Apollo on the Roman mosaic El-Jem, Tunisia

The halo is a very effective visual device for picking out individuals of particular reverence within a composition. But when you stop and think about it, its also a little arcane and unwieldy, and not just a little bit weird.

The Inquisition set out to find the earliest use of a halo or aura as a visual device, but eventually had to give it up as a bad job; halos existed before they can be truly understood as such. Figures exist with light radiating from their heads in South American cultures, while the Egyptians placed complete and unbroken discs above the heads of their representations.

The Gero Crucifix in Cologne

Definition & Meaning

Before getting into the historical context it might be best to define a halo, its meaning and conceptual origins.

According to the Penguin Dictionary of Symbols, “the halo, or nimbus, is a solar image which possesses much the same significance as the crown and specifically the kingly crown. It is displayed by a radiance around the head and sometimes around the whole body (a mandorla or aureola). This originally solar radiance is a sign of holiness, of sanctity and of the divine. It is a manifestation of the aura.” It goes on to clearly state that the halo is a representation of the emission of light.

The halo is familiar in western iconography and culture as anything from a thin elliptical gold band encircling rapturous ladies in traditional painting, to golden crowns of monarchs (and Jesus’ crown of thorns), to monks’ tonsures to currently being a much-used framing device in less than reverend photography. In short it is a signifier of the bearer’s possession of unique, divine or spiritual qualities.

The halo varies in depiction from the aforementioned ethereal orbits to almost corporeal supra-cranial discs. It has had crosses incorporated in both Byzantine and Celtic contexts to represent the Trinity – the single but divided whole. It has been a soft focus glow, radiating rays and even triangles.

Ra, complete with sun disc

The Earliest?

Well, its frankly impossible to directly attribute the halo’s inception to a certain culture, but it would seem the Egyptians were, if not the originators, then at least, among the earliest adopters. The Egyptian god Ra has the head of a falcon and the sun-disk of Wadjet above his head, in a very early form of halo.

Poseidon mosaic at Bardo

This would tie-in with the area’s familiarity with Zoroastrianism’s emphasis on flames and light as representative of divinity. The Hellenistic and Roman worlds retained the halo for their iconography. This was not just in their visual art – in the Illiad Homer described a supernatural light that frames the head sof warriors in battle. Of course that might just have been huge spatters of blood and gore, but who am I to doubt the veracity of a visual description made by a blind bronze age storyteller?

Bodhisattva at Mogao in Dunhuang, China

Interestingly, there exist many Asian representations of Buddha with a halo which are concurrent with Roman imagery, and are aesthetically closer to more modern interpretations. Although much later in date, masks in South America, as shown above also echo the halo. It is highly improbable these could have been influenced through pre-columbian contact.

A teaching Buddha from India

Alternate Origin

As is the case with such matters of art, time and subjectivity, at least one other theory abounds, and it is a lovely one. The idea is put forward that the halo is actually a very functional and utilitarian device; it was put on Greek sculpture to prevent birds shitting on their heads.

Unfortunately, due to earlier painted imagery using the halo, or variations of it, this thesis sounds unlikely.

Golden mask from Tenochtitlan with emanating halo of solar rays

Bibliography
Dictionary of Symbols, Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbant, Penguin, 1969
Wikipedia

A few years ago an ill-conceived act by a possibly delusional artist occurred in a gallery and became known as the Phaedrus Incident. It has since been faithfully and widely reported by many media outlets. It has been discussed in contexts of vandalism, museum security, art validation (the original canvas was blank) and more.

Most of these miss an intriguing aspect of the eventual outcome.

Incident details for those unfamiliar

The event itself seems surprisingly pedestrian. Cy Twombley’s Phaedrus Tritych was on show in Avignon when a young lady went up to a panel and kissed it. Fair enough. However, red lipstick is not a great addition to a fully rendered solid white panel. Afterward Rindy Sam (the protagonist) claimed she was an artist and that the act was an uncontrollable response to beauty. She obviously doesn’t play by the same rules as the rest of us.

A French court fined her for defiling the $2 million-valued work. €1000 went to the painting’s owner, €500 to the showing gallery and a token €1 to the artist.

What does this say about art?

The market rules and money talks. Art is meaningless and valueless until it is traded or, at a minimum, shown. The context a piece is seen in gives it validity. There are many artists out there, working away at their grands oeuvres in their respective garrets. In market terms these works are worthless until someone agrees to show them. This is not to say they are not legimate pieces. Nobody told Kurt Schwitters when he built his Merzbau.

Conversely artists have been making livings by taking matters into their own hands in various manners. These seldom have the impact and legitimacy of a gallery supported artist. Shepard Fairey went from graffiti artist to US politico-artist via gallery showings.

Thomas Kinkade's art is driven by demand. Taste is a rare commodity.

The questions around the relevance of art’s context have been previously discussed ubiquitously and ad nauseum. Artists have fought the situation by attempting to remove galleries’ hold on art market (see for example Michael Asher’s interventions, especially at the 1976 Venice Biennale. In essence, he produced an unmarketable piece in the middle of the largest art market). But it must be remembered that it is these same galleries, festivals, institutions and collectors that fund the artists, give them exposure and thereby allow a continuing body of work.

Concerns are regularly voiced that the market and its supremo collectors really define the direction art goes in. Its effects are seen lower down the financial scale where demand for pastoral watercolour landscapes incites galleries to stock up and sell. In essence demand fuels the market which sees art as a commodity like any other.

Of course, it should be stated that the diversity of the art world prevents this process from being a monoculture- there are plenty of examples of alternate curatorial practices that make art a heterogeneous enterprise.

Nothing new here. The unique, bohemian and experimental has always been unprofitable – see anyone from Van Gogh to Henry Miller to Faust. But over time markets can come around and these artists can become bankable.

In the end though, its all just a bit sad that its the possession of an art piece that gives it value, and not its creation. But then we are jealous creatures and want what others have… It must be conceded that art stills holds a unique place in our minds – if it was the owner’s car that had been damaged, the manufacturer would have received no recognition.

Bibliography
Seven Days in the Art World, Sarah Thornton, Granta, 2008
BBC News reports incident in question
Great discussion on meaning of incident
Cy Twombley
The Gagosian is an art market leading gallery/a>
Interesting article on the effects of greed on the art world
Artdaily on Cy Twombley’s true worth