While visiting Italy in February 2011, Debbie and I toured the Vatican Museum in Rome. The artwork we saw was inspiring on many levels. I remember being overwhelmed by the Michelangelo and Raphael frescos, the Map Room, and the Sistine Chapel; Michelangelo’s “Pieta” in St. Peter’s Basilica was an amazing experience. (Story for another day.) One “contemporary piece” that caught my attention was a bronze cross sculpted by Kengiro Azuma, a Japanese sculptor who lived in Milan. To read more about Azuma follow: http://www.domusweb.it/en/from-the-archive/kengiro-azuma-as-seen-by-luciano-bianciardi/.
As we were preparing to exit the Vatican Museum, we passed through a series of smaller rooms which house contemporary pieces of Christian art I assume were donated to the museum’s permanent exhibit. In one room, standing against the wall was this huge cross that was so different from the others around it. It was simple, yet spoke in a profound way to me. I stood in front of it for a few minutes not fully comprehending it at the time. I just knew there was something special about it. I snapped a few pictures of it, and then walked on. Upon reviewing my pictures, I came to the cross and relived that special moment in the Vatican. I knew that somehow I wanted to represent Azuma’s Croce in my art some way. Take a moment to ponder the Croce by Azuma pictured below. How does it speak to you?
Croce, 1971, Bronze. Kengiro Azuma.
While we were salvaging a few items from Debbie’s mom’s childhood homeplace before it was totally demolished to make room for Jean’s new home, we salvaged a few old boards from the front porch. Then it hit me. I would make all of Jean’s immediate family a cross from the rubble, a living memory of their old homeplace. But the message goes much deeper.
The thing that speaks most to me about the Azuma’s Croce are its simple, bent beams that resemble for me the open, outstretched arms of Christ. Christ, through the cross, extends to everyone welcome and hospitality. Christ is our truest homeplace. This is the message the Croce speaks to me.
My interpretation of the Croce. 30 inches tall, 17 inches wide. Created from boards from the old homeplace.
