The first chapter of Pseudo-Dionysius’s The Celestial Hierarchy highlights the importance of the sensible realm in directing the human soul towards its ultimate end of union with the super-intelligible source of existence. As it will be demonstrated, this account of the procession and return of divine light is reflected in I. M. Pei’s pyramids of the Louvre Museum, which, by imitating this light’s beauty and progression, allow the viewer to metaphysically enter into the order of divine reality as they physically enter into the museum itself.
Pseudo-Dionysius begins his explication of the celestial hierarchy by outlining a philosophy of light through which the link between the human and the divine, as well as the material means allowing the two to achieve greater unity, becomes clear. A passage comprising sections 120B to 124A outlines the cycle undertaken by metaphysical light as it proceeds from its source to the human soul and subsequently returns upwards through the beauty it inspires in matter. Within the reflected beauty of material objects dwell the echoes of a super-intelligible being, and through contemplation of its earthly instances and imitations, the human soul may be directed towards this source of light, from which all existence proceeds, and to which all existence must return. Pseudo-Dionysius calls this source the “Father of light,” and identifies the light as Jesus himself, who shows mankind the path to the Father.1 This light is freely given so that it can freely give of itself, continuing to generate a process of participation in the lesser objects it illuminates. By not only reaching down to the sensible realm but also guiding it back upwards, this light seeks to unite all being with the source of its existence: the Father who is “the seat of [all] intelligibility.”2
In response to this generous “outpouring of illumination,” mankind must give of itself by turning from the visible to the invisible order of reality, aligning itself as closely as possible with the mandates of scripture and the hierarchies of divine beings.3 Such an ascent cannot be accomplished by the human soul on its own, but only through the grace of the light which “grants to creatures the power to rise up, so far as they may, toward itself and unifies them by way of its own simplified unity.”4 At the same time, however, these divine rays have a super-intelligible nature beyond any mortal being’s capacity to apprehend, and thus cannot directly enlighten the human soul; they must instead be communicated through an alternative means.
In 121C, Pseudo-Dionysius identifies this means as matter itself, which acts as a sacred veil shrouding transcendent truth to better encounter man’s sensible nature.5 These material works capture divine light in a manner understandable by mankind, directing attention first to their lesser, imitative beauty, and then ultimately to that source of all beauty to which the soul is destined to return. Having derived its existence and meaning from this same source, the material world cannot help but echo its origin, and in the beauty of all earthly objects is reflected “an invisible loveliness” from above.6 Through their imperfect, yet essential participation in the light of the Father, material objects direct the mortal soul towards its proper end of ultimate unity with the one super-intelligible source.
The implications of such a philosophy for art are manifold. In partaking of light’s cycle of procession and return, art may not only participate in, but also come to symbolize the divine order of reality. This order, according to John Scottus Eriugena, occurs as “God, who is beyond being and non-being, through a process of self-articulation, procession, or ‘self-creation,’ proceeds into the light of being.”7 Thus, by providing the material vessels for this light’s indwelling, artistic works can articulate divinity itself—albeit imperfectly—and reveal pieces of the Father’s nature that would otherwise remain inaccessible to the mortal intellect. In this way, art serves as a medium between the human and divine intellects, tempering the illumination of the source so as not to blind the mortal vision that apprehends it. This essential mediation is accomplished in multiple senses by I. M. Pei’s glass pyramids, and gives enhanced meaning to both the art itself and to the soul that looks beyond it.
Designed by the American architect in 1989, the Louvre’s glass pyramids embody the concepts conveyed by Pseudo-Dionysius’s philosophy of light in two ways: first, by directing the human gaze to the source through its own artistic merits, and second, by containing within itself the immanent image of light’s transcendent process.8 This first capacity, latent within all artistic works, is easily demonstrated. The traditional understanding of beauty, philosopher Crispin Sartwell notes, involves the “arrangement of integral parts into a coherent whole, according to proportion, harmony, symmetry, and similar notions.”9 The architecture of the glass pyramids undoubtedly fulfills these conditions, first by general virtue of participating as a part within the Father’s whole existence, and second by the particular virtues of its composition. Constructed to match the proportions of The Great Pyramid of Giza, the Louvre’s main pyramid contains hundreds of individual glass panes, each cut into precisely symmetrical diamonds and triangles and uni ed by steel to comprise a complete structure.10 The placement of this pyramid at the museum’s entrance is balanced both horizontally (by three smaller pyramids illuminating the different wings of the building) and vertically (by the inverted pyramid descending into The Carrousel towards the smaller opaque pyramid that rises to meet it). Crafted with careful attention to the harmony between their own parts and within the larger whole of the museum, the Louvre’s pyramids can rightly be said to reflect the perfect transcendent beauty with which Pseudo-Dionysius’s philosophy is concerned.
The significance of this structure for a philosophy of light, however, goes beyond its mere artistic quality. Through application of this philosophy as outlined above, the Louvre’s pyramids can be interpreted as a visible image of an invisible truth, in which each intelligible component of Pseudo-Dionysius’s teaching finds a material counterpart in the architecture. As previously established, the procession and return of metaphysical light between the human and the divine intellect is made possible through the medium of material art. These abstract concepts find their material equivalents in the components of the museum’s entrance, where the illumination and reflection of physical light between the sun and human vision is made possible through the design of this particular artwork. As the physical light proceeds from its source, it travels through the artwork of the pyramids to illuminate human sight and subsequently draws this sight back upwards, first to an appreciation of the artwork itself, and then to a greater understanding of the outside light through which it gains its beauty.
This imitation of light’s super-intelligible progression is most clearly observed in the inverted pyramid, where illuminating light from the upper pyramid and opaque matter from that below both reach toward each other in pursuit of a more perfect unity. Regardless of whether the artist was aware of the parallels between his work and that of Pseudo-Dionysius, his art operates within the framework of the latter, since according to his philosophy, no beauty can exist independent of the divine source of beauty. This additional layer of meaning—in which the cycle of procession and return of metaphysical light is participated in by the same piece of artwork that captures its likeness—only enhances the piece’s efficacy as a sensible representation of super-intelligible truth.
In this way, the architecture of this multifaceted entrance provides the immaterial soul entry into deeper contemplation of the source of all art, while simultaneously guiding the material body towards an immense collection of works that are themselves further contemplations of this same uni ed source. Through such contemplation, the mortal soul can approach its ultimate end, lifting “up through the perceptual to the conceptual, from sacred shapes and symbols to the simple peaks of the hierarchies of heaven.”11 Thus do the Louvre pyramids, through their physical and metaphysical participation in the procession and return of Pseudo-Dionysius’s philosophy of light, lead those who experience their beauty towards the ultimate experience of beauty’s divine source.
