The turning point of the Renaissance initiated a long period of what we call “decadence” in iconography, as seen in modern icons in Russia, Greece, and Europe. Still, naturalism was intentionally not a part of the esthetic, and a more symbolic use of scale and imagery prevailed. 700-1300) the painting style maintained a flat pictorial space with the deployment of sacred geometry for composition and the emergence of a stronger, more sophisticated color matrix. In the first six centuries of Christianity, icons derived from the Greco-Roman style of painting, most readily seen in the Egyptian mummy funeral portraits: simple facial features, large, soulful eyes, and a minimum of detail or realism, yet still bearing a likeness to the person. People were engaged and appreciative, expressing how it enhanced their own life of faith, regardless of denominational differences.
It was a way for us to introduce the Byzantine practice of experiencing God through various senses to an audience who’d had little previous exposure to that practice. In Albany, where I teach an ongoing ecumenical icon writing course, one evening we placed icons in a local Presbyterian church as part of an organ concert and invited the public in to experience meditation through music and icons. In many denominations, icons are used liturgically, placed strategically in the church sanctuaries to aid meditation and prayer. Both cases give testimony to the healing benefits of art and prayer regardless of the quality of the materials (in the case of these inexpensive paper reproductions), the icons served to convey God’s promises, presence, and healing. Stories abound, as well, to the efficacy of icons used on the front line of battles to bring victory and peace. Traveling through Russia and Belarus in 2006 with twenty-two other iconographers, I toured many ancient churches and viewed many icon reproductions-some draped with chains and jewelry-all given in testimony to the healings received through prayers with that icon. Icons are intended to be sacred, holy pictures-telling scriptural stories depicting holy people, such as saints or conveying a sense of the sacred by dint of the prayers and intentions of the iconographer. The word icon comes from the Greek word for image, but in the world of iconography, they are so much more than that. Little did I know that learning the spiritual discipline of icon writing (as it is usually called) would allow me to paint and pray-two of my most significant daily activities-simultaneously. Iconography was so foreign to me at first, though, that I considered it exotic-something to be explored, appreciated, and practiced if possible, but not as a replacement for my contemporary painting practice. Yet, I came of age as an artist with a deep hunger for the principles of classical painting, so I was ripe for an exegesis on egg tempera and a godly perspective on art-making with icons. Having graduated from a renowned Boston art school in the 1970’s “anything goes” era, I got the message that traditional or classical art training was deemed irrelevant to the postmodern, conceptual art world.
I knew I had found something of great value-to me as an artist and seeker of God. Through the gentle nun’s explanation of icons-what they are and are not-I received a revelation so enlightening that my search for what went into making good art was over. Myriam was what I can only recognize now, in hindsight, as an encounter with the Holy Spirit. What transpired during that four-hour meeting with Sr. and that was the beginning of an ever-evolving lifelong passion that continues to this day. To be polite, I agreed to meet with her the next day. John de la Croix enthusiastically recommended that, since I was an artist, I needed to meet their resident iconographer, Sister Myriam. Tagging along on photo shoots to monasteries, churches, and convents in the UK and France, I received my first introduction to icons.Ĭompletely absorbed in my own artistic and educational pursuits, I was a bit nonplussed the day we visited a convent in France, when a joyful nun named St. While I was in my second year of grad school at the College of New Rochelle, New York, my husband was busy photographing and writing his book Monastic Gardens (2000).
0 kommentar(er)
