"To enter a Gothic church was to enter into salvation history."
Pantocrator, Hagia Sophia, pixabay.com
The Iconographic
In the first half of the 20th century a Russian artist was having a conversation with a friend about traditional sacred art, what we would today call iconography. The two great centers of this type of art were Greece and Russia but in both of those places the art had all but died out.
In Greece, the Muslim Ottoman Turks ruled for 400 years, up to the Greek war of Independence in 1821. During the preceding centuries, the treatment of the Church varied greatly. At times Christians were tolerated and largely left to govern themselves. At other times Christians were severely persecuted. Selim I (1512-1520) attempted to stamp out Christianity from the Ottoman Empire and ordered all Christian churches to be confiscated. Under these conditions the practice of Byzantine Iconography was lost for generations.
Russia did not fare much better under Communist rule, and arguably fared much worse. The state saw Christianity as a threat to their power and placed severe limits on Christian worship. No new churches were built and iconographers attempting to paint or restore icons in existing churches risked arrest and imprisonment.
By the time this Russian artist and his friend got together to discuss the ancient art of the past it was thought impossible for a modern artist to replicate this form of sacred art. But the artist, Leonid Ouspensky, was up to the challenge and insisted that he could do just that. This was the beginning of the revival of the iconographic form of sacred art. Ouspensky’s book “The Meaning of Icons,” co-written by theologian Vladimir Lossky, and first published in 1956, set the contemporary canons for generations of artists to follow.
The revival of the iconographic form has been a great success. It started by copying ancient icons, prototypes, but has since evolved into a truly new form of sacred art in the iconographic tradition. Perhaps the only drawback is that the revived form is seen as an exclusively “orthodox” art. This is unfortunate as the Byzantine style of art was the art of the undivided Church up to the East/West schism in the 11th century.
When we enter an Orthodox or Eastern Catholic church, we are in a sense entering a foreshadowing of Heaven. We are surrounded by saints with serene expressions contemplating the beatific vision. Gold backgrounds and halos shimmer in the dim light and evoke a sense of the uncreated light of Heaven. This reflects an eastern spirituality which generally focuses on the divinization of man, man in complete communion with God. When we enter into the Divine Liturgy we are accompanied by saints whose images adorn the walls and the iconostasis, basking in the glow of Heaven.
The Last Judgement, (detail) Pietro Cavallini, c. 1300
The Gothic
But since the great schism Eastern and Western spirituality have emphasized different aspects of the Christian faith. If the East focused on man’s divinization, the West focused on the need for man’s salvation.
As such, entering a Western church in the middle ages evoked a different experience. To enter a Gothic church was to enter into salvation history. Rather than static portraits of saints. the walls were more likely to be painted with dynamic scenes from the lives of the saints along with scenes from the Bible, scriptural texts, and allegorical lessons in morality. Where the Eastern church may have had an image of Christ Pantocrator, the ruler of all, the Western church was more likely to have a painting of the Last Judgement, detailing the rewards of the faithful and the punishments of the wicked.
Both approaches to the art within a church are of course equally valid. The West recognizes the need for communion with God and the East recognizes the need for our salvation. These are the two lungs of the Church that Saint John Paul spoke of. We need both to breathe fully. The experience of entering into a “Gothic” church is simply different from that of entering a “Byzantine” church. One is not inherently better or more spiritual than the other.
Our world today is very fast paced. We are flooded with imagery that we barely perceive. We are accustomed to quickly getting a sense of a picture and moving on. To the medieval mind, however, a painting was not something to simply look at and admire, it was an opportunity to enter into the Christian story. The people of the medieval era thought nothing of spending time in front of a wall painting or a bas relief, contemplating the eternal message that lay behind the surface of stone or paint and plaster. As the priest celebrated the sacrament of the Eucharist the faithful gazed upon the painted chancel, the arch above the altar, and contemplated the end of all things and the status of their soul.
Both East and West have traditions of churches whose interiors are covered with paintings. To our modern eyes that may be too much as we seek refuge from the chaos of sound and image that is the world outside the church. After nearly a hundred years, the revival of the iconographic style seems to have settled on a compromise in the adornment of their churches. There is still the painted iconostasis and saintly images on the surrounding walls, but you will not typically see every inch of the interior space covered with icons as you might have seen in the past.
How then do we proceed in reviving the Gothic form that is every bit as spiritual and significant as the iconographic form? First of all, we have to realize that it will take time to sort out. It has been almost 70 years since the publication of “The Meaning of Icons,” and we have yet to see such a seminal work on the art of the Gothic. The bits and pieces are there, but they are waiting to be assembled into one all-inclusive work.
Second, we need skilled artists who will study the work of the past, learn from it, and adapt to the needs of the present. If it is done right the result will continue to enlighten the faithful through this present age.
And finally we need priests and bishops with the vision to see the value and effectiveness of a church that is more than just a building housing the liturgy, decorated with prints or reproductions of the art of the past. One of the results of poor priestly formation in the arts is that the art in a modern parish is the result of a mix of donations, the personal preference of a parade of pastors, and what a parish council deems is appropriate and affordable. We are left with a mix of styles and subjects that do little to engage the faithful in their contemplation of heavenly things.
Instead, we need parishes to formulate a plan for the interior of their church. A scheme that complements the design of the church and is consistent throughout the building, with images that build upon each other and allow the faithful to enter into worship without the distractions of an “interior decor” approach to sacred art. It may take a while to realize the plan but it is something that can be followed and referred to when a parishioner desires to make a donation, or a new pastor wishes to add to the sacred space.
If we want churches that speak to the depths of our hearts in their architecture and adornment and music, we need people of vision to lead the way.
Pax vobiscum
Lawrence Klimecki, MSA, is a deacon in the Diocese of Sacramento. He is a public speaker, writer, and artist, reflecting on the intersection of art and faith and the spiritual “hero’s journey” that is part of every person’s life. He maintains a blog at www.DeaconLawrence.org and can be reached at Lawrence@deaconlawrence.com
Lawrence draws on ancient Christian tradition to create new contemporary visions of sacred art. For more information on original art, prints and commissions, Please visit www.DeaconLawrence.org
Purchase fine art prints of Deacon Lawrence’s work here.
The Sacred Heart © Lawrence Klimecki
