feelings about his subject.

Therefore, an understanding of the paintings by Van Gogh requires insight into his turbulent life, because his style of painting is exemplified by a projection of the painter's inner experience onto the canvas he paints. In Vincent Van Gogh's own words, he said, "What lives in art and is eternally living, is first of all the painter, and then the painting." To understand an artist of Expressionism we must first explore their biography.

Many of us can identify with the roadblocks that Vincent Van Gogh experienced in his many career and romantic pursuits, all ending in failure. His reaction to these experiences however, demonstrates a biological and psychological abnormality, causing behaviors that alienated those around him. As he became more isolated from society and began to pour all of his energies into painting, his eccentricities and outbursts developed pathological traits, which caused him first, to be institutionalized, and second, it led to his suicidal death at the young age of 37.

During his short and turbulent life, he sold only 1 painting for 400 francs, just 4 months before his death. It is titled. Nonetheless, he produced an incredible number of masterpieces that will continue "living" for the rest of human history.

Most casual art lovers see Van Gogh as a troubled, but successful artist. This is far from the actual truth of his turbulent life, which was fraught with failure in every occupational pursuit he attempted including painting, and was marked by intermittent episodes of depression, violence and acting out behaviors.

Thanks to the preservation of 1000's of letters Van Gogh had written to friends and family, especially to his brother Theo, we have a nearly complete understanding of his feelings, experiences, and views on every aspect of his life. Surprisingly, his incredible artistic talent went undeveloped and unrecognized until he was 27 years old, after he had already failed at two other career choices, as an art dealer and a Protestant minister. Under the shroud of family shame when he was found incompetent to follow in his father's ministerial foot steps, he began to study art. He obsessively poured himself into this newly found talent and completed thousands of sketches and oil paintings before he shot himself to death at the age of 37 years old.

Many observers of Van Gogh's life justifiably believe that his eccentricities, which were visible from early childhood, compounded to create many distressing experiences that directly impacted the development of Expressionism. Painting was no longer the medium used primarily to capture photographic images. It became a crucible that could hold all of the artist's passions, conflicts, and unrealized dreams. Thus, a look into his childhood will give us an understanding of Van Gogh's creative expression, as well as an understanding of the origins of Expressionism.

Vincent's sister, Elizabeth Van Gogh, described his demeanor as a child. He was "intensely serious and uncommunicative, and walked around clumsily and in a daze, with his head hung low." She continued by saying, "Not only were his little sisters and brothers (he was the oldest of 8) like strangers to him, but he was a stranger to himself."

A servant who worked for the Van Gogh family when Vincent was a child described him as an, "odd, aloof child who had queer manners and seemed more like an old man," than the child he was. Vincent was a disappointment to his mother, and eventually to his entire family, even his beloved brother Theo Van Gogh who supported him financially for the 10 years that he worked as a painter.

In Vincent's own words, he says of Theo, that he was the one "who comforts his mother and is worthy to be comforted by his mother." On the other hand, Vincent was rejecting and obstinate, making himself inaccessible to all family members, except for Theo. Vincent later described his childhood as "gloomy and cold and sterile."

Unaware of his own artistic genius, Vincent Van Gogh first tried to learn the art of selling the works of other artists. As a young man of 16, he became apprenticed to an art dealer at the firm of Goupil & Co. located at The Hague, in Belgium, and later transferred to the London and Paris galleries. He quickly learned all the painters and their respective styles and what constitutes a valuable piece of artwork. In fact, he actually learned too well! If a customer became interested in purchasing a poorly done painting, Van Gogh would provide a long discourse on why it was a piece of junk. He was even known to become argumentative with many of the art patrons.

Following his failure as an art dealer, Vincent Van Gogh later wrote to his sister Wilhelmina Van Gogh that the galleries and art firms "are in the clutches of fellows who intercept all the money," and that only "one-tenth of all the business that is transacted…is really done out of belief in art."

Vincent Van Gogh did not understand the mechanics of interpersonal diplomacy, or the principles of salesmanship. During this period he fell in love for the first time, and openly professed his love for Eugenia, a respectable upper class woman. Eugenia was insulted by his unwanted advances, and she harshly rebuffed him. Van Gogh's inability to read the intent and emotions of others, caused him to fail to see that she had never expressed any interest in him. Failing in his first romantic experience, he also blundered miserably in his first job as an art dealer. He was dismissed by the art firm, and with a relatives help, he temporarily took a position as an assistant teacher and curate.

Following a short stint as a teacher, he returned home to Holland for a visit with his parents and decided to stay. He took a job in a bookshop. While working as a clerk for the bookseller, he rented a room with a family named Rijken. Mrs. Rijken said that she had to scold numerous youngsters for taunting Vincent Van Gogh and calling him "a queer freak." He was only 24 years old.

Vincent soon realized that he was also inadequate as a teacher and a bookseller, and he was becoming desparate to find work. His parents were reluctant to continue supporting their oldest son, who was a failure in their eyes. This drew him to finally attempt to satisfy his father's greatest wish that he become a minister. In Amsterdam, he began studying for the University entrance exams in theology, but soon found that he did not have the ability to learn the required math and foreign languages. With a relative's help he entered an evangelical school in Brussels and subsequently became a missionary preacher in the Borinage, a mining district in Belgium.

Van Gogh found his personal calling working among the downtrodden miners and their families, and was known to give away his clothing and money to help the poor living in shacks on the blackened earth of the coal fields. Nonetheless, he could not convincingly communicate his religious feelings to his flock, and while viewing the pride that they could maintain in spite of their miserable living conditions, they influenced Vincent to take on their lower class beliefs. His own religious convictions began slipping away, no longer seeming adequate or relevant. Living in the same filth and poverty that his brethren were forced to experience, he lost religion but gained a new fascination in his charcoal drawings of the peasant class living around him.

Vincent returned home for an extended visit and fell deeply in love with his first cousin Kee Vos, who had also been staying with his family. However, for someone to merely contemplate marriage with one's own cousin was a serious breach of an important taboo strongly held in 19th century Holland. Interestingly, Kee, like Eugenia his first love, had no interest in Vincent.

Undaunted by her obvious disinterest in him, Vincent attempted to visit her at her family's home, but was refused entry. Kee's father repeatedly told him that she was not at home. Vincent thought that her family was keeping her away from him against her will, and that she was actually at home. Forcing a dramatic encounter with Kee's father, Vincent impulsively attempted to demonstrate the intensity of his affections for Kee. He held his hand in the flame of a kerosene lamp and said to Kee's father, "Let me see her for as long as I can keep my hand in the flame!" After blowing the flame out, Kee's father took Vincent to a nearby saloon to get him intoxicated and to reduce his extreme agitation. Then he convinced Vincent that Kee could not see him, and that their relationship had no future.

When Van Gogh's father, a devoted Christian minister, discovered that Vincent had fallen in love with Kee, his first cousin, and that he had also strayed from his religious beliefs, a bitter quarrel caused a life-long break in the father/son relationship.

Cast from the family home, Vincent Van Gogh threw himself into his artwork and began a relationship with a low class prostitute named "Sien." She moved in with him and he became deeply empathetic with her own personal suffering. Van Gogh not only lovingly sketched her image, but because she was in poor health, he also took care of all her needs. However, because she was a prostitute, the Van Gogh family was scandalized by her presence in Vincent's living quarters, which further caused friction in Vincent's relationship with them.

Van Gogh's eccentric behavior increased as his contempt for middle-class proprieties soon alienated all who tried to help him. He began wearing ragged, unwashed clothing, did not respond to acquaintances on the street, and lived an isolated existence. His only activity was to draw and paint in ways that conveyed his sympathies for the hard lives of peasants. His greatest painting, "The Potato Eaters" was the result of his deep empathy with the peasant class.

An old man reported that when he was ten years old he knew Vincent Van Gogh, who he frequently saw painting landscapes in Nuenen, Belgium. From the viewpoint of children in the neighborhood, Vincent Van Gogh was a curious sight indeed. He would sit on a stool alongside a roadway painting scenery for hours at a time. The witness describes Van Gogh as a "funny, red-bearded man with a straw hat, smoking a pipe and painting intently, and not responding to anyone's attempts to communicate with him."

In his many letters, it is clear that Van Gogh was aware of his depressive tendencies, and that he had experienced them most of his life. After one of his mental crises he wrote "Well, even in that deep misery I felt my energy revive, and I said to myself: in spite of everything I shall rise again, I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing, and from that moment everything has seemed transformed in me." Van Gogh seemed to utilize the incredible high spirits, which always followed his severe depressions, as a source of his creative energy.

In 1886, at the age of 33, Van Gogh went to Paris and mingled with Toulouse-Lautrec, Gauguin, Seurat, and other painters who were later considered among the best. His painting techniques were influenced by these impressionists, and their use of bright colors and their choice of less sentimental subject matter altered the direction his style of painting would take. Unless depression overcame him, he carefully avoided his tendency to paint dark canvases and subjects who were weighted down with the drudgeries of life.

However, after two years of working among the Parisian artistic community, Van Gogh's delicate nervous system began to collapse. His friendship with Paul Gauguin was in Van Gogh's own words, "electric," but like all of his other relationships it was doomed by Van Gogh's inability to comprehend normal social relationships. On December 24, 1888, an argument ensued between them. Van Gogh unsuccessfully attacked Gauguin, then mutilated himself by cutting a large piece off of his ear (See his famous painting below in which he depicts the injury), he wrapped the severed ear in paper, and gave it to a startled prostitute whom he had befriended. When his brother learned of this incident, he had Vincent institutionalized for two weeks in Arles, France in 1888. This was followed by several more breakdowns in 1890.

Psychologists studying Van Gogh's history of mental breakdowns have theorized that each mental crisis was preceded by a perceived threat to the deep attachment he felt for a loved one. His first collapse occurred shortly after his beloved brother Theo Van Gogh, had announced his engagement to his future wife Johanna. Vincent's second mental breakdown came a few days after a violent argument and the hasty departure of his close friend, fellow painter Paul Gauguin. His third mental crisis occurred shortly before the wedding of his brother Theo. Apparently, Vincent perceived the romantic relationship between Theo and Johanna, and their subsequent marriage, as a loosening of the bonds he held with his brother. In May 1890, he stayed for three days with Theo, his wife and new baby. Theo's lung condition had grown worse, and Vincent was clearly concerned with his brother's health. Selfishly, he was also worried about Theo's deteriorating financial prospects, which had already reduced the living allowance that was sent to Vincent each month.

Reflecting his plunging mood Vincent painted "The Undergrowth With Two Figures" in June 1890, 1 month before his suicide death. It has a lonely and depressive style and coloration (See painting above). In one of his last letters dated July 1890, he sadly wrote to his brother Theo, "I feel...a failure. That's it as far as I'm concerned...I feel that this is the destiny that I accept, that will never change."

In contrast, one of his last paintings which he completed in late July 1890 titled "Wheat Field With Crows," reflects an ambivalence of optimism and hopelessness with the dark clouds of depression slowly lifting up from the skyline. It is common knowledge among clinical psychologists that a person with bi-polar disorder (known as manic depression during Van Gogh's time), invariably attempt suicide while rising up from the depression towards the manic phase. A few days after he finished this painting, Vincent Van Gogh, on July 27, 1890, killed himself with a gunshot to the chest. His brother Theo died of lung disease 6 months after the death of Vincent.

Although he only sold one painting during his life-time, he is considered the most powerful Expressionist, and his paintings each sell for millions of dollars. Ironically, Vincent Van Gogh is deemed by society to be one of our greatest and most successful artists.

Conclusion

I personally believe that the intense interest that today's society has for Van Gogh lies not in the quality of his paintings, but in his ability to project his turbulent emotional experience onto the canvas. Because he was an Expressionist, we know more about his mental state than we do ANY other great painter in history.

For example, his painting "Starry Night Over The Rhine" gives us the sense that he was just beginning to plunge into a state of depression. This painting was created in Arles, France in September, 1888, and it remains housed in the Musée d'Orsay in Paris. Van Gogh's state of mind at the time he painted it can only be speculated about. It is suspected that he was probably on the verge of going into a deep depressive state. The very dark colors, with glimpses of light are typical of his style during the early phase of his depressive episodes. So to, is the appearance of the shadowy figures of a man and woman in the far right-hand corner of the painting, widely believed to be suggestive of his dependent, yet ambivalent relationship with his brother and sister-in-law.

In general, Van Gogh's mood had began to sour while he was in France, surrounded by many great painters of the day. His awkwardness in social relationships began to take a toll. He was plagued by frequent extreme shifts in his emotional state. Mania and feelings of grandiosity were always followed by self-loathing, and the despair of deep depressions.

It appears likely that just after he completed the painting above, he sunk further into the depths of depression. We know that two months later, on December 24, 1888, his mood began to revert back to the manic state, when his violent argument with Gauguin occurred. It resulted in self-mutilation, which is a common behavior in mental patients during manic excitement. Without access to modern medicine, the frequency of these self-destructive episodes increased until Van Gogh's suicide in 1890.

From a behavioral standpoint, Van Gogh's ability to express his internal state of mind in his artwork, provides us with a vivid record of the see-saw activity of his brain's chemistry. When he began to slip into depression, his paintings would take on a deep, dark feeling of doom, with only hints of light optimism remaining. However, as the depression deepened, his canvases become dark vessels of hopelessness.

Amazingly, a complete reversal would always occur, catapulting him into a frenzy of grandiose feelings and creative activity as the mania took hold. His paintings would become electric with brilliant colors, and the canvas textures jumped to life with jittery strokes of paint, brilliantly mirroring his manic state of mind.

Because Van Gogh was an Expressionistic painter, we know more about his internal life than we do about any of civilization's other Master painters. He alone has allowed us to peer into his mind, while he was in the act of creating his art. This is truly the unique and lasting contribution that Vincent Van Gogh has given to us in the study of our great Masterpieces.

"Kvinneliv - Kunstnerliv" kvinnelige malere i Norge før 1900

Boka "Kvinneliv - Kunstnerliv" byr på spennende møter med en rekke kvinnelige norske malere fra det 19. århundre. Aasta Hansteen, Harriet Backer, Asta Nørregaard, Kitty Kielland og Oda Krohg er sentrale skikkelser.

Anne Wichstrøm tar utgangspunkt i kvinnenes stilling i siste halvdel av 1800-tallet, og gir en nyansert og veldokumentert skildring av hvordan de store samfunnsmessige endringer påvirket de kvinnelige malerne og deres arbeidsforhold. Fra en tradisjonell kvinnerolle tok de steget ut i offentligheten. Kvinnenes friere stilling ga muligheter til å reise utenlands og studere ved læreinstitusjoner i München, Berlin og Paris. Noen begynte prøvende på en kunstnerkarriere og avbrøt da ekteskapet ble aktuelt, mens andre satset ambisiøst på et profesjonelt nivå. Motivene fra denne spennende perioden i norsk kunsthistorie speiler ofte kvinnenes egen livssituasjon og sosial status. Boken er rikt illustrert og inneholder også kortfattede biografier om alle de 72 kunstnerne som er med.

Anne Wichstrøm (f. 1941) er professor i kunsthistorie ved Universitetet i Oslo. Hun har skrevet om høymiddelalderens maleri i verket "Norges malerkunst" (1993). Hun har også utgitt "Kvinner ved staffeliet" (1983) og "Oda Krohg. Et kunstnerliv" (1988). Den foreliggende boken ble belønnet med Brageprisen da den utkom første gang i 1997 (Gyldendal).

Hensikten med boken er å forsøke å forstå vilkårene for kvinners kunstutøvelse og karriere, ikke å vise fram 72 individuelle kunstnerpersonligheter. En flott og viktig dokumentasjon for framtida. Anbefales!

Glassmalerier i Middelalderen

Av Lill H. Opsahl, cand. phil. i kunsthistorie

Et stort antall av høymiddelalderens kirker var utsmykket med glassmalerier i de vidunderligste farger. Vinduene viste framstillinger av Skapelsen, Dommedag, Kristus, Jomfru Maria, helgener og mirakler og fylte kirkerommet med lys som spredde glassets røde, blå, gule og grønne nyanser over steinvegger og gulv.

De tidligst bevarte glassmaleriene vi kjenner, stammer fra Frankrike og England hvor byggingen av de gotiske katedralene som tok til på 11 og 1200-tallet samlet glassmalere fra hele Europa. De arbeidet sammen i verksteder i nærheten av kirken under ledelse av en mester. Glasset ble laget på stedet og skåret opp i små deler med jernkniver og tenger som man i dag har bevart en rekke eksempler av. Detaljer som ansiktstrekk, hårlokker og folder i klærne ble malt med en tynn pensel for deretter å bli brent inn i glasset. De små glassbitene ble satt sammen med blyremser og loddet i skjøtene.

Kirkene ble besøkt av skarer av pilegrimer som søkte seg til det nærmeste de kunne komme det Himmelske Jerusalem på jorden. Et stort antall av disse har vært fattige mennesker av lav byrd. Det må ha vært en ubeskrivelig opplevelse å komme inn i kirken, kjenne lukten av røkelse, høre vakker musikk og se rommet fyIt av lys og farger. I tillegg til å utsmykke kirken hadde glass-maleriene også en pedagogisk funksjon. 95 % av befolkningen skal ha vært analfabeter, og sett på bakgrunn av at latin var kirkens og de lærdes språk, virket vinduene, som en billed-bibel som bekreftet kirkens teologi for det store flertall som ikke kunne lese og skrive.

Den svenske øya Gotland i Østersjøen har det største antall og de best bevarte glassmaleriene i nordisk sammenheng. Øya har en mengde kirker fra høymiddelalderen og vinduene smykkes av velkjente motiv som Kristus, engler, Maria og helgener som f.eks. vår egen St. Olav. Gotland, og da spesielt hovedstaden Visby, var et betydelig handelssentrum i Østersjøomrket. Det antas at glassmalerne har kommet fra de nordtyske områdene, bosatt seg på øya i kortere, eller lengre tid og knyttet til seg lokale håndverkere. Olavskapellet i Jacobsbergs kirke i Follingbo sogn på Gotland er utsmykket med et nydelig glassmaleri som framstiller en sjel i form av en liten menneskefigur som bringes til himmelen i et klede holdt av en engel.



Glassmaleri i Norge
Også i Norge har et stort antall kirker og klostre vært utsmykket med glassmalerier, men i motsetning til våre skandinaviske naboer, har vi ingen intakte vinduer bevart.
Arkeologer har under utgravninger funnet et betydelig antall fragmenter, små glassbiter med dype, intense blåtoner, varm rubinrød, nyanser av rosa, gul og grønn. Navnene på glassmestrene er, i likhet med de fleste av middelalderens håndverkere, sjelden kjent. I 1299 omtales en Klemet Pentur (maler) i Stavanger som kan ha vært en glassmaler. Det eldste bevarte skrift som kan fortelle oss noe om dette håndverket i Norge stammer fra 1308, fra biskop Arne av Bergens bror, Audfinn Sigurdssønn, som hadde kontakt med en utenlandsk glassmaler. Et testamente fra 1335 donerte penger til oppførelse av et glassmaleri i Mariakirken i Bergen.

De storste funn av glassmalerifragmenter fra 12-1300-tallet stammer fra kirkene i Hvaler og Fjære, fra kirkeruiner i Sarpsborg, Utstein kloster og Hovedøya kloster ved Oslo. Fragmenter er også funnet ved Nidarosdomen i Trondheim, ved kirkene i Kinsarvik, ÅI, Ranem, Herøy og Trondenes. En av glassbitene fra Hvaler kirke framstiller to utstrakte hender, sannsynligvis fra 1200-tallet. Fra samme kirke kjenner man i tillegg to kroner, som antagelig stammer fra figurer utført pA 1300-tallet. Fra Sarpsborg er bevart rester av et inskripsjonsbånd med bokstavene I.N. [R.I.], Jesus av Nasaret, jodenes konge", og kan ha tilhørt en korstfestelsesscene.
Glassbitene viser også arkitekturdeta1jer, ornamentikk, blomster, paljetter, rosetter og ranker. Bladverket fra Sarpsborg har store fellestrekk med tilsvarende eksempler fra York i England, utført ca. 1380.
Stavanger domkirke er den eneste av våre kirker som, ifølge skriftlige kilder, skal ha hatt bevarte glassmalerier også etter Reformasjonen på 1500-tallet. I 1745 kan vi lese at i et av vinduene bak alteret framstilles en katolsk biskop og St. Svithun, kirkens skytshelgen. Dessverre er ikke disse bevart.

Glassmaleri i Oslo
Mariakirken og Sankt HalIvardskatedralen var de to største kirkebygningene i middelaIderens Oslo. Mariakirken var kongens kirke, mens HalIvardskirken var biskopens kirke. En bro førte fra kirken over i bispeborgen hvor ban kunne fiykte i tilfelle angrep. Sannsynligheten er stor for at disse to var utsmykket med de kosteligste glassmalerier som ga steinveggene et skjær av fiolett og alle regnbuens farger. Sammen med krusifikser av gull og edelstener, kalkmalerier, relikvieskrin og illuminerte manuskripter må de ha gitt et overveldende inntrykk.
Husene i byen fikk som regel dagslys gjennom Ijoren i taket, men i rom hvor det ikke var ildsted, fantes ofte åpninger i veggen som ble lukket med treluker eller rammer med en gjennomsiktig hinne. I klostrene og kirkene derimot, brukte man mye tidligere glassruter og disse var da gjerne prydet med farger. Første gang vindusglass nevnes i et privathus i Oslo er i 1343, hvor det står skrevet at sira Brynulfar satt ved glassgluggen i et malt loft. Ved enkelte av privathusene er det funnet glassbiter i ulike farger. En mulighet kan ha vært at disse stammer fra andre steder og har blitt plukket opp av barn som fulle av henrykkelse har forelsket seg i fargen og måten glasset skinner i lyset, og har innlemmet det i leketøysamlingen sin.

Spor av inskripsjoner kjenner vi fra Hovedøya kloster med majuskler og minuskler, store og små bokstaver. Det er også funnet et stort antall fragmenter av "grisaille", glass holdt i ulike valører av grått. Særlig fra Hovedøya finnes en samling fragmenter med rosetter og stilisert bladverk med klare fellestrekic til glassmalerier fra 1200-tallet fra Lincolnkatedralen i England.

Alt i alt, selv om materialet er mangelfullt, kan det uansett, fortelle oss at norske kirker i høymiddelalderen var utsmykket med disse kostelige, fargerike vinduene. Vi kan håpe at nye utgravninger vil avdekke nytt materiale som kan kaste lys over en lite kjent side av norsk kunsthistorie.