8517. THINGS ARE DIFFERENT NOW, #147

147. THE BAMBERG RIDER

Amidst my acquiring an art

education, there were many

other aspects of my work

and time in the city that took

up clumps of energy. I was

always diligent and after

things : information, history,

photos. One advantage of

being there was the massive

outreach it allowed to the

private libraries  -  things

like the Morgan and the

Frick Collections. These

were insanely wealthy

people, from the Gilded

Age, the 1880's and such,

whose palatial estates were

more like little kingdoms

of collected and bought

objects. Whatever the

world overall may have

been at the time, these

people had at their disposal

the riches of everything  -

travel history, gold and

jewelry, ancient and old

manuscripts, art, reliquaries,

relics, collections of pens

and chamber pots and the

crazy sort of stuff you

never think of. It all had

to start somewhere, and

they scapped it up. Earliest

Photography, still in its

infancy, maps and the

everything else from the

most far edges of the

known world. Carnegie.

Frick. Morgan. Vanderbilt.

All those crazy old names

from another world. Many

of them, in their mansions

along what is now Madison,

Fifth, and the rest of the old,

and well gilded, avenues,

preserved all things, and

held them open now, or at

least their 'corporations' and

'libraries'. For the viewing

and 'enjoyment' of the rest of

the world. Call it vanity, call

it whatever you'd like, but

these places were there.

-

I used to go into these

locations, just to see, to

notice all I could. Furnishings,

implements, tales of travel,

display cases of precious

objects. It was all ordered

and set out with little cards

of explanation, travel-route

maps, all those dotted lines

of Egypt, old Germany, or

(what was then called,

collectively), 'The Orient.'

Now we ooh and aah at

planets, stars, and cosmic

wonders. Back then the

other end of some ocean

was still exotic enough.

One of the most striking

things I ever saw  -  and it

still somehow stays with

me, was a photo array of

what was, or is, called the

'Bamberg Rider.' It's probably

nothing, and maybe it's

even old hat to today's type

of traveler  -  the kind who

leave the Princeton Mall

and are deep in the midst

of old Europe the next

morning for their quick

'getaway'  -  but to me

 it all was stunning. The

town or burg, or city or

village, in Germany, is

Bamberg, in northern

Bavaria. It's one of those

grand, old medieval towns,

fortressed for its protection

back then on the river. Like

Magdeburg too, which

presents a harsher medieval

face for being more on the

ancient 'frontier', Bamberg

has all of its fortresses,

lookouts, castles, walls,

hospitals, charity halls  -

all that old stuff  -  hugging

the river. And, of course,

its church presence, its

cathedrals and churches.

Life-centers back then.

Bishop's houses, red-tiled

religious centers, etc.

Inside the cathedral is

the Bamberg Rider. It

was carved about 1230

and no one now has any

idea of who it is or who

it's supposed to represent.

It is considered to be the

first full-sized equestrian

statue made in Europe

since the fall of the

Roman Empire. I was

enraptured by a photo

spread they showed of it

in one of these places  - 

all of the aspects of this 

odd statue captivated 

me  -  the anonymity, the

way in which everything 

eventually counts for 

nothing, the symbolism

within ecclesiastical 

thinking, the rather strange

countenance of the face and

hair, massive, curly, a bit 

flat-faced, an awkward 

diversion of space and 

depth, as if the sculptor 

was still trying out, maybe

learning on the job. The 

horse, the meaning. Christ 

riding Salvation's steed? 

A paean to force and 

armaments and protection? 

(The opposite, I guess, 

of a Christ reference)? A

symbolic nod to the King's

or Duke's protection and

watchfulness over all those

secular, mundane affairs 

of maintaining safety 

and being? To me, it 

seemed a little of all

those things, yet I also 

felt it to be a tad too self

conscious about itself,

shunted over to this 

wall-spot, half-high up
a staircase, without too 

much of any reason left.

What is our time and all

of our travels? What really 

is Destiny and work? How

do we live, if only to die?

All that kept tolling in 

my head, yes, like some

massive, medieval cathedral

bell in the town square of

my mind and art and reason.
The Bamberg Rider had me
in its grip. The face was, to
me, maddening  -  looking
almost to be of either sex, it
little  mattered, it bore much
of the same countenance of so
many of the 1967 hippies, in
fact, as to be startling : a poise
and an innocence all combined.
A Pre-Raphaelite type bump
on this very modern, smooth
highway. How it had ever
been placed halfway up a wall
like that intrigued me as well.
Why there? How high?
And then it hit me  -  it as
just like Art today! 1967 or
now. Display. To be seen.
Halfway up a wall, and treated
with deference. What else was
Art? What else could it be? You
may remember, some 50 years
later, as I reported it now, 8 or 
10 chapters ago  -  that framing
guy in Princeton who doubled
as an interior decorator setting
people homes in order with total
redecoration, as he mentioned 
to me that he'd be able to, if 
I could produce, place my 
paintings in people's homes  -  
we'd work out a deal together so 
I'd be paid my cut through 
his fee  - all as a part of his
redesign: this painting here,
that one there. Nothing ever 
came of it, and I'm probably 
glad too. ('I need a blue one 
for here, a green one for the 
entry wall, and how about
something yellowish for over
by the kitchen entry?')  -  but 
how much different is such 
display from the display of any 
art? Wall art, like the Bamberg 
Rider, there I guess both to make 
a point, and to decorate. My point 
would be mine, and at the same 
time, in that person's house, I'd be 
anonymous. Unknown. In the 
Studio School we'd study art and 
artists and get  to know each one 
of them  -  name, predominant
themes and motifs, painterly 
mannerisms, subjects, techniques, 
etc. All these centuries later, the 
Bamberg Rider  - just a big  'huh?'