The work is unique for this period because of Mary's swoon. Her collapse echoes the pose of her Son's. This pose was entirely new for Early Netherlandish art. The sentiment, however, is a direct reflection of the mystical devotion expressed by Thomas à Kempis' popular treatise "The Imitation of Christ", first published in 1418. The text, just as the image here, invites the reader or viewer to personally identify with the suffering of Christ and Mary.
I am reminded of one of my favorite images in art, that of Matthias Grunewald's Mother of Jesus, in his Isenheim Altarpiece now in Colmar, France (which I saw several times when living in Germany). Here Mary also is swooning with a deathly pallor. It was painted almost one hundred years after Rogier's Deposition.
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| Grunewald |
Note the pallor of her skin against the bluest of garments. This white contrasts sharply with the lilac of her lips, the washed-out pink of her eyes as they roll backwards. Five tears trickle down her face, one about to drop off her pale chin.
Was Rogier aware of a sequence of grief when he created his masterpiece? The younger Mary Salome has an almost quiet grief, while the older Mary Clopas sobs into a cloth. Both stand upright, while the third Mary, (Magdelene) is almost prostrate with sorrow and the sorrowful Mother Mary has collapsed with only St. John and her younger sister holding her up. In her fall, her body takes on the same shape as her Son's, implying that her suffering is close to His. We know Mary’s own suffering for her Son makes her co-redemptrix. (The title “co-redemptrix” is not a claim to equality with Jesus, but an obedient and free cooperation with Him in suffering. Mary is “co-redemptrix” because of her unique maternity. She holds the title for all of us since she is the Mother of all.)