The King has arrived in the city of Queens. The people of Szentistván, the elderly women of Páhok and the late descendants of the Italian stonemasons stuck in Hungary gathered for his reception.
The walls of the museum of the city, built on seven hills in the style of Rome, echoed Gregorian melodies, its doors creaked with songs of thanksgiving, while the angel's wings caressed the faces of the spectators, transfixed with astonishment, with rose-scented air.
Credo, that is, we thank you with a grateful heart, Lord, that the exhibiting artist was able to choose from the works of eight creative decades, that we were able to experience this year's Christmas, which - as we know sung by Kaláka - lasts until Easter, and then we measure the time until Christmas again. Because there is no more human standard on earth than the annual recall of the Saviour's earthly life and history of suffering.
The images of Credo, i.e. the confession of faith, present the decades-long creative career of photographer-filmmaker Ferenc Olasz, divided into thematic units.
"The works of sacred inspiration occupy a central place in the oeuvre, such as plaster and stone Christs, head trees, Székely gates, calvaries, or wall paintings that deal with biblical themes and the Cloud Cycle," reads the website of the Laczkó Dezső Museum. The exhibition of the worthy artist, winner of the Béla Balázs Award, provides a deep insight into the richness of Hungarian Christian culture and folk art, highlighting that the works of anonymous folk artists are also a valuable part of universal art. Ferenc Olasz's light paintings created with a lens - which can be seen at this exhibition until the beginning of March - not only document, but also encourage discovery. With their refined beauty and expressive power, they stimulate reflection, they speak of faith, silence and the peace of the soul. (Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem...)
I know it's there, it's just overgrown by the bush - said Pál Kő, Kossuth Prize-winning sculptor, Artist of the Nation, as an explanation, when driving towards his hometown, he first touched his forehead with the fingers of his right hand, then touched his chest, then his shoulders one after the other .
He made a cross. Seeing my questioning look, he quickly clarified the situation. The crucifix is there, he pointed, beyond the hedge by the road, but it is not visible because of the dense vegetation. But I know it's there - he insisted - and that's the most important thing, isn't it?! he asked with his assertive phrase.
My friend Attila Bobály, the sculptor recognized posthumously with the Alternative Worker's Award, also considered the corpus he designed to restore a stolen crucifix near the border of his native village to be among his most important public works. This was not without danger on the part of the visual artist who was still working as a teacher in the party-state red Nógrád in the seventies of the last century.
In addition, the villagers were convinced that the cross barbarically stripped of the Crucifixion was the work of the Communists. They said that "they" would even deny Christ from the cross.
Come on!
Shall I slice it? asks the seller. The bread-buying service is almost everyday. What am I not writing?! From the everyday, I get to the everyday ingredient and then to our everyday bread. In the end to the body of Christ.
By now my childhood has lost its content to its clear concepts. Then and there - in the village of Zala - we didn't buy the bread yet. My mother kneaded it, leavened it and baked it, because we didn't have an oven. That's right, no adjective for bread. It was definitely sourdough, with potatoes, and the dough was wheat flour mixed with rye flour. My mother spread a linen tea towel in my grandfather's wrought iron door. When he left for the bakery, he hugged him like he did his grandchildren later. She probably protected us in the same way, but I didn't see myself clinging to her kitchen apron, I don't remember my sister's days when she was in diapers. On the other hand, the fact that, as an older child, I was able to drag home the baked bread that was huge for me, which warmed me in winter like a cast-iron stove that is about to go out. I hurried home with the smell of charred logs and the smell of fresh bread in my nose, so that I could have a slice with the mug of milk as soon as possible. My mother drew a cross on the "belly" of the bread and presented me with my portion of the daily value added in this way.
There is no all-inclusive, five-star hotel whose buffet can compete with my childhood breakfast.
Zanzibar, Dominica, Sri Lanka, Maldives and Mexico. Since the regime change, Hungarians send their Christmas greetings mainly from these places around the time of the birthday, which now exceeds the number of Christ years. Even before the fighting in Gaza, Bethlehem was not one of the top destinations for Christmas.
Although Rome is in the top ten, it is just barely ahead of Istanbul, where Christian Europeans are no longer looking for traces of Byzantium. They make do with what Islamic culture has to offer. I never thought that I would travel further than my native village for the gift of the baby from Bethlehem. On this day, I didn't want strangers dressed in uniform and smiles jumping around while I was admiring the uniform Christmas tree. While I watch in amazement that the preparation for Christmas is getting further and further away from that particular manger, the preacher of the midnight mass welcomes the expansion of the holiday. He says: it is good that those who have already forgotten or never even knew that we celebrate the birth of Jesus at Christmas can experience the joy of paying attention to each other and giving personalized gifts.
We are in a situation like when we are researching: how did Pilate get into the Credo?
Well, Jesus was born, walked among us, helped us in his life, redeemed us with his sacrifice on the cross, but before that he suffered a lot.
We understand.
under Pontius Pilate. (…passus sub Pontio Pilato)
Dumb
Cover image: Exhibition of the works of Ferenc Olasz Credo
Source: ldm.hu
