Reflections on Salvador Dali's Christ of St. John of the Cross

My new flatmate and I visited the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum in Glasgow to enjoy some art. He had some down time before he started his new job at the university and invited me to explore the museum with him. As we meandered through the exhibitions admiring the history of art and especially the important Scottish works on display, we came to an unexpected stop. In its own display on the second floor (not first!), off in the corner of the colonnaded hallway hung Salvador Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross (1951). I stood and admired the painting with fascination at the unique portrayal of the crucifixion.

Dali's work was based on a drawing done by St. John of the Cross (16th CE). St. John was inspired to do his drawing after he had an a vision of Christ during a spiritual experience. Similarly, Salvador Dali did his painting after he had a dream of Christ, and thus, paid homage to the Spanish writer and mystic by painting the crucifixion with the same viewpoint as St. John's, that is, from above.

What immediately stood out to me about this piece is the difference of perspective on the crucifixion from other art works, Some of typical features of the crucifixion by other artists include the anguish on Jesus' face, the blood pouring from his wounds, being crowned with thorns, and the very tragic sense those pictures evoke. In many depictions, Jesus is looking upward toward the Father, recalling the cry of being forsaken (Mark 15:34). But Dali opts for another perspective, his work does none of that. Jesus’ face is not shown, instead he is looking downward toward the earth, there is no gore and blood coming from his wounds, and there are not even any nails!

With all of the historical conventions Dali excluded in his work, he kept the sign above Jesus’ covered head. In John’s Gospel, it says, “Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek” (John 19:19–20). In an ironic display, the sign signifies and foretells the universal scope of God's plan in Christ. What is interesting is the location of the sign. It feels as if anchors the painting, not downward in the earth like how a crucifix would typically be anchored, but upward toward heaven.

There is a divine perspective in this piece. Christ is elevated, suspended in the air, with the dark void looming in the background. But from that bleak vantage point he looks down upon the earth. In fact, it seems this juxtaposition of heaven and earth is a paradox. This moment articulated by so many other artists shows the gruesome reality of crucifixion while heaven is silent. Instead, in this work, the void (heavens) is dark while the earth and sky is light. In this sense, it is a reversal from some of those typical conventions. Dali diverts Jesus’ attention away from the agony of the crucifixion to those down below. He is the King of the Jews, the crucified savior of the world, and while suffering unspeakable pain, he fixes his gaze toward the fisherman below (this also brings to mind Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance to his disciples at the Sea of Galilee [John 21]). In other words, God's love is expressed through the crucified messiah. In that moment heaven is dark but the earth is light.

To me, this is an ethereal take on the crucifixion. Dali highlights Christ's elevated form, not anchored to the dirt and earthy ground. Jesus looks down upon the world with love and affection, perhaps envisioning being with his disciples and friends again. As he is suspended in the air, the backdrop is dark as it is uncertain, since the resurrection has not yet occurred. Also, this scene depicts the crucifixion above the water and away from Golgotha, uprooted from its historical setting. All of these elements bring to mind a heavenly vision of the crucifixion, as if it is from the Father's perspective.

I have been contemplating this painting over the Easter season. In doing so, it has helped me to reflect on God's love through Christ's work on the cross. Not only have I gained a deeper appreciation for art work in general, but I have also become keenly aware of how art can invite the observer to enter into moments of worship from a contemplative state of appreciation and admiration for the work.

These are some question for further consideration:

1) Why is the water so calm?

2) Why is Jesus' face not shown?

3) Why are there no nails or blood?