Today, I find myself reflecting on an unforgettable experience I had at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. It was during this visit that I encountered Jusepe de Ribera’s The Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew (1634), a painting that has lingered in my thoughts ever since. The artwork’s visceral depiction of human suffering, combined with Ribera’s masterful use of light and shadow, immediately drew me into its emotional and spiritual depths.
The painting portrays the saint at the moment of his martyrdom with an intensity that is both harrowing and sublime. Ribera’s use of chiaroscuro not only amplifies the emotional gravity of the scene but also directs the viewer’s focus to the illuminated figure of Saint Bartholomew. His serene expression, contrasted with the physical torment he endures, speaks volumes about faith and resilience in the face of suffering. The light that falls upon Bartholomew seems almost otherworldly, a visual metaphor for divine grace amidst human agony.
While the painting itself was deeply moving, what added another layer to my experience was observing a man meticulously studying and replicating the artwork. This was my first encounter with what could be described as the classical method of learning art: by copying the masters. Watching this artist work with such precision and reverence illuminated a timeless truth about the process of creation—it begins with admiration.
As I watched him, I couldn’t help but think of my own role as a teacher. The process of learning, whether in art or education, often follows a similar path: we start by admiring the work of others, then we imitate, and finally, we innovate, making the knowledge or skill our own. This journey is what I like to call "the newness of rediscovery." It is through this process that established knowledge is not merely passed down but transformed into something personally meaningful and unique.
The setting of the National Gallery of Art heightened this experience. Housing such profound works of art, the gallery itself becomes a place of reverence and learning, bridging the historical with the contemporary. It provides a space where the past can be engaged with anew, where admiration leads to a deeper understanding and eventually to personal creation.
This brings me back to Ribera’s The Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew. The painting, with its unflinching realism and emotional depth, confronts viewers with the harsh realities of human suffering while offering a profound meditation on faith and endurance. The detailed anatomy, the textures, and the interplay of light and shadow all contribute to a sense of authenticity and immediacy that is both unsettling and deeply moving.
In many ways, Ribera’s work, and the artist’s study of it, encapsulate the essence of the creative and educational journey. Creation is rooted in admiration. By studying and imitating the masters, we not only learn the technical aspects but also engage with the deeper meanings embedded in their work. This process of admiration and imitation eventually leads to personal transformation and innovation.
As I continue to reflect on this experience, I am reminded of the power of art—and education—to connect us with deeper truths. Whether in a classroom or an art gallery, the journey from admiration to creation is a profound and essential one, illuminating the interconnectedness of past and present, teacher and student, master and learner.