Wild Angels-Catalog-small-with-cover

W i l d A n g e l s to his tent, the seraph who stayed the hand holding the knife at the binding of Isaac, or the messengers who wrestled with Jacob and ascended and descended the ladder. And certainly, not the choirs of cherubs in the heavenly spheres of Christian tradition. Instead, the appearance of angels puts into words the issues of art: The angel embodies the idea of appearance; of semblance (Schein). Semblance indicates a gift of light, but at the same time – an image – a picture that appears for a split second, like a shooting star in the sky above. The angel carries the basic element of art, which is light. But an angel’s light exists not only for rational minds, but also for images, reflections, shadow projections, and illusions. Is this not the gift of Lucifer? The fallen angel, whose name testifies to his gift to Man, conveys the skill of (false) light. Art is Lucifer’s gift in every sense. Works such as Milton’s Paradise Lost and Goethe’s Faust surely spring from this tradition. Art is founded on the workings of Satan, who stays near Man, wanders around his habitations, and walks in his midst. When we interpret an artistic event as “demonic,” we do not mean to say that it is imbued with “evil” but that it is based on an imagery, on Satan’s luminosities in their purest esthetic sense – as the revelation of the beautiful. The object of Faust’s covenant with Mephistopheles was the revelation of a “beautiful world.” In contrast to the widespread claim, however, modern era art is no longer committed to that covenant. Since 1800, art has been engaged in breaking the covenant and exposing, once again, the ugly, despicable face of that “beautiful world.” The poetry of Charles Baudelaire is evidence of this demonic struggle that has been taking place in art from the Baroque period to the last hour of German Expressionism. We ask about the return of angels to Earth, the revelation of beauty, and the scenes of annihilation they retain in their bodies. When we wonder why they are silent, we turn to questions of that order. We return to the tradition of angels as poets; as singers in the spheres of heaven, understood as “disembodied intelligence,” with garments of light and bodies of fire. But since their creation, they have been doomed to descend; to fall and live on Earth and to be banished to the land, walking as fugitives in the ruins of man’s habitations. Their singing, be it in praise or in mourning, always intertwines with the sound of “a small still voice.” The lives of angels on Earth evoke a form of life once called by heaven’s name, which were assumed to bring messages to Man. And today? Even if we have despaired of that hope of receiving a message from on high, we have not yet forgotten that great hour, when angels were welcome on Earth. Art remembers them roaming the earth, and calls for their return.