The Saints Go Marching In: Collectible Religious Figurines

Smack Dab In The Middle: Design Trends Of The Mid-20th Century

March 16, 2015

What's that? Your garden's overrun with caterpillars? Who ya gonna call? Why, St. Magnus of Fussen, of course! In the litany of heavenly helpers, Magnus is listed as the patron saint of "Caterpillars, protection against." Skiers have a patron saint (Bernard of Montjoux); So do skaters (Lidwina). And the patron saint of swans is Hugh of Lincoln (who knew swans even needed a patron saint?).
From "A" ("Abdominal pains:" Saint Erasmus) to "Z" ("Zoos:" Saint Francis of Assisi, pretty much a given), there are patron saints for practically every activity and malady imaginable. No matter how obscure the profession (Jugglers: Saint Julian the Hospitaller), saints are the otherworldly equivalent of "911."
The connection of a particular saint to a particular cause often proves a head-scratcher. Take Clare of Assisi. Clare is the patron saint of television, but her existence predated TV by centuries. The rationale: one Christmas Eve, a bedridden Clare was forced to miss Midnight Mass. Thanks to divine intervention, however, she saw and heard the entire service, just as if she were in actual physical attendance. And no station breaks, either.
Now, you'd think a patron saint would be an easy thing to remember. But just to make life simpler, three-dimensional forget-me-nots were devised in the form of religious figurines. Generally fashioned of ceramic and particularly popular during the mid-20th century, these figurines kept favorite saints close at hand, and close to the heart.
In the world of religious figurines, Saint Francis of Assisi easily wins his halo. During the 1940s and '50s, almost every ceramist trying his or her hand at religious figurines gave a go at interpreting the beloved champion of animals. Of course, even with a saint as popular as Saint Francis, the market is at some point exhausted. That's why figurine-makers soon expanded the religious horizon beyond patron saints, churning out renditions of related worthies, from Madonnas and angels to nuns and choirboys.
Treasured on an equally personal, but culturally divergent level, are the religious figurines known as Santos. These handcrafted wooden depictions of saints originated in Spain, making their way westward with the colonization of the New World. Far from home, early Spanish settlers in Latin America, the Caribbean, and the Philippines called on innate talents to create statuettes destined to grace homes and churches.
The most readily available Santos figurines are mannequins, carved in full. There are also Santos busts; Santos cages (an attached metal cage below the carved bust is dressed in fabric clothing); and "articulated mannequins," with movable arms and legs. A detallado Santos is fully carved, completely painted, and needs no additional ornamentation, other than the optional addition of metal wings or halo.
The native woods used for carved Santos of the 19th and early 20th centuries were not chosen for their durability; they were simply what was handy to local artisans. Paints were a mix of minerals and vegetable dyes, reapplied over the years as the initial coats faded. With the passage of time, wood has split, and paint has chipped. Santos hands are a particular casualty of age. Separately carved, and inserted with wooden pegs, the hands often lost their grip as the openings in the wood expanded. But even a de-limbed, surface-ravaged Santos figurine of this era is a valuable commodity; examples fetch at least several hundred dollars at auction.
From past to present, generations have called on the message of strength personal religious objects represent. During World War I, soldiers even used spent bullet casings as repositories for the tiniest of tiny religious figurines. They did so for inspiration for comfort, and for remembrance.
The next time you're at a yard sale and find yourself face-to-face with a flock of vintage religious figurines, why not pick out a favorite? Maybe a patron saint. How about that St. Magnus of Fussen? I hear he's pretty handy around caterpillars.
Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including "Postwar Pop," a collection of his columns. He's partial to Saint Francis de Sales (patron saint of authors). Please address inquiries to donaldbrian@msn.com.
Photos by Donald-Brian Johnson, except as noted.

Donald-Brian Johnson

Donald-Brian Johnson

Donald-Brian Johnson is a nationwide columnist, and the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles. His most recent, "Postwar Pop," is a collection of his columns.

 

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