In the sun-drenched south of France, as World War II raged through Europe, in 1941 one man was facing the bleakest battle of his lifetime. Henri Matisse, the painter of fleeting fun and sensual pleasures, had been diagnosed with colon cancer. To make matters worse, Amelie, his wife of 39 years, had left him over his infidelities, and his daughter — having flouted his apolitical stance by joining the French Resistance — had been arrested and sent to Ravensbrück Concentration camp.
After a lifetime of fleeing from suffering, Matisse was trapped in it.
His life, health, and pride shattered, Matisse underwent two complicated operations that left him in a wheelchair and unable to paint and sculpt as before.
In need of assistance, Matisse put an ad in the paper for a “young and pretty” night nurse, and 21-year-old Monique Bourgeois answered. As Matisse’s strength returned, he asked her to model for him, and the story could have taken the same turn as many of his other dalliances, except young Monique was discerning a vocation to become a Dominican sister.
Matisse tried to dissuade her, given that he had rejected religion many years before, but the young woman persisted. In 1943 the two were reunited in the town of Vence (not Venice), where Matisse had moved, and Monique, now Sister Marie-Jacques, was recovering from tuberculosis.
An intrigued Matisse rekindled their friendship, and upon discovering the community was using a leaky garage as their chapel, he took matters in hand. From this came what the 82-year-old artist would describe as “the result of my entire working life. Despite all its imperfections I consider it to be my masterpiece”: The Chapel of the Rosary in Vence.
This project would prove to be Matisse’s greatest challenge. [...]
The chapel celebrates St. Dominic, the founder of the Order of Preachers (commonly known as the Dominicans) and his role in promulgating the Marian prayer of the rosary throughout the Catholic world.
Perched high above the coast of the French Riviera, the little village of Vence is flooded with bright Mediterranean light, which Matisse harnessed for the little chapel. Some of the walls are covered with reflective white tiles, but the power of the chapel comes from the stained-glass windows designed in his new cutout style and fired by master glazer Paul Bony. Following the tradition of France’s greatest cathedrals, Matisse would tame light and color within a sacred space.
Five petals fill each of the long slender windows, reminiscent of the beads of the rosary. The rhythmic pattern of the shapes evokes the soothing repetition of the prayer. For Matisse, religion served to conquer his passions, so he favored blue, a typically Marian color, alongside yellow and green.
The rosary windows lead to the sanctuary, where the artist drew upon the mosaic decorations that had once entranced him in Italy. Sun-colored glass fills the space behind the altar, like the golden apses of Rome. Blocking the full force of the light, lapis panes form a hanging drape, symbolic of Mary’s protective mantle, decorated with stylized cutouts of acanthus leaves, the ubiquitous decoration of early churches and symbol of eternal life.
[...] In that tiny chapel Matisse used his skills and talents to transform his personal suffering into new life, offering peace, light, and hope to generations to come.
Elizabeth Lev, August 17, 2023
Adapted from www.angelusnews.com