The cardinal of culture

A senior Vatican official's decidedly unconservative approach to art.

Catholicism, like all religions, inspires certain stereotypes. In this case, it’s fair to say that “progressively modern” isn’t one of them. But could this be about to change?

Consider the unlikely Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi. A senior Vatican official who is so popular there is currently a two-year waiting list to get him confirmed at a conference. He, amongst other things, criticises priests for their "boring" and "irrelevant" sermons. He encourages them to use Twitter.  He quotes Nietzsche. He advocates Darwinian theory. He likes cutting-edge contemporary art. He blogs, jokes and – incidentally – is one of the most likely contenders to become the next Pope. Could this perhaps be the most interesting man in the Catholic church?

Cardinal Ravasi, a former professor and archaeological scholar, has been ordained for 46 years and was, in 2007, appointed as President of the Pontifical Council for Culture. In this role, he is effectively the director of the church’s policy on art. One of the most interesting aspects of this the undeniably intriguing clergyman is his genuine eagerness for the church to re-engage with contemporary art in a meaningful way.

The director of the Venice Bienale, Paolo Barrata, announced recently that the Vatican will be participating at the next event, in 2013, with its own pavilion. In terms of signalling a new direction in Catholic cultural policy, this is a bold move; after all, when the Biennale was inaugurated, the church dismissed it as a "debacle". The pavilion will put a papal presence at the centre of the most controversial and prestigious art event in the world, an art event which makes aesthetic contemplation of, amongst other things; prostitution, violence, bodily fluids and painted pigeons.

"We are trying to get a dialogue up and running between the church and contemporary art – particularly artists at the highest level,” explained Ravasi. “We are looking for world-famous people. Venice is a showcase for all the big countries in the world and the Holy See would like to be there too. We're trying to get the best of international artists on our side who can create new works with a religious or spiritual subject."

Some may dismiss these statements as the buzzwords of a PR man, but the decision to exhibit at Venice should prove them wrong. The work on show here is far from populist, and Ravasi’s approach to it proves that he understands his task and is taking it seriously. His choice of words is significant – he wants to initiate a "dialogue". Not didactics and disapproval, not preaching and polemics – but a reciprocal conversation based on mutual respect.

The only surprising thing about the above statement should be the surprise with which it has been received. The history of western art is after all, intractably intertwined with the history of Christianity. For 1,500 years, the church was the axis around which all art production revolved. No institution has ever come close to having such influence or producing such iconic works, and there is therefore a certain logic in the desire that some lost ground should be regained.

Ravasi, it seems, is taking earnest steps in this direction. It was his idea, back in 2009 to invite five hundred of the world’s most prominent artists, writers and architects, irrespective of religious background, for a meeting with the Pope. Anish Kapoor and Zaha Hadid were amongst the hundreds that attended.

So far, so admirable – but the world, of course, has changed. Is it really feasible to believe the church can have its voice heard – let alone be taken seriously – in the hyper-sceptical and resoundingly unorthodox world of contemporary art?

Religious themes are still strongly present in the work of the art world’s major-players, albeit with a notable lack of spiritual sincerity. Crucifixes have appeared mixed with human excrement in the works of Andres Serrano and Chris Ofili, sexed-up in the semi-erotic drawings of Tracey Emin and adorned with graffiti and plastic shopping bags in Banksy’s work.

The dialogue, as it currently exists, between the church and contemporary art is fraught. Accusations of blasphemy (the Vatican requested the removal of statue of a crucified frog from an Italian museum in 2008), violent protests (the notorious case of Serrano’s Piss Christ destroyed by Chrisitan fundamentalists) and the constant disputing of dogma are what currently characterise the presence of Christianity in major world art fairs and galleries.

Yet the truth is that, historically, many of the greatest works of art would not have been created without artists grappling with questions of faith. As a sixth of the world is currently Catholic, there is a huge audience that could benefit from Cardinal Ravasi’s cultural ambitions. Of course, whether any of these progressive aims and ambitions can be achieved will depend on the quality of what the Vatican ends up showing at the Biennale.

After decades of media speculation on the church losing cultural relevance, can one cardinal make a difference? His task amounts to reinstating icons into an iconoclastic world. Is it possible? Perhaps, with a leap of faith.

Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi poses with the mobile phone he uses for tweeting, at his office in Rome in 2011. (Photo credit:ANDREAS SOLARO/AFP/Getty Images)

Kamila Kocialkowska is a freelance journalist based in London.



Kyle Seeley
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For emotional value, Emily is Away – a nostalgic instant messaging game – is this year’s best release

If you want to express your lingering teenage angst, there’s no better option.

Every now and then, a game is released that goes beyond what it may look or sound like. It goes straight to the pit of your insides where you thought you had no soul left, and jolts you back to life. Or at least it attempts to. This year, it's Emily is Away.

Firstly, anyone and everyone can virtually play this thing as it’s a crude Windows XP simulator displaying an AIM/MSN messenger client and can run on the PC equivalent of a potato. And it's free. It’s a short game, taking about 30 minutes, in which you play a person chatting away to your friend called Emily (who could be more), choosing from a set list of pre-selected instant messages.

Each chapter takes place in a different year, starting in 2002 and ending in 2006.

You’re instantly smacked with nostalgia thanks to the user screen of Windows XP and a fuzzed out background of Bliss, which was the default wallpaper in the operating system, and probably the most widely seen photo in the world. And your ears aren’t abandoned either, with the upbeat pinging sounds reminiscent of how you used to natter away with your personal favourite into the early hours.

The first chapter starts with you and Emily reaching the end of your last year in high school, talking about plans for the evening, but also the future, such as what you’ll be studying at university. From this early point, the seeds of the future are already being sewn.

For example, Emily mentions how Brad is annoying her in another window on her computer, but you’re both too occupied about agreeing to go to a party that night. The following year, you learn that Brad is now in fact her boyfriend, because he decided to share how he felt about Emily while you were too shy and keeping your feelings hidden.

What’s so excellent about the game is that it can be whatever you wish. Retro games used the lack of visual detail to their advantage, allowing the players to fill in the blanks. The yearly gaps in this game do exactly the same job, making you long to go back in time, even if you haven't yet reached the age of 20 in the game.

Or it lets you forget about it entirely and move on, not knowing exactly what had happened with you and Emily as your brain starts to create the familiar fog of a faded memory.

Despite having the choice to respond to Emily’s IMs in three different ways each time, your digital self tries to sweeten the messages with emoticons, but they’re always automatically deleted, the same way bad spelling is corrected in the game too. We all know that to truly to take the risk and try and move a friendship to another level, emoticons are the digital equivalent to cheesy real-life gestures, and essential to trying to win someone’s heart.

Before you know it, your emotions are heavily invested in the game and you’re always left wondering what Emily wanted to say when the game shows that she’s deleting as well as typing in the messenger. You end up not even caring that she likes Coldplay and Muse – passions reflected in her profile picture and use of their lyrics. She also likes Snow Patrol. How much can you tolerate Chasing Cars, really?

The user reviews on Steam are very positive, despite many complaining you end up being “friend-zoned” by Emily, and one review simply calling it “Rejection Simulator 2015”.

I tried so hard from all of the options to create the perfect Em & Em. But whatever you decide, Emily will always give you the #feels, and you’ll constantly end up thinking about what else you could have done.