‘French Illumination’ a Page of History

The J. Paul Getty Museum’s latest exhibition--drawn from its splendid collection of illuminated manuscripts--is titled “Ten Centuries of French Illumination.” It’s a perfectly straightforward handle that causes a double-take. When was the last time any of us encountered 10 centuries worth of anything?

Nominally the show traces the evolution of the book arts as they unfolded in France. Artistically, the country is known for its elegant absorption of styles invented in the lands surrounding it. Not that French artists lack originality--no country that produced Georges de la Tour, Nicholas Poussin, Jean-Antoine Watteau, Jacques-Louis David and Edouard Manet could be accused of lacking creativity. It’s just that the rationality of French culture gives it a taste for the classical middle ground.

All this is embodied in the 25 objects on view, but the overriding impression is an invitation to contemplate the slow unfolding of time. The earliest work here is a leaf from a Bible made in Tours around 845, just after Charlemagne and the so-called “Carolingian Renaissance.” That’s just a tad more than 1,000 years ago.

Quite aside from its intrinsic merit, the sheer physical survival of this piece of paper is a bit of a wonder. So is the reminder that even back then there was already a European civilization and people already loved books. They were entirely handmade in monastic precincts. Ownership was necessarily restricted to the clergy, the aristocracy and the wealthiest of the bourgeoise. In this era of information glut we can barely imagine how highly a book was revered for the wisdom it contained and cherished as a beautiful object.

An 11th century Sacramentary attributed to Nivardus of Milan provides an example. Its illumination depicts a circular diagram flanked by two men in trees. To us it looks like an unrealistic decorative pattern. But a different kind of realism held sway back then, one that was emblematic, symbolic and hierarchical. The execution of the image is so rich in gold, silver and purple that scholars think the book may have been a coronation gift for the crowning of Robert the Pious.

These volumes were intended to be impressive and memorable. One way to achieve this was to make them extra-big, like one oversize example produced in Lille around 1270. The opposite tactic was to make them very precious and small. The charm of numerous such works included might suggest visitors come armed with magnifying glasses.

By the 12th century, manuscript production became secularized, with the professional makers centered in Paris. Subject matter opened up to include the genre of the Bestiary--collections of moralizing passages on real and mythical beasts. Artists had a field day depicting such chimeras as tiny sirens and centaurs. One example shows lions bringing their cub to life--an endearing scene based on the belief that certain animals’ offspring emerged stillborn and had to be coaxed to consciousness.

Romantic love was introduced to illumination by such classic texts as “The Romance of the Rose.” At roughly the same time, in the 15th century, movable type made the printed book possible. Technically the handmade manuscript was now obsolete. Back then, however, the human virtue of lovingly hand-crafting objects retained its value. Such books went on appearing well into the 18th century. Regarded as objects of prestige and connoisseurship, their subjects now ranged from good manners to techniques of hunting.

The books did not, however, remain frozen in time. The fruits of the Italian and Netherlandish Renaissance become manifest in superbly realistic illustrations by artists of the stature of Jean Fouquet and Simon Marmion. The finale of the show is three pages from an illumination made around 1663 to celebrate the virtues of the Sun King, Louis XIV.

Introducing the explosive energy of the Baroque into the quiet garden of illumination makes one aware of a warp in time. That warp signaled the dusk of an artistic tradition that flourished for nearly a millennium. Its lovers surely felt it would last forever.

* J. Paul Getty Museum, 17985 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, through July 7. Closed Mondays. Advanced parking reservations required: (310) 458-2003.