Faith, Poison and Remedy

Medieval Germany, 1350.

The Black Death devastates Europe, killing an estimated 30 to 50% of the population.

This work depicts a religious procession, organized by the clergy in response to the epidemic. At the time, the plague is understood as divine punishment.

To appease God’s wrath, the Church calls the population to collective repentance, prayer, and submission.

At the center stands the prince-bishop, a figure who embodies the fusion of political and religious power. He governs territory, souls, and moral order simultaneously.

He wears deep red garments, the color of nobility, authority, blood, and legitimacy. In his hand, he holds a book — a symbol of doctrine, law, and divine interpretation.

The prince-bishop also carries a crosier, the pastoral staff of episcopal power. Wrapped around it is a serpent, a deliberate reference to the ancient medical symbol — the Rod of Asclepius, traditionally associated with healing and medicine.

Here, however, the symbol is displaced. It exposes the confusion — and fusion — between spiritual authority, political control, and medical power.

Behind him walk the members of the clergy, dressed in cold greys and bluish tones. They carry crosses and censers, marking their role as intermediaries between heaven and earth. They translate disease into sin, and suffering into obedience.

The flagellants are recognizable by their bare torsos and whips. They are not formally directed by the Church, yet they arise from the same ideological environment. They believe that self-inflicted pain can appease divine anger. Their bodies become sites of sacrifice, discipline, and spectacle.

Further back stand the bourgeois and merchants, clothed in muted ochres and dull oranges. They occupy a middle position.

At the margins appear the peasants, dressed in dark browns and earth tones.

To the side stands the plague doctor, wearing dark garments and the iconic beaked mask. Although historically anachronistic, his presence is intentional. He represents medicine reduced to ritual and symbolism. Around his neck hangs a large cross, marking his allegiance to religious authority. He prays more than he heals.

The Grim Reaper walks close behind. Death is not approaching — it is already among them.

These processions gather large crowds, encourage bodily proximity, shared wounds, and collective movement. They accelerate the spread of Yersinia pestis. A biological crisis becomes a moral spectacle.

The composition follows the geographical outline of medieval Germany.

The surface is worked with layers of parchment, oxidized browns, bronze, and gold leaf. The edges are worn, scarred, and textured, as if history itself has burned into the material.

This work does not condemn faith as personal refuge. For many, belief was the only comfort available in the face of death. It condemns faith when transformed into a political instrument — when belief replaces care, and obedience becomes fatal.

The past is not distant. It continues to structure the present.

Material and FormThe surface is composed of muted earth tones — parchment beige, oxidized browns and soft greys. Layered matte textures create a worn, aged appearance. Gold is integrated into the surface, dulled and absorbed rather than reflective. Forms emerge through subtle tonal shifts rather than defined outlines. The overall finish is matte, textured, and intentionally eroded.

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