The obvious truth about much of the devotional art on display in our museums and galleries is that it has been ripped out of context. Religious art commissioned for a church is designed for a religious purpose, to instruct and edify the viewer, and assist prayer. That doesn’t happen even in the most sympathetic secular setting.
So, in gallery 9 of the National Gallery, we can see a very beautiful altarpiece by Paolo Veronese, The Consecration of St Nicholas, from the monastery of San Benedetto al Po, near Mantua, whose abbot commissioned it for a chapel along with another two altarpieces intended to celebrate the monastic life. They were something new; animated, not static and seemed astonishingly lifelike to viewers. During the Napoleonic wars the picture was removed from the monastery – I think the word is “looted”.
The National Gallery has now put St Nicholas back in his proper context – digitally – in a small gallery on the ground floor. You put on a chunky headpiece and earphones and lo, you’re in the lovely side chapel of the monastery of San Benedetto, designed by a follower of Raphael, looking at the Veronese, and oblivious to the people around you.
It’s a brief encounter lasting ten minutes, but it is extraordinarily vivid. St Nicholas – the original Santa Claus – is shown here getting his bishop’s mitre from an angel during his consecration as bishop. You see the picture in context, in all its vivid colour and dynamism – let me commend to you the angel descending at an extraordinary angle from the top of the picture. As you turn around, you see the entire chapel, with closeups of small frescos of St Nicholas’ miracles. But try and get too close to the altar, and a kind of digital cage draws you up short.
You get a choice of digital, volumetric guides: the curator, Rebecca Gill, who gives an account of the commissioning of the piece, or a virtual Abbot Asola, who actually did the commissioning. It concludes with a little soundscape: music created for the monks which finishes as the bell sounds for mass.
As immersive experiences go, this is an interesting and useful exercise. And the nice thing is, after it’s over, you can go upstairs to gallery 9 to see the actual Veronese for yourself. This isn’t the first such exercise by the National Gallery – it’s done Jan Gossaert’s Adoration of the Magi previously – and, with funding provided by Bloomberg, it almost certainly won’t be the last.
