Asian Sojourn 2: Kathmandu: parade rest!

From Delhi, I traveled to Kathmandu, Nepal, where we had a hotel just two blocks from Durbar Square. My host picked me up from the airport, hallelujah, and drove me across town in his very, very small car through the very crowded and monsoon-wetted streets. Once to the hotel, he gave me the standard orientation to drinkable water (and undrinkable); the various amenities, including generous outlets right by the bed and a swivel fan; and a few pointers on where I might want to go the next day.

The view from my bed was rather stunning, since our hotel faced the Atko Narayan Temple; in this rendition, you can see the edges of my window:

It was a delightful location, and one of the days of our stay, there was a festival, so I got to observe the ceremonies with burning offerings, bell ringing, chanting, and the like. No pictures, though; I didn't want to be intrusive.

After a lovely, lovely night's sleep topped off with a productive dose of jet lag (love my kindle, love that I can do highlighting on my kindle, made SO much research progress at 2a.m.!), it was time to face the city.

Being a first-time tourist in Nepal, I started with Kathmandu Durbar Square, as one does, by paying my entrance fee and getting my long-term visit card (hint: bring along your passport and a passport photo when you first show up; your fee will last until the end of your visa), and then went touring. I never did master the names of all of the square's buildings, but I was fond of the carvings and the architecture, and enjoyed spending a GREAT deal of time looking at all the intricate details.

 

But my leisurely pace was interrupted when the courtyard started filling with soldiers -- soldiers carrying drums! It seems the military band was under review. Setting up took some time, but they eventually got themselves ordered. I did notice that they formed up as much in the shade as they could (and who could blame them?). Eventually, however, their commander shifted them back to the center of the courtyard and out into that bright, warm sunlight. 

While there was some tootling around beforehand, the flag ceremony introduced the drums and winds.

 

After a good deal of speechifying (all in Nepali so I can’t report the content!), the unit marched out. 

 

There must have been some activity outside of the palace, because it was at least 10 minutes before the soldiers passed by on the outside on parade, music whirling along with them as the percussion kept steady time.

Watching the first portion of a parade, even a small one, made me think about those commonalities with my hometown experience. I too have been in groups which have crowded toward the shade while wearing an unpleasantly heavy uniform; outdoor performance environments are not always optimal. Sure, dark fabrics with heft and weight look impressive, but there’s a reason science-fiction often references temperature-regulating textiles! (And I in my short-sleeves was grateful to be recording from the shade, and I was seated on the steps, not standing or moving around!)

In all, about 45 minutes elapsed while I watched the group. I had time to think, in that idle way, about the meta-messaging of such events. The pride and perfectability of formation was a signal of the kind of discipline the group represents, and was reinforced by two different leaders, the quieter of which got quicker movements from the group. The (memorized) music spoke to a regularity of rehearsal. The timbres seemed familiar even if the instruments per se were not. The winds reminded me of fifes, though I never got a good look at the instruments since I was trying to stay out of the way and not be THAT tourist. Still, the fife and drum type combination has a lasting appeal in the military world, so the whole experience was weirdly familiar, for all that I was on the far side of the globe.

In all, my first full day was a great success. The chance encounter with the pass-in-review meant that I managed to hit the “urban soundscape” button right out of the gate with "real music," not just the sounds and noises of the city. And historically-oriented me was truly delighted in the architecture, carvings, and museum displays. 

I’m not one for crowds, but I’m genuinely glad that we chose to stay down by the “busy old center” for this part of our trip. 

Note: These events took place July 1-2, 2025.

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RESOURCES: ARRIVING IN NEPAL 

• My flights into Nepal were limited to a single carry-on (7 kg total), and a checked bag of 20 kg total (44lb). I had known to pack with those limits, but I know others had been caught out.
• When you arrive, there's a screening that includes watches and gold jewelry as well as electronics and so forth; be prepared to stand in that line a longish moment since others may have buried those items at the bottom of their bags. There are signs in English with instructions.
• I did the Nepal "visa on arrival" process, and I filled out all of the paperwork of step one right there in the arrival area, though you can do part of it online up to 15 days in advance (if you print out your results). I had brought sufficient US cash to pay for my tourist visa, but I did use the airport ATM to get my first batch of Nepali rupees (since I had to pre-pay the hotel upon arrival). It is also possible to get a taxi from the taxi desk in the airport (which is what Nissa did when she arrived), and the cost is regulated so you don't have to worry about negotiating in your travel-weary sleep-deprived state.
• We each had an e-SIM purchased from trip.com; I used the airport wifi to log in and claim it. Even sleep deprived it was an easy process: scan the QR code and click where it tells you.
• We stayed in a distinctly budget hotel, Nirvana Kuti by Durbar Square -- really just three apartments, one per floor, with a bathroom, hallway sink, and small kitchen area with a kettle and (drinkable) water dispenser as well as a wash-up sink. The rooms were basic but spotless, and cheap, cheap, cheap! The space had comfey beds; fan but not AC; robust WiFi as long as the power was on; but no on-site services. There's a little convenience store right next door for all your snacking needs. However, for all that it was a plain-jane (and budget-friendly) location, our host Bobby was one of the highlights. A Nepali native who had studied for three years in Australia, he was super friendly, interested in cross-cultural conversations at his daily check-in, and incredibly helpful with arrangements and recommendations. (For instance, he took us a couple of blocks over to buy umbrellas at local rather than tourist prices!) We liked the place and its location so much that we stayed there again upon our return. NOTE: there is a second hotel of the same name, so use your map and navigate to the one by Atko Narayan Temple...
• We ate several times over by Freak Street, where every other shop is a restaurant. My favorite was the Ginger Cafe (I got the veg khaja set, very yummy!) which is technically located on a cross-street, Phalchasa Galli. I was the only non-native in the restaurant.

Using Research Questions -- Defeat data-hoarding and discard the chaff!

In many ways, I am a data-dragon. I like to collect a lot of “just plain information” about a thing, hoarding up data-points like that mouse pressing the lever for “just-one-more” bits of pleasure, and ignoring the grander work of feeding (or contextualizing) my work. This is genius in the research phase; I’m really good at ferreting out significant and interesting quirks of past practice.

That skill is, however, less helpful when it comes time to “write a scholarly article” phase of existence.

Alas and alack, people don’t just want to hear about “cool stuff I found.” Instead, we scholars are expected to tie those interesting observations into meaningful interpretations, both in dialogue with the scholarly conversation and in the intellectual heavy-lifting of meaning-making as a historical act. We don’t just get to be antiquarians, building out a collection of items from the past, but are required instead to be curators, interpreting and signposting the important elements of the array of information and how they connect to the bigger conversations of the discipline.

So how does one decide what parts of the research findings just belong to the “cool stuff” stack, and what is going to make the case for a scholarly argument? The answer lies in the research question.

Research questions don’t just lie around like pebbles on a beach. They too are part of that intellectual work that one does, going from topic and bibliography to outline and prose. If implemented early on, they can save a lot of extraneous work by showing which threads of the investigative fabric are not going to fit into the finished garment. A good research question shows what’s necessary to the scholarly argument, and what deserves to be put into the “trash” folder. (Sob. Even though it’s inherently interesting.) Deciding what NOT to say is a real skill as a scholar.

What makes a good research question? 

Well, first of all, it’s answerable with the evidence available (or reachable within a timely fashion). It’s all well and good to talk about spirituality as a driver in memorial donations, but if you don’t actually have any surviving indications of spirituality in the documents that come down from that institution or town, you probably need to revisit your question.

Likewise, the research question should be specific but significant. While I may personally be interested in “what memorial endowments were established in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Bregenz,” the likelihood of other readers caring is … low, very low. There aren’t any stakes – no doorknobs to the literature, no sense of why Bregenz matters beyond itself, nor how these endowments help us understand bigger themes. One can also err (as students often do) by being too broad. “How did memorial endowments shape religious life in late medieval and early modern Europe?” If I chose to take on something that broad, I’d have to wait and get back to you a decade from now.

A good research question facilitates connections to the literature, engaging with what’s been done, and -- especially happily -- with what hasn’t been done. Finding gaps and spaces for the “yes-and…” of scholarly contribution is a part of the gig. In the abstract, that kind of work is reflected in the allusions to scholarship. The research question typically implies a particular scholarly space inhabited by peers. For me, that’s often an intersectional space, where two subsets of scholarship come together to illuminate one another in exciting ways.

To that end, the research question moves thinking away from the descriptive (what happened / what endowments were founded in this time) toward the more stimulating landscape of the analytical. What does this case show us? Why were some endowments copied near-verbatim by other parishioners, and others just sit out there as onesies, a single unreplicated idea about how a memorial should function?

Finally, a good research question strikes a balance between being open-ended but inviting a (somewhat) complicated answer. There needs to be a need for an argument, in other words. “Did medieval Bregenz citizens use music in their memorial endowments?” “Yes.” Somehow, that didn’t make word count.

So where does that leave me? 

My current working research question is this:

What role did sound, song, and graveside ritual play in establishing memorial endowments as legitimate forms of leadership giving in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Bregenz?

Does it pass the smell test?

1) answerable with the evidence available: yes, I have several dozen examples of endowments focused around two case studies that could be used in this investigation.

2) specific but significant: There’s a claim to be made about historical leadership giving that (to my eye) illuminates both the musicological assessment of memoria AND tests the theories of charitable giving currently in circulation through historical case studies...

3) facilitates connections to the literature: … and in that way facilitates scholarly engagement rather robustly

4) moves from the descriptive toward the analytical: definitely requires some slice-and-dice assessment and some significant time to be spent teasing out the implications of “mere data points”

5) Balances the open-ended and the complicated answer: Yup, there’s plenty of space to consider social nexus, posturing, leadership-followership dynamics, and so on. In fact, there’s so much space that I may need to tighten the question as I get through the writing.

But for now, it means that many of those “onsies” endowments are off my plate. The literature on chaplains and performances? Also not strictly important here. (But that has a home in another study with a different question.) Institutional history of the parish church? Interesting only, perhaps, in passing.

In other words, the research question is taking on its task as a winnowing device, separating the wheat from the chaff. Or perhaps, given the imagery with which I started, it is combing through my dragonish data-hoard, and teasing out the gems from the guff.

 

IMAGES:

• “In dragon's form Fafner now watches the hoard.” Siegfried & The Twilight Of The Gods, by Richard Wagner, with illustrations by Arthur Rackham; translated by Margaret Armour. London: William-Heinemann, 1911, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/49507/49507-h/49507-h.htm#siegpl007

• “The Chaff separated from the Grain after threshing and winnowing.” CC-BY Archibale Isolation, 2005, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bruts_de_r%C3%A9colte_et_grains_d%C3%A9cortiqu%C3%A9s_de_sa_bale.jpg

QUICK FOLLOW-ALONG:

Today I learned that “Fafner” (the sometimes-a-dragon with his hoard) and “faffing about” (wasting time or dithering by doing things in a disorganized or inefficient way) are not, in fact, related concepts. The OED tells us that the verb “faff” is attested in 1788, in the writing of William Marshall, agricultural writer and land agent. Neither data-hording like a Fafner nor faffing about inefficiently are helpful when you’re faced with a writer’s deadline. Use the research question to solve both problems!

Asian Sojourn 1: The Hotel That Wasn't There (Delhi)

Travel: It broadens the mind and expands one’s skills. It calls up the excitement and energy of the unfamiliar. And it sometimes has those little hitches that become the stories that one tells.

So, back at the end of June, I went from Nashville all the way to Kathmandu, but being a budget conscious traveler, I went by way of India. Booking through Indira Gandhi International Airport in Delhi was several hundred dollars cheaper than the next available route. I should have wondered why.

The first reality is that India requires a visa since even transit travelers have to enter the terminal and collect their luggage before flying on. But this was to me a “no big deal” situation; my layover was 18 hours, and that meant hotel and bed as a rest-up for all that traveling. Plus a shower. It’s the little things, right?

I diligently filled out all the paperwork (there was only minor swearing involved; I had already navigated getting my visa from mainland China so operated from the perspective that “you can’t scare me!”), and got myself the eVisa (tourist class) in a timely fashion. I booked a hotel room about 3 miles from the airport, and prepped and packed for my grand adventure.

A couple of airports and nearly two days of travel later, we landed in Delhi. Oooooo, so exciting! This was my first trip to Asia, and Delhi was my first airport to navigate in that part of the world. I made it through passport control and through customs.

There was a bit of a hiccup when my travel phone had some trouble hooking to the airport wifi. Since all I needed to do was get to the hotel and back, I figured I didn’t need a phone plan; my hotel had wifi and besides, I only wanted to sleep. But, of course, you can’t contact Uber if you don’t have access to the internet. Rather than futz with it any further, I just got my $25 in Rupees out of the ATM and headed to the airport taxi stand.

There, I showed my hotel’s address to the loud and enthusiastic sales person. She quoted me a price that was ten times what I expected to pay with an Uber, so we negotiated down. And down. And – “hey, the next counter might be able to help me if that’s as low as you can make it” – down once again. Once the price was reasonable, I agreed, paid up front, and followed my cab driver out to his vehicle. It was about 9:30 at night; it was raining; the traffic was something fierce. What a great adventure, right?

Of course, his English was limited and my Hindi is non-existent, but my hotel address was written on the paperwork. Off we went. We drove most of the way there and he started getting concerned about which hotel exactly we were going to. I showed him the address from my (not-connected-to-anything) phone. Then I worked at finding its location on my downloaded google maps. Then we got into the “call the hotel and let them give directions” stage of the adventure.

I couldn’t call on my own phone, obviously, and it was a hoot and a holler getting into his; it kept locking as he’d pass it back to the backseat. In the meantime, there’s traffic every which-way; the windshield wipers move from smear to smoosh; and the honking and shouting might be a bit on the over-stimulating side for the overseas traveler. But I finally dialed the hotel.

And the number was disconnected.

Round about we went again. I pulled my reservation up, and dialed the second number.

It too was disconnected.

By now we were to the street on which I was purportedly staying. It is a busy street and crowded with people shopping and talking and generally hanging out. There are still cars and trucks and bikes and what-all driving, passing, edging in.

And then our saga got interesting. Every dozen buildings or so, my taxi driver would pull over and hop out to ask where my hotel was. There was some gesturing and some conversational nodding, and then he’d get back in the car and drive a bit further. In the meantime, I was craning around to see the wonderful street chaos. Touristing from a cab at 11p on a rainy evening. That’s travel for you.

Delhi Street Scenes

 But we kept not arriving, and not arriving. And then my cab driver explained that he didn’t know where my hotel was. He called his dispatcher. They too found that the hotel phone numbers had been disconnected. By now I was a bit disconcerted. I had prepaid the hotel; it had good reviews. But it was nowhere to be seen.

After a couple more curbside conversations, the driver called his dispatcher again. This time they tried to tell me that the hotel couldn’t be found, and I needed to stay in one of their hotels. Oh, heck no. I had already paid. We argued. I finally said they needed to take me back to the airport if they couldn’t deliver me to my hotel.

My driver turned around, but he did try a couple of more conversations. Finally he came back from one and said that he’d found someone who could walk me there. At last! So this nice young man came over and helped me with my luggage as we dodged traffic to get across the street. We walked up the alley and there it was:

The nameless hotel that was not my hotel. No name on the door. No name on the street.

This, he said, was my hotel. Well, I countered, I prepaid. The desk clerk was like, “okay, we have a room.” He took my information. Well, I said, my room includes breakfast. “Okay,” he confirmed, “we have breakfast.” So what’s a weary traveler to do? I accepted the room key, and went up to the air conditioned space. With a bed. And a bathroom with a shower.

Was it my hotel? Not if the pictures were any guide. But it was a hotel with a bathroom and AC and wifi. This met my basic “I have 18 hours and want to use them sleeping” needs. I went with it. I used nameless hotel’s wifi to update my family, and nameless hotel’s wifi to lodge a complaint about my missing hotel with trip.com. And then, I lay down on that lovely, padded, horizontal surface. And I slept deeply and with joy.

The next morning I had breakfast at the hotel buffet. It wasn’t the deluxe one of the place that I’d booked, but it had several foods unfamiliar to me (and tasty they were, too!), and it had chai. I had three cups.

And then it was time to pack back up and make my way to the airport. The clerk at the front desk got me a ride (for cheaper than the taxi had been, too), and I was driven back to the airport. I won’t say much about the vehicle, but it made me want to reach into my luggage and pull out the duct tape around my water bottle. Not exactly up to code by my measures, but then, code is different in different places. And the driver and his colleague were lovely. And I made it back to the airport with plenty of time.

So I can say I’ve been to Delhi. I never did go walking around because I wasn’t entirely sure that I would recognize the nameless hotel when I got back – or that my luggage would still be there if I did go out. But the nameless hotel never charged me extra, and trip.com provided an apology and “trip points” for the inconvenience and stress of the missing hotel.

Me, I not only got a good night’s sleep, but I got a story to tell!

(This story details events of 7/1 to 7/2/2025.)

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RESOURCES:

To arrange for the travel visa to India, as a US citizen (in Summer 2025), I used this site: https://indianvisaonline.gov.in/evisa/. (You can ignore the pop-over advertisement for student visas; just close it!)  You'll get an Electronic Travel Authorization (ETA) form, which you'll need to print out and bring. You present the ETA at the Immigration check, and voila, you've arrived in-country!

And, of course, I don't have a hotel to recommend from this segment of my journey. Bwahaha. 

The Silences of Summer

 

Summer is a time of slow mornings and restful afternoons.

No, it isn't. At least not this year. I have busy-beavered my way through my scholarly work-list, and passionately thrown myself into reclaiming the garden. I have supported the scouts, and taught my community about the kazoo, and made some absolutely fabulous meals.

And now it's time to travel. 

So, until mid-August, may your summer be restful, the stillness come upon you as needed, and the silences and sounds of the world bring you much contentment.

Happy summer, all! 

The North Wall of Brand’s Parish Church: Challenges of Interpretation

The church of Mary’s Assumption into Heaven in Brand, Vorarlberg has a significant set of frescoes dating to the early 16^th century. The church was under construction for nearly 30 years, and consecrated in 1507. I have written about the South wall of the Parish church HERE. The frescoes of the North Wall are the focus of today's post.

As before, there are pairs of images which combine biblical scenes with saints and others, each image framed in a brick-reddish painted frame.

LEFT (Obscured Image and Noli me tangere)

The North wall has had more fading than its South wall counterparts, especially the left-hand pair of images.

Brand (Vorarlberg) frescoes: a haloed figure (above), and the Noli me tangere (below)

The church brochure identifies this pair as “a faded figure” above and the Risen Christ with Mary Magdalene below. 

About all we can tell about the faded figure of the top panel is that it was located centrally in the image and had a halo. However, the curious sweeping patterns behind the figure, combined with the upward gesture of the right arm, and the context of a church dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary incline me toward an identification of this damaged image as a likely annunciation scene. 

Compare the Brand fresco image with the Hallstatt Altar from Upper Austria by Lienhart Astl. Astl positions Gabriel above Mary, gives generous space for his wings, raises his arm in a two-finger blessing, and has a swirl of cape to enhance the angel's body. (Note, however, that I've flipped the image manually to put the angel to the left; the Hallstatt altar can be seen in full glory with its original orientation.) 

So too, the Louvre relief from the early 16th century, stemming from Tyrol, includes a pointing finger, sweeping wings, a superior position for Gabriel, a swirl of cape. These are common cliches in images of the time, which is what remains of the Brand fresco seems to my eye to align with the Annunciation most closely.

More of the lower panel has been preserved, but there's still substantial damage. The Risen Christ has a cross in the background, and we have glimpses of the faces of the protagonists, but the years of plaster have obscured the details of this pair of images. Given the context, this is the Noli me tangere, though the brochure doesn’t explicitly make that claim.

RIGHT (Christ Emergent and Four Saints)

The other surviving fresco pair on the North Wall, although clearer, is equally hard to interpret. The church pamphlet (Fragments, p. 6) identifies THIS top image as an Annunciation – something we would absolutely expect in a church devoted to the Blessed Virgin. Unfortunately, this designation doesn’t seem to match the visible attributes that survive. I think that the image is better read in a Christological context  – and not just because I think that the previous image was an Annunciation scene!

Brand (Vorarlberg) Fresco: Christ emerging from the tomb, with angel

There is clearly an angel, but situated on the right, rather than the left, of the “main figure.” The angel is pulling aside a cloth from a rectangular object – the empty tomb? – signaling the role of revelation or discovery.

The main figure has a dramatic pose with right arm up-flung, unlike Mary who is typically reading or occupied in a garden. Moreover, this standing figure holds a banner and, if I’m not mistaken, sports a short beard. He is cloaked and hooded, with an outsized halo. He faces away from the angel, looking not at the viewer but rather to a spot over the viewer’s left shoulder.

Given the angel’s action, we are likely seeing Christ’s triumphant emergence from the tomb, though why this comes after and not before the image of Christ with the Magdalene is an interesting, but for me unanswerable, question. The presence of a tomb scene, coupled with the Harrowing of Hell on the opposite wall and the Noli me tangere nearby to this image provide a firm Crucifixion-to-Resurrection grounding for the church's imagery.

Below, we find another assortment of saints with halos, evenly spaced.

Brand (Vorarlberg) fresco: Four male saints

The left figure is gesturing to the group with his left hand; the next is wrapped closely in his cloak, the third holds a short sword and wears knee-length britches, and the last is pivoted to look at the group, his hand signaling something extraordinary, his forefinger and little finger both point up; his thumb and the other two fingers are tucked in. The back of his hand is toward us.

That left figure might – might – be St Denis, who was prone to rhetorical gestures. He’s holding something in his cupped hand; it could be a shrunken rendition of his severed head, but that is a stretch interpretation based on knowing the story and seeing the cupped hand around an object.

The wrapped figure might be St Giles, a figure known for reserve and suffering. The sword-holder is most likely Achatius, a martyred Roman military figure

The last figure with the hand gesture is likely performing an apotropaic gesture, one designed to avert evil or bad luck; St Vitus with his protection against seizures and demonic possession seems the most likely candidate.

The Fourteen Emergency Saints: A Program Disrupted?

Given that the South wall started with the three women of the “Nothelfer” saints, Margaretha, Barbara and Katharina, and given the presence of Erasmus and other Nothelfer on the South wall, we can then read each pair of panels as including 3 or 4 of the so-called “Vierzehn Nothelfern,” the fourteen Saints in times of need, though only ten of the fourteen are represented here, highlighted in blue if they're extant, and purple if not:

• South Wall Left:  Margaretha, Barbara and Katharina (below: Anna and Mary)
• South Wall Middle:  Erasmus, Eustace, Cyriacus (below: Mary Immaculata)
• South Wall Right: Harrowing of Hell (below: 4 Men without halos – patrons?)
• North Wall Left: Obscured figure (below: Christ and Magdalene)
• North Wall Right: Christ emerging from the tomb (below: Denis, Giles, Achatius, Vitus)
• Presumed missing panel of the remaining four of the 14 Nothelfer: Blaise, Christopher, George, Pantaleon

To put that another way, we have:

• 2 images of Mary (as child with her mother and as Immaculata). We lack other scenes such as the Annunciation, Visitation, Mary and John at the foot of the Cross, or Pietà.
• 3 images of Christ post-Crucifixion: the Harrowing of Hell, the Noli me Tangere, and Christ emerging from the tomb.
• 3 images that seem to include 10 of the 14 Nothelfer
• 1 image of a group of men without halos 

There are a few oddities I’d like to comment on here. 

First, the idea of the Noli me tangere occurring before the emergence from the tomb is at best strange; our images seem to be out of order. 

Second, the style of that North Wall Christ emergent is out of keeping with the rest of the program. While it may be an artifact of restoration, the scene is almost chiaroscuro in its rendition. 

Third, the conflict of identification – annunciation or Christ emerging from the tomb – is a signal that this particular image is problematic in some way. Expectations are here thwarted. 

And fourth, though I’m not an art historian, and didn’t have a formal measure of tint and tone to hand when I visited the church, the colors of the Christ emergent tend toward the green rather than the coppery backgrounds of the other parts of the program.

What it might mean 

My hypothesis is that the last set of North Wall images might in fact have been over-painted. If the Christ emergent had actually been a panel with the four missing Emergency Saints, the program would be complete. Then, the order of Nothelfer up top and Christological/Mariological below would be disrupted only for the patrons.

HYPOTHESIS: The North Wall Right might originally have been: Blaise, Christopher, George, Pantaleon [later over-painted by Christ emerging from the tomb] (below: Denis, Giles, Achatius, Vitus)

In that case, the intended program might have looked something like this: 

This provides us with a Marian presence appropriate to a Marian church on both sides of the nave. It also completes the full program of the 14 Nothelfer by including all 14 of the 14 expected saints-in-times-of-need.

Moreover, the significantly popular Christopher and George, missing from our current cycle, would be part of the important and complete cycle of emergency saints. After all, they appear frequently without their companions – more so than Blaise and Pantaleon; their omission from the set is indeed a puzzle to be solved.

This isn't the only possible solution, of course. It is possible that the missing four saints were on a panel which has been lost through the adaptations of the church over time. A back wall or front wall placement would no longer be part of our preserved legacy as the church has been adapted to its modern usage.

Whatever has happened with the almost-but-not-quite coherent program of the Brand church, it is clear that the frescoes of this out-of-the-way alpine church have much to tell us about worship in the period immediately prior to the Reformation.

CONCLUSION

The North wall of the Brand church is more heavily damaged than its South wall counterpart, but in some ways that makes it feel even more intimate – as though we’re glimpsing devotional patterns that were deeply local and possibly improvised. There’s less visual clarity, but maybe that opens a different kind of space: one for private reflection or a more personal encounter.

The Nothelfer panel, in particular, suggests concern for daily protection, healing, and perhaps a kind of communal spiritual insurance policy. It's messier, less polished, but still rich with meaning. And what we make of the so-active angel and its triumphant counterpart figure, well, it has certainly kept me pondering through many-an-hour.

I keep thinking of Carolyn Walker Bynum’s work on how medieval Christians engaged with materiality not as distraction but as a conduit to the divine. These frescoes might have operated that way too, drawing attention to the import of sacred signs (with Vitus’s gesture) and the nearness of sacred power. Even in partial ruin, the frescoes pull you in, and ask you, like the Magdalene, not to touch, but to witness.

WORK CITED

[Anonymous]. Parish Church “Our Lady of the Assumption” Brand: Fragments from the Church History Chronicles of Brand / Vorarlberg. [Undated Church Pamphlet.]

Bynum, Carolyn Walker. Christian Materiality: An Essay on Religion in Late Medieval Europe. New York: Zone Books, 2011.

Cyrus, Cynthia. "The 1507 South Wall Frescoes of Brand’s Parish Church (Vorarlberg)" [Blog Post]. Silences and Sounds, June 6, 2025, https://silencesandsounds.blogspot.com/2025/06/the-1507-south-wall-frescoes-of-brands.html.