Various cutting and processing techniques can make pure quartz shine like diamonds, and can turn it into a perfect magnifying glass or an object of optical deception. When it interacts with light, pure quartz’s special characteristics come into effect: The light is fragmented, reflected, and captured within the crystal. Mankind’s relationship with pure quartz dates back to the earliest days of human history, and has been shaped by a wide range of sensory and – due to the magical and divine qualities ascribed to it – supernatural experiences. This can be seen in the selection of pure quartz objects on display at the Museum Schnütgen.
We have ascribed special protective and healing powers to pure quartz since ancient times. It’s thus no surprise that it was often used to make amulets that were worn to prevent all manner of dangers. Amulets like this one shown here from 1500, making the fig sign with the hand, were considered especially effective. This obscene and insulting gesture (due to its reminiscence of sexual intercourse) was seen in the Late Middle Ages as a strong deterrent against curses, hexes, and the evil eye. As everyday life was shaped by many fears, a small, heart-shaped pure quartz pendant known as an “anti-fright charm” protected expectant mothers against fright. It was believed that fright could cause deformities in the unborn child. There are also some preserved specimens of spheres made of pure quartz that were held in the hand in hot weather or to reduce fevers. Starting in the 14th century, they were increasingly owned by royalty and churches. The cooling sphere from Berlin also shows that these objects were high-end accessories for people of higher station: The finely cut sphere is encased in silver and was stored in a skilfully made leather case or taken on journeys. The “magic belt” that may have been kept and used by generations of a Castilian family was supposed to ward of demonic threats, diseases, or even death. This piece, originating in the space between Christian faith and superstition, is richly decorated with coins and amulets, including multiple fig signs. In the middle of a chain of rosary beads is a large crystal skull. It serves as a memento mori (“remember that you will die”), also illustrated by a two-sided head on the rosary made of black jet. Was the cold touch of the crystal skull perhaps supposed to serve as a sensory reminder of mortality?
The most important characteristic of pure quartz is without doubt its transparency. As of the 11th century, pure quartz and relics become closely intertwined, which shaped art production as a whole in the Middle Ages on a grand scale: Long before transparent glass could be produced, sophisticated reliquaries were made in all manner of shapes with pure quartz that protected the precious remains of the saints therein while also making it possible to see them. By interacting with light and movement, such as in processions and in the liturgy, the reliquaries could become bodies of light that embodied Heaven and the power of the saints while indulging the senses. Arm reliquaries, as an extended arm of the saints, were used to give blessings in the liturgy or to heal the sick. One could imagine while touching the arm reliquary that one is making contact with the exact same location under which relics were once kept beneath the flat pure quartz.
Some reliquaries, such as the reliquary cart from Orléans, appear to have developed from the crystal inside. A large, bulbous cabochon that bulges from the bottom of the frame once held the relics. But how could believers in the Middle Ages see them? Was the small cart sometimes suspended above the altar, or could one see inside through the flat window on top? There are many indications that these large cabochons, of which only six have been preserved, were made in Cologne's pure quartz cutting workshop that caused a sensation upon being discovered around the cathedral a few years ago. The specimen from Copenhagen shows that such a big cabochon has a magnifying effect and was used by the artists to stage paintings as well.
This is quite unlike the three round, lens-shaped pieces of pure quartz at Barbara’s reliquary from St. Ursula in Cologne. The angel figures presenting the crystals like precious gems invite you to look inside. Yet the interior view is distorted and only possible in the optic axis, where what is being seen is flipped upside-down. Only the pure quartz plate on the fourth side of the reliquary provides an unimpeded view of the relics. Looking into a not entirely transparent pure quartz sphere may seem odd in an age when digital, zoomable photos seem to make everything possible and every detail can be observed. What’s the point of the constant visibility and visualisation of all sorts of content?