The Singing Angels of Daroca

Regardless of the great historical, artistic, and cultural heritage that characterizes a city as interesting as Daroca, it would be unforgivable to continue walking without taking a look and commenting, even in passing and drawing on the fascination that always accompanies viewing a commendable work of art, on those curious Gothic paintings that decorate the head of the Saint Michael church. This church, possibly one of the oldest in the city, dates back to the 12th century, although its construction was completed well into the 14th century and its structure has been irrevocably altered by later additions and modifications. In 1919, some important pieces were demolished, such as the tower lantern and even an old brick Mudejar tower. A fate comparable to that suffered by the city's various religious buildings throughout its history.

Likewise, the beautiful Gothic paintings, dating from the 14th century, that decorate its apse or chancel are meritoriously preserved and allow us to follow the trail of a mysterious Master, who left the imprint of his skill in some surrounding villages. But my intention is not to play the historical detective—at least not in this post—but rather to allow myself to be carried away, on the contrary, by the fascination that comes with observing a harmonious artistic result, of remarkable beauty, and of course, not without curiosity. Because here, in reality, what the artist exhibited is not without unexpected and suspicious intentions—in my opinion, of course. If we take into account that the main theme revolves around a figure, the Virgin Mary, who practically went unnoticed, it could be said that until well into the Late Middle Ages, when, surely with the hidden intention of masking something much older, the Cistercians and Templars were among the main promoters of her cult.

In this respect, and possibly unique in its genre due to its location and theme, this representation of the Coronation of the Virgin Mary seems more typical, moreover, of that symbolically heavenly summit that usually characterizes most altarpieces, where, curiously, the intention of placing the crown on Mary's forehead by the figures of the Father and the Son is usually observed, which is only seen completed in some cases. The present representation, although divided into several parts, shows in its central part the Coronation of Mary, completed, since she already has the crown on her forehead, although the figure is omitted; we must assume it is of God the Son.

The upper part of the scene, representative of her heavenly habitat, displays three groups of angels, the most immediately striking of which are the group of angels carrying a variety of musical instruments, exquisitely staged, while the others imbue the scene with the mystery of the light of the candles and the sublime perfume—familiar to every pilgrim—of the censers. The lower part, which could well be defined as earthly, represents the apostles. They all have their names painted above the halo surrounding their heads, and they all display their attributes. But there is one significant detail that gives me pause, and I'll explain it so everyone can draw their own conclusions. They all wear colorful, but plain, garments. All except one: Bartolomeus. That is, Saint Bartholomew, a saint to whom the Templars had a special fondness, and whose garments bear numerous representations of a cruciform and solar symbol par excellence: the swastika. But at the same time, this symbol also has a very special uniqueness, since it is a cross, in the shape of a hammer—the famous hammer of the Norse god Thor—with counterclockwise connotations; in other words, its arms rotate counterclockwise. The relationship between the symbol and the figure could not be closer, so we can say that there is, at the very least, a significant mystery here. A mystery and a sublime concert, to which I invite all those who wish to experience Daroca and its singing angels.

NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property and are therefore subject to my copyright.