...and all the company of heaven

I love the concept of the Communion of Saints, that great cloud of witnesses that includes all the faithful who have preceded us, all who are members of the Body of Christ living today, and all who have yet to arrive on the scene, and so it is a delight that a good number of the commissions I receive are in fact of the Saints... Saints today, saints of old, as the anthem goes...



Usually the commission is intended as a gift. This year the gift was particularly delightful as I was asked to write this icon of St. Nicholas. As I pray my way through the next several days, Nicholas is a good companion. This particular icon of St. Nicholas is based on an icon written by Alaskan artist, Byron Birdsall, who himself based his icon of Nicholas on those of the more ancient tradition.

This icon of Ignatius of Loyola was also commissioned as a gift. Writing this icon was a gift to my spirit, as I had recently spent some time reading and praying with Ignatius's spiritual disciplines through the writings of Father Thomas Ryan, the ecumenical officer of the Paulist Brothers. As I wrote this icon I prayed Ignatius' prayer, "Take Lord, and Receive":

Take Lord, and receive
All my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my entire will
All that I am and all that I posess
You have given it all to me, to you Lord, I return it
All is yours
Dispose of it according to your will.
Give me only your love and your grace, for that is enough for me.




Our Lady of Guadalupe is not an icon, per se. It is a holy image with an important role in the spiritual history of our country, particularly our country out West, where I grew up. I wrote this icon while on a stragely difficult sabbatical, which led into a fascinating journey of discernment in the year that followed. I am still a Western kid, called to serve in the East for now. Still very much a mystery. Take Lord, and Receive...

This icon of Francis is one of my first commissions, written for a parishioner who "won" it in an auction at St. George's. Francis' tenderness, his hands wounded by the stigmata, and the bird of peace were moving elements to engage while writing this icon.

I was writing this icon of the Beloved Disciple for the Rev. Steven Godfrey as an ordination present, while listening to the U2 Best of 1980-1990 album, when I had something of a mystical experience singing I Will Follow at the top of my lungs. OK, to be fair, I was rinsing off my palette at the sink while singing at the top of my lungs and dancing in the kitchen. That experience was overwhelming-- no really-- it was overwhelming, and led me to discuss the possibility of a U2 Eucharist with other U2 fans in my congregation. That, my friends, is the subject of another blog... http://u2charist.blogspot.com/

This icon of Miriam the Prophetess was first written as an ordination present for the Rev. Suzanne Poulin. This particular image of Miriam was written as a Christmas gift for a friend's mother who is a Jewish woman who has converted to Christianity.

This icon of St. Andrew also began as a commission for a young boy named Andrew. This particular image of St. Andrew is hanging out with a friend of mine in Estero, Florida. I love his fisherman-windblown hair and craggy sun-creased face.

I don't know what the next commission will bring. No doubt another opportunity to spend time with the image of a faithful member of the family that is the Body of Christ.

Angels, Archangels...

Icons of angels are often popular with folks who are not so very much into "institutional religion," who somehow find angels more approachable or palatable than other figures. Which is a bit ironic, really. Just about very time an angel makes an appearance in scripture, witnesses to the appearance react fearfully, to the extent that the first thing the angel has to say in order to be heard is, "Don't be afraid!

In the iconographic tradition, angels are usually depicted as rather androgynous, lacking the beards typical of male figures. They are often wearing armor of some sort, and carry swords, or staves.

At times, angels such as the Archangel Michael, above, carry an orb inscribed with "IC XC," an abbreviation of the Greek "Jesus Christ," representing the prefiguring of Christ.

They have two sets of wings: one for traveling in this world, and one for traveling between the heavenly realm and ours. Angels are ever in motion: with ribbons floating out behind them to indicate their flight.

The Archangel Gabriel below is based on an icon by my iconography teacher, Rebecca Taylor, which she learned from her teacher, Phil Zimmerman. The angel carries a scribes case and a scroll. The case is for writing names in the Book of Life, and the scroll bears the angel's words to Mary: "Rejoice, O favored one, the Lord is with you," right before saying, "Do not be afraid..."

An unnamed angel appeared at the empty tomb that first Easter morning. This icon is a study of a larger piece, which includes the sleeping soldiers, and the women, coming to care for Jesus' body.

You'll notice that the perspective on the "stone" is all wrong, not aligned with some focal point in the distance at which all lines merge into one, as we learned in art class in elementary school (I still remember drawing roads that disappeared off into the sunset, flanked by similarly shrinking telephone poles or trees...). Perspective in iconography is "reversed," with things often getting larger as they move away from the viewer, symbolizing the ever-expanding nature of the Reign of God. The consequence of this perspective is also that the viewer is that infinitessimally small vanishing point. Rather keeps things in, well, perspective.

Theotokos, Part 2 and 3 and lots of beads...

Having been raised Protestant, it was a bit of a surprise to discover I had a real spiritual affinity with the Theotokos icon. And yet, perhaps it's not a great surprise, given how deeply I understand God's call to us to bear Christ into the world, to work with God to continue to make Christ incarnate as part of the inbreaking of God's reign.

These two icons represent a playful engagement with the Theotokos icon, and with the mosaic medium of iconography, using beads instead of ceramic tiles. The first icon is another Yaroslavl Mother of God, the second the Korsun Mother of God.

A new element of symbolism is found in the Korsun, namely that of Jesus' Gospel scroll, representing the prefigured and yet unrevealed Good News.

I have since written many more such Theotokos icons, and have taught both of these in a number of workshops. Teaching these icons is particularly rich, witnessing my students prayerfully encounter their own call to be theotokos, to be God-bearers...

Theotokos, the God Bearer

The Yaroslavl Mother of God is a Theotokos icon and a Tenderness icon. "Theotokos" means "God-bearer" in Greek, a name reminding us of how Mary bore God into the world, and also of how we are all called to be theotokos, to bear God in Christ into the world as members of Christ's Body. Tenderness icons are those in which Mary and Jesus' faces are touching.

Symbolism is rich in this icon. Mary's blue undergarment (covering her hair) represents her humanity, and her red cloak, that she is draped in divinity. The Christ Child's tunic is rough and plain, reminding us of his earthy beginings; his gilded overgarment and cross-inscribed halo a prefigurment of his crucifixion and resurrected glory.

This icon was written in 1999 during a week long silent retreat led by Rebecca Taylor at Emery House, the retreat center for the Society of St. John the Evangelist in West Newbury, MA.

Christ Pantocrator 1999

Lent, 1999, I took my first icon class with Massachusetts iconographer, Rebecca Taylor. We met each Friday, 9-4, in her dining room in Newburyport, MA. I took the class with my now-husband, Gene, as part of my Christmas present to him.

After the first class, I was hooked, and I've been writing icons ever since.
"Writing" icons, because icons are, essentially, a Word... incarnate in their own way, and meant to tell a story.

Rebecca (and her students) use artist-grade acrylic guache, 23K gold leaf, and much prayer, in writing icons.

Traditionallhy, icons are literally traced from previous icons because the tradition is that the original icon was done "from life," and also so that the iconographer's ego does not become too attached).

Everything in an icon is symbolic as a way of telling its story. The symbolism of Jesus' garments is that red represents his divinity, draped in blue, which symbolizes his humanity. The open Gospel book, symbolizing the revealed Good News, is the one place where an iconographer gets to express a personal choice. What is written in the book can be anything Jesus said in any of the four Gospels.