Here are some photographs of buildings and streets in Annapolis, Maryland. I am re-posting this.  Due due to technical hitch the photos didn’t appear the first time I posted it, in January. We have now worked out what the problem was and so you can see Annapolis.

Annapolis is the state capitol and one of the oldest cities in the US. In common with all state capitals it has at its centre a domed capitol building which is the home of the state government. It has a large number of houses in the colonial style. I visited over the Christmas break. What interests me is that many of the buildings still display the classic threefold proportion. Have a look at the window sizes particularly and you see that rhythmical progression of gradually decreasing size as you go up for three layers (or more), with the first relating the second and the second relating to the third. Many houses from this period have had the windows replaced in standard sizes as the wooden frames rot. Double glazing usually comes in standard sizes and these do not correspond to the traditional range of proportions. When this is done it destroys so much of the beauty of the old houses.

Annapolis is the home of the US naval officers college and and old port.

I have written articles about traditional harmony and proportion (see the articles page on this blog). The proportions of these buildings are derived from those used by the ancient Greeks which were subsequently used by the Romans and then Christian culture up to about 1900.American colonial architecture is similar to the British Georgian style, which is based upon Italian Palladian architecture of the High Renaissance. The proportions for this came from the rediscovery of a text book on architecture written by a Roman architect called Vitruvius. The Roman text book was published in England in the 17th century, in translation (although given a Latin title) under the name ‘Vitruvius Brittanicus’. As a British colony, this style was used in America (with the addition of French style window shutters!) and then retained after independence.

If there are any architects reading this who are looking to make a name for themselves, then take note. A modern building could as easily be built using these proportions as any other, and the beauty of the buildings that use them always attracts attention. Here is a way of raising your reputation as an architect, and adding value to buildings at very little extra cost.

It’s not always possible to have three storeys in a house – but even if you have two, the basement window is made (through the size of the glass panels within it) to look as though we are seeing the top section of a much larger window that projects below ground, so mainting this sense of threefold rhythm.

You can see the state government house in the distance with the dome.

Actually (just in case any were going to comment on the fact) this isn’t in Annapolis, but in Frederick, Maryland, which is smaller town of similar age inland. This is the town that I was actually staying in, and I like going there so much I thought I would include this too.

The Summer Program 2012 of the Way of Beauty Atelier at Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, Merrimack, NH. We are pleased to be offering three courses this summer – an icon painting week and two weekend retreats – Traditional Paths to Creativity and Inspiration. (Follow the links just given to apply) No experience or specialist knowledge is necessary for any of these courses. They take place in July 2012.

Both retreats offered teach about the forms of traditional art focussing on the baroque, the gothic and the iconographic, and how to pray with visual imagery especially in the context of the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours. The weekend is lived in conformity to the rhythm of the Church’s liturgy. However, the emphasis is different in each one.

The first weekend is a repeat of what we offered last year and has a greater emphasis on the talks about the culture.

The second is more reflective and focusses more on the prayer, chant and contemplation of visual imager. It would be of interest to anyone, but was created in response to those who attended the first retreat last year and wanted to repeat the experience, but didn’t want the same same lectures. So this is of a form that can be repeated year on year if you wish: I will pick out particular paintings to talk about as exemplars of each tradition; and we will spend more time learning the techniques of the prayer of the whole person including chant. As such, the hope is that anyone who has been through this would be able to teach members of their family or parish to chant the liturgy of the hours. No one need feel worried that they do not have the required musical ability. The chant is simple enough so that anyone who can approximately hit a note can learn it through listening; and beautiful enough that they want to.

This short posting, which focusses on the symbolic content in a painting is written by Dr Caroline Farey of the Maryvale Institute. She and I work as a double team, teaching in July at the residential weekend of the one-year distance-learning course about Catholic art and culture called Art, Beauty and Inspiration in a Catholic Perspective. This is the first a series on the symbolic content on art by Caroline and Dr Lionel Gracey, also of the Maryvale Institute.

The Maryvale Institute is the only Pontifically recognised Higher Institute of Religious Sciences in the English speaking world and the course, in distance learning form with one residential weekend is offered through its base in Birmingham, England and in the US in Kansas City through the Maryvale Center at the Diocese of Kansas City, Kansas. For further information go here.

Caroline writes:

The Holy Family by Rembrandt

In this painting we ponder particularly on Our Lady, as Mother of God, Mother of the saviour of the world, Mother of her Son.We can discern a triple revelation here.

The first act of revelation is from the Old Testament Scriptures to Mary.The light picks out the eager attentionon Mary’s young face and on the Scriptures that she is reading. Mary has suddenly but quietly turned in her chair from the text she has been reading to the fulfilment of those words that she now contemplates as ‘made flesh’ in the basket cot beside her.The Scriptures are telling her who her Son is.

But both her face and the book have parts in shadow too. Similarly Christ’s face is part in shadow and part illuminated.The shadows remind us of the shadow of the suffering and death he will endure, as she will, suffering foretold also in the Jewish Scriptures – the Old Testament.

The second act of revelation is by Mary to the world.She holds back a richly embroidered veil: by this she reveals Christ to us the onlookers.Mary has a place in God’s revealing of his Son.

The third act of revelation is by the sleeping child himself. In his sleep, he holds back a bright red coverlet revealing a lining of lamb’s fleece. Christ reveals himself, even as an infant fast asleep.The red coverlet, as we have seen in paintings before, flows over the edge like blood poured out, and it is highlighted further in its brightness in its juxta-positioning against the richly deep red of Mary ‘s skirt. Mary and the child both wear red. By the fleece Jesus is revealing himself as the lamb of God who is to be led silently to the slaughter.

The revelation taking place at the centre of the painting, through an interplay of light and movements, cloths and colours, is reinforced by other details surrounding Mary and the crib.Firstly, of course in the top left hand corner are the angels bursting in on the scene revealing to us that this is no ordinary carpenter’s child.Where are they looking? One is looking lovingly at Mary, the other looking soberly at the baby.Diagonally opposite the angels in the bottom right hand corner is the fire which, together with the angels is the main source of diffused light across the bare boards of the floor and the barren wall behind, with what look like further parts of the yoke being made by Joseph.A contemplative scene, which, despite looking so humble and ordinary is nonetheless imbued throughout by the grace of the Incarnation of the Son of God through Mary, Theotokos, Mother of God.

Geoff Yovanovic is a young architectural intern (with an architecture degree from the University of Miami who came to our Way of Beauty summer program last year. He recently attended a course of proportion run by the ICAA (The Institute of Classical Architecture called Theory of Proportion: A Perennial Pathway of Beauty. What he described sounded interesting so I asked him to give us a brief write up about it. If you want to know more about this, then do contact him on g.yovanovic@gmail.com. He is especially keen to here from any architects working in a traditional field who are looking to take on an intern!

Before we read it a couple of things are worth pointing out. First that word ‘Perennial’. This is referring here to a particular worldview – the Perennialist philosophy. This is a modern analysis of traditional cultures which seeks common principles based upon the premise that each is offering alternative routes to the same God. Perennialists tend to join one religion or school of thought and take a traditionalist path, in order to follow what they seek to be the pure, original revelation, as it was presented before man diluted it. I have met Christian, Islamic and even Platonist perennialists. In my experience, Plato and Platonists such as Plotinus, are presented as authorities. However, for all the fact that they outwardly look like very traditionalist adherents to a religion to the degree that they hold to the perennialist philosophy, they sit outside the religions that they claim to follow (certainly this true for Christianity). It can be confusing at times, because they will draw heavily on the authorities of the religion in question when it is consistent with the philosophy (for example often citing scripture)  but in their own interpretation (through a perennialist prism so to speak), and not fully consistent with the magisterium (although they will often give the impression that they are in agreement with each religions).  The people to look for who formulated this perennialist outlook are names such as Titus Burckhardt, Rene Guenon, Ananda Coomeraswamy and Frithjof Schuon. Because of their great respect for tradition and the religions of the world, they have done much good work in redirecting many genuine adherents to their own traditions. For example, It was perennialists at the Prince of Wales’s school of tradition arts in London who made me aware of traditional Christian ideas of harmony and proportion. The teacher of the course below, incidentally, was taught at the Royal College of Art in London by the founder and first principal of the Prince’s School.

Second, consistent with the fact that this is a modern philosophy they will tend, in my view, to overemphasise the importance of the Golden Section in traditional design. Those who are interested to more about my views on this can read the article ‘Golden or Fallen – a Note on Phi‘ in the articles page of this blog.

With these caveats in mind, the course Geoff describes seems to be worthy of consideration. Here is what he wrote:

‘I attended recently a one day intensive on the theory of proportion presented by the Institute of Classical Architecture and Art.  It was called Theory of Proportion: A Perennial Pathway of Beauty. The ICAA describes itself as an organization which is “dedicated to advancing the classical tradition in architecture, urbanism and their allied arts”.  With chapters throughout the USA, the ICAA presents educational opportunities ranging from the Beaux Arts Atelier in New York City to walking tours through historic neighborhoods to a variety of classes like the one on proportion which I attended in Atlanta hosted by the Southeast Chapter.

The intensive was taught by Steve Bass an architect from New York City, and a Fellow at the Institute of Classical Architecture and Art.  Mr. Bass was trained in the modern practice of architecture, but soon
found it empty, he told us, and searched for a deeper meaning in design.  This lead to study at the Royal College of Art in London which has a focus on the ancients such as Plato and Plotinus (a Platonist from the 3rd century AD) and their ideas on geometry, presented through the prism of the modern Perennialist philosophy.

Starting with a rapid survey of ancient history and philosophy, the class soon settled on a discussion of beauty and its importance. Drawing from the writings of Plotinus, connections were quickly made
between beauty and the good: “This is the soul’s ugliness, not being pure and unmixed, like gold, but full of earthiness; if anyone takes the earthy stuff away the gold is left and is beautiful, when it is singled out from other things and is alone by itself.”

For the ancient Greek, described by Plotinus, beauty was the memory of unity.  It was the joyous state of the soul as it remembers unity.  In our Christian tradition, beauty is our recognition of God.

The foundation for the rest of the class was laid with an introduction classical number theory described in detail by Plato and attributed to Pythagoras.  Using this theory and tying it to Genesis and Plato’s Timaeus, Mr Bass presented a symbolic story of creation using the arithmetical ideas of the monad, oneness, the dyad, twoness, the triad, threeness, and on through the decade.  For example, fourness or the tetrad was connected with the fourth day of creation in Genesis.  On the fourth day, “God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear.”  Geometrically, the tetrad or fourness is represented by the four sided polygon or a square.  Applying these theories into recognizable form in architecture, we can look at a dome in a church especially an early Christian church such as the Hagia Sophia.  A dome is a sphere resting upon a cube.  In an even simpler geometric study, we see a circle and a square.  Geometrically, the dome is composed of a square, the tetrad, meeting a circle, the monad.  Applying Genesis to the dome in a church, a dome is the location where heaven, the monad or oneness, meets the dry land, the tetrad or square.  Therefore, the geometry symbolizes the meeting of Heaven and earth, or the meeting of the Communion of Saints which occurs during each Mass.  In some early churches, this union of Heaven and earth was emphasized by the decoration on the pendentives which were the four triangular transition supports between the vertical columns and the dome. Depictions of this unity such as the Annunciation of Mary, the Nativity, and other Christmas scenes were painted on the pendentives to emphasize this symbolic geometric parallel.

The class transitioned into a study of the evolution of different geometric creations and their  integration into architecture.  From a circle, different geometric creations were derived such as the
45-45-90, 30-60-90 triangles, .618 or phi, and finally arriving at the golden section.  Using the golden section as the primary tool, it was proposed that the ancient Greek temples were designed through
geometric derivations of a circle.  Demonstrations using a few simple drafting tools such as a 45 degree triangle, a compass, and a scaler showed the evolution of a Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian temple
originating from a circle.  The entire temple from the overall recognizable temple form to the acanthus leaves in the Corinthian capital were derived starting with a single circle.

While the primary goal of the class was to emphasize the importance of beauty in design, it was not presented through a Christian perspective.  It focused on many ancient ideas which, for a large part, were eventually baptized by St. Augustine and integrated into Christian thought.  Despite the differences, both schools of thought present proportion and geometry as a path to beauty.  And beauty is an essential thing.

Yes really, I do mean at the Boston Public Library. It is quite a surprise to go into the public library and find a wonderful set of murals painted by the great American artist. One room has a huge set of murals on an Arthurian theme and then right at the top of the building is a room that the library calls quite simply ‘Sargent Hall’. This are adorned with a set of Christian sacred imagery all conforming to a unifying schema.
I had heard about them before but only this past month have I seen them for the first time. They are oil on canvas set into the wall, with some painted plaster cast reliefs and were painted in a 20 year period from 1895. What surprised me was how Catholic the imagery is for civic buildings. Boston’s Irish Catholic heritage is well known, but I hadn’t anticipated that this Catholic influence would have reached up to the level of the dignitaries of the city at this time. Perhaps there is a high Episcopalian influence here as well?
We have murals of the Old Testament prophets, of the crucifixion with the a representation of the dogma of the Trinity and angels carrying the instruments of the passion, Our Lady of Sorrows and the 15 mysteries of the rosary. Apparently when artistic tastes turned against the naturalistic style around the early middle 20th century, they were almost destroyed. Luckily for us were saved and the suggestion to paint over them was opposed.
If these had been painted in England at the same time by any other artist, they would most likely have been in the pre-Raphaelite, and indeed there is some of that feel about them. However, Sargent, who is vastly superior to the English pre-Raphaelites, in my opinion, brings his knowledge of the 17th century baroque (which is the authentic liturgical root of the Western naturalistic tradition) into play. So just we would have seen in this earlier original period, we see in Sargent’s work here the controlled intensification and depletion of colour; and variation in focus, carried out selectively to ensure that our eyes are drawn first to the most important points in each composition. The pre-Raphaelites in contrast painted with sharp outlines and even colour and so they overburdened their paintings with detail.
It is very difficult to manage complicated compositions with many figures Sargent handles the variation of these components so brilliantly and subltely that I find it difficult characterise further what he is doing beyond knowing that he is doing it.
The room, which is just a 3rd floor hall in the library leading to others containing library books, is difficult to photograph and so I give you the best I have been able to get hold of. One thing to point out about the style is that even though Sargent was trained as portrait painter, he seems to have understood the difference between sacred art and portraiture. The faces are less emotional and quite often placed in shadow, allowing us to identify with the general human characteristics of the person portrayed. This is in contrast to other sacred art of the 19th century and in accord with what a master of the 17th century, such as Zurburan, would have done. I have talked about this in more detail in an article called Is Some Sacred Art Too Naturalistic? We can see this brought out especially in the sketches for one of the mysteries of the rosary. The ones shown are for the finding of the boy Jesus in the temple.
As I studied these I was trying to picture these as a focus of prayer if they had been placed in a church. My personal taste in this regard is for the iconographic or gothic, so I am not the best person to make a judgement here, but my sense is that for those who are strongly attracted to the baroque style as liturgical art, these would seem appropriate and helpful. Certainly, I think that those Catholic artists who are interested in painting sacred art and have been trained in the academic method should study Sargent’s style, which owes so much to the earlier 17th century form. This will help them to avoid the trap of imitating inferior artists of the late 19th century such as the aforementioned pre-Raphaelites and William Bougeureau (the reason that his style should be avoided, in my opinion, is described in the article linked above).

Our Lady of Sorrows

The 15 Mysteries of the Rosaray: three groups of five, each with a central mystery surrounded by four. From the left the sorrowful, glorious and joyful.

]]> http://thewayofbeauty.org/2012/02/murals-by-john-singer-sargent-at-boston-public-library/feed/ 0 http://thewayofbeauty.org/2012/01/wood-carvings-of-johannes-kirchmayer/ http://thewayofbeauty.org/2012/01/wood-carvings-of-johannes-kirchmayer/#comments Fri, 27 Jan 2012 15:30:09 +0000 David Clayton http://wayofbeauty.thomasmorecollege.edu/?p=3423

Here are some photos of carvings by the German born American Johannes Kirchmayer. He lived from 1860-1930 and his Wikipedia entry is here. He lived and worked most of his life in the Boston area and his work is in the American gothic churches of New England. There are some who consider the neo-gothic of the 19th and early 20th century to be faux gothic, that is, just a poor pastiche of earlier styles. I am not of this opinion. While the sacred painting of this period is not so good, I think that in the areas of architecture and sculpture particularly we have a case study of how the study of the past has inspired a tradition that characterises its age in its own way. In fact the writings of AW Pugin, the architect who did so much to inspire the whole movement at the beginning of the 19th century, provide a case study in how study the past in order to establish a living tradition. Pugin who converted to Catholicism in his early 2os and this directly affected his approach to architecture. I think of 19th century gothic not as derivative in an inferior way, but rather as a tradition in its own right that should be taken seriously.

The city of Boston has many fine examples of churches in the American gothic style. There are some also who feel that this style is not an authentic New England style, citing the earlier colonial as more genuinely of New England. This I do not agree with this assertion either. In architecture at least, each is a style based upon timeless principles. If anything it is the 19th century gothic that is more clearly a Catholic Christian tradition, owing so much to the work of Pugin. And like all earlier liturgical traditions, it became the standard for the protestant churches too.

These wood carvings are in the protestant Unity Church, Easton, Massachussetts.

This is the same course that I developed with the faculty of the Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England before moving to the United States three years ago.It is now offered in the US as well through the Maryvale Centre at the Diocese of Kansas City, Kansas.

The Maryvale Institute is the only Higher Institute of Religious Sciences – graduate and post-graduate level educational institution – with pontifical status in the English speaking world. It is good news that itss courses are now offered in the US via the Diocese of Kansas City, Kansas. This is not your standard online course – the Maryvale Institute has developed its own method of teaching at a distance through use of expertly designed coursebooks and attendance periodically at residential weekends. Termed ‘collaborative learning’ that is so effective that they view it as superior to the education recieved at conventional full time courses. The recent awarding of pontifical status is recognition of not only of its faithfulness to the Magisterium of the Church, but also the standard of excellence in the teaching offered.

The opening residential weeked for their course, Art, Inspiration and Beauty in a Catholic Perspective takes place in Kansas in July is intended both for working artists and those interested in art (with the thought that you might become the future knowledgable patrons of the art). The weekend is run by course director Dr Caroline Farey with whom I worked closely in Birmingham when the course was first launched and I will teach too. Maryvale’s missin is to deliver degree level education to working, mature students. As such it is designed so that no previous qualification is required in order to attend this course. The teaching method works from first principles and so anyone with the innate ability, almost regardless of previous levels of education, will flourish.

European readers should be aware that the course is still offered through the Birmingham campus of the Maryvale Institute in England.

The course costs only $995 for the whole year including course materials, tuition, accomodation and meals for the residential weekends and assessment. You will be required to buy a few books in addition to this. ths is extraordinarily good value. For further details contact ecat2@archkck.org and information about this and other courses offered by the Maryvale Institute Centre in Kansas City can be found here.

I always used to wonder why some faces painted in tempera had a green tinge to them. I had been told at some point, that this was the underpainting showing through and that the colour of the skin had somehow faded. This is possible: in the 15th century Cennino Cennini described a method in which monochrome underpainting is undertaken in terre verte, an earth green, before a thin transparent layer of skin tone, a pale orange, is applied. Cennino Cennini’s method is described in a book called The Method of Tempera Painting). But even so, why put the green there in the first place? It was obviously intended originally to give a greenish tinge to the skin (even before the colour changed over time).
When painting icons I was encouraged to use red and green washes in shadows but it was an intuitive process and I wasn’t sure what principles were guiding me or why they were used (I probably hadn”t been paying attention in class!).
It wasn’t until I went to study portrait painting in Florence that I felt I understood what was going on here. I was taught that we see the deepest shadows are red or red brown and the half-tones are a green grey. The colour is obtained by mixing ivory black, yellow ochre and white. Ivory black has a touch of blue in it and so creates a grey-green when mixed with the yellow and white. The colour produced matches almost exactly the colour of the veins that you see, under the surface of the skin. So if you look at your wrists you will see this colour in the visible veins under your skin there.
What the icon painters and gothic artists are doing is just what the portrait painters were trying to do: match the colour scheme of their paintings with what they see in nature. It shows that even in the highly stylised forms so much is based upon observation of nature.

Above: a study I made under direction in which the deep shadow lines are red (see the line above the upper eyelid and defining the nose for example); below: a mosaic by a master from Istanbul in which the artist has defined the deep shadow lines in a red brown colour, and the half tones are in earth green. This is handled superbly and has a natural appearance.

Above: a pastel portrait completed while I was in Florence the deep shades are red-brown while the half-tone skin colour is grey green; below: a portrait of 18th century society beauty Lady Hamilton by master George Romney in which he is very skilfully handling the transition from green to red as the shadow gets deeper. And below that is a self-portrait by another the 18th century English master, Sir Joshua Reynolds. Romney and Reynolds are part of the British school that can be traced back to Sir Anthony Van Dyck who was, in turn the star student of Rubens.

Made Possible by the Generosity of Readers of this Blog. In the autumn I asked for donations towards the tuition of Thomas More College students who wished to take art classes at the internationally recognised Ingbretson Studios in Manchester, New Hampshire, which teaches the academic method of drawing and painting. The academic method has its roots in the methods developed by Masters of the High Renaissance such as Leonardo da Vinci. They are taking this training in addition to all their academic work at the college and are expected to maintain the same standard and effort in their academic work. I am pleased to say that two generous donors came forward and the money they gave helped two students to study for the semester. So on behalf of Liam Mitchell and Jaqueline Del Curto, I would like to thank you and thought I would show you the work they did during the semester.

For both Jaqueline and Liam, this training is part of their career aspirations. Jaqueline wants to be and artist and Liam wishes to go into film and so this will develop his sense of how to communicate visually. They both realise that in addition to the training of the skills, they must have that grounding in philosophy and theology that will form them as individuals and enable them to understand how form communicates meaning. Accordingly they both work hard in academic and practical study towards being the new breed of ambassadors of the Faith, engaging with the world as part of the New Evangelisation.

In a recent discussion about the tradition of placing metal cladding around some icons, it was suggested that one purpose of the cladding was to convey a theological message. It performed the function of veiling of outward appearances in order to reveal an inner, or invisible, holiness. This point is worth further discussion I think.

My understanding of this principle is not sophisticated (and so may by flawed or incomplete) but nevertheless here it is: that in order emphasise the point that there is an invisible reality to whatever is seen, some of the visible elements are veiled in order to emphasise and so to reveal to us this inner reality. This is true for all veiling – human veils, humeral veils, chalice veils and so on. How does this work?

First veiling is not hiding. When veiled the form beneath may not be visible directly, but it is still perceptible albeit in a less distinct form. We know what is veiled. For example, the form of a person is still discernable when clothes are worn. The form of the chalice is still recognizable even when veiled, as much by how it is handled as by the outer form. It relies on our knowledge of what is beneath it. If we did not know what a woman is, or a chalice is, we would not have a sense of a chalice veiled, but rather of an object in which the fabric we see represents the surface of it and is intrinsic to it.

When we recognize a veiled object it makes the point that there is an inner reality that is not directly visible. So the veil is visible, but beyond it is the chalice, perceptible but invisible. In grasping this reality, it makes the point to us that the object itself, even when unveiled, has essential elements that are both visible and invisible. When unveiled, we can be so absorbed with the visible elements that perhaps we fail to grasp fully the invisible realities. So the partial hiding of the visible elements allows us to focus on the invisible.

In order for this to have any force at all, there must be invisible realities present in the object veiled. The human person is both body and soul; the body is visible, the soul is not. The chalice contains the wine in which after consecration Christ will be truly present, despite outward appearances.

Now to icons: if we apply the same argument, in order for the cladding on an icon to play the part of veiling, the icon must contain essential elements that are invisible and worthy of veneration. In point of fact the icon does not. Therefore, the cladding does not play the part of a veil.

Icon is an image worthy of veneration only to the degree that it is visible. The relationship to the person depicted is set up through the imagination of the viewer and by virtue of what is seen. In this sense the cladding becomes the icon and that part that is hidden ceases to be so. In this we follow the theology of Theodore the Studite, the Eastern Father who settled the iconoclastic controversy in the 9^th century. “Theodore quotes a custom already mentioned by Leontius of Neapolis and by Patriarch Germanus: once an icon is worn and has lost its imprint’ (charakter), it will without hesitation be thrown into the fire “like any useless piece of wood’. If the icon as such were a grace-filled object, nobody would dare burn it. It would in itself be some kind of sacred relic. Different from John Damascene, who positions icons and relics on the same level, Theodore the Studite sees the sacredness of the icon entirely in its character, its portraying depiction.’ ”(p226, Christophe Schonborn, God’s Human Face pub. Ignatius)