Saint Lucy Rides Again
This past fall, I hit through Dante Alighieri’s cycle: The Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. Considered the greatest work in the Western canon, the Commedia (the three cantica or books) tells the story of the pilgrim (Dante) who has lost his way on life’s pathway. Escorted by the Roman poet Virgil, Dante first journeys through the nine Circles of Hell, then emerges at the foot of Mount Purgatorio, where those who are not condemned to Hell purge themselves of their sins. Having ascended the mountain to the Garden of Eden, Dante then finds himself transported through tubular rings comprising the solar system, as outlined by Aristotle in De Cealo and recounted by Albertus Magnus, and disputed by Ptolemy. At the end of his journey, he finds himself face to face with God in the Empyrean, where there is just light—no space, no form, no matter, no beginning, and no end.
At the end of Purgatorio, Virgil, who is normally confined to Limbo, hands Dante off to Beatrice Portinari, who was Dante’s first love. And it was love at first sight, beginning at the age of nine. Unfortunately for Dante, Beatrice’s father enters into a marriage contract with a wealthier Florentine family, resulting in Beatrice marrying Simone de’ Bardi. The heartbroken Dante never loses his infatuation with Beatrice (or so he would have us believe), resulting in his writing a book of romantic verse entitled Vita Nuova, with Beatrice as the object of his desire.
Beatrice serves as a symbol of earthly love, and his remembrance of her is what propels him on his journey to Devine love—God. The story goes full circle. It is the Virgin Mary who tells Saint Lucy to send Beatrice (who now resides in Heaven) on a mission, with the goal of saving Dante from eternal damnation. Dante is singled out for this special treatment. The expectation is that he will recount his journey in a great poem, which will help mankind refocus its otherwise misdirected vision back toward God. It is quite appropriate that Saint Lucy serve as a prime mover in this process given that her sainthood is associated with restored vision. In his youth, Dante briefly lost his eyesight, so he always was intrigued by Saint Lucy. When Dante begins this journey in a dark wood at the start of Canto I, he is midway through “this” life. Even though he has his eyesight, he had misdirected his love of God, having focused on more early loves and desires. It is that focus that requires correction.
I highly recommend the Commedia. It takes a lot of effort, but it offers quite the intellectual journey, revealing the politics of the time; relying on hundreds of metaphors rooted in classical mythology and biblical stories; recounting the intellectual debates among religious philosophers, using the historical evolution of the Holy Roman Empire as a backdrop, expounding on Dante’s view regarding the separation of Church and State (the “two suns”); and offering a catalogue and ordering of the various sins that man and woman are capable of committing. History, personal vendettas, politics, tall tales, social and religious philosophy, and theology all wrapped up in 14,233 lines, which are organized into 100 cantos (chapters) over three books. Doesn’t get much better than that.
Midway through the class, I had an epiphany about what Dante was really up to when he wrote the Commedia: It is nothing but high school revisited in the Middle Ages. Dante never got over his first love, nor did he ever forget those who wronged him, many of whom he placed in Hell suffering delicious contrapassos (ironic punishments befitting the particular wrongs). Wouldn’t we all like to place several of high school classmates and teachers in Hell? Nicolet High School’s athletic director and the wrestling coach (circa 1972) come to mind. Think Hieronymus Bosch.
I have been working on an auto-portrait photographic project for the last six weeks. So given my fascination with Dante, I decided to create an auto-portrait based on his journey in the Commedia. Not all auto-portraits need be representational. Symbols and objects will do. I’ll let you take it from there, but beware: There will be more Dante-inspired images over the next several years.
