Divine Stone

The bonds of friendship and teamwork grow between Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni

Simon Verity and Jean-Claude Marchionni were hitting their collective strides while carving the upper-rank figures of the Portal of Paradise at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

However, Jean-Claude Marchionni confides, that was not the case when they first started working together in 1993. “I know it was not easy in the beginning…because of our personalities.” 

Jean-Claude, called Simon’s “irreverent French sidekick” in a NY Observer article, explains the early differences as the “English side and the French side.” 

Speaking from his stone carving studio in Midland Park, NJ, Jean-Claude remembers that as they worked together, the bonds of friendship grew. “We complemented each other. I learned things that I didn’t know from him and he learned things from me…you share things.” Later, Jean-Claude says, “we kind of appreciated each other.” Jean-Claude’s cramped studio is lined with fireplace mantles, small statues awaiting the final touches and other stone projects he is working on.

Mutual trust and respect also developed as they worked together. “Simon trusted me,” Jean-Claude says, “we would switch carving the other’s work.”

In an essay titled Cathedrals, Simon remarked, “I climb up and shake hands with Jean-Claude. How does he get up so early after such drinking sessions? (Perhaps another indication of their early differences.) Half my age, he has taught me so much. The French concentration is ferocious, and nothing is too difficult for him. From a family of stonecutters, he can visualize how the finished work will look at a glance and has an instinctive grasp of the tools to get him there.”

Jean-Claude’s father and two brothers were stone carvers and his rigorous training came from the Compagnons du Devoir (Companions of Duty), a French organization of craftsmen and artisans dating from the Middle Ages. Their traditional, technical education includes taking a tour, the Tour de France, around France and doing apprenticeships with masters. (Not to be confused with the well-known Tour de France bike race.)

In his essay, Simon added, “the French training as compagnons is more medieval than the English. They may start at fourteen and will lead a semi-monastic life for years. They travel extensively to get a grasp of different aspects of the trade so that by their twenties, they are superb craftsmen, even if arrogance keeps them from learning what they could from foreigners.” (Perhaps another dig on French culture by Simon.)

But, Jean-Claude needed to get away from that restrictive environment and he found himself in New York City, where he saw scaffolding around the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church. As it happened, Michael Davidson, Director of Restoration for Cathedral Stoneworks, was leading a major rehabilitation of the church’s exterior and Jean-Claude’s expertise fit right in. He soon joined the team with Jean-Claude working on various restoration jobs with Stoneworks before collaborating with Simon to work on the portal.

The entire portal project was a departure from previous sculptural carvings in the Cathedral’s history.

Simon and Jean-Claude employed direct carving on the portal project. There were no plaster models, no pointing tools or enlarging machines. They worked primarily from sketches and their own creative instincts. This contrasts with the style of John Angel, a British-born architectural and ecclesiastical sculptor, who created various works at the Cathedral from the mid-1920s through the 1950s. Angel used the Renaissance technique of creating clay models for other carvers to execute the work. He started by sculpting a small model in clay, then enlarging it to full size in clay. A plaster cast was created and handed off to a stone carver with Angel putting final changes on the piece as needed.

One of John Angel’s major works at the Cathedral is the trumeau, or center post, of the Portal of Paradise depicting St. John, the namesake of the Cathedral. The 8-½ foot tall carving, situated between the Bronze Doors, was dedicated in 1935. 

In addition, John Angel carved the eight major-rank figures on the north portal dedicated to St. Peter.

Simon and Jean-Claude carved mostly idealized faces and details on the Biblical figures of the major-rank figures. However, for the upper tier, they involved numerous locals from the Cathedral staff, friends and people from the neighborhood to serve as models for the upper-rank figures. Many of the faces are clearly recognizable.

The upper-rank figures, on the third level of the portal, measure 3-½ feet versus the behemoth 8-foot blocks of the major-rank carvings.

According to the 1927 Cathedral Commission on Stained Glass and Iconography, “a frieze of small figures, six on each side,” were originally planned as the 12 Sybils. The commission’s recommendation also reports, “according to ecclesiastical tradition, each (sibyl) prophesied some event in the life of our Lord.”  

This was completely overhauled with Dean James Parks Morton’s committee that brought more biblical characters – men and women – to the portal opus.

The first figure on the north side is Noah, carved after James Parks Morton, Dean of the Cathedral at that time, who led the third building phase. Wearing long flowing robes, he seems to step back, as if to have a better look at the Cathedral in front of him. In his hands, he holds the unfinished ark. Since ancient times, the ark has been the symbol of salvation within the Church.

At Dean Morton’s feet, we see his pet Corgi, Pepe, frolicking with a long-snouted dragon-like carving on the periphery. This little corner of the portal is another link between John Angel and Simon, as Simon carved the friendly Corgi gazing at John Angel’s curious-looking creature. 

The carving next to Noah is the most unusual of the upper-rank figures. It depicts Hagar and Ishmael. The maidservant Hagar was given to Abram by his wife Sarah, who was old and childless, to provide him with an heir. Through a covenant with God, Sarah later conceived, bore Isaac, and then insisted that Abram (now Abraham) cast Hagar and Ishmael into the desert. Simon’s interpretation of the story shows a crouching Hagar enveloped in spiraling swirls, a cyclone of grief, and the baby Ishmael protected under a bush. Ultimately, God hears Hagar’s prayer and sends an angel to lead them to safety. Using a Tibetan woman from the community as his model, Simon created an analogy between Hagar’s banishment and the flight of the Tibetan people from their homeland.

Also on the north side is the figure of Deborah, carved as Pamela Morton, wife of Dean Morton. Just as Pamela Morton was always a steady and dignified presence on the Cathedral’s close, the Biblical character of Deborah was known for her patience and good judgment. Before the people of Israel had kings, they had rulers known as judges, with Deborah the only female judge.

Pamela recalls that Simon would occasionally stop by the Cathedral gift shop, where she was a buyer and manager, to make sketches. “He didn’t tell me what it was for,” she says. Perhaps Simon was trying to keep this carving a surprise until it was finished…but, apparently, Simon never told Pamela about the Deborah carving.

For the first time, she recently viewed detailed photos of her carving and that of Dean Morton as Noah and was pleased with the likeness and the poses.

Most of the upper-rank carvings on the portal’s south side can be traced back to specific individuals–and one canine– from Simon’s orbit of acquaintances. 

Solomon, the Biblical king with great wisdom, is carved after Robert Pirie, a friend of Simon and a patron. Solomon built the first temple in Jerusalem, which is visible atop the scepter he is holding. He became legendary not only for his great wisdom and vast wealth, but also for his 700 wives and 300 concubines.

Simon used an English friend, coincidentally named Naomi, for the character of Naomi, who shares the second block with Ruth. Naomi is Ruth’s mother-in-law and a strong bond grew between them, even though they were from different tribes that were often in conflict. Following the deaths of their husbands, Naomi started to return alone to her home village of Bethlehem and urged Ruth to move on and remarry. However, Ruth loved Naomi dearly and could not bear the separation, exclaiming, “Whither thou goest, I will go.” Here, in Simon’s composition, Ruth and Naomi clasp hands and their bodies virtually merge with one another, expressing the deep connection between them.

When Simon and Jean-Claude needed their morning coffee, they usually went to the nearby Hungarian Pastry Shop, long a fixture in the neighborhood. One of the workers there was George, who Simon immortalized by using his likeness for the carving of Simeon. In the New Testament Gospel of Luke, the Holy Spirit revealed to the elderly and devout Simeon that he would not see death before he had seen the Savior. Simeon was at the temple when Joseph and Mary presented the infant Jesus and upon seeing the Messiah, Simeon exclaimed, “Lord, now let your servant depart in peace.”

Many visitors gazing at the Portal of Paradise ask, “Who’s the dog with the camera around its neck?” The simple answer is “Cooper,” but the backstory is more layered. While Simon was photographing Cooper’s owner, Jessica, for the figure of Esther, the black and white dog wandered into some of the shots. Simon opted to incorporate the dog’s likeness onto the stone. Coincidentally, at the same time photojournalist Martha Cooper was documenting Simon and Jean-Claude’s work on the portal. So, Simon decided to add a camera around Cooper’s neck as a nod to both Cooper the canine and Martha Cooper the photographer. 

Simon did not have to go far to find a suitable model for the face of Daniel. He found Daniel Alcide working in the Cathedral gift shop. As told in the Book of Daniel, Chapter 6, the faithful prophet Daniel was miraculously saved by God after being thrown into a lion’s den for defying a decree that forbade prayer to anyone but King Darius. Simon not only sketched Daniel Alcide but also had the young man sit atop the scaffolding so Simon could capture his likeness next to the stone he was carving.

The unusual shape of the Jonah carving provides several unusual stories and interpretations. 

Briefly, Jonah is the prophet who was swallowed by a giant whale and spit out three days later. Simon’s model for this carving came from the Cathedral’s Development office

The pointed oval shape comes from Simon’s repeated references to the overall “Sacred Geometry” of the Portal of Paradise. Here, the shape is created by taking two circles of equal diameters and overlaying them so their circumferences touch each other’s epicenters, thus creating the strong oval.

Early and medieval Christians read the story of Jonah’s three days inside the whale as a precursor of the resurrection of Jesus Christ after three days in the tomb. In Simon’s carving, Jonah is seen within an oval tomb-like enclosure and wrapped in linen cloth to symbolize his “death” while in the belly of the whale. This was later a popular symbol of resurrection during the Middle Ages.

We see Jonah emerging from the whale’s mouth, rendered here as the pointed oval. This shape, created by the Sacred Geometry of two intersecting arcs, was also known to ancient Christians as the ichthys symbol, or Jesus Fish. Ichthys is the Greek word for fish.

At one point during the portal project, money was tight, which could have put the project in jeopardy – until a chance conversation with Paula Jennings in the Cathedral’s Development office.

She approached several foundations for funding to keep the project going, caught the attention of the Gladys Brooks Foundation, and quickly wrote a grant proposal.

Shortly afterwards a check from the Brooks Foundation came in and Paula went to the work site to inform Simon and Jean-Claude. While Paula could not exactly hear what Simon and Jean-Claude were saying from high up on the scaffold, she remembers them pointing to the uncarved block of Jonah. “They had decided to put me in that statue,” she says. “I love it.”

Paula calls Jonah a “resurrection figure…very meaningful.” And, in a sense, Paula resurrected the program. 

Asked if the carving captured her true likeness, Paula demurs by saying that her “straight hair curled around her ears and little bangs” were accurate, adding that Simon’s gesture was “one of the nicest things that (ever) happened to me.”

With the new funds, Simon and Jean-Claude could continue working on their carvings with their audience of tourists and local people watching from below.

In his Cathedrals essay, Simon once remarked, “Our viewpoint of the street from the scaffolding is the best in the world, the pluralist collection of races because of Columbia University: the rich, the poor. There is a connection with every other cathedral in the world that is a pilgrimage site and a connection with medieval stories.”

Of his and Jean-Claude’s labor, Simon added, “So we hammer and scrape smooth, keep an eye out for beautiful girls, live and breathe this extraordinary life that stone gives us.”

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Sources:

• New York Times – FYI 3/9/1997
• New York Times – The City: Morningside Heights 6/29/1997
• Simon Verity “Cathedral” essay, undated
• Archives of the Episcopal Diocese of New York and Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine
• NY Observer June 4, 1997
• Country Life – Patriarchs that Live in Stone, March 11, 1999
• Simon Verity – Master Sculptor (1945-2024) – Divine Stone
• From John Angel to Simon Verity – Divine Stone
• John Angel, Sculptor – Divine Stone
• Marta Cooper photographs
• A Guide to the Sculptures – Nicole Di Paol
• Tom Fedorek’s Guide to the Portal of Paradise

A closer view of the often-overlooked work behind the major figures

(Senior Cathedral Guide Tom Fedoreck contributed to this piece)

Without a doubt, the elegant and elongated 8-foot-tall carvings of the major-rank figures form the centerpiece of Simon Verity’s Portal of Paradise at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine. But Simon, with Jean-Claude Marchionni, created a veritable garland of stories, some fantastic, some bizarre, that sits on capitals above and behind each major-rank figure to complete that character’s narrative.

We start with Melchizedek, the king of Salem, the first figure on the north side that also begins the chronological story of the portal.

Almost resting on Melchizedek’s shoulder is a dove tending to a nest with two eggs that is a symbol of the holy spirit of creation – “The spirit of God was brooding over the face of the waters.” (Genesis 1:2) The literal meaning of the Hebrew word translated as “brooding” is “to hover like a mother bird over her young.”  

Just above the nesting bird are six long-necked faces covered in foliage, almost like flower petals, and seemingly sprouting from stalks in the earth. Some are open-mouthed, as if taking in fresh air; some have their eyes closed, seemingly squinting in the sunlight. These are Green Men – ancient pagan symbols of fertility and rebirth. They often appear on English cathedrals as symbols of resurrection. There are at least two interpretations of Green Men – and Green Women – on the Cathedral’s unfinished southwest tower

The carvings of two women above the heads of the major-rank figures of Abraham and Sarah depict the same woman at two very different moments – Sarah. 

God’s covenant with Abraham promised that he would be “the father of a multitude of nations.” And, for Sarah, “I will bless her and moreover I will give you a son by her.” (Genesis.17:16)

The carving to the left is Sarah, laughing at the notion of an old woman, such as herself, bearing a child. Previously, Sarah had consented to her having her Egyptian maid, Hagar, bear a son, Ishmael, for Abraham. However, once her son Isaac was born, Sarah resented Ishmael and wanted him and Hagar exiled. This explains the carving to the right, which depicts Sarah, angrily pointing her finger as she casts out Hagar and Ishmael.

However, to fully understand the narrative, one needs to look carefully behind Abraham’s left shoulder where two small faces are assumed to be the infants Isaac and Ishamel. After Abraham reluctantly agrees to Sarah’s demand, Hagar and Ishamel nearly perish in the desert, as depicted above in the upper-rank carving.

The third figure on the north side is Jacob, the younger son of Isaac and Rebekah. Above Jacob’s head there is a ladder representing his dream where angels are going up and down a ladder between heaven and earth. He built a pillar of stone where he had the dream and called it Bethel, which means “house of God.” The ladder signifies the divine connection between God and the earthly realm, specifically Jacob’s family. 

Between the figures of Jacob and Moses, the wide mouth of the portal narrows as it nears the Great Bronze Doors. This pushes the carvings to a different angle, with the geometry and layout changing.

Three slender columns separate the last four major-rank figures. The columns were virtually encased by the raw limestone blocks for the major-rank figures. At the very top, the capitals for these columns met the uncarved jambs, practically creating one continuous surface of stone. Simon and Jean-Claude used that area for extraordinary carvings that literally create a bridge of carvings behind the major figures. 

The viewer sees a fluidity of carving that either moves a story forward or serves as a transitional point. On the first small capital (the top of one of the narrow columns), between Jacob and Moses, there is a transition – hands holding a pyramid. To the left, the palm trees of Jacob’s land of Bethel are visible and, to the right – moving closer to Moses’ figure — we see frogs, the second of 10 plagues inflicted on the Egyptians to convince Pharaoh to free the enslaved Israelites. “Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with frogs.” ( Exodus 8:1–4)

Next, moving closer to the major figure of Moses, we see the continuation of the drama of the Exodus.  A swirling pillar of smoke or fire appears which led the Israelites out of bondage. It is said the pillars guided the Israelites through the desert during their rushed departure from Egypt. The pillar of smoke provided a visible guide for the Israelites during the day, while the pillar of fire lit their way by night. Many faces, likely Egyptian soldiers, are barely visible as they are engulfed in the maelstrom.

Above the cyclone of fire and smoke a small figure, likely Moses, raises his staff to part the Red Sea. One carving seems to be an Egyptian soldier engulfed in the tsunami that ensued after the Israelites had made a safe passage on dry land across the Red Sea: “The waters returned and covered the chariots and the horsemen and all the host of Pharaoh that had followed them into the sea. Not so much as one of them remained.” (Exodus 14:28)

While the Egyptian soldiers all perish in the giant waves, the fate of the fleeing Israelites becomes clear in the next transition point. Simon’s interpretation of this moment is an example of his exceptional carving skills. Two figures sit somewhat securely on the next small capital (on the top of the slender column), receding waters visible behind them. We also see the extraordinary image of these characters stretching their arms to incredible elastic lengths to reach other Israelites — their arms also greatly extended towards their rescuers as they are pulled to safety.  

A three-part tableau unfolds above the heads of Elijah and Elisha.

A flock of birds believed to be ravens surrounds a small figure, Elijah, on a capital. Elijah lived during the reign of Ahab, a king of Israel, who worshipped the Canaanite gods Baal, a storm god, and Asherah, a mother goddess. Elijah rebuked Ahab and called down a famine and a drought on the land. Elijah then traveled into the wilderness to hide alongside a brook, where he survived on food delivered by ravens.

Tongues of flame appear above the major-rank carving of Elijah, recalling the story of the contest between Elijah and the prophets of Baal. Elijah tells the prophets of Baal, “you will call on the name of your god, and I will call on the name of the Lord, and the God who answers by fire, he is God.” The prophets of Baal call on their god to no avail. When Elijah called out to God, “the fire of the Lord fell, and consumed the burnt offering.” The miracle is followed by a massacre of the 450 prophets of Baal in attendance. (1 Kings 18:20-40).

The horses that appear closer to the head of Elisha (and perhaps the flames, as well) relate to the chariot of fire that takes Elijah to heaven in a whirlwind, a narrative also illustrated on the pedestal below carved by Jessica Aujero. (2 Kings 2:1-12).

There is a peculiar figure on the column between Elisha and Samuel – the back and buttocks of a man whose arms have no hands and whose head is upside down.

During a war with the Israelites the neighboring Philistines captured the Ark of the Covenant, carried it to Ashdod on the Mediterranean coast, and placed it next to the statue of Dagon in the temple devoted to his worship. The following morning, they found that Dagon had toppled over during the night. The Philistines righted the statue but the next day:  “Behold, Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the Lord, and the head of Dagon and both his hands were lying cut off upon the threshold, and only the trunk of Dagon was left to him.” (1 Samuel 5:3-4)

The battered carving of Dagon is held up on one side by a horse and on the other by a ghoulish hound. 

The last figure on the north side is Samuel and above his head are two figures, one holding his head in his hand, the other strumming a harp. They are Saul and David.

Samuel was called by God to anoint Saul as the first king of Israel, but Saul later proves himself unworthy of the throne. “I repent that I have made Saul king, for he has turned back from following me, and has not performed my commandments.” (1 Samuel 15:10)

Later, during Saul’s reign, God leads Samuel to anoint David as Saul’s successor. (The very next passage describes how Saul was tormented by “an evil spirit from the Lord.” The evil spirit manifests itself in episodes of depression and paranoia. Saul’s servants seek out a man with skill in playing the lyre and find David.  And whenever the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, David took his lyre and played it with his hand, so Saul was refreshed and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him. (1 Sam. 16:23)

Almost hidden on the last capital, to the right of  the major-rank figure of Samuel, is a child standing next to a box. The child is Samuel, son of Hannah and her husband, Elkanah. Hannah, unable to conceive a child because “the Lord had closed her womb.” (1 Sam. 1:6). While visiting Shiloh, where the Ark of Covenant was housed, Hannah made a vow that if God would grant her a son, she would “give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.” (1 Sam. 1:11).  God answers Hannah’s prayer and Hannah keeps her vow. The image in the portal relates to the calling of Samuel to be a prophet of the Lord, with the box being the Ark of the Covenant. 

A wide array of carvings, showing many different faces, line the south side of the portal above the major-rank figures.

Above the head of David, we see a sheep next to a lion and the head of a boy next to a sheep. This is a reference to the young David tending his father’s flock of sheep and using his slingshot to kill a lion that had come to ravage the flock.  The story is also a foreshadowing of David’s slaying of Goliath. From this incident, David persuades Saul to let him (David) meet the Philistine giant in one-on-one combat.

A pair of wild-looking creatures, their faces indistinct, seem to be caught in a swirl of clouds above the heads of Amos and Hosea. Their meaning has yet to be determined.

Four faces, seemingly with wings behind their heads, line the capital above Ezekiel. 

Ezekiel was known for his visions and prophesies, including that, Jerusalem would be captured and the Temple destroyed. One vision describes four creatures, each with the face of a human in front, a lion on the right, and ox on the left and an eagle on the back. They also had two sets of wings.

This same vision appears below in Jessica Aujero’s base carving of the four four-faced creatures. But on the capital carving, they could be linked to the four gospel writers – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

The capital carvings above the major-rank figure of Elizabeth tell of the life and death of her son, John the Baptist. The figure with outstretched arms is John preaching and likely baptizing as well, since he is dressed only in a loincloth. The chains represent his imprisonment, as does the image of the man behind bars, and the head on the platter, the manner of his execution.  It is unclear whom the mournful female face represents. 

The last carving, above the major figure of John the Baptist, shows a lamb with its forelegs bound for sacrifice. A hand cradles the lamb as well as a dove. Here, it represents the Holy Spirit that hovered over Jesus in the form of a dove after John baptized him. When John lays eyes on Jesus for the first time, he cries, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). The sacrificial lamb has been a fundamental symbol of Jesus since ancient times. As for the hand, it is the hand of God the Creator. Hence, John stands beneath symbols of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit — the Trinity.

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Simon Verity as a Medieval Image Maker

For more than five years now, “I’ve been carving a necklace of prophets around the Cathedral’s throat, slowly, painfully, intuitively,” said Master Carver Simon Verity during a November 1993 lecture titled Work in Progress. “I’m searching out the wellsprings that gave life to the work of a medieval image maker. The opportunity to carve a whole wall of statues was unique. There is nothing like it going on in Europe.”

During this presentation, Simon outlined his process in carving the major-rank figures of the Portal of Paradise at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, which he was tirelessly working on at that time. Simon’s complete manuscript was recently uncovered in the Cathedral archives and included a number of drawings; some segments are presented below. 

“Dean (James Parks) Morton explained to me the significance of the ‘Easter Doorway.’ Patriarchs and matriarchs were to be carved to act as a procession to lead us into the interior, where we are to be transformed and then we go out through the side doors as martyrs, priests, doctors, whatever we are called to be,” Simon continued.

Simon viewed the task – to carve 16 major figures on 12 eight-foot-tall limestone jambs — as that of a “craftsman to clothe the iconography in form. The stem is the right ordering of the form through geometry. The fruit is a legible piece of work. If the work is true, it will be good, it will be beautiful,” he said during his talk.

“An icon painter writes his icon. The actual word, iconographer means ‘image writer,’” Simon explained. “And his work must be legible to whoever has to read it…The iconographer’s job is to clearly display the icon, which is the art itself…My work as a craftsman is to take the iconography given to me by the priests and clothe them in form.”

This major work gracing the west façade of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine was not Dean Morton’s first choice for a carving project.

In the late 1980s, the Dean created a limited international competition to find a sculptor to create and install the figures for the Preachers’ Portal on the porch of the southwest tower. The task involved carving the eight figures in a workshop, then installing the finished carvings in the empty niches on the porch. The tower — St. Paul’s Tower– was under construction and the focus of the Stoneyard Institute at that time.

In April of 1988, Simon visited the Cathedral and told Dean Morton that he would instead carve the figures at the central portal – which leads to the Great Bronze Doors. This made the project immensely more visible. Unlike the Preachers’ Portal, where the jamb stones could be carved in a studio and placed into the proper slots, the central portal blocks had been set at the portal in the late 1930’s and would have to be carved in situ – in place. 

“Putting in the uncarved blocks of stone like this was a mistake made by the architect (Ralph Adams Cram’s 1925 design), who thought that was how they did it in Chartres,” Simon wrote in an essay.

There were a total of 12 limestone blocks, each eight-feet tall, for the major-rank figures. The designated figures from the Old and New Testament were specified in the original plan, which Dean Morton described as “all male and unimaginative.” So, he assembled a group of religious theologians, including the Rev. Minka Sprague, who was a professor at New York Theological Seminary and a Deacon at the Cathedral, and Rabbi José Rolando Matalon, Senior Rabbi and Rosh Kehillah (Head of the Community) at B’nai Jeshurun in New York City, to update the list. Ultimately, there were more names than there were blocks. Simon would have to incorporate two figures on several of the jambs. 

Simon also wanted this significant undertaking to blend with other architectural elements of the Cathedral.

He continued his lecture: “With the geometry, I have recently been helped by the master (geometer) Michael Schneider. With him, I was able to resolve connections between the images to be carved and the architecture. The space taken by the statues in elevation is expressed geometrically in two vertical intersecting circles, all together symbolizing the Trinity. The floor plan of the Western doorway reveals intersecting octagons. So we can tie this symbol of the Trinity to the floor plan which relates to humanity and resurrection.”

Michael S. Schneider is an educator and author who wrote A Beginner’s Guide to Constructing the Universe: Mathematical Archetypes of Nature, Art, and Science and Mathematical Ideas for Artists Workbook. Schneider tells us, “he (Simon) organized the individual sculptures harmoniously with each other and with the building and space before it.”

“From points on the circumference of the circles on the wall, I can find departure points for my silhouettes that will need to be read from across the street,” Simon said. “By taking string lines from the octagons, I can mark out my main planes in plan. The link will be a sound harmonic that will give me the main shadows and mid distance.”

“The prophets are already in heaven, so they are draped in heavenly robes. This links them to the architecture with the shadows echoing the mouldings. As I work, the geometry unfolds like a flower, in plan, as a means of elevation,” Simon added to his lecture.

Also imbedded in the geometry is subtle body positioning of the figures and the direction of their gaze.  Simon carved the eyes of each sculpted figure to follow the visitor up the stairs in their sequence–each looking at a key point in the geometry, then passing us to the next set of eyes, all watching us enter each step from the street up to the central front doors and through the Great Bronze Doors.

According to Cathedral docent Tom Fedorek, “an intriguing aspect of the Portal of Paradise is how Simon Verity uses gaze to delineate relationships among the figures. The figures appear on the portal in chronological order from the outer figure on the north side (Melchizedek) to the outer figure on the south side (John the Baptist).”

This could explain why Simon’s first major carving was that of Melchizedek — so he could set a line of sight and connection to other figures carved later. Even though they are on diagonally opposite ends of the portal, two kings, Melchizedek, first king of Jerusalem, and David, its greatest king, look at one another.

Conversely, a recently contributed photo indicates that the first figure Simon carved on the south side was that of David.

David’s body is angled so that his gaze falls on his predecessor, Melchizedek, who returns David’s gaze. Furthermore, directly across from David, Samuel’s gaze rests on David. Samuel, the last and greatest of the judges and the first of the great prophets since Moses, recognized David as a future king and anointed him.

We see a different and equally dramatic use of gaze on the figure of John the Baptist – the outermost carving on the south side of the portal.

He is the one figure not looking at any of the other figures in the portal composition. Rather, he looks out at the city and incoming worshippers because, as he said of himself: “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Make straight the way of the Lord.” (John 1:23). 

There is one more notable feature about this figure – Simon carved the likeness of John the Baptist based on a homeless man who frequented the Cathedral at that time.

There is a connection, perhaps a shared gaze, between two of the female portal characters added by Dean Morton and his committee. It revolves around two mothers who conceived children in old age. Significantly, Sarah and Elizabeth are positioned directly across from one another in the portal. Sarah, on the north side regards Elizabeth, linked by the miraculous births of their sons, Isaac and John. Sarah, here, represents the Old Testament while Elizabeth appears in the New Testament Gospel of Luke.

While Simon carved the vast majority of the major-rank figures, he received help from a few other carvers.

Jean-Claude Marchionni, who was working on outside projects and restorations for Cathedral Stoneworks, joined Simon in 1993. In his lecture, Simon said of Jean-Claude, “I have been so helped by a young French stonecutter, Jean-Claude, who brings his own order and clarity, so that we work as (a) focused team.”

Simon also acknowledged the work of the apprentices as “young American carvers from the (stone) yard (who) poured out their passion and their pioneering spirit, only held in check by the architectural frame and the theology they served.”

Sebastien Casamayor, part of an exchange program with the Cathedral of St. Jean Baptiste in Lyon, France, carved parts of the major-rank figures. Simon once remarked that Sebastien “had thick velvet pants that the dust fell from at the end of the day, with a pocket to hold a bottle of wine – a standard feature in Dijon.”

Sebastien, according to a Cathedral guide to the portal, carved a significant element on the figure of David – the lyre he is holding. In Simon’s carving, David wears a crown and holds a scepter in his left hand, signifying his kingship. His right hand rests on the elongated instrument, which represents joy and divine connection. Many of the ancient hymns known as the Psalms are attributed to David. 

Patrick Berthaud, another French-trained carver, who spent seven months at the Cathedral, also assisted Simon on the portal when time allowed.

Of all the carvings of the major-rank figures, the face of Moses is the most unusual. His half-covered face refers to a passage in Exodus after Moses returned from Mount Sinai.

The same Cathedral guide indicates that apprentice Dennis Reed carved the head of Moses – or at least, part of it.

The importance of gaze also comes to play here – Moses looks away from the Cathedral because he never reached the Promised Land.

After Moses led the Israelites through the wilderness, he had an encounter with God on Mount Sinai. When Moses came down from the Mount with the two tablets of the testimony in his hand, he did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. “And, when Aaron and all the people of Israel saw Moses, behold the skin of his face shone and they were afraid to come hear him … And when Moses finished speaking with them, he put a veil on his face.” (Exodus 34:29-30,33).

Two symbols on specific figures literally create Simon’s “necklace” around the entire portal composition. On his first carving on the north side, Melchizedek holds in his hand a chalice like those used for communion wine. Beneath his feet, two hands hold the consecrated bread – a Host.

Across from Melchizedek, on the south side, John the Baptist holds a shell, an ancient symbol of fertility and life. To this day, a shell is often used to administer the water of baptism. John is the final major-rank figure of the Portal of Paradise.

The shell in John’s hand signifies baptism, the chalice in Melchizedek’s, the Eucharist.

So, as you step into the cathedral’s central entryway, you are flanked by symbols of the two great Christian sacraments that are celebrated within the cathedral.

Later in his presentation, Simon said, “As I go down my journey, I think about the traditional craftsman. His work is all connected with gods and heroes so it belongs on temples and churches. His workplace, however humble, is his altar. It is but a different form of priesthood. His work is sacred and he blesses his tools before each day’s work.”

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Sources:

• Martha Cooper photographs
• Ivan Myjer photographs
• Amy Brier photographs
• Mary Bloom photographs
• Patrick Berthaud photographs
• Archives of the Episcopal Diocese of New York and Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine
• A Guide to the Sculptures – Nicole Di Paoli
• Tom Fedorek’s Guide to the Portal of Paradise
• Simon Verity – Master Sculptor (1945-2024) – Divine Stone
• Cathedral Newsletter, Summer 1994, Vol 8, Number 1
• Country Life – Patriarchs the Live Stone, March 11, 1999

(Robert F. Rodriguez has gathered memories of Nelson from family and colleagues from the stoneyard. – RM)

I had the most amazing dad. I remember spending days with my Dad at the Stoneyard when I was a child. Some of the best memories watching what my dad loved to do. He loved the Stoneyard and everyone he worked with.

– Gloria Otero

“I remember Nelson particularly for being immediately friendly when we met. 

“When he introduced himself he explained his role at the yard and I could tell he was proud of the work he was doing. I could also tell from this first impression that he was a determined and resolute guy.  

“He was a prominent, respected and industrious member of the stone yard crew, and the only one to fully master the idiosyncrasies of the planer, an antiquated, deafening beast of a machine used for milling long sections of stone moldings. This job required a lot of strength and the planer was a potentially very dangerous machine to operate. Not everyone’s choice of work but Nelson was clearly equal to the task and rose to the challenge taking a great deal of pride in his accomplishments. His work can easily be seen today in the jambs, mullions, piers and cluster columns of the South Tower.

“Nelson was never reluctant, in fact relished taking on demanding and physically challenging assignments. This included scaffolding projects requiring a lot of strength and the ability to work at height, again not everyone’s choice but he never complained or showed any signs of apprehension.

“His contribution to the stone yard and tower was tremendous. I am very grateful to have known him and greatly saddened by his untimely passing.”  – Stephen Boyle

“I didn’t have the pleasure of working with Nelson, but as a fellow Stone Mason, I am deeply saddened for his passing. I send condolences, from me and my children. In my heart, I feel that he is in that Great Stone Yard in heaven, with our Brothers and Sisters, Masons, designing our castle.” – Carol Hazel

“It saddens my heart today to know that a great family man, a good friend and a great Craftsman passed away. Back in October ‘91 was the first time I met Nelson. He was a big chap. Very quiet and controlled. He very kindly took me aside and explained the way the Cathedral worked and New York City as I was only 23 and from the countryside in England. Hill Street Blues TV show was all I knew. But, Nelson was grateful that I had come to the Cathedral and told me “I got your back.” He probably had something to do with why I stayed here in the US. Thank you Nelson and God bless his family.” – Chris Pascoe

Chris recalls a time when his car was parked outside the Cathedral, all set for a ski trip. When Chris came back to the car a while later, he saw that his car was broken into and all his equipment stolen. He said something to Nelson who disappeared for a while and came back an hour later with almost all of Chris’s gear. Nelson clearly found the unfortunate guys who had broken into Chris’s car.

“Nelson was a kid from the neighborhood, growing up on W. 94 St and Amsterdam Ave – about a mile from the Cathedral that would be his home for over a dozen years – from 1980 to 1994.
I remember him as diligent and precise in his work. As others have said – no one touched Nelson’s planer – a cantankerous, sometimes obstinate machine that only he could tame. There were times when I would see Nelson and Cathedral mechanic Barney Norman climbing all over the arms, tightening and adjusting belts and flywheels. And when he had that planer fine-tuned, he could trim and shape a long block of limestone in a flash.” – Robert F. Rodriguez

“In the stoneyard, newcomers were usually assigned to the saws, a common starting point before moving on to training as a stone cutter, banker mason. Nelson became the first planer operator—that beast of a machine, found abandoned near the quarry and then renovated. An English operator came to train Nelson and planned to stay for two to three weeks. By the end of the first week, Nelson had it all figured out, and his trainer left. Nelson was the mechanical genius of the stoneyard and owned the giant planer. He broke the tradition of moving from the machines to the stone cutter’s area. Jose Tapia encouraged Nelson to try his hand at stonecutting and tutored him in the process. Nelson told me it just didn’t do for him what working the giant planer did. He would operate that machine with pride for many years.” – Roger Murphy

Nelson was always so helpful at the stoneyard. Nelson knew that Angel had a talent for drawing and wanted something special for his daughter’s bedroom so he asked Angel if he could paint The Little Mermaid on his daughter Gloria’s bedroom wall. Nelson was so excited to have it done for her. – Angel Escobar

“Nelson was the planer operator. I can’t remember anyone else taking on the beast…with the exception of Alan. The machine was old and unruly, and could be downright violent. Once it backed up and punched through the corrugated metal wall giving the hotdog man on the street side quite a scare. The planer was located in the northwest corner of the machine shop. Nelson’s domain.

“Nelson was very industrious, and an aggressive entrepreneur. While most of us were struggling to pay rent, Nelson owned at least one tenement building before the age of thirty. He always had multiple projects in the works. He once asked me if there were any good junk shops up in New England. I told him there were many, and asked if there was something in particular that he was looking for. Without missing a beat he reeled out that he needed a dozen metal work tables and a 100 sewing machines. I guess I looked stunned. He explained that his wife was moving into fashion design and that he needed as many sewing machines as he could lay his hands on.

“Another time he asked where he could buy a fleet of used trucks. Not one or two…a fleet. I think he wanted to start a moving company. He didn’t do anything in half measures. And yet another time he caught me and Jeep on the street asking if we could help him unload a truck load of old window frames and toilets. He was always working on old buildings.

“He was also into physical fitness. I remember him hanging by one leg from the metal staircase outside the machine shop doing air sit-ups. I’d never seen that before. He would also have us do competitions to see who could carry the most bricks pinned between our forearms – no easy feat. He also gave out instructions on what to do in a street fight. I’ll leave out the details, but I remember it verbatim.” – Joseph Kincannon

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(This is an encore post from five years ago, December 20, 2020, that seemed appropriate to repeat. Happy Holidays to all from Divine Stone.)

In 1989, Dean Morton asked D’Ellis “Jeep” Kincannon to create an architectural drawing of the Tower of St. Paul. This was the tower being constructed and a symbol of the working stoneyard. Parts of individual construction drawings, stitched together, formed the entire new drawing. The result was one complete drawing of the west face of the southwest tower, to scale, with every stone numbered. It also shows the construction zones A (lowest) through K (highest) and FP, from elevation 239’3″ to 393’0″. Dean Morton sent the drawing out as Merry Christmas from the Dean. Signed at the bottom right.

The “card” must have amazed the recipients. It measured three feet wide and eight feet long. The detail and the precise joining of different drawings made for a beautiful presentation. “Jeep” Kincannon was justifiably proud of his work.

A Symbol of Pride and Love

The Dean was ever so proud of the stoneyard and the workers which is probably why he wanted to send this impressive statement to friends and colleagues. It was symbolic in many ways. A story he once told involved a question from one man to another. The question asked was “What do you give a poor man?” The answer:

You give him a dollar for bread, and another one for a flower.

Dean Morton knew the spiritual impact of the Cathedral building program on the community. At a time when the neighborhood was struggling in so many ways, some thought that all funds should be directed to social programs. In a way, the stoneyard was his flower to the community.

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• Thanks to Stephen Boyle for sharing his Christmas card with us and to Pamela Morton for the Dean’s photo.