CURIOUS OBJECT: BELLINI MADONNA

Being raised “sporadically” as a Presbyterian, I had what one might call a “deprived” childhood when it comes to religious art. The only picture I remember seeing at church was hung behind the choir. It was the classic portrait of the Western European/American version of Christ painted by Walter Sallman:

We are taught to take our prayers directly to the Triune God. Intermediaries don’t play a significant role in our life of faith.

However, when you grow up in an overwhelmingly Roman Catholic neighborhood (Brighton Park in Chicago) where rosary beads, scapulars, communion dresses and missals are the essential tools of ones’ faith, it is easy to become captivated by these “exotic” accoutrements.

While I found these instruments of faith to be interesting, my curiosity was particularly heightened whenever I caught a glimpse of an icon of some saint or another. (One of the great feats for a Protestant was to pass by the front of a Roman Catholic Church on a “Holy Day of Obligation” and sneak a peek inside as a door was about to close.)

Through the many doors that God has placed before me, I’ve been blessed in my adult life with a broadly ecumenical point of view. I’ve learned about and participated in a wide variety of religious observances and come to respect them deeply. Just this past spring, I was permitted to join an Icon Writing (yes, writing, not painting) workshop. You can read about that experience and see my result at:  Icon Workshop - 2010.

Over a long span of my life, icons have intrigued me. A few years ago, during one of many trips to Santa Fe, New Mexico, I was fortunate enough to accidentally arrive during Spanish Market – a festival of art and music.

One of the aspects of Santa Fe that I adore so much is that the people of the city wear their faith like another layer of clothes. Their faith is ever present. And so, it was no surprise that much of the artwork on display and for sale carried a spiritual theme.

(In an amazing bit of synchronicity, as I was putting this piece together in my head, I received an email that pointed me in the direction of book on Russian iconography. It is titled: Hidden and Triumphant – The Underground Struggle to Save Russian Iconography by Irina Yazykova and translated by Paul Grenier.)

In the foreword to this book, written by Wendy R. Salmond, I found some words that explain part of my fascination with icons:

“The icon preserves the canon by standing at the border
between two worlds, awakening the viewer’s spiritual
vision through the workings of the physical eye. All
icons are canonical when outer form and inner content
harmonize, bringing the viewer face to face with the world
of spirit in a state of prayerfulness. Like a heartbeat,
eternal time flows through such icons, undisturbed by the
restlessness of human time reflected in the history of continual

stylistic change.”

While walking up and down the streets of Santa Fe that shoot off the central plaza, I came across a booth that displayed a less conventional collection of icons. Enjoying all things “off-center,” I stopped and gazed at all the remarkable work. The artist’s name is Christina Miller (www.iconfusion.com).  After a while, Christina caught me hovering for some time and we struck up a conversation. After speaking to Christina, I think I know why I am so attracted to her work. Christina is a true artist with a genuine soul who shares her joy through her work. Here is a picture of one of my favorite icons of hers that I own. It is called: Bellini Madonna.

At the time I bought it, I didn’t realize that Bellini was a famous High Renaissance artist who painted many pictures of the Madonna and Child. There are a couple of aspects of this icon that pulled me in and grabbed me. First, it is not all that common to find an icon depicting the Madonna alone. Second, the depiction was executed using only black and white paint. Despite these deviances from traditional icon writing, I still found the work to be effective in its ability to draw me in, quiet my heart and allow me to center myself and pray.

I have more pieces by Christina that I plan to share with you as this series continues.

Blessings.

ICON WRITING

Yes, writing; not painting. This was a distinction that was clarified in the early minutes of the Icon Writing Workshop in which I participated this past weekend. We learned that… “…everything involved in the writing of a liturgical icon has spiritual meaning tied to Scripture and reveals different levels of manifestation of God's Presence within the iconographer.”

Being an impatient sort myself, I won’t make you wait any longer before I reveal my finished icon:

This was my first ever effort at writing an icon, and if you’ll pardon my lack of humility, I’m pretty proud of it. I know it isn’t perfect, but neither am I.

My teacher’s name is Joe. I’ve known Joe for a couple years now. I first met him at a birthday party for our mutual friend, Tim. That night is memorable as one in which a group of folks who barely knew one another laughed themselves to the point of tears on several occasions. Who would have guessed that Joe was a skilled (and quite well known) iconographer as well as a gifted teacher?

The workshop began on a Friday night with a couple hours of background info and a chance to get our feet wet by applying a little bit of paint to our boards. We resumed our work on Saturday morning at 9am. Throughout the day, we were introduced to a number of techniques and learned when to use them. At some point in the day, a transformation (dare I say a transfiguration?) took place.

Although we were all working on producing a copy of the same icon, Saint Michael the Archangel, there were subtle differences from individual to individual. My first Rubicon was painting the eyes. A prayed aloud to not let Saint Michael look like Bart Simpson.

While there were many sets of eyes painted by my colleagues that were far superior artistically to mine, I was comfortable that the eyes I had painted were right for my icon.

Having successfully negotiated that hurdle, I relaxed a bit as I added color to the wings and the robe. In order to give more of a sense of life to the icon, it was necessary to add some shading to the face and hands. It was then that I became entranced by my icon. Despite there being 11 other people in the room, I felt alone and in a prayerful place with my icon. I was working on shading the right hand.

It was a delicate hand and graceful, too. I still get goosebumps when I remember working on capturing the correct shading on that hand. Saint Michael was speaking to me but not in words. I was content to work slowly on this small section of the icon to get it just right. In those moments, the icon became my muse both in the sense of spurring me artistically, but also spiritually.

My mind turned to all those people over the centuries who have written icons and imagining how they too had been affected by their work. I simply smiled as I felt I had joined a communion of artists. In a couple weeks, the church that sponsored the workshop will be featuring our work at the 11:30am mass. The head priest will be present to bless our icons. How cool!

I don’t think this will be my last icon. Joe is talking about having an Advanced Icon Writing Workshop. But even if he doesn’t, I think I know how to get started. I’ve gained confidence in my ability to do this. But most of all, I look forward to continuing a centuries old tradition and communicating with my own personal representation of the holy.

Amen.