Eratosphere - Petty Schadenfreude re: some art I dislike

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Petty Schadenfreude re: some art I dislike

I thought some here might be interested in this, and/or have opposing views about the following situation (either specifically or in general).

Some of the garish, badly proportioned mosaics I've loathed for decades, by a Catholic priest who has somehow succeeded in splashing them everywhere from the Pope's private chapel to Lourdes to Fátima...over 230 religious sites in all...are now being covered up.

E.g.:
Lourdes Sanctuary decides to cover the Rupnik mosaics as a gesture to the victims

A summary of the overall situation with Fr. Marko I. Rupnik, from a few days ago:
Is the tide turning on the Rupnik case?

For about three generations, it seemed as if any cathedral or basilica with enough money to deface their building with his hideous art would jump at the chance. Those were commissions that demonstrably more talented local artists couldn't get, because the decision-makers and donors didn't want the diversity of no-names. They apparently felt that only art by The Most Famous Worldwide Sensation in religious art was good enough for them. (It takes actual taste to determine artistic quality, but any fool can quickly see who's The Most Famous Worldwide Sensation.)

I'm sincerely sorry that to break the spell has taken credible accusations of sexual assault from more than 20 women who had helped Fr. Rupnik to create his mosaics — although, to be fair, some conservatives have been complaining for years that his art is not only ugly, but theologically questionable. To them, it symbolizes all that's gone wrong with the Church since Vatican II. I disagree with their views on many things, but I do wholeheartedly agree that Rupnik's art is both distressingly short on the compositional harmony that makes things look "right" to the casual observer, and very culturally insensitive (because it upends the strict artistic rules of the Orthodox tradition in ways considered blasphemous by actual Orthodox icon makers).

I'm still seeing the predictable What-about defenses, though: What about Caravaggio, for example? Should we cover up his work because he did some bad things, too? Isn't it best, as a rule, to separate art from the personal life of the artist?

But four obvious differences between Caravaggio and Rupnik are: 1) Caravaggio's reported misdeeds were not committed against nuns, in churches, in the process of creating his art for those very spaces; 2) none of Caravaggio's victims and their families have to have his work in their faces today; 3) Caravaggio didn't have huge, inescapable installations in 230 churches, and a string of victims over decades; and 4) most art experts agree that Caravaggio's work actually has substantial artistic merit, from a compositional and emotional standpoint. None of those things can be said for Rupnik.

Someone online described Rupnik's mosaics as 75% poorly executed Orthodox rip-off, 25% Precious Moments. Personally, I think it's more like 25% deliberate mockery of Orthodox tradition (which, again, has very strict artistic rules for icons), 75% Margaret Keane kitsch. Compare the weird facial proportions and the huge, soul-less, black-irised eyes of Keane's art:
https://i0.wp.com/www.printmag.com/w...ality=89&ssl=1

And of Fr. Marko Rupnik's:
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/...1673x2560.jpeg

Others' thoughts?

I have changed my thinking about how to judge art created by villainous people. My training in the study of art and literature was dominated by the New Criticism of Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Warren in the late 60’s and early 70’s. In this school, a work of art is to be judged per se on the basis of its internal consistency, wit, unity, complexity, originality, and harmony of parts. The author’s life and milieu were discounted as more or less irrelevant to interpretation and evaluation.

As I matured, I came to realize that a work of art is more than merely a text, score, or fabrication. Every work of art is informed by its social, political, historical, biographical and philosophical considerations. This is especially true of sacred art, where the Church or diocese implies its endorsement of the views expressed in the mosaic or hymn and risks scandal if the artist’s life makes a mockery of the moral values promoted by the Church.

In the case of Marko Rupnik, I agree that the art is inferior, irrespective of the artist’s scandalous life. Because sacred art is displayed or presented in public ceremonies, you rightly point out the danger of re-victimizing those who suffered abuse by the artist.

David Haas’s case is similar to Rupnik’s, but his music is beautiful. Does this fact justify performing his music at religious ceremonies? When the news of Haas’s abuse of women was made public, our diocese responded by banning performance of his work. A couple of years later, his hymns have reappeared at Mass. I know we are all sinners, and that we should not judge lest we be judged, but I have concluded that out of respect for his victims, his music should not be part of a ceremony sponsored by the Church. Performing his work suggests tacit tolerance of his behavior by the institution entrusted with providing guidance in these matters.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Julie Steiner (Post 505218)

I disagree with their views on many things, but I do wholeheartedly agree that Rupnik's art is both distressingly short on the compositional harmony that makes things look "right" to the casual observer, and very culturally insensitive (because it upends the strict artistic rules of the Orthodox tradition in ways considered blasphemous by actual Orthodox icon makers).

I agree. There is something disturbing about his images and they definitely don't seem to be in the spirit or letter of Orthodox iconography. The empty black eyes are especially problematic (for me).

As far as the artist's life vs work, I don't think there is a black and white answer to that. The nature and seriousness of the action matters, in my opinion - actually abusing people is different from just being an unpleasant person or holding some problematic views that may have been common at the time. None of us are perfect, after all, so we shouldn't, I think, discount someone's art because they were full of themselves, or had a (consensual) affair, or made a racist comment in a letter somewhere. We can admire the art without approving of those areas in which the artist failed.

But actual abuse is different. In the case of living artists and living victims one has to really tread very carefully. Then you add religion into the mix, and ... well, it's ugly.

.
Here is a rather nuanced article from the National Catholic Reporter about the controversy of Rupnik's art

I agree — there’s a moral equivalency here that demands consideration, if that’s the right term. Hilary offers what I think is the most coherent distinction: artists, like all of us, are flawed. But accepting human imperfection requires boundaries. The real question is: where do we draw those lines? The phrase "There but for the grace of God go I" comes to mind.

Rupnik’s art is not just mediocre — it’s suspiciously prevalent. How did he get his foot in the door? Just curious... It feels lifeless, like a hollow imitation of sacred art. I remember when my parish was renovated in the '70s. The old traditional art and design was replaced with gaudy, glittery, simplistic mosaic decor. It was if they had stripped the space of its soul. My childhood religious imagery had vanished. It reminded me of Rupnik’s work: visually loud, spiritually empty.

We live in a fractured world — yet beauty persists, often defiantly. None of us is without flaws. The best we can do is practice contrition and seek redemption — not necessarily in the religious sense, but as a form of moral integrity. That’s what gives art its potential: the ability to reveal what others cannot see, unless the artist shows them.

Caravaggio is a perfect example. His personal darkness and intensity radiated through his use of light and shadow — a reflection of the man himself. To speak of Rupnik and Caravaggio in the same breath makes me gag.

And isn’t it always unsettling when someone described as kind, charitable, even saintly — is revealed to be capable of something monstrous?

.

Thanks for your thoughts, Glenn, Hilary, and Jim. I've taken some time to respond because I wanted to think carefully about what you had each said.

Glenn, your comparison/contrast with the disgraced liturgical composer David Haas is apt. I loved Haas's music, and had also thoroughly enjoyed two choral workshops I took with him and his wife, Jeanne Cotter (before their marriage was annulled and he started doing his best to undermine both her career as a religious composer and her credibility as a witness).

Hilary, I agree that blackballing an artist for all time, or permanently censoring his or her art, is excessive. (I think of the draperies that were painted over some of the nudes in Michelangelo's "Last Judgment" fresco when a more conservative Pope found the nudity indecent.) But I appreciate the short term actions taken in both Rupnik's and Haas's cases.

I don't know if Rupnik's mosaics were created in situ with their potential future removal in mind (as many modern mosaics are), or if he meant for them to be impossible to remove without destruction. Even huge Confederate statues seem easier to move without damage than Rupnik's huge, brittle walls of smalti.

Some have suggested removing Rupnik's mosaics and installing them in a museum, instead of leaving them (either covered or on display) in religious sites. But Rupnik's trademark is monumentality, so if a special museum were built for the purpose of displaying even a few of his works, it would have to be ginormous — not just to accommodate the artwork itself, but also enough distance for viewers to take it in. And who would fund such a project?

Jim, your closing remarks particularly hit home. For decades, in both the Haas and Rupnik cases, those who heard unsavory rumors refused to believe that a person with such an aura of holiness and religious fervor, a celebrity who had dominated his field of spiritual art, had crossed so many lines. Some of the religious authorities (all celibate males, of course) to whom the assaults had been reported were presumably persuaded that these saintly men were the victims of mentally unstable female groupies. Whenever it happened again, the fact that it had happened before actually seemed to reinforce the narrative that disturbed women were forever falling in love with celebrities, and then lashing out with false accusations when their advances were scorned.

I liked the November 2020 statement on the Haas situation by a female bishop in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America:

Quote:

In many of the conversations about this online, the argument to “separate the art from the artist” comes up quickly. This is not possible or faithful. We need to be mindful that artists make money from the use of their art and we do not want to endorse those who use their status to lure and abuse minors. I am well aware and know many have deep connections to his music. I personally grieve no longer singing “We Are Called” and “You Are Mine.” I realize some may ask, “Why can’t we just sing those songs and pretend he didn’t write them?” Questions like this come from a well-meaning place, and from a place of grief and loss, but it’s simply not possible to pretend if we care to do ministry with integrity.

It's different, of course, when the artist is not presenting himself as a religious authority — as bad-boy Caravaggio certainly never did — and also when the victims are long-deceased, and thus not able to be re-traumatized when confronted by the art in what should be a place of spiritual solace.

Julie, I agree that it's appropriate to take action to protect people who've been harmed by an artist, especially a religious artist. Not sure if my previous comment made that clear.

I've been thinking about this thread and particularly in relation to Hitler. We don't hold exhibitions of Hitler's artwork (as far as I know). Is that because of the heinous things he did, or because the artwork is no good, or because we are ultimately unable to separate the two? He was pretty good at architectural drawing and painting. His depictions of people, when he bothered to portray them, were not good, which leads one to wonder if the pathology in the man made its way into the art. Probably so.

Again, I think a distinction has to be made between general human failings, which we all have, and predatory actions. The former can be overlooked in appreciation of the art; the latter cannot. I'm not sure how to draw that line, but I feel strongly that there is a line.

Thanks very much for articulating your thoughts on this, Hilary.

I thought it might be time for an update, since this conversation began before the death of Pope Francis. Two recent articles:

A sexual abuse survivor on Lourdes’ decision to cover Rupnik mosaics
(Lucy Huh, in America: The Jesuit Review, May 5, 2025)

Excerpts:

Quote:

For survivors like myself, sacred spaces are already fraught with complexity. They can be sites of both solace and retraumatization. When I stand before the glittering Rupnik mosaics depicting Christ’s redemptive love, knowing the creator’s hands violated sacred boundaries and trust, the message I receive is clear: The institution’s commitment to beauty and prestige supersedes its commitment to those who have been harmed.

The argument that art transcends the artist fails to recognize the unique purpose of sacred spaces. Unlike museums, where controversial artists’ works might be displayed with appropriate context, churches and shrines are places of prayer, healing and sanctuary. They communicate theological truths not only through their explicit imagery but through their implicit messages about what—and who—matters.

[...]

The art institute founded by Marko Rupnik has argued that removing his artwork represents a capitulation to “cancel culture.” This fundamentally misunderstands what we survivors seek. We don’t ask for erasure but for acknowledgment—acknowledgment that harm occurred, that it matters and that the institution will prioritize preventing further harm over preserving its aesthetic investments.

On Pope Leo's Desk: Rupnik — How will the pontiff handle a notorious abuse case?
(J.D. Flynn, in The Pillar, May 14, 2025)
Only the first half of the article is available to non-subscribers.

Excerpts:

Quote:

Pope Francis may well be remembered as the pope who allowed Theodore McCarrick to be criminally tried and laicized in the Church.

But on the whole, the late pontiff’s record on handling clerical sexual abuse in the Church is not likely to be recorded as universally positively by Church historians.

[...]

Despite ushering in legal and structural changes, the former pope developed a reputation for rehabilitating, tolerating, and even refusing to acknowledge abuse or cover-up by prelates with whom he had a personal relationship — criticisms which have also dogged, with cause, his own immediate predecessors in the Petrine Office.

All of that likely means that in the annals of history, what Francis wrote and said about clerical sexual abuse will be measured against his own handling of the cases close to his orbit, and their impact on the decline of the rule of law in the Church’s life.

For Francis, the most prominent symbol of his reputation on abuse is Fr. Marko Rupnik, the expelled Jesuit and once-renowned artist, who has been accused of serially sexually abusing around 30 religious sisters, in vile ways, in the context of creating the enormous tile church mosaics for which he became famous.

Francis, who displayed Rupnik prints on the walls of his personal study until the end of his life, is accused of protecting Rupnik — of seeing to it that in 2022, the Vatican’s Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith declined to lift a canonical statute of limitation, which might have seen Rupnik tried for the abuse he is accused of perpetrating.

Further, it is often believed that Francis ought to have intervened when Rupnik was incardinated into a Slovenian diocese after he was dismissed from the Jesuits.

More to the point, critics say that Francis allowed Rupnik to continue traveling, being honored, being commissioned to do artwork, and to remain a member of Vatican dicasteries after his allegations of grave abuse were well-known. They also note that the Vatican’s dicastery for communications vigorously defended Rupnik, and frequently featured his art in Vatican web postings, owing mostly to the employment of a close Rupnik associate in a ranking dicastery position.

And some critics charge that auxiliary Roman Bishop Daniele Libanori, the first investigator into Rupnik, was effectively exiled from the diocese for his strong stance on Rupnik.

Under enormous public pressure, Francis did eventually lift a canonical statute of limitation in the case, allowing Rupnik to be canonically tried for allegations of abuse. But the trial has been slow-going, with judges not yet appointed more than 18 months after the case purportedly was cleared to open.

And around the world, victims of clerical sexual abuse and their advocates have charged that mosaics created by Rupnik, displayed in cathedrals, basilicas, and shrines around the world — and prominently in Rome — have become symbols of a Vatican either unwilling or unable to aid them, more concerned with clerical and institutional self-protection than with their welfare, or their holiness.

Enter Leo XIV.

The following essay appeared last year, but I'd missed it before. Its overall tone and content are probably too parochial (in every sense of that word) to interest non-Catholics, but I can't resist quoting the following two paragraphs, with which I wholeheartedly agree.

Marko Rupnik: Modern Iconographer or Denier of the Incarnation?
(Anthony Visco, The Institute for Sacred Architecture, Volume 45, Spring 2024)

Quote:

As church communities discuss what to do with Rupnik’s work, I hope that those who commissioned them will reflect on the fact that major commissions at Lourdes, the Vatican, and many others, could have been international competitions. Instead, these great Catholic churches supported Rupnik and his art rather than others more worthy. Considering that his large works are housed in over two hundred churches around the world, one can only wonder and lament over the artists whose work was left behind or failed to be considered. If, as Pope Francis has insisted, “clericalism” is a problem, then we must ask whether Father Rupnik would have ever gotten the amount of work he received if he had been simply Mr. Marko Rupnik and not a Jesuit priest. It is more likely that, as a layman, he would never have received so many commissions for such important places within the Catholic Church. It was not that the vineyards were ripe and the workers few, but rather that the workers were ready, but they were locked out of the vineyards.

[...]

Rupnik has been expelled from the Jesuits, but his works remain on display. Perhaps Rupnik’s work remains so devoid of beauty because his life was so devoid of truth and goodness. Decisions about what to do with those works should take into consideration both his moral failures as a priest and his aesthetic and theological failures as a Christian artist. The moral failures were enough to get him expelled from the Jesuits; the aesthetic failures should be enough to get his art expelled from the churches they neither beautify nor ennoble.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Julie Steiner (Post 506526)

I just read the article and found it interesting. Thanks for sharing it.