From carvings to cartoons: Depictions of the divine in the world of visual arts

Religion. Believe in it or not, it's always been a part of daily existence. And it's always been a presence in the world of art. From the cave paintings, often thought to refer to ancient animal gods, to Renaissance altarpieces, from "Paradise Lost" to "Jesus Christ Superstar," religious beliefs have always been reflected in art. Sometimes artists express their own faith and piety through their work and sometimes they're just looking for a good, resonant story, but whatever the reason, every age has its own artistic impression of divinity.

Currently, audiences have the opportunity to compare artistic interpretations of religion from two very different ages. "Tilman Riemenschneider: Master Sculptor of the Late Middle Ages," on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art through May 14, is an exhibition of mostly religious carvings dating from the late 15th and early 16th centuries.

Providing a 21st century view of religion is NBC's new prime-time cartoon, "God, the Devil and Bob," which airs Tues. nights at 8:30 p.m. When seen in conjunction, these two disparate examples of religion-themed art show the changing attitudes towards spirituality and belief throughout history.

Tilman Riemenschneider was a German sculptor, who worked with both wood and stone. The Met's exhibition is the first international presentation of his work, and includes pieces from museums, churches and private collections around the world. Works by some of Riemenschneider's influences and contemporaries are also on display, so that the viewer can understand Riemenschneider's sculpture in context.

The beautiful and lifelike sculptures are of many different subjects, but most depict saints and biblical figures. They range in size from huge church altarpieces to tiny private devotional statues. Many of the statues are unpainted, left in their natural wood or stone color. Although some may have originally been polychromatic and have since been stripped, Riemenschneider was one of the first sculptors to intentionally leave his sculptures unpainted.

The contrast of the painted and unpainted sculptures, both displayed in this exhibition, allows the viewer to appreciate the enormity of this artistic decision. In contrast with the bright, almost garish, detail of the painting, the plain sculptures seem somewhat bare. But the glowing limewood surfaces take on the color and texture of flesh, due to the intricate mastery of Riemenschneider's carving. Thus the unpainted statues seem almost more real than those that are tinted to reflect real flesh tone.

The depiction of religious subject matter in Riemenschneider's work is intensely personal. The many sculptures of the Virgin and Child display a tender relationship between the two, depicting the child laughing and playing with his toes or his mother's scarf. The Virgin's wistful expression as she observes her child reflects her knowledge of his eventual fate. The various saints portrayed throughout the show are also naturalistic, seeming as if they could step down off their pedestals and confront the viewer at any moment.

Riemenschneider's aim in portraying his divine subjects in such a realistic manner was most likely to make them seem closer to the viewer. The composition of the sculptures encourages the viewer to look at them from different angles and examine them in detail.

For example, in "Virgin Annunciate" ca. 1500, the Virgin kneels before a bookstand, the door of which is slightly open. If the viewer moves around the sculpture to peep into the open door, he or she will be rewarded with a glimpse of the delicately carved books hidden inside.

Riemenschneider also wanted his audience to relate to the religious work on a spiritual level. The wall text of the exhibition states that in "Lamentation" ca. 1510, he "[gives] visual expression to different levels of grief and compassion, encouraging the viewer to empathize with the figures and to replicate their emotions." For Riemenschneider's contemporaneous viewers, religion was an immediate and close part of their lives, and the masterful skills of such artists as Riemenschneider only served to make the divine more present.

In contrast to the overtly religious atmosphere of the Middle Ages, our own age seems more and more secular. Yet the question of religion is continually addressed, even in such a seemingly amoral forum as pop culture. The newest treatment of the sacred and the profane is NBC's "God, the Devil and Bob," a cartoon based on the premise that God and Satan have a bet to decide whether humankind is worth saving based on the behavior of one man — Bob.

Controversy has already erupted over this prime time portrayal of the Almighty and his ultimate nemesis. A number of NBC station affiliates have refused to air the show, stating that it does not meet their standards of taste or quality.

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The show, however, is hardly worthy of such notice. Ostensibly a comedy, it offers few laughs and even fewer statements — controversial or otherwise — about the nature of religion in the current age. Don't misunderstand me: I have no problems with satirizing religion. I have problems with satirizing religion (or anything else for that matter) badly.

God (with the voice of James Garner) is a mellow old guy who resembles Jerry Garcia. He wears his groovy little sunglasses, spins the world on his finger like a basketball and when Bob asks him for a small favor, he excuses himself by claiming that there's a "crisis in Africa." When Bob complains that God used the same excuse last time, God responds, "Well, it's true. There's always a crisis in Africa." Humorous . . . or perhaps not.

Bob, a Detroit autoworker, is voiced by French Stewart, best known as Harry from "Third Rock from the Sun." While it's interesting to see (or rather, hear) Stewart play a somewhat more normal character, he's much funnier as a crazy alien than he is as a second rate Homer Simpson ripoff. His wife and two kids are similarly cookie cutter sitcom standards, and despite the religious theme of the show, the episode morals are no different from those on "Full House."

In what one might expect to be ideal casting, Alan Cumming (who won a Tony for his Mephistophelean Emcee in Broadway's "Cabaret") provides the voice of the Devil. Cumming, however, has yet to capture the evil glee of his character, and many of his lines fall flat.

Nonetheless, Satan's scenes are the funniest on the show, due to the Devil's bumbling cohort, Smeck (voiced by Jeff Doucette). While Smeck's inept antics are the epitome of juvenile humor, they are at least funny, unlike the rest of this animated bore.

It is indicative of the modern ideas about religion that while artists of the Middle Ages celebrated the divine with stunningly intricate carvings, in the 21st century, God has become a sketchily drawn cartoon. While this skepticism is far from all-encompassing, it obviously resonates with much of America, as it is appearing on major network TV.

While "God, the Devil and Bob" may at some point mature enough to make witty and humorous observations about spirituality and religion, for the moment, it is far more enjoyable to gaze at Reimenschneider's carvings, as art — whatever its message — is always more interesting when well-executed.