Nick Cave, the enigmatic rock musician, has undergone a fascinating transformation over the years. From his 1980s persona as a postpunk hellraiser, conjuring up a flyblown Southern Gothic world of brimstone and retribution, to his current sage-like presence as a perhaps agnostically Christian humanist, Cave’s journey has intrigued fans and critics alike. But what exactly is this “religious turn” that has captured our attention?
Cave’s exploration of spirituality is deeply personal and intuitive. While he has never claimed to be a practicing Christian, his fascination with religious themes is evident in his work. His older albums draw inspiration from the Old Testament, portraying a pitiful humanity suffering beneath a despotic God. However, it’s essential to recognize that Cave’s faith is not dogmatic; it’s a complex interplay of doubt, skepticism, and profound introspection.
Recently, Cave surprised the art world with an unexpected venture into ceramic art. Born during lockdown, this artistic expression emerged from his desire to sculpt the Devil. In Xavier Hufkens’s gallery, a long plinth showcases 17 glazed and painted ceramic figurines, narrating the birth, life, and eventual demise of Satan himself. Cave’s Devil is less the Miltonian fallen angel and more an everyman—flawed, human, and condemned to his fate as a war-bringer and destroyer. Yet, what’s truly peculiar about these works is Cave’s deliberate choice of a domestic and naive ceramic style. Borrowing from eighteenth-century English Derby pottery and Victorian Staffordshire “flatbacks,” he creates scenes that seem almost whimsical. The child-Devil sleeps peacefully, surrounded by pretty flowers, while the Devil Takes a Bride in a white suit and crinoline skirt, accompanied by gold-glazed bunnies. But things take a darker turn: Devil Kills His First Child portrays a chilling moment, and Devil Rides to War depicts a military pomp with blood flowing around skulls.
Cave’s religious turn is not a straightforward conversion but a nuanced exploration of faith, doubt, and the human condition. His ceramic art invites us to reconsider the Devil—an archetype often portrayed as terrifying—through a lens of vulnerability and familiarity. Perhaps, in these delicate figurines, we find echoes of our own struggles, our own doubts, and our own search for redemption.
In the end, whether we believe in Cave’s transformation or not, we can appreciate the depth of his artistic journey. His religious turn challenges us to confront our own beliefs, our own doubts, and our own humanity. And perhaps, like the Devil in his ceramics, we too grapple with the complexities of existence, seeking solace and redemption in our own unique ways.
