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/