The Iconographer's Prayer

My time since attending the Iconographic Institute has been spent doing two things: preparing for my younger daughter's wedding, and painting pictures for our joint art show in February. I retired from teaching some seven years ago and have done little painting in that time. I decided to apply for a show at the art center in our town so that I could focus on getting back into painting. For years in my spare time I have been working in non-objective abstract expressionism, as my paintings explored composition, colorful detail, and light.

However, the experience at the Icon Institute definitely had an effect on me. Eight days of relative silence at the monastery, prayer, and my introduction to an entirely new medium and spiritual concept slowed me down. I felt more meditative as I painted. The music of the beautiful Russian Liturgy evanesced through the classroom all day long. The Iconographer's prayer was said each morning before class as our teacher blessed us with incense. Here is this beautiful prayer:

O Divine Lord of all that exists,

Thou hast illumined the Apostle and Evangelist Luke with Your Most Holy Spirit, thereby enabling him to represent thy most Holy Mother; the one who held Thee in Her arms and said: 'The Grace of Him Who has been born of me is spread throughout the world. '
Enlighten and direct my soul,
my heart and my spirit.
Guide the hands of Thine unworthy servant, so that I may worthily and
perfectly portray Thine icon, that of Thy Mother and all the saints,
for the glory and adornment of Thy Holy Church.
Forgive my sins and the sins of those who will venerate these icons,
and who, kneeling devoutly before them, give homage to those they represent.
Protect them from all evil and instruct them with good counsel.
This I ask through the intercession of Thy Most Holy Mother,
the Apostle Luke, and all the Saints. Amen.

Looking for Icons

The Prevots' wedding present, an acrylic painting
of them viewing a Renaissance painting in the
 side chapel of St. James Cathedral in Seattle. 

Monastery Peace Rose

The roses at Mt. Angel this spring were
 incredible due to the abundance of rain. 

The Last Shangri-La

"The Last Shangri-La" is a painting developed from an very old drawing I kept for years and recently came across. As I painted, it took the form of a flag. A dragon shape appeared on the flag, and all of this happened this fall, when my daughter and her fiance were considering moving to the country of Bhutan in the Himalayas. Arnaud had received a job offer there, teaching at the Royal University of Bhutan's Business College in Gedu. It was fascinating learning about the relatively unknown nation. The day it occurred to me that this painting held the symbol of Bhutan on a flag-shaped area, much like the country's national flag, I realized again how art connects at the deepest levels, like the Holy Spirit. It was an unplanned, unconscious painting, coming at a very coincidental time. As for the now-married couple, they have decided not to move to Bhutan, but to stay in the states for now.

The Last Shangri-La

Getting Ready

My cousin's home in Munsala, Finland

In just three weeks Abbey and I will begin the month long display of our artwork at Crossroads Art Center in Baker City. We have been working many months in preparation for this show. Abbey is showing her latest works, scenes from around Seattle, her new home. I have reverted to realism after painting abstract paintings for years. I worked on masonite, a very hard surface, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. At the Iconographic Arts Institute we had painted on gessoed boards, and I think that experience influenced this series of paintings. The show's opening is February 3rd from about 5 to 8 or so at Crossroads, and is part of the First Friday Artwalk in Baker City. Hope to see many of you there!

The Iconographic Arts Institute

In June of 2011 I was privileged and very blessed to be able to attend the Iconographic Arts Institute in Mt. Angel, Oregon. A beautiful classroom at the Queen of Angels Monastery was converted to a working art studio. This eight-day retreat, taught by several talented and experienced iconographers, was a unique and valuable experience for me. My daughter Abbey attended the year before, so I knew quite a bit about it, but I was not prepared for the spiritual aspect of Iconography, and the personal journey that is enhanced by the knowledge of the icon. When we talk about the icon we say it is written, not painted, because the idea is that God himself writes the icon through the artist, just as the Holy Spirit "writes" on our hearts.
Iconography is an ancient Christian art form that is completely different in every way from secular art: for one thing, the artist is rarely noted; in fact, the process of making icons is a journey of disappearance for the artist.
He or she is the instrument through which the Holy Spirit works to produce the image of Jesus or a saint. When the icon is done, the iconographer presents it for the world and moves on. The icon is not about the artist, but about the subject of the icon. His or her focus is on praying to God for help, and following the rules carefully and prayerfully in obedience to the instruction of the teacher. The individuality of the artist is, of course, evident in the small differences that emerge in the image, but the creative process is held in check; there is an ancient process and strict rules by which the icon is written, and the artist does not diverge from them.
My experience at the Institute reflected my modern independence. I fought "the rules" inwardly and was extremely frustrated at times. My understanding of the icon came about more from the experience of making (or writing) it than from preliminary study and preparation. That was my fault. I did not study as I should have to know better what to expect. I came away knowing that I really did not own the resulting icon. That was very different from how I typically feel about my work after completing it. Usually I look back on the painting with a sense of pride or criticism. I judge it, and because it is mine, take ownership in the skill level, choices, or overall quality of the painting. I did the same with the icon, but in the end it was scratching in the sand. It was not mine.
The greatest moment of connection with God during the week was at the blessing of the icon ceremony at Mass the last morning of the retreat. After the blessing the thirty students and iconographers stood in a semicircle and held their icons before them. The nuns of the Queen of Angels Monastery passed by in silence, taking into their souls each image, bowing to them, touching them, acknowledging the iconographer with maybe a glance of the eye or a slight smile, and moving on. One nun stopped before my icon and the presence of the Lord was on her. I began to weep, quietly but without control. Several others passed by, and suddenly I snorted VERY LOUD in laughter! A young toddler who had entered the chapel with his dad was laughing and chatting, breaking the holy silence of the moment with innocent lightness. I was extremely embarrassed, because my outburst was much more distracting than the child's laughter. I was again humbled in a way that I did not expect! Tears and laughter, now aren't they also a blessing?
http://www.iconinstitute.org/