The Bayeux Tapestry replica

2024-09-30 @Arts

I’ve been a bit busy wasting time so to close this month I’ll mention just one more recent exhibit. In 2014, up there in the foyers of the Appalachian mountains the University of North Georgia inherited one of the few full-length Bayeux Tapestry replicas. It’s the only of its kind in the US. (Bayeux, Normandy houses the original.)

A remarkable coincidence even landed me into the region barely in time for the exhibition in force one mere September week out of the year. In the spirit of art appreciation: what the f***?

I get it, the intractable 70-meter length makes a permanent showcase difficult. As it stands, they roll it out along a gymnasium wall and even then it must double an edge.

No protective glass (such as found in the Bayeux museum), high traffic student body, for the most part the rolled up tapestry sleeps in a vault or someways away from public scrutiny. But if you acquire something this majestic, UNG, you bear certain responsibility.

Or maybe the scarcity fosters heightened demand? Let’s not disregard that all too pervasive phenomenon. Anyway, I don’t care enough to rally over this. On the contrary, I’m thankful for even this one opportunity. And one viewing should for now suffice.

Examining this up close for over a two-hour period (thanks to my customary rejecting of the audio tour) is probably about as much raw fun as you can derive in a thousand year old fabric, or a hand-painted replica in the given case.

Forget the computer screen. Though see the links beneath to get an acquaintance. Then forget it. Up close and personal is the way to really bring out the crispness. I recently acclaimed my cinematic silent film viewing, but this is better yet.

The Bayeux Tapestry is one of the most phenomenal works of its kind. Stitched towards the latter half of the eleventh century after the game-changing 1066 Battle of Hastings which it depicts, there is staggering polyphony of realistic, symbolic and entirely allegoric visuals cascaded one across the next in three horizontal rows.

Medieval Latin inscriptions in comic typeset whimsically arranged, words squeezed together, wrapped or even cut across a visual, figures and their half stoic, half smashed expressions plain bizarre, the battle images menacingly congested: you could call it an ancient comic strip that anticipates half the visual art developments of the twentieth century, hyperbolically put.

The narrow upper and lower strips I’d not even previously noted. What is going on there with the iconography? Aesop’s fables? Rubbish.

Anyway, if you take the slightest interest in the evolution of the contemporary English identity from the ashes of the old Anglo-Saxon, this artifact might interest you.

Now I sport an annoying habit for viewing the said evolution through the linguistic lens, emphasizing the francophone register of English in contrast to the broader ethno-cultural and feudal influences affected upon the populace by the invading Normans.

But you know what? That’s a subject for historians. Whereas I’m your humble fanatic.

Links

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