Musings on decay: announcing Kendall Diemer's exhibition

Over the past several months, Kendall Diemer has developed familiarity with the historical and material aspects of the medieval past in order to curate two exhibitions based on the collection of medieval objects housed at the University of Waterloo’s Medieval Digital Research in Arts and Graphical Environmental Networks Laboratory (DRAGEN Lab). We are happy to announce the start of Kendall’s second exhibition, which explores the collection through the lens of decay. The exhibition will take place from Monday, March 13th to Monday, April 3rd at St. Jerome’s University (SJ1, second floor). This blog post serves as an introduction to the inspiration behind the exhibition and to Kendall’s views on the topic.

Musings on Decay

There are many things that run through one’s mind when walking through a museum and looking carefully at the intentionally curated objects on display: awe, interest, questions about the objects’ purposes, or about who used the object. Perhaps one’s thoughts turn to how amazing it is to be able to view these objects at all; how fortunate we are that not only did these objects survive for long periods of time, but that they were discovered and now arranged in museums that allow us to engage with the objects and to learn about the past. When we look at these survived objects, they may appear to be old, ancient, worn down, or showing signs of damage, but how often, as a museum visitor, do we take conscious note of this?  Do we see a medieval manuscript as old based on how long it has existed or as old in terms of its physical appearance, its signs of decay? How often, if at all, are the thoughts that we have towards museum objects centered on decay?

Dictionaries define decay as:   

• “The gradual decline in strength, soundness, or prosperity, or in degree of excellence or perfection; to decline in health, strength, vigor; to fall into ruin; to undergo decomposition.” (Merriam-Webster, 2023)

• “Slowly fall apart and become destroyed by natural processes, a slow change from a state of strength or perfection.” (Britannica, 2023)

• “The process or result of being destroyed by natural causes or by not being cared for.” (Oxford Learner’s Dictionary, 2023)

Objects in museums are often revered for having existed for hundreds or thousands of years. We tend to have this subconscious idea that they will continue to exist for thousands more.[1] Because of this, decay is not always front of mind. And yet despite this sense of permanence associated with the museum object, all objects within a collection are subject to decay. In the collection of objects I study at the DRAGEN Lab, for instance, there are books with damaged spines, the pages of which have become stiff and yellowed, and manuscripts that have been damaged by insects, water and even tape. Objects are decaying and showing signs of it. The preservation and conservation of objects in museum contexts is what allows us to view them without actively noticing every sign of decay.  

An incunabula leaf from the Postilla Super Psalterium, a commentary on the Psalms written by Cardinal Hugh, of Saint-Cher ca. 1200-1263. Printed on 31 January 1498 in Nuremberg by Anton Koburger. Folio leaf measures 322 x 220 mm and contains 72 lines of unadorned Latin gothic script in double columns and contains commentary on Pslams 35 and 36. Note damage due to tape.

Decay is negative: it destroys; it must be prevented, and objects restored. Decay is also a natural process: it is authentic to the lifecycle of the object; it is a “testimony to the passage of time”.[2]  While there is a prevalent notion of decaying objects as items to be dismissed, rejected or even feared—think of those objects that have been exposed to mice, insects, moulds and other harbourers of disease—there are instances where decay can also be desirable or expected.  Consider ruins which, by their name, are expected to be ruined to some extent. Or how about medieval manuscripts, such as those in the collections of the DRAGEN Lab? Seeing the yellowing pages, torn edges, and faded script adds a level of intrigue. At times, and for certain objects, decay provides value in its provocation of feelings of reverence or wonder towards the past. It may even prove to serve as a greater connection to the generations of the past when we can see how the object is worn down from use by people who lived long before us.[3] 

Top: M6406 Choirbook in Latin Manuscript on parchment. France c.1500. Middle: Concordantiae Bibliorum Sacrorum Emendatae, Vulgatae Editionis. Bottom: Volvmen.

The next time you visit a museum, or come across a heritage site or historical object, keep decay in mind. When considering an object’s signs or level of decay, think about your interpretations of the decay. Do you have a negative association to the concept? Does the decay add value to the object or does it make you want to dismiss it, or perhaps see it fixed and restored? Can these conflicting interpretations of decay be resolved? Where is the line in decay being fascinating or repulsive, good or bad, repairable and of value, or unworthy and to be disposed?

Personally, I feel that the focus on the negative connotations of decay needs to be done away with. Decayed and decaying objects can still provide value whether historically, aesthetically or even philosophically. Decay serves as a reminder that even these objects of reverence are subject to the same processes that we are; that a decline in excellence and perfection is natural; that though things cannot be preserved completely it does not mean they lose their value.

____________________

[1] Jill Saunders. “Conservation in Museums and Inclusion of the Non-Professional.” Journal of Conservation and Museum Studies, 12(1): 6, pp.1-13.

[2] Rachel Douglas-Jones, John J. Hughes, Sian Jones, Thomas Yarrow. “Science, value and material decay in the conservation of historic environments.” Journal of Cultural Heritage, 21 (2016): 823-833

[3] Rachel Douglas-Jones et al. “Science, value and material decay in the conservation of historic environments.”

Works Cited

DeSilvey, Caitlin. “Observed Decay: Telling Stories with Mutable Things.” Journal of Material Culture,1, no.3 (2016): 318-338. https://doi.org/10.1177/1359183506068808

Douglas-Jones, Rachel, Hughes, John J., Jones, Sian, Yarrow, Thomas. “Science, value and material decay in the conservation of historic environments.” Journal of Cultural Heritage, 21 (2016): 823-833. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1296207416300346

Saunders, Jill. “Conservation in Museums and Inclusion of the Non-Professional.” Journal of Conservation and Museum Studies, 12(1): 6, pp. 1-13, DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.5334/jcms.1021215

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Kendall Diemer is an emerging museum professional and interdisciplinary student.  She is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Liberal Studies with a minor in Medieval Studies at the University of Waterloo.  She previously completed her Bachelor of Science in Biological Sciences with a minor in Philosophy at the University of Windsor. She has been a member of the DRAGEN Lab since 2021.

The project-based independent study course that facilitated these exhibitions was led by Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen and supported by the DRAGEN Lab.

Written by Kendall Diemer. Edited by Hannah Gardiner.

Love is in the Air

Lovers with Bird, Codex Manesse, Heidelberg, University Library, ca. 1320, cpg 848, fol. 254v. 

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

With Valentine’s Day just ahead of us, lovebirds are nestling. Red roses are being prepared. Cards decorated with hearts and scribbled love notes will be exchanged between lovers and friends. Whether you love or loathe this February celebration, one thing is clear: drawing on several centuries of cultural imagery, Valentine’s Day symbols are strong and here to stay.

BIRDS

The romantic association between birds and lovers is a longstanding one, particularly around the day of Saint Valentine. Literary historian Henry A. Kelly suggests that the great medieval English poet, Geoffrey Chaucer, originated what we think of today as Valentine’s Day in his poem, Parliament of Fowls. The poem associated birds choosing their mates to the then already established day of Saint Valentine:

For this was on Seynt Valentynes Day,
Whan every foul [fowl] cometh there to chese [choose] his make [mate],
If every kynde that men thynke may. (309-311)

            It happened on Saint Valentine’s Day
Which is when every bird arrives [at the Parliament] to choose its [his?] mate,
Every kind of bird that mankind can imagine.

Kelly writes that the reality of birds choosing their mates in February was grounded in the social imagination at the time, and in observations of the natural world of northern Europe, especially the lengthening of days and birds flying in the air above, choosing a mate. According to Kelly, Chaucer connected these observations to a specific saint’s day, that of Saint Valentine, and then, a tradition was born.

Pewter badge, crossed hands emerging with fleur-de-lis crown, heart pierced by arrow, pin, origin unknown, 1325-1375, found in 's-Hertogenbosch, the Netherlands, 27 x 22 mm. Family Van Beuningen Collection, inv. 3887 (Kunera 17280). Photograph and permission from Family Van Beuningen Collection.

HEARTS

Birds are not the only image from the medieval period to permeate Valentine’s Day today. Central to contemporary Valentine’s Day symbolism – and to our concept of love – is the heart. There is a longstanding relationship between the heart and love, which we see before the Middles Ages in the Classical tradition, but that we can thank the medievals for proliferating. Ann Marie Rasmussen writes that a love poem from a collection of Latin letters known as the Tegernseer Briefsammlung, written in German around the year 1180, records a very early instance of linking the heart with the notion of romantic love:

Dû bist mîn, ich bin dîn
des solt dû gewis sîn
dû bist beslozzen
in mînem herzen
verlorn ist daz slüzzelîn
dû muost ouch immêr darinne sîn

You are mine, I am yours.
Of this you can be sure.
You are locked
in my heart
the key is lost,
and so you must stay there forever.

The beloved is held within the heart of the lover, dramatized in the poem first through the heart alone and further through the heart’s bygone key. By the early decades of the thirteenth century in Europe, images of giving, receiving, exchanging or even locking up hearts had become a near universal symbol of love. Sharing hearts between a man and a woman emphasized constancy, fidelity and companionship, including, of course, erotic love.

Unlike our modern concentrating of romantic gestures onto Valentine’s Day, medieval heart badges were exchanged as tokens of affection between lovers throughout the year. But if you’re still looking for a creative gift for a special someone tomorrow, consider looking in European river systems for lost or strayed medieval heart badges; on short notice, of course, a love poem will always do. 

Written by Hannah Gardiner.
Translations by Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen.

A version of this blog post was originally shared on February 23rd, 2021.

Works Cited

Kelly, Henry, A. Chaucer and the cult of Saint Valentine. Leiden: Brill, 1986.

Rasmussen, Ann Marie. Medieval Badges: Their Wearers and Their World. University of Pennsylvania Press, 2021.

Tegernseer Briefsammlung, between 1178-1184. Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, clm 19411, f. 114v.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

As many of us transition into the Christmas season, we are invited back into the magical world of craftsmanship. We’ve been lucky at Medieval Badges to see some of this craftsmanship up-close through the ongoing research-creation projects of Ellen Siebel-Achenbach. Last year, Ellen used linocuts to mark the season. This year, she’s been working with wood to re-imagine medieval badges as a Räuchermann (traditional German incense Smokers) and as a wooden nativity scene. Ellen has been as inspired by the original medieval badges as she has inspired them — literally in the case of the headless pilgrim badge of Saint Claude, which as a Räuchermann has not only been given a head but given again breath that flows through him and into the world.

Pewter badge, Sainte Claude, from Saint-Pierre Cathedral, Besançon, 1401-1500, 4.2 x 2.7 cm. CL4620. Paris, Musée de Cluny - musée national du Moyen Âge. Photographer: Gerard Blot. Photo credit: © RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource, NY.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, Sainte Claude as Räuchermann, 2022.

Ellen’s wooden nativity scene from a Cologne badge preserves the details of the original craftsperson. The turrets and arches frame both compositions. Ellen has beautifully recreated the naive style of the figures, note especially the halo of the Christ Child or crowns of the Three Kings and the shapes of the gifts they present. Ellen has also utilized the three-dimensional aspect of her material to enliven the characters in another way. Though it is not clear from the photographs, the arms of Saint Claude, the Three Kings and the Virgin Mary have been attached so that they are movable. Both re-imaginings bring the badges to life not only with movement, but with colour. The colourful wooden figures invite us as viewers back to the original pewter badges to ask ourselves how they might have been embellished originally.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, Cologne Nativity scene, 2022.

Pewter badge, Three Kings, Cologne, Germany, 1275-1349, found in Dordrecht, the Netherlands, 4 x 3.1 cm. The Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 0537 (Kunera 00167). Photograph courtesy of The Van Beuningen Family Collection.

We are both proud and impressed by Ellen’s work. Her efforts to preserve traditional craftsmanship and to “bridge the gap between traditional “high” art history academic scholarship and “low” reconstructions of visual and material culture” allow us to witness the beauty of her work, while we learn to see old objects in new ways.

Margery Kempe and Pilgrim Badges

Margery Kempe and Pilgrim Badges

Today marks the commemoration day of a remarkable English mystic, Margery Kempe, a middle-class, medieval woman born in what is now King’s Lynn, Norfolk around 1373, where she died after 1439. We know of Kempe’s life through the chance discovery of her dictated work, The Book of Margery Kempe, in the twentieth century. From her Book, which is considered the first autobiography written in English, we learn that Kempe was married and bore fourteen children before negotiating a chaste marriage. After the birth of her first child, Kempe suffered from demonic visions before having a saving vision of Christ. The heart of Kempe’s Book is her love for God: her visions of Christ, the grand tears she wept for him, her afflictions for his love, and the many religious pilgrimages she undertook where these accounts took place.

Kempe is an interesting case study for medieval badges because, as a medieval pilgrim, she visited some of Europe’s most famous pilgrimage sites – sites where pilgrim badges were certainly present and in circulation during her fifteenth-century journeys. Despite this, no mention is made to pilgrim badges in her Book. Over the next few blog posts, I will question this omission: Did Margery Kempe collect pilgrim badges but omit discussing them when dictating the Book? Or did she not participate in this practice?

To collect or not to collect?

Because no mention is made to pilgrim badges in her Book, pursuing the connection between Kempe and badges depends not on the question’s answerability but on its possibility. Our speculation, however, is not without clues. Kempe discloses herself to readers in her Book in both practical and personal ways. Practically, we have information about where and when she went on pilgrimage. These details are important because they can be cross-referenced with data on surviving badges to determine the kind of badges that would have been available to Kempe at specific sites and times.

In thinking this question through, I wrote to Dr. Anthony Bale, whose translation of and notes for The Book of Margery Kempe have helped my research. I asked Dr. Bale whether he thought Margery Kempe would have collected pilgrim badges, and he replied that he did:

My feeling is that pilgrim badges were so cheap and ubiquitous in places like Rome, Santiago, Wilsnack and Aachen, that Kempe would certainly have bought them. They were likely not even worth recording - although she does mention in passing other pilgrimage souvenirs like her walking stick from the holy land.

In his reply, Dr. Bale pointed me to surviving badges that were found in Lynn and are now housed in the Thomas Pung Collection in Lynn Museum, illustrating that “pilgrim badges from the places visited by Kempe were common in Lynn.” For example, of the two surviving Wilsnack badges found in England, where Kempe visited during her pilgrimage to Prussia, one of them was found in King’s Lynn.

So, it is likely that a pilgrim like Kempe would have participated in an economy of pilgrim badges – but was Kempe a normal pilgrim? Dr. Anne E. Bailey calls Kempe’s established identity as a pilgrim into question in her article, “The Problematic Pilgrim: Rethinking Margery’s Pilgrim Identity in The Book of Margery Kempe.” If Kempe does not refer to herself as a pilgrim in her Book, perhaps she would not have wanted to identify as one visually on pilgrimage; what use would these badges then have had? I wrote to Dr. Bailey asking her thoughts on my research question. Not committing herself to either side, Dr. Bailey wrote back with her own speculations:

[I]f you follow the logic of my article (and I’m quite open to challenges!) in which I argue that Margery saw herself as being spiritually superior to the common crowd, I suppose you could also speculate that she might avoid the more commercial, popular aspects of pilgrimage such as souvenir buying. If her direct relationship with Christ is the crux of her religiosity, perhaps pilgrim badges were irrelevant? One might even argue that her Book acts as a kind of pilgrim badge: it’s a record and memento of her journeys.

 Another thought: did any of the female saints and mystics Margery so admired, and tried to emulate, go on pilgrimage and purchase pilgrim badges? If they didn’t mention pilgrim badges, this may be one reason for Margery’s silence. 

Dr. Bailey’s proposal that the Book itself acts as a pilgrim badge is provocative and puts forth questions of the difference between keeping visual mementos or creating textual ones. What if Kempe did both? For the sake of my coming blog posts, I assume that she did. I will trace Margery’s three large pilgrimages – the first great pilgrimage (1413-1415), the pilgrimage to Santiago (1417-1418), and the pilgrimage to Prussia (1433-1434) – to reimagine which of the surviving badges available at those times Margery may have seen and potentially purchased.

Throughout the series, my research question remains in the air: Did Margery Kempe collect pilgrim badges but omit discussing them when dictating the Book? Or did she not participate in this practice? What do you think?

Works Cited

Bailey, Anne E. Personal Correspondence, 24 October 2022.

Bailey, Anne E. “The Problematic Pilgrim: Rethinking Margery’s Pilgrim Identity in The Book of Margery Kempe.” The Chaucer Review, vol. 55, no. 2 (2020): 171-96.

Bale, Anthony. Personal Correspondence, 23 October 2022.

Kempe, Margery. The Book of Margery Kempe. Translated with an introduction and notes by Anthony Bale. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015.

Written by Hannah Gardiner. Edited by Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen.

Agnus Dei Badges

Agnus Dei Badges

The Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) is an important, ancient symbol in Christian iconography. The symbol is a representation of Christ’s sacrifice, as demonstrated by the lamb, and his victory, as demonstrated by the cross. The term is associated with the Paschal lamb sacrificed during Passover (as seen in Exodus chapter 12), which then later came to be a symbol associated with Easter due to the occurrence of Passover and Easter in the same time period.

“Behold the Lamb of God”

There are two-hundred-and-ninety-seven Agnus Dei medieval badges and coins currently listed on the Kunera database of late medieval badges and ampullae. Some of these surviving badges depict John the Baptist holding the Agnus Dei in his arms. These badges capture the New Testament linkage of Christ to the Lamb, when John the Baptist proclaims Jesus as being the Lamb of God in the gospel of John: “John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” (John 1:29, KJV).

In the Kunera database, of the surviving John the Baptist badges picturing Agnus Dei themes, fifteen were originally from Werben, Germany. The Church of Saint John in Werben (St. Johanniskirche zu Werben) housed a relic (skull fragments) of John the Baptist in the Middles Ages, making the church an important stopover for pilgrims on late medieval pilgrimages to Wilsnack. The badge below depicts John the Baptist in a camel hide amidst trees and surrounded by the remainders of a gothic frame, beautifully commingling nature and architecture. In his left hand, he holds a small Agnus Dei within a round disk.

Pewter badge, John the Baptist with Agnus Dei, eyes, Werben, Germany, 1450-1499, found in Münster, Germany, 45 x 38 mm. Münster, LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Westfällisches Landesmuseum, inv. V 279 (Kunera 11759). Image from LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Westfälisches Landesmuseum, Münster. Photo credits: LWL-Museum für Kunst und Kultur, Westfälisches Landesmuseum, Münster / Hanna Neander.

Variations on the lamb

Pewter badge, Agnus Dei holding banner of the Cross (missing), origin unknown, 1300-1499, found in Enkhuizen, the Netherlands, 47 x 43 mm. Enkhuizen, the Netherlands, Gemeente Enkhuizen en Archeologische Werkgroep, inv. 321-222 (Kunera 17830). Image courtesy of © Archeologie West-Friesland.

Many other Agnus Dei badges depict a single lamb holding the banner of the cross, occasionally with a nimbus. Though these badges all feature a lamb, the lambs differ and are differentiated by the various decorations of the scene. I was enchanted by the simplicity in form of the Agnus Dei badge (left), which was found during an excavation in Enkhuizen, the Netherlands. The banner of the Cross is missing, but the bent front left leg of the lamb holding its remainder attests to the badge’s depiction of an Agnus Dei scene.

Other badges, like those pictured below, picture the lamb facing backwards and hold the scene within dotted frames. The badge found in Waterland, the Netherlands (left) depicts an almost donkey-like Agnus Dei with its slim body, long ears and large eyes. The badge found in Bruges, Belgium (right) also represents its Agnus Dei as a tall, slim figure that looks almost horse-like. Both lambs look back towards the banner of the Cross that appears as if it pierces straight through the lamb’s rib area. While the badge found in Waterland holds the lamb within a dotted round frame, the badge found in Bruges is surrounded by a dotted quatrefoil-shaped frame.

Front of pewter badge, Agnus Dei holding banner of the Cross in round frame decorated with dots in circles, pin, origin unknown, 1400-1449, found in Waterland, the Netherlands, 27 x 27 mm. Private Collection (Kunera 13252). Image courtesy of Portable Antiquities of the Netherlands, record PAN-18633 (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0).

Pewter badge, Agnus Dei with nimbus and banner of the Cross in quatrefoil-shaped frame, origin unknown, 1400-1449, found in Rijkepijnder, Bruges, Belgium, 36 x 33 mm. Bruges, Belgium, Raakvlaak: Onroerend Erfgoed Brugge en Ommeland, inv. col Beuck/1/1/A/364 (Kunera 07357). Image courtesy of © Raakvlak. https://collectie.raakvlak.be

Despite the wide range in representations of the Agnus Dei, all of these badges serve as visual depictions of their associated religious metaphor: the Lamb of God. This ancient symbol has a long-standing tradition in Christian iconography and remains in use to this day, as many of us saw this Easter weekend and will continue to see over time.

Written by Hannah Gardiner. Banner print by Ellen Siebel-Achenbach.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, linocut on paper, 2021. Agnus Dei holding a banner and a scroll with inscription “GOD HELP.”

Medieval Badges Cross-stitch Sampler 1

Embroidered Medieval Badge Bookmark 1

Manuscript page of Book of Hours, sewn-in embroidery of Holy Initials, paper badge featuring Saint Peter's keys and the veil of Veronica and pilgrim badge, Paris, France, 1450-1500, 130 x 80 mm. Paris, France, Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal, inv. MS 1176 rés, fol. Av-Br. Source: Bibliothèque nationale de France.

Embroidered bookmarks are a fun way to explore medieval badges. Embroidering heightens attention to elements of the badge’s iconography and allows the maker to express the badge’s proportionality. This kind of activity is not new. While textiles from the Middle Ages rarely survive, some of those that do display the creativity and consummate design and crafting skills of medieval embroideresses (and the occasional embroiderer). The badge-like object to the right, which has survived because it was sewn into a medieval manuscript, is an example of textiles and badges interacting.

Cross-stitch is a popular and easy way to learn how to embroider. Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, the researcher-maker of this project, has created a pattern and instructions to help you create your own embroidered medieval badge bookmark! For anyone new to cross-stitch, Ellen recommends this video to help you get started.

Materials

• Aida Cotton 14ct cloth

• 6 Strand Cotton Floss (DMC)

• Embroidery needle

• Regular white thread and sharp needle

• Embroidery hoop (recommended)

• Scissors, pencil, and ruler

• An iron

• Cut felt for backing (4.5 x 18 cm)

• See bottom of post for colour recommendations

Preparation of Materials

1. Iron aida cloth and felt until flat.  

2. Set felt aside for finishing and tightly secure aida cloth on an embroidery hoop.

3. All stitches are worked with two strands of floss, which must be separated before threading onto needle.

TIPS WHILE EMBROIDERING

1. At the end of each colour/strand, be sure to leave enough length to weave the floss through the back of the stitches for fastening.

2. It is easiest to start in the centre of the chart and work outwards, continuing to use the threaded colour until a new strand is needed or all stitches of that colour have been completed.

Finishing

1. With a pencil and ruler, mark a line about six holes in from each side of the piece and cut.  Fold this in half (at three holes) and sew a hem with regular thread and sharp needle. 

2. Using appropriate size of felt, sew backing onto the embroidered piece.

3. Iron until flat. Do not steam; water can cause the colours of embroidery floss to run.

4. Enjoy your new bookmark!

From top to bottom, the bookmark features an assorted display of medieval badges: first, a badge of a rooster, then an acorn, then a fountain surrounded by a wreath of mulberry twigs, and then Saint Bridget of Sweden writing at her desk, pen in hand, while inspired by the Holy Spirit (see hand of God in top right corner). The rooster was particularly difficult for Ellen to design because the gridded foundation of cross-stitch does not easily lend itself to natural forms. Although embroidery techniques like needlepoint and crewel are better suited to animals, Ellen used cross-stitch in these bookmarks because it captures the angular qualities of the badges. Another benefit of the style is that it offers diagonals and layered stitching, which Ellen has used to good effect in the plant and animal shapes.

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You are free to use whatever colours you have. Ellen used the following: Bright Orange-Red (606); Medium Beige Brown (741); Bright Canary (973); Bright Chartreuse (704); Medium Electric Blue (996); Very Dark Lavender (208); Very Light Dusty Rose (151); Medium tin (003); Medium Beige Grey (644); Pewter Grey (317); Very Dark Blue Green (500); Dark Yellow Beige (3045); Very Dark Mahogany (300); Ultra Very Light Shell Pink (225); Ultra Very Light Mocha Brown (3866); Light Autumn Gold (3855); Pine Green (3364); Dark Cornflower Blue (792); Very Dark Salmon (347); Very Light Brown (435); Dark Hunter Green (3345)

Design and descriptions by Ellen Siebel-Achenbach. Edited by Hannah Gardiner and Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen.

The Golden Scabs of Saint Job — Part Three

THE GOLDEN SCABS OF SAINT JOB — EXPLORING THE MEDIEVAL PILGRIM BADGES OF SAINT JOB IN WEZEMAAL (BE)

This series of three blog posts explores the pilgrim badges of Saint Job from Wezemaal, Belgium. This series considers these badges as a form of adaptation, informed by biblical, legendary, and literary accounts of Job that were popular in the medieval imagination. The overarching question that inspired these blog posts is: Why was Job the only Old Testament figure to be venerated by pilgrims as a saint? 

My name is Hannah Gardiner – I am a master’s student in literary studies, a research assistant for the SSHRC Insight Grant on medieval badges, and the writer/researcher of this Job blog series.

part three — SAINT JOB, DISEASE IN THE MIDDLE AGES, AND ‘SCAB’ BADGES 

Latten-copper badge, Job on a dunghill with musicians around him, on round badge with inscription S. IOP ORDE, attachment not present, Antwerp, Belgium, 1475-1524, found in Nieuwlande, the Netherlands, 33 x 33 cm. The Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 1381 (Kunera 00242). Photograph courtesy of The Van Beuningen Family Collection.

Latten-copper badge, Job sitting nude on a dunghill, offering musicians a coin, in round frame on diamond shaped badge, attachment not present, Wezemaal, Belgium, 1475-1524, found in Arnemuiden, Belgium, 27 x 32 cm. The Van Beuningen Family Collection, inv. 4484 (Kunera 16451). Photograph courtesy of The Van Beuningen Family Collection.

The round latten-copper badges above depict a scene from an extra-biblical story about Saint Job, as explored in The Golden Scabs of Saint Job — Part One. This scene, which was frequently featured on Wezemaal badges, illustrates the moment where Job, having nothing else to offer, reaches out to give the musicians a scab from his body, which miraculously turns to gold. This moment is the turning point in Job’s story: a visible miracle and a sign of hope that fulfills Job’s earlier proclamation in the story when he defends his innocence, saying: “But [the LORD] knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I shall come out like gold” (Job 23.10). 

What immediately stands out about these two badges is their golden colour. Made of latten-copper, which turns gold after being fired, the material of the badges dually speaks of its own transformation and Job’s. While these two particular badges were both originally round in diamond frames (now broken off), other surviving golden badges are exclusively round. The form of these circular, golden badges recalls the golden scab Job would have offered from his body; in semiotic terms, they are iconic signs, bearing a strong resemblance to the object they represent. These badges invite a closer look at the way the story came to life on the pilgrims’ bodies.  

Bartholomaeus Steber, woodcut, a woman in bed and a man sitting on a stool are covered with lesions with physicians attending to them. Vienna: Johann Winterberg, 1497-1498. Image courtesy of the National Library of Medicine.

Before looking at the pilgrims’ bodies, let’s consider the historical context of the syphilis epidemic occurring in Western Europe (c. 1495) and its relation to Saint Job. We know that the pilgrimages to the site of Saint Job in Wezemaal overlapped with this epidemic. While scholars disagree about whether there was an increase in pilgrimages to Wezemaal during these years, there is no question about the associations between syphilis and Saint Job, exemplified, for instance, by a French name for syphilis, le Mal Monseigneur Saint Job, and hospitals opening up at that time bearing Job’s name, as Old Testament scholar Samuel Balentine points out. 

The skin infections that would have afflicted those suffering from syphilis likewise linked the disease to the afflicted Saint Job. Being a venereal disease, people likewise witnessed that syphilis afflicted only specific individuals and not the entire population as other diseases had, forging the connection to the plague that afflicted Job as opposed to other Old Testament plagues that swept across Israel and its enemies, (Arrizabalaga et al., 52). While other pilgrim badges from Wezemaal depict the story of Saint Job, the golden scab badges specifically point to the greater social context of physical affliction. 

Like other pilgrim badges, these badges were made to be worn and seen. But what would it have meant to a pilgrim to wear this badge — a badge that was not only a token of having been on pilgrimage to the site of a Saint, but one that symbolized the diseased and redeemed body part of that Saint, which they then embodied on their own body? 

Since syphilis was an unknown and new disease, perceptions of it were informed by social perceptions of other skin-related illnesses such as leprosy. French medieval historian Francois-Olivier Touati illustrates that over the course of the twelfth century, leprosy came to be seen not as a divine punishment, but as an invitation by God to convert to a religious life and attain salvation. Following from Touati, medieval historian Elma Brenner argues that lepers were seen, in the centuries preceding the syphilis epidemic, as a religious group “chosen by God to suffer in this life in order to be redeemed in the next” (241). Sickness marked God’s intervention, not his absence. The sick, suffering body was therefore not seen by all as a punishment by God, but was viewed as an invitation into God’s grace, and a time of waiting for when all would be made new. 

A theology of the sick body anticipating newness is reminiscent of the Jobian narrative. The pilgrims who, in good or poor health, attached these badges to their bodies aligned their bodies into a participatory relationship to the innocent suffering and triumph of Saint Job in an embodied way. The presence of the story’s golden scabs on their own bodies can be seen as form of role-play, wherein the pilgrim body joins the body of another: first Job’s, and by typological association, to that of Christ’s. Bearing these golden scabs on their bodies would have transformed the body of its wearer into a sign of redemption. The pilgrim, like Saint Job and Christ, was close to God and may have been suffering from an affliction by no fault of their own, all the while persevering with a confidence that their suffering had already been redeemed and come out as gold. 

Whether such badges were later offered as tokens to others, as they had been offered to the musicians in the story, is unknown, but provocative to imagine. One has to wonder what feelings the pilgrims affixing these badges to their cloaks may have had as they wandered around the village church in Wezemaal and back home, disrupting linear time through their faith and bringing the story to life. 

Works Cited

Arrozabalaga, Jon, John Henderson and Roger Kenneth French. The Great Pox: The French Disease in Renaissance Europe. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997. 

Balentine, Samuel E. Have You Considered My Servant Job?: Understanding the Biblical Archetype of Patience. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2015.

Brenner, Elma. “The Leprous Body in Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century Rouen: Perceptions and Responses.” In The Ends of the Body: Identity and Community in Medieval Culture, edited by Jill Ross, Suzanne Conklin Akbari, pp. 239-59. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2013.

Campbell, Gordon. “Syphilis.” Oxford Dictionary of the Renaissance. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. 

Minnen, Bart. “‘Den heyligen Sant al in Brabant.’ The Church of St Martin in Wezemaal and the devotion to St Job 1000-2000 – Retrospective. The fluctuations of a devotion” [English summary of: Den Heyligen Sant Al in Brabant: De Sint-Martinuskerk van Wezemaal en de cultus van Sint Job 1000-2000 (Averbode, 2011).]

Suykerbuyk, Ruben. The Matter of Piety : Zoutleeuw’s Church of Saint Leonard and Religious Material Culture in the Low Countries (c. 1450-1620), vol. 16. Boston, Leiden: Brill, 2020.

Written by Hannah Gardiner. Edited by Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen.

Merry (Medieval) Christmas

Merry (Medieval) Christmas

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, researcher–maker of our new project, “Reimagining Medieval Badges in Modern Materials,” has been working diligently on creating a series of linocuts based on badges. Here below are two from her Christmas series, featuring the Annunciation scene and the Nativity scene.

We leave off 2021 with a feast for the eyes, wishing you and yours a Merry (Medieval) Christmas and a joyful holiday season!

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, linocut on paper, 2021. Annunciation Scene.

Lead alloy badge, Virgin Mary and Angel Gabriel stand beneath a canopy with a dove and a vase of lilies, inscriptions ECCE ANGL and AVE MARIA in Lombardic capitals, attachment unknown, Walsingham, United Kingdom, 1366-1400, found in Norwich, United Kingdom. Museum of London, image number 001722. Photograph courtesy of © Museum of London.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, linocut on paper, 2021. Nativity Scene.

Pewter badge, Nativity scene in round frame with Mary recumbent with Christ Child wrapped in her arms, Joseph on the right with ox and donkey behind a manger, origin unknown, 1300-1399, found in Wienhausen, Germany, 61 x 61 mm. Kloster Wienhausen, Wienhausen, Germany (Kunera 05858). Photograph courtesy of Kloster Wienhausen.

Reimagining Medieval Badges in Modern Materials

Reimagining medieval Badges in Modern Materials

Recently joining our team as a researcher-maker for the new project, “Reimagining Badges in Modern Materials,” is Ellen Siebel-Achenbach.  Ellen is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Medieval Studies, Visual Culture, Fine Arts Studio, and Church Worship and Music at the University of Waterloo. She is also an undergraduate intern at the DRAGEN Lab, our collaborator for this project.  

Conceptually, “Reimagining Medieval Badges in Modern Materials” interrogates the difference between replicating and reimagining medieval badges. In the Middle Ages, badge-like objects sharing similar iconographies were crafted in a wide variety of materials from precious to perishable. As a researcher-maker, Ellen will similarly engage with a wide variety of materials in order to learn about them, their affordances and constraints, and reflect on the ways in which they might be used to reimagine badges, to explore badge-like qualities, and to engage modern audiences in discovery about the Middle Ages.

To offer our community a sense of the project, we asked Ellen to share some of her initial experimental makings and discoveries, which we will continue to share periodically on this blog. 

Medieval Badges: Could you tell us a bit about your first encounters with badges? 

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach: Although I had previously encountered medieval badges in museums, I only began to engage with them while on an experiential learning research trip to England in 2019 with Dr. Rasmussen. Our group visited museums, churches, and workshops, and I became increasingly interested in medieval craft more generally and in understanding that badges served a variety of functions. Like most people, I had associated badges with religious pilgrimage alone – especially in the case of the popular badges featuring Saint Thomas Becket of Canterbury.

MB: What is guiding your process of making for this project? 

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, polystyrene and oil-based ink, 2021. Reimagined pewter badge, king and bishop hold a tower, attachment unknown, origin unknown, 1325-1374, found in Ypres, Belgium, 58 x 56 mm. Ypres, Belgium, Yper Museum, inv. SM 005143 (Kunera 06817).

ESA: For the first few badge experiments, I was interested in the ways delicate details of badge figures could be captured in such a small scale.  To start, I chose three badges with a high level of detail: a badge of the holy communion wafers of Wilsnack, a badge of the Blessed Virgin Mary and Christ Child from Rocamadour, and the badge of a king and bishop holding a tower in a round frame from Yper. I decided to make the badges using a clear polystyrene plastic that shrinks when heated (i.e., baked!). I drew the designs with oil-based markers and embellished them with oil-based metallic paints. I coloured the Yper badge with several shades of grey, yellow, and green and attempted to reproduce a degree of depth within the Yper badge through the application of a glued layer of ‘gems.’ The translucent material has allowed me to include colour in the badges in a manner resembling medieval stained glass and enamel miniatures.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, polystyrene and oil-based ink, 2021.

Pewter badge, the holy communion wafers of Wilsnack, eyelets, Wilsnack, Germany, 1475-1522, found in Nieuwlande, the Netherlands, 36 x 31 mm. Family Van Beuningen Collection, inv. 1709 (Kunera 00130). Photograph courtesy of Family Van Beuningen Collection.

MB: How have your experimental makings influenced your understanding of medieval badges?

ESA: I found it difficult to capture the original details even prior to the baking process, in which the original design shrinks by about two-thirds. I have very different materials at my disposal, of course, but I have nevertheless tried to make crafting choices that come closer to medieval crafters, such as doing sketches by hand rather than digitally. Right now, I’m trying to minimize the digital component of my making. I’m also working by hand in natural light, a commodity in as short supply in November in northerly regions as it was six hundred years ago.

MB: What is one challenging aspect about reimagining these badges materially?

ESA: On top of difficulties capturing details, I have had challenges with the fragility of the plastic material I am currently using. It often cracks during the cutting (note the right cross of the Wilsnack badge) and baking processes. The material also occasionally bakes into a curved shape (as occurred in the Rocamadour badge). The imperfections of my own badge creations may in some way emulate imperfections present in many badges. One example of this is the centre of the original Rocamadour badge I am using, where there is what looks like a nail hole in the centre of the Virgin Mary.  

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach, polystyrene and oil-based ink, 2021. Reimagined pewter badge, Blessed Virgin Mary enthroned and holding sceptre with Christ child on her left knee, eyelets, Rocamadour, France, 1270-1299, found in Schleswig, Germany, 74 x 55.5 x 1.5 mm. Schleswig, Germany, Schleswig-Holsteinisches Landesmuseum, inv. KSD 375 325 (Kunera 04244).

MB: What are you planning on experimenting with over the coming months? 

ESA: My next experiments will utilize a similar material to the one I’ve been using, but with a white base to allow for more vibrancy of colour. I’m looking forward to working with this opaque polystrene plastic because it offers the potential for creating even more detail alongside a more subtle colouring. I may also combine the clear and white plastic in some future re-imagined badges.  

I’m also planning on creating a series of lino-prints for the Christmas season, featuring badges of the Nativity and Epiphany scenes. These prints will use both black oil-based paint and gouache. I am also starting work on a series of shadow boxes in which I divide enlarged medieval badges into different layers of depth.

Ellen Siebel-Achenbach is a research intern and badge maker for “Reimagining Badges in Modern Materials.” She is pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Medieval Studies, Visual Culture, Fine Arts Studio, and Church Worship and Music at the University of Waterloo. She has been a member of the DRAGEN Lab since 2019.

Send Ellen your questions via the Medieval Badges website or comment below.

Edited by Hannah Gardiner and Dr. Ann Marie Rasmussen.

The Medieval Podcast — “Medieval Badges with Ann Marie Rasmussen”

Ann Marie Rasmussen had the pleasure of speaking with Danièle Cybulskie, the creator and host of The Medieval Podcast, several weeks ago. Their conversation, “Medieval Badges with Ann Marie Rasmussen,” is now available to listen to on their website.

“If you were suddenly transported back into Northern Europe in the latter part of the Middle Ages, a lot of the people you came across would be sporting something shiny on their clothes or hats. This week, Danièle speaks with Ann Marie Rasmussen about medieval badges, how they were made and used, and who was wearing them.”

The Medieval Podcast is a weekly podcast hosted by Danièle Cybulskie, in which she interviews various scholars and historians of the Middle Ages about an array of topics. The podcast is run through Medievalists.net — a website promoting medieval history through news, articles, videos, and more.

Many thanks to Danièle and others at Medievalists.net!

Written by Hannah Gardiner.