Money Changer and His Wife...

Massys, a leading master after 1510 continued with the contemporary narratives of the day by depicting a professional man transacting business, in this case counting and changing money with his wife looking on. His Money Changer and His Wife painting can be considered a commentary on Netherlandish values and mores as they reflect the secular; in this case, financial machinations, which often times distracted Christians from their religious duties. The Money Changer communicates: "Hey, it’s okay to count your money, but don’t forget to take care of your spiritual self too." Here we see his wife by his side, with an open bible before her, but, she seems more interested in the money counting and changing than in reading and devoting herself to her bible; thusly her religious studies. Massys further represents the North’s apparent departure from extreme piety by including in the background, seen through an door ajar, several people in a conversation, it’s assumed they must be gossiping; not a very religious activity. However, before us, he sprinkles a few religious reminders as in the convex mirror on the money counting table where we see a church steeple; another allusion to the need for piety and religiosity and despite the paintings more secular composition, religious symbols are present in the carafe of water and the candlestick

Massys is not only a master of contemporary narratives, but he demonstrates his capabilities in rendering details and modeling of the figures. A master colorist, Massys employs rich and reflective colors and light and well balanced shadowing to model his figures. He achieves three-dimensions on a two-dimensional surface by working colors and shadows with great dexterity. His figures are individualized in detail; slender and long fingers and noses, wide set eyes, rather youthful faces. In the Money Changer, we see a calmness and simplicity of 16th century northern Europe…nothing is too over the top. The costumes are contemporary and understated and the fabric folds are expertly rendered. While the room and its decorative objects reflect the status of the subjects. However, not so in the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, this sculpture is filled with violent movement, agitation, billowing and dramatic fabric folds---we see the motion and emotion that is Italian Baroque. In contrast, the Money Changer gives off a feeling of containment and reserve—no pomp and circumstance.

Why is that? Well, during the era in which this painting was made, the Netherlands was considered the Florence of Europe. It had become a major commercial center and was amongst the most advanced and prosperous European countries. It was also close to the center of the Reformation movement. Those Netherlandish citizens who converted to Protestantism affected the arts resulting in a corresponding decrease in large-scale altarpieces and religious works. As we have learned, much of the work completed during this era reflected the everyday lives of the various members of society, from the rich to the poor, capturing their daily activities, environments, and values. In the Money Changer, we see a reconciliation of daily life with a hint of religion. But in the Ecstasy below, this sculpture is pure religion. Another artist from the 16th century Northern European who also reflects this more secular approach is Pieter Aertsen and his Butcher’s Stall, 1551. It appears to be a descriptive genre scene, and yet, he’s subtly embedded religious symbols and messaging into the image, without hitting the viewing over the head with religious drama ala the Ecstasy. In his subtle way, he’s saying, yes, enjoy life, eat well if you can, but do not eat, or do anything for that matter in excess.

In the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, (a marble sculpture c. 1645-52, sculptured by Gianlorenzo Bernini, Cornaro Chapel, Santa Maria della Vittoria, of Rome) made more than 100 years after the Money Changer, we see a sign of the times; the belief that the re-creation of spiritual experience would do much to increase devotion and piety and the Catholic Church’s counter-Reformation efforts are in full swing. In these times, the Catholic Church was serious, and it wanted its followers to be even more serious about their worship so it engaged Bernini to provide some much needed mystical drama. Italy, unlike cosmopolitan Northern Europe, never seemed to stray too far from the rendering of religious narratives in its artworks. Yes, we see Titian and others dabble in classical mythological themes during the Mannerist period (Venus of Urbino, Bronzino’s erotic Venus, Cupid, Folly, and Time), but these are just a blip during the Renaissance movement’s departure from religious representation. During the Baroque period, the Pope was dealing head on with the fallout from the Reformation. He wanted to renew the energy and centrality of Catholicism and he knew the only way to accomplish his goals was to communicate to the people in extremely grandiose, dramatic, emotional works of art and architecture; hence the rebuilding of Saint Peters and other monumental Roman art and architecture efforts.

When compared head to head with the Money Changer, the Ecstasy couldn’t be more profoundly different. The two women are so entirely differently depicted; Saint Teresa is in an orgasmic state, while the Wife is simply observing with no emotion and no expression her husband’s activities. Saint Teresa is theatrical, elaborate, even dynamic, and is a spectacular demonstration of Catholic power, while the wife demurely looks on. Bernini cloaked Saint Teresa in an overly full, flowing, rippled robe; itself a showpiece of his talents (and the Church’s authority) at rendering fabric folds in a most dramatic order. Our Money Changer wife is dressed neatly and modestly, with no ostentatious flair; other than the use of red fabric (only wealthy Dutch could afford such colors). Like Bernini’s Saint Peter’s Baldacchino, Bernini pulled out all the stops here in the sculpture of Saint Teresa. While only 11’ 6”, ninety feet shorter than the Baldacchino, the sculpture, still monumental in size, clearly communicates the awe inspiring influence of the Church and the power of conversion. Most surprisingly, Bernini mixes spirituality with physical passion—clearly an inspiration for devotion, whereas the Money Changer communicates a resolute calm and stillness, no preaching or prodding of religious doctrine.

In the Money Changer, Massys has used light to gently illuminate the daylight scene. No one person or object is under the spotlight, say as in Caravaggio’s Calling of Saint Matthew, or George de la Tour’s, Adoration of the Shepherds. But in the Ecstasy, not only has Bernini positioned the fixed sculpture in the Cornaro Chapel in such a way as you cannot pass it by, but he has used light from a hidden window of yellow glass which pours down the brass rods to suggest the radiance of Heaven. (It reminds me of when I was a child and I would see the sun’s rays breaking through the clouds. I would tell my mother it was God speaking to us.)

Like mentioned before, these two artworks couldn’t be more disparate in style, content, context, and composition. The Money Changer and Wife rebels and rebukes the stronghold of Catholic religiosity in artistic representations. It radiates a worldly presence supported by measured religious practice; here balance is the name of the game. In the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, we see the Catholic Church plowing full steam ahead in its blinder-induced religious fanaticism. Funnily enough, today, more than three hundred years later, little has changed in both regions. The North continues to practice tolerance and easily blends the secular with tempered religious practices, while the Catholic Church continues its campaign of power and domination through its funding of its religious single-mindedness.