As of late April, a hulking tree stump stands out amidst the blooming flower beds near the lawn of Boston College’s McMullen Museum. The centuries-old Oak had its limbs removed this month in preparation for Ken Packie, a Lee, Massachusetts-based wood carver recently commissioned by the University “to carve the tree’s nearly six-foot-wide base into a three-dimensional portrayal of the Holy Family,” according to the BC Chronicle, an outlet of University Communications.
Surely University administration had opportunities to go a different direction when choosing the commission’s subject. Baldwin the Eagle comes to mind as a popular alternative, or perhaps the campus could use another Doug Flutie statue, just for good measure. Only two years ago, Packie carved a marathon runner from a stump just to the west of Main Campus, which greets Boston Marathon runners as they surmount Heartbreak Hill. Why, one might ask, did University administration choose to have the Holy Family chiseled from the prominent roadside trunk? The article from the Chronicle names “celebrating Boston College’s Jesuit Catholic heritage” and “recognizing the historical significance of the Brighton Campus” as the primary goals in sanctioning this newest commission.
The Holy Family carving, in addition to the temporary display of the well-known Catholic, Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz’s Angels Unawares on O’Neill Plaza this past November, will render the 2020-2021 academic year a landmark year for installation of Catholic art on Boston College’s campus.
Since the founding of the Committee on Christian Art by University President Fr. William P. Leahy, S.J. in the year 2000, a steady stream of Catholic artworks, large and small, have found their way into public spaces, chapels, and classrooms across campus, despite the occasional protest from critics from among the faculty and student body.
While the works of art sanctioned by the Committee, as well as this year’s public displays of Catholic art, have gone a long way to replenish the presence of Catholic imagery and fine art around the Heights, many more opportunities for reflection on the University’s Catholic identity remain. To this end, Boston College should adopt a cohesive program of Catholic and Christian art, one that involves broad-based input in the formulation of further commissions and installations. Such a program would require proactive planning for the future alongside University expansion, but also dialogue with the past, involving the management of existing University art collections as well.
Important in understanding the story of art at Boston College is the recognition that public spaces on campus in academic buildings and libraries had not always been somewhat devoid of Catholic art. Buildings like Bapst Library, designed, of course, with religious scenes in its very walls and windows, once displayed a substantial body of University art collections as well. When these collections were centralized and catalogued in the 1970s and 1980s—after a good portion of works had proven endangered, it must be said—most of the paintings and sculptures were moved to less visible locations. Many have been permanently relocated to storage.
Reasons for limited visibility for these pre-existing collections abound; on-campus chapel renovations have not sought to incorporate these artworks, and entities like the BC Arts Council, while actively promoting student groups and exhibitions, maintain no particular commitment to highlighting BC’s Catholic art collection. The McMullen Museum’s new location on Brighton campus was designed for displaying shows on a rotating basis, usually from outside sources, precluding the highlighting of Catholic works of art.
But it has been the campus art installations commissioned since the formation of the Committee on Christian Art which have been most centrally located, publicly viewed, and hotly debated throughout the last two decades. Just a few short years after its establishment, the Committee could already point to newly commissioned public artworks stemming from its actions. Two mosaics, completed by Medford artist David Hollemann and depicting Pedro Arrupe and Dorothy Day, respectively, adorned the entrance foyer to Lyons Hall. A sculpture by Peter Rockwell, the son of the famed American illustrator, “The Tree of Life,” was installed as the centerpiece of a fountain near Gasson Hall in 2004. A fifteen-foot tall statue of St. Ignatius was designed for placement in the green outside Higgins hall, and plans were put in motion for a likeness of St. Thomas More to be situated within the Law School campus. “Our mission speaks to the University’s desire to sharpen our identity as a Jesuit and Catholic institution,” said the Committee’s chair, the late T. Frank Kennedy, S.J., in reference to these several projects.
Toward the end of the Committee’s lifespan, campus dialogue surrounding its mission and placement of art objects in classrooms also sharpened. After crucifixes and statues of Mary, some of which originated from BC-led mission trips in foreign countries, were installed in a number of classrooms during winter break of the 2008-2009, an outcry of complaints from several vocal faculty members ensued.
Some professors complained of the lack of notice to faculty of the impending installations, others expressed their belief that the crosses being placed directly over their heads when teaching would distract from class time activities. A few were more vocal in their criticism: “I believe that the display of religious signs and symbols, such as the crucifix, in the classroom is contrary to the letter and spirit of open intellectual discourse that makes education worthwhile,” Maxim D. Shrayer, then-chairman of Slavic and Eastern languages and literature, told The Boston Globe at the time. He then argued that this sort of academic neutrality indicated by a lack of religious imagery is what “distinguishes first-rate universities from mediocre and provincial ones.”
Comprehending these assertions requires consideration of a few questions. What is the meaning and purpose of Catholic art on a campus such as Boston College? What is the intended message in the installation of these Catholic art objects, and what led to so many individuals perceiving some other message?
A crucifix serves as a good example for thinking through these ideas, as it carries a straightforward meaning, unlike some artworks that might be less accessible in their choice of subject matter (I’m looking at you, “Tree of Life” fountain). A crucifix, for example, has the obvious, fundamental meaning of conveying Christ’s suffering on behalf of mankind, yet the added context of installation at a Catholic college has the potential of imbuing the object, as well as other faith-oriented artworks, with additional layers of meaning. The very identification of a work of art as ‘Catholic’ creates immediate association with a religious tradition stretching back thousands of years. But also implicit in the identification is that the artwork’s meaning is predicated upon the recognition of a Triune God and that it serves functionally, at least in part, as a vessel of the Church’s evangelical spirit. It is for this reason that naming preservation of Catholic ‘heritage’ alone is insufficient justification for the placement of Catholic artworks, especially for those that are newly created; it fails to convey the whole purpose of Christian art installation, and has the potential to be misleading.
Bearing in mind the missionary aspect of Catholic art, the intended purposes of Catholic artworks on a college campus, need not be universally accepted, nor should Catholics or administrators aim for such an unrealistic goal. Yet it should remain a top priority, when commissioning Catholic works of art, that procedural aspects of their installation do not negatively affect public perception of their mission. Many of the critiques lodged by faculty and other vocal individuals during the controversy over classroom crucifixes related to the confusion resulting from a lack of clarity as to the reasoning behind the incorporation of art objects into the University setting. This left the impression upon some that the crucifixes were more a symbol of Catholic authority than Catholic belief.
Prof. Shrayer’s second criticism, that Catholic art objects represent a kind of ‘low’ art not befitting of a serious academic environment, is more indicative of some of the current debates in the American art world. These accusations of ‘provinciality,’ often in response to representational subject matter, or overt communicatory methods of an artwork’s social purpose, are often summarized simply by referring to an artwork as ‘kitsch.’ If the University were to accept the identification of its commissioned artwork as such, it bears asking what would be considered acceptable forms of artistic expression on campus. Is there a greater capacity for aesthetic uplift in the otherwise empty walls of campus? Does it better serve the University’s pedagogical functions to rid its campus environment of all works of art with primarily social or religious purpose?
I have often thought of these questions while sitting through humanities classes in Stokes, or art history classes in Devlin, recalling visits to other university campuses, like that of fellow Jesuit school, Regis University in Denver, Colorado, where I remember seeing prints of Baroque and Renaissance paintings on classroom walls when I visited for conferences in high school. While I would not go so far as to say the bare walls of BC’s academic buildings are detrimental to its capacity for academic instruction, they do represent, at least in my eyes, missed opportunities for additional exchanges inside the classroom. It is within the confines of these everyday spaces of our campus—the academic buildings, dorm buildings, and outdoor spaces—that visual stimuli are most glaringly absent. As the University pursues further art installations in these areas, as well as future campus construction, it would be of great benefit to adopt a cohesive program of Catholic art, not unlike that of Regis’ “Faith in Art Series.”
A collaborative effort in the creation of such a program could foster an increase in dialogue on the subject of Catholic art from all corners of the University community, ensuring that all stakeholders feel as if their voices are heard regarding future commissioned works and installations. Creation of promotional materials could serve to unite the ethos behind the display of existing Catholic artworks with those still yet to be created and assist in their interpretation by the public.
Surely Brighton Campus’ Holy Family wood carving presents a chance to rekindle some of the momentum lost with the dissolution of the Committee on Christian Art. A bevy of opportunities for future Catholic art commissions remain—in the new campus construction of the coming decades, the aging campus buildings in need of relivening, and even in the trees of Linden Lane, now that we have come to see decaying trees as artistic assets. If, or when, such an expansion of the presence of Catholic art on campus is to arrive, it should be as part of a clearly articulated program, where works of the past and present can dialogue with one another, for the benefit of the University’s Catholic culture as a whole.
- Boston College Tree Stump Returns to Catholic Roots: Strategically Planning Catholic Art Expansion on Campus - April 30, 2021
- Encounters: Inspiration & Conversion on View in Carney Hall - March 26, 2021
- Angels Unawares: An Interview with Melodie Wyttenbach - November 26, 2020