Here at Watts we are passionate about embroidery; if we may say so, we do it well!
As a company founded on principles of strength and restraint, inspired by England's fertile history of rich craft and design, we are celebrating the continuation of this national heritage by focusing on one of our most extraordinary commissions to date: the York Crucifixion banner.
Designed for York Minster by our former Creative Director, D. J. Gazeley, the banner depicts the Crucifixion of Christ with vivid imminence. The Crucifixion, as a scene of solemnity and sacrifice, is understood by all of the Christian faith as a universal symbol of Christ’s passio, meaning suffering. Worked entirely in hand embroidery, the banner is an extraordinary acclamation of God incarnate and God unconfined in harmony.
Fully hand-embroidered banner depicting the Crucifixion — one of three made for York Minster. The base fabric is Watts & Co.'s 'Holbein' silk damask.
Auch in der größten Niedrigkeit,
even in the most lowly state,
As outlined, the first chorus opens with “Herr, unser Herrscher, dessen Ruhm In allen Landen herrlich ist!,” echoing the complete and boundless universe of God’s creation in Genesis 1.
However, by the final chorus, we, the audience, are reminded of the perishable flesh of Christ as God incarnate. The lingering graveside parting “Ruht wohl, ihr heiligen Gebeine” (Rest well, you holy mortal remains), performing the anticipated conclusion instructed by the “Zeig uns durch deine Passion” of the first chorus.
This meeting point between God unconfined and God incarnate is further amplified in the notation of St John Passion, where Bach utilises a chromatic sequence of notes known as the 'sign of the cross' motif. Whereby if a straight line is drawn from the beginning note to the last note, with another line between the two middle notes, the notes form a cross on its side. This 'sign of the cross' appears in the piercing opening notes of the oboes in the first chorus and repeats in the feverish choral cries of “crucify him.”
As a result, the clever technicality of Bach’s St John Passion creates an intimate pathos for the final moments of Christ's suffering; his Crucifixion the musical and emotional centre of the dichotomy of God unconfined and God incarnate.
Much the same is true of our processional banner for York Minster.
At the centre of the banner stands the acquiescent crucified Christ. Here, with blood weeping from the inflicted wounds, one is immediately struck with pathos for his mortal sacrifice. With his head bowed in resignation and heavily furrowed features, the extent of his suffering is amplified with solemn anguish. The angularity of Christ’s form enhances this emotive presentation, conveying the severe emaciation of his body, chiaroscuro creating depth to the hollowing of his diaphragm and undercut jaw and commanding our lamentation.
The mortality of Christ as God incarnate is further emphasised below the crucifix. Following the verticle plane, encouraged by the gestural couched embroidery of the bark, the Tree of Life’s darkened roots entwine with the craggy rocks of Golgotha. Meaning “bald head” or “skull”, these rocks remind one of the holy mortal remains of Bach’s St John Passion and make real the ultimate sacrifice made by Christ as God incarnate.
However, above the crucifix, in a bright burst of light, the Spirit moves between the realm of mortality and the bright effervescence of the immortal plane of God the creator. The intermingling of the unconfined divinity with his creations is observed in the transformation of the upper branches of the Tree of Life. Starting with the roughly gnarled bark of the natural tree - evocatively captured with the layering of naturalistic shades of embroidery, overlayed with a more gestured thickly couched embroidery thread - the tops of the branches begin to transform. Delicately executed in Or Nue with Japanese Gold thread, the branches reach into the light of the heavenly state, transforming with God’s unconfined transcendence.
As such, much like Bach’s palindromic structure, the composition of the banner starts with the bright, heavenly strata of God unconfined in the upper register, and concludes with the mortal remains of God incarnate in the lower. It is the symbol of the crucified Christ that, at the meeting point of these two strata, becomes the intersection of the two states of God, much like how the notes meet in Bach's score to create harmony.
This dichotomy is evocatively captured in the delicate 1420 'Crucifixion' by Fra Angelico, recently acquired by the Ashmolean Museum. Likely made for private devotion, the panel encapsulates the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice through vertical and horizontal lines.
If one follows the pattern of blood, much like the tree bark in the York Minster banner, the viewer is encouraged to look downwards. In Angelico’s piece the stream of haematite pigment trickles down the bowing arms, to the torso, and from the feet to the base of the crucifix. In doing so, the eye-line leaves the Heavenly realm of angels to look down on the earth of the mortal, and we are encouraged to look at the lowest point, both in terms of space and emotional expression, at the base of the cross.
Here, the suffering of the mortal Christ is punctuated by the unrestrained and raw bereavement of his female loved ones.
Covering herself in the downward stream of the blood of Christ, the Magdalen clings to the cross in grief. Looking up, she views the pitiable body who, in His last moments, asks God why He has forsaken Him (Matthew 27:46).
With similar emotion, the Virgin Mary gazes outwards to the viewer; her eyes are pricked with tears, and her expression is of plain anguish. She gestures to her son’s liminal, hanging body to instruct empathy from the viewer looking at the scene.
The Crucifixion, Fra Angelico, 1420, Ashmolean Museum
The Virgin is also a poignant figure in our York Minster banner. However, unlike Angelico’s Mary, the embroidered Mary of our banner is more confrontational. She gestures with her covered hand towards the viewer, and her heavily hooded eyes look down on the congregation below. As such, we find ourselves absorbed into the narrative, not merely optional bystanders.
Consequently, in both pieces, the viewer’s sympathy is directly appealed to, confronted with a tangible, bare human emotion that reminds us that humankind’s redemption came at the great price of Christ’s suffering and death.
Alternatively, the painting’s horizontal composition offers a hopeful tone. The winds of the higher plane ripple the fabric of the attendant angels and Christ’s loincloth, demonstrating how Christ is in a state of horizontal suspension, held aloft in the mortal realm.
Christ reaches out to his angelic attendants, marking the return of God incarnate Heavenwards to God unconfined. As a result, more than depicting the crucifix in a literal sense, the dichotomous vertical and horizontal readings embody the painting with the eschatology of the cross.
Moreover, when the angels facilitate the reuniting of the Father who sacrificed his son and the son who sacrificed himself for the love of mortals, they highlight the greatest sacrifice offered on behalf of humanity.
Consequently, much like Christ rejects the gall-infused wine (Mark 15:23) to maximise humankind’s redemption, the angelic attendants mark the higher purpose of this sacrifice: suffering as an ultimate act of love.
This boundless love is also highlighted in both the banner and the panel with Christ's outstretched arms. Whilst they represent the practical source of Christ’s earthly suffering as a victim of a grievous death sentence, they also resemble an open embrace, reminding us of the love behind his sacrifice.
The Virgin Mary, York Crucifixion Banner
This expression of love through the presentation of Christ’s bodily suffering is beautifully conveyed in the Revelations of Divine Love of Julian of Norwich:
With a glad expression, our good lord looked into his side and beheld it, enjoying. And with his sweet looking he led forth the understanding of his creature by that same wound into his side, within. And there he showed a fair, delectable place, and large enough for all mankind that shall be saved to rest in peace and in love.
Fundamentally, Mother Julian highlights the beauty in horror: Christ smiles despite the physical suffering he has endured. Christ might not be smiling on the York banner, but through his self-immolation, Christ declares his love for humankind. He opened his wounds for us to live and love again, bringing together his sacrifice as God incarnate and sharing the love and creation of God unconfined with us in eternity.
Through the careful hand embroidery and palindromic structure of our banner, it is this balance of love and sacrifice and God incarnate and unconfined that we have sought to embody.
Explore more of our previous hand-embroidered banner projects here. If you are interested in commissioning a bespoke processional banner, please get in touch at watts@wattsandco.com to speak with our sales team.