Where Should Catholics Go to Learn Icon Painting?

Choosing an Icon Class I would recommend that any Catholic artist, even those wishing eventually to specialize in more naturalistic styles, spend at least part of their training learning to draw and paint icons. The style of icons is so strongly and clearly governed by the theological message that it conveys that to learn this through the painting of them (as opposed to just learning about them) reinforces deeply the general point that form is important in Christian art, not just content. This is immensely helpful in trying to paint in, for example, the baroque style which is integrated also with theology but with a subtlety that can be missed if one is not alert to it. (Two short pieces on different aspects of this are here and here.) There a number of places that one can go to learn icon painting, that I know of, both in the US and Europe. first and foremost I'm going to recommend doing a summer school at Thomas More College in New Hampshire, of course. Here are some things that strike me as worth considering when choosing such a place. I use my own experience of having classes with various teachers before settling on one whom I felt was right.

I was very lucky to be taught icon painting by an English iconographer called Aidan Hart. Firstly, he is a great icon painter: his icons are, in my opinion, as beautiful as any being painted today that I have seen. Second, he is a natural teacher. His is the model I look to when I try to teach others. As he demonstrated any particular skill, he emphasized the importance of understanding why things were done as they were, and reduced things down to a few core principles, which he sees as the unbreakable guidelines that define the tradition. This is in contrast to rules; which are the applications of the principles in particular cases. Understanding principles allows for the development of a living tradition which can develop and adapt to its time and place. The principles can be re-applied, perhaps to differing result, in different cases as need demands. So the rules change but the principles don’t.

Once this was understood it was easier to see how there is a huge scope for variety in style of icons, without deviating from the central principles that make an icon and icon. It was he who pointed out to me the common elements that unite the various Eastern and Western Catholic traditions in iconography (and which I wrote about in more detail here). An understanding of principles allows for change without compromise of those principles; this is what is necessary in all traditions if they are to flourish.

He had a particular interest in this, because living in England, he was exploring ways of painting icons of the ancient saints of the British Isles in a way that was simultaneously true to both the timeless and ‘placeless’ principles of iconography; and rooted in the geographical location and times of their lives. He tended to draw on the style that was seen in Constantinople and the Greek Church about 800-1,000 years ago. This is the style this has a higher degree of naturalism than we see in, for example, Russian icons, and, as I see it, is more accessible to the modern Western eye. The painting at the top of the article is of Saint Winifred. St Winifred’s well in North Wales is a British Lourdes, a place of pilgrimage still, where there are miraculous cures. The town which contains the well is called Holywell and there is still flowing spring and a 15^thcentury gothic building that houses it. I have included below some more pictures of his saints of the British Isles. I have a particular fondness for this, I grew up on the English side of the border with Wales about 10 miles from the well and she is the patron of the local Catholic church. I have not spoken to Aidan about this directly, but I am guessing that when he painted it he was thinking of an icon of St Theodosia painted in Constantinople in the 13^th century.

Inspired by this, when I seek to paint in the iconographic form, I look to our Western forms that grew up in the Roman Rite. For example, rather than have a plain raised border, I paint abstract patterned borders and backgrounds, taking inspiration from the Romanesque. (I wrote about this particular variation previously in Why Frame a Picture?)

It is important that Catholics who learn to paint icons place this artistic form within the context of our own tradition. If learning from any Orthodox teachers (which is likely), it should be remembered that Orthodox churches do not view Western non-iconographic liturgical traditions as legitimate forms of sacred art. As Catholics we do not need to be worried by this. We are not bound to accept all we are told uncritically, and as long as we know the basis of our own traditions well, we can make a sound judgment regarding the validity of what we are told.

If any of who can get to Shropshire in England, then consider signing on for his workshops here. He is very generous in his advice and happy to critique work and answer questions between workshops, so it is possible to make progress in between. This is the route that I took. (He also teaches a diploma in icon painting offered by the Prince of Wales's School of Traditional Art, which you might like to investigate, but there is such a waiting list you'll have to wait until 2013!)

If you cannot get to Shropshire, then there will soon be an alternative. I am excited that he will also bring out an instruction book on painting icons, which will be published by Gracewing. I have seen previews of significant parts of it and it is excellent, better by far than anything I have seen on the market. When it comes out I am sure to feature it. (He was hoping to raise money for an instructional DVD to accompany the book, so if anyone feels like contributing, please feel free to contact him through his website or the publisher!)

Scenes below are of St Winifred's Well at Holywell in North Wales, the 15th century housing and the well itself. Apart from St Theodosia above, all icons are by Aidan Hart, including a second St Winifred.

An Englishman Meditates on Thanksgiving and Psalm 114

We had a banquet at Thomas More College in New Hampshire before people dispersed for Thanksgiving.  Before the dinner we chose to chant the first 8 verses of Psalm 114 - 'When Isreal came out of Egypt' in order to help us meditate on the meaning of this very American holiday. When the people of Israel, the subject of the psalm, left Egypt they had two goals. The first was to worship and serve God; and the second was to occupy the Promised Land. On their journey they stopped at Sinai. Here they received their instructions for worship and for a rule of life, before moving on to their final destination. That pause in their journey is significant.

‘Sinai, in the period of rest after wandering through the wilderness, is what gives meaning to the taking of the land. Sinai is not a halfway house, a kind of refreshment on the road to what really matters. No, Sinai gives Israel, so to speak, its interior land without which the exterior one would be a cheerless prospect. Israel is constituted as a people through the covenant and the divine law it contains.’(Pope Benedict XVI, The Spirit of the Liturgy, p19)

There are obvious parallels between this and the popular story of Pilgrim Fathers for which Thanksgiving has become a focus.  They, like the Isrealites, had worship in mind. They were seeking to institute a sort of religiously based community; and the land they settled in is the land of plenty we now live in. But we would do well to remember also, that it is always a ‘cheerless prospect’ without its Sinai – the interior life that is available to us in its fullest expression through the Church.

But there is something greater that both point to. All of us in this life are constant pilgrims on that journey in its highest form, the pilgrimage to heaven – that quotation was taken from Pope Benedict XVI’s book on the liturgy. He describes the pilgrimage not seen as as a straight path. Rather, he talks of a constant liturgical dynamic of exitus and reditus – leaving to return home, but each time it is a fresh new home, when we step into the supernatural made present by the Eucharist at the centre of the liturgy. Rather than an enclosed circular motion of repeated worship, it is a helix, in which each cycle takes us further upward. (I explore this idea further in another article, The Path to Heaven is a triple Helix.) Quoting Pope Benedict again, ‘in the Christian view of the world, the many small circles of the lives of individuals are inscribed within one great circle of history as it moves from exitus to reditus’. This is why the liturgy, the formal worship of the Church is described as both ‘source and summit’ of human existence. It is both our supernatural launch pad, a source of grace, and landing field, the heavenly activity is liturgical – the perfect, joyful exchange of love in perpetuity .

It is interesting that the Pilgrim Fathers’ journey began in Plymouth and ended in a new Plymouth – Plymouth Rock; and similarly ironic that the one thing that would truly have grounded it in an unmoveable rock was supernatural. The Catholic Church that they did not accept. We, because we are aware of this, are in that privileged position of being pilgrims who have that sure and certain guide to our final destination, one that has its foundations in rock, not Plymouth Rock, but the rock of Peter. Then our home, wherever it may be, can be (referring to the psalm) both Judah and Israel, sanctuary and dominion.

That is true cause for gratitude on Thanksgiving day.

(As an interesting side note: even the psalm tone that we use to sing Psalm 113 is appropriate to the theme. The ancient tonus peregrinus is always used for this psalm. This translates as  'pilgrim tone' and which was adapted from the pre-Christian Jewish liturgy. We sang it as  Anglican chant which adapts the tone to English, and uses four-part harmony.)

Paintings: top, Poussin: Moses String the rock to give water in the wilderness; and above, also Poussin, the Iraelites gathering manna in the wilderness.

Halo, halo!

Following on from last week’s article Heart to Heart, about the commissioning of the Sacred Heart paintings, there were two points that I raised for discussion. The first is the suitability of the iconographic form for a Sacred Heart painting. A number of people who spoke to objected to this (some quite forcibly!). If I have understood their points properly, then it seemed to be based upon the idea that the iconographic form is necessarily an Eastern (and one person even said an Orthodox form) so the portrayal of a Western devotion is not appropriate. The first point to make is that the Sacred Heart, although originating in the West, is no longer restricted to it. I was told by a Melkite priest that the Sacred Heart is a popular devotion in the Eastern Church too. Second, this view of icons as being an exclusively Eastern form is contrary to the Catholic view. I have written before, here and here that what characterizes the iconographic form is that it is a style that is consistent with an image of eschatological man – mankind, redeemed, in heaven, so to speak. There are variants of the iconographic form that emanate from the Eastern Church and the Western Church (for example Carolingian, Ottonian or Romanesque art). Therefore, if it is right to represent Christ in the iconographic form at all (and of course it is) then it is right, I would argue, to paint images of the Sacred Heart in that form too. (The same could be said in regard to the other liturgical forms – just as it is appropriate to paint Christ in the gothic and baroque styles, it is appropriate also to paint images of the Sacred Heart in those forms.)

Similarly, the iconographic style is not communicating a message restricted to any particular time in history. It is communicating the timeless realm of heaven. So the time in history when the devotion arose is irrelevant to the discussion. (Although, in fact, the Sacred Heart devotion might even have begun, according to my research as early as the 11^th century, which would place it in the period when the standard art form in the West was Romanesque, which was iconographic anyway, also, though not specifically linked to the Sacred Heart devotion, there are a few older images of Christ's heart as a symbol of love. I found one going back to 450AD).

The other point relates to how we show the light emanating from the heart. The concern of someone, whom I respect as being very knowledgeable on the tradition, that a halo was not appropriate for the heart, although this is a representation of uncreated light, within the tradition the nimbus of light, the halo, has only been applied to the head. Therefore, rays (as one might see in a monstrance) were better. This is a strong argument and worth of further consideration. While we should never say that just because it hasn't been done before we can't now, we must be respectful of tradition and try to consider why it hasn't. On reflection, however, I feel that it is appropriate to use a halo if the artist chooses, but I am still open to persuasion and would love to see any thoughts that readers have on the matter.

Here are the points I would make in response: it is certainly the case that the halo has a strong symbolic meaning beyond simply the pictorial representation of uncreated light. It is telling us something about the person – that this is a saint or the glorified person. When we see a person their head is the place most appropriate visible part that represents the person – we naturally tend to look at the face as of a person as a ‘window to the soul’; and most would not consider for a moment, for example, putting a halo around the hand to say something about the person. However, tradition does say that the heart, perhaps even more than the head, symbolizes a person. The heart is the human centre of gravity, our very core that incorporates body and soul. It is the place that represents the whole person, the vector sum of all our actions and thoughts. This is why the heart represents love. We are made for love and so the place that represents the person is also the symbol of what the person is made for. This is even more the case for the person of Christ, who is not made for love but rather, as God He is Love.

Normally the heart is not visible, so the question as to whether or the artist should apply a halo to it does not come up. However, in this case it is, and I would argue therefore that it is not inappropriate, at least, to put the halo around the heart.

Another point that was raised is that it seems to disembody the heart. It is a matter of opinion as to whether this is a problem, I think. My response to this is that the heart has been no more disembodied by putting a halo around it than it has by placing rays around it. The Maryvale image, which is based upon the visions of St Gertrude in the 13^th century, has Christ presenting his heart to us in the palm of his hand, this is quite a disembodying action, it seems to me!

The discussion so far has been concerned with general principles. It does not account for individual taste or the quality of the images portrayed. Even if consistent with the principles that constitute a particular tradition, a painting can still be poorly executed. And I have to say that most of the Sacred Heart images I see are, to my eye, sentimental and unattractive. (There are exceptions. I have included some that appeal to me, including once again the 18^th century stain-glass window in the Maryvale Institute in Birmingham.)

Images inserted into text,  from top: from St Patrick's El Paso, Texas; the Maryvale stain-glass window; a modern icon of the Sacred Heart.

And images below: an 18th century engraving; a 15th century woodcut of the Five Wounds of Christ; a heart and cross from 450AD.

Heart to Heart

I have been commissioned to paint two Sacred Heart images and each time it raised some interesting questions in relation to tradition. One relates to the style in which one ought to paint the image, given that this is a relatively recent devotion – is it legitimate to use an iconographic style which predates the devotion, for example? The second is in regard to how the light emanating from the image of the heart itself should be portrayed, should it be tongues of light or a halo for example? A recent visitor to Thomas More College recently asked me about both these points. Fr Seraphim was very knowledgeable and had well thought out views on each issue, so it forced me to sit down and think again about the reasons for doing what I had done in each case, and to reflect on whether I had made the right choices, especially in the consideration of applying a halo to the heart. This week I will describe the story of each commission, so that readers can get a feel for how these dialogues run. Next week I will present the arguments as I see them surrounding these two concerns. The first was for the Maryvale Institute, in Birmingham, England, which as well as being an internationally known Catholic college is the national shrine of the Sacred Heart. They have a beautiful little side chapel, right, separate from the main chapel. The central focus of the side- chapel is a stained glass window, above, which was imported from Rome at the beginning of the 19th century, and is the oldest image of the Sacred Heart in the UK. I was asked to paint an image of the Sacred Heart based upon this window to commemorate the 25^th anniversary of the founding of the college. Since its founding like any educational institution seeking to be orthodox, it has had to counter efforts to undermine what it is doing and Fr Paul Watson, the president of the college, explained to me that they felt sure that much of their success could be attributed to the protection of Christ through devotion to his Sacred Heart.

I was asked to paint an icon based upon the window. In discussion, it became apparent that any image that conformed to the iconographic prototype would not retain the distinctive qualities of the window, which is in the baroque style. What I aimed for, therefore, is more gothic than iconographic – a naturalized iconographic form. The pose is obviously taken from the window. Deviating from Western naturalism, there is no cast shadow, and it is painted in egg tempera, so has the flat look of the medium. Also, I painted a conventional halo around his head. To his heart I applied radiating, monstrance-like, tongues of light (the form of which was also taken from the window).

The abstract design around the border is taken from the window. It is not usual to incorporate such designs into Eastern icons. However in the West, in all forms of art including the iconographic, there is a strong tradition of abstract art and especially that which uses flowing graceful lines. The fleur-de-lis incorporates the lily, the symbol of purity and, by virtue of its threefold design the Trinity. The red and yellow design incorporates vine leaves, the symbol of wine the Eucharist. The blue-green design, which forms the arms of the cross give a sense of a flower coming into bud. Within the root there is a triangle and the within the bud a pentagonal design. Five symbolizes living creation (and in this context, I thought, man). I do not know the intentions of window maker, but I interpreted the combination as a symbol of the Incarnation, God is made man.

It was presented to the college at the Silver Jubilee Mass celebrated by the then Archbishop of Birmingham, now Archbishop of Westminster, Vincent Nichols, a supportive patron of the college during his time at Birmingham.

The second is at Thomas More College in New Hampshire. Like the Maryvale Institute, it was asserting its Catholic identity and fidelity to the Magisterium. Shortly after I arrived, under two years ago, I was struck one day by the words of the psalmist in None: ‘Vain is the builder’s toil, if the house is not the Lord’s building; vainly the guard keeps watch, if the city has not the Lord for its guardian.’{ Ps 126(127)}. Recalling also, my experience at the Maryvale Institute, I immediately suggested to President William Fahey that we have an image of the Sacred Heart for our chapel too. It seems he had been thinking along similar lines for he told me that in fact his intention was, starting that Fall, to dedicate the college each year to the care of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. This has been done twice now.

This time I chose to create an image in a more iconographic style. Clearly, this is not part of the iconographic tradition, so I based the pose on the Pantocrator, blessing Christ. Again, I used egg tempera painted onto a gessoed panel as the medium. As this is a Western devotion and I am a Roman Catholic, I incorporated some Romanesque (ie Western) features by having the geometric patterned border and also, putting a geometric pattern into the background around the figure. This time I painted halos around both the head and the heart of Christ.

Part II next week.

Above: the Maryvale Sacred Heart; and below, the Thomas More College of Liberal Arts Sacred Heart

Listen to Music by Frederick Stocken

Frederick Stocken is a Catholic composer who composes genuinely high quality classical music that actually sounds good. There is no hint of either dissonance or minimalism in his work (which seem to be the two streams that most modern composers occupy). I was lucky enough to hear his First Symphony performed at the Albert Hall in London under the direction of Vernon Hanley several years ago (I was reviewing it for the Catholic Herald). This was my introduction to his music and I have been following his work, which has steadily grown and developed, ever since.

I was pleased to hear recently that Frederick Stocken's premiere of his organ work, St Michael the Archangel was well recieved and he has been asked to perform it again when the Archbishop of Westminster visits Poplar in December.  Frederick seems to be working hard at the moment and there is another premiere, this time a piece for organ and choir, commissioned by the Worshipful Company of Musicians for their carol service at St Michael's in Cornhill, London in December.

Unfortunately, there is very little of his work available on CD. There are clips of some of his work at www.frederickstocken.com . If you want to hear a complete piece his charming Bagatelle for piano is played in full.

His early work, Lament for Bosnia, which made the classical charts some years ago now is out of print but still seems to be available on Amazon. I look forward to the day when more of his work is available.

A Course on Catholic art, for both Artists and Patrons

I want to direct readers to the Maryvale Institute in Birmingham England and its course Art, Beauty and Inspiration from a Catholic Perspective. The Maryvale Institute is a Catholic college known internationally both for the quality of the education it offers and its fidelity to the Magisterium. I have visited this college many times over the years and its very special approach to education gave me insights into how artists ought to be taught today. I wrote about this in an article Art, Grace and Education, which first appeared in the journal Second Spring. I should declare at this point that I worked closely with the faculty (from whom I learnt a great deal) in the creation of this course and was one of the lecturers on its residential weekends before I came to work in the US. This course is for both practising artists and for those interested in art, including its role in Christian life, liturgy and catechetics. It is a part-time, distance-learning, one-year course and so it is ideal for mature students anywhere in the world (as such it is complementary to Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, in New Hampshire, which offers this to a more conventional body of undergraduate students). It is very reasonably priced and is structured so that it can be combined with a working life. It is credit rated at undergraduate level.

It introduces the riches of the whole Christian tradition and its continued inspiration in both the East and the West up until the present day, rooted above all in the Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery.

The course does not presume, nor require, any specific abilities or skills in art. Nonetheless, it was established in direct response to John Paul II’s Letter to Artists and aims to stimulate and inspire a new wave of Catholic artists to create a new ‘epiphany of beauty' in religious art.

Included in this course is the role of art in liturgy and in catechesis, as well as how artists have drawn inspiration for their work in the light of grace, the daily life of the Church and the action of the Holy Spirit.  The course explores the ways that visual art forms can reflect timeless truths and a holistic Catholic world view that can speak to the needs that today's men and women have for beauty, goodness and truth.

There is a topical connection. John Henry Newman lived there temporarily before establishing the Birmingham Oratory in its permanent site. In 1846, Newman and his community who had recently been received into the Church were granted the former seminary as a house of retreat and study.   It was Newman and his followers who gave it the name 'Maryvale' after St Philip Neri's church in Rome.

BBC TV show on the Cosmati pavement

This was recently brought to my notice by Strat Caldecott in his Beauty in Education blog. The BBC art critic Andrew Graham-Dixon discusses the floor and its current restoration. It has some very interesting shots of the 13th century Westminster Pavement and refreshingly, he quite happy to refer to the cosmological aspect of its design (although always as though it is a historical detail, rather than still part of the Catholic understanding of the world). Watch the video here

The Beuronese School of the 19th century

The Beuronese School is an interesting cul-de-sac in the Christian tradition. It is named after the town of Beuron in Germany which is the location of the Benedictine community in which the school originated. The style is an attempt in the 19^th century to revive Christian art, reacting against the dominating over sentimental naturalism of the time, which draws on Egyptian art and canon of proportion that was said to be derived from that of the ancient Greeks (although this is speculative, given that the canon of Polyclitus is lost). The artists themselves were trained in the methods of the19^th century atelier and the result is a curious mixture of 19^th century naturalism stiffened up, so to speak, by an injection of Egyptian art and geometry. Examples are to be found in central Europe and also at Conception Abbey in Missouri. I have read an account of the geometric proportions used in the human form in translation of the book written by their main theorist, Fr Desiderius Lenz, On the Aesthetic of Beuron. It was complex , so much so that my reaction was that it would be very difficult for any painter to use the canon succesfully in any but very formal poses (although it might be possible for sculptor to follow it). As soon as you have to twist and turn a pose, then the necessary foreshortening requires the painter to use an intuitive sense as to how the more distant parts relate to the nearer. To be able to do so would require the artist to have many years’ experience of working within that proportion, to the degree that it would be unnatural for him to do anything else. For this reason those that have more formal poses are the most successful works. Those that attempt a more naturalistic pose work less well, in my opinion, and look like illustrations from the bible I was given when I was a child.

The approach of Beuron school is idiosyncratic and as such sits outside the mainstream of Christian tradition. It does not as far as I can ascertain have its form integrated with theology in the way that the iconographic, the baroque or the gothic do. Nevertheless the end result does strike me as having something of the sacred. Perhaps their efforts to control individual expression have contributed to this. The school stressed, for example, the value of imitation of prototypes above the production of works originating in any one artist. The artists collaborated on works and did not sign it once finished, so it is not always clear who the artist is.

My approach in seeking to reestablish our Christian culture is look first at the mainstream of tradition, so this is not a school I I would look at in regard to my own painting, but that is not to say that no one else might consider them as examples worthy of study.

The main artists in Europe are Lenz (d 1928) and Gabriel Wuger (d 1892). The artists of Conception Abbey, their website tells us, were trained in Beuron but moved to Missouri once the abbey was founded.

Our Lady Seat of Wisdom, at St Gabriels, Prague

At the Abbey of St Martin, Beuron

Crucifixion by Bruger

The interior of Conception Abbey, Missouri and below, two frescoes from the church

A short course to learn how to live the WoB

You've heard about it The Way of Beauty, now learn how to walk it This summer the Way of Beauty Atelier is running a long-weekend retreat: Traditional Paths to Inspiration and Creativity. Based upon the methods by which artists were trained to apprehend beauty and open themselves to inspiration, this has been adapted for everyone and has application in all activities. No special experience of ability is assumed. So artistic or not, creative or not, young or old alike, it doesn't matter. Creativity and inspiration are great things whatever you do. It will be a weekend of prayer, chant, talks, discussion and reflection. For more information and sign up, go here and once there scroll down to the bottom of the page.

Christmas Trees: a Symbol for the Common Good?

A Christmas tree farmer working for the common good The Fall is a beautiful season in New England, as every tourist brochure will tell you, and so I am out and about  a lot at the moment. I was delighted on a recent walk near Henniker in New Hampshire to come across Forster's Christmas Tree Farm. The farm is situated on a hilltop and his shop has a deck where you can sit and enjoy a beautiful panoramic view of the surrounding area.  Steve Forster the charming proprietor was in and so I immediately starting quizzing him about local walks on developed farmland. Regular readers will know why (otherwise the curious can go here , here and here for past articles outlining my thoughts on the subject). Steve immediately told me that he has opened up trails on his land and makes them available to local people. It's not the conventional farming landscape of cereal crops or pastureland, but nevertheless, here is the land being put to productive use and an landowner who is happy to make it available as a resource for those who will use the privilege responsibly.

Gardening in England and Spain

My parents are both keen gardeners and their love of beautiful gardens has rubbed off on me. (Although, sadly, the knowledge of how to do it hasn’t. I feel I ought to know far more than I do.) Gardening is a great British enthusiasm. Britain is an island so there is plenty of rain brought over by the Atlantic winds; and it has a temperate climate, which means that is rarely either very hot or very cold. The absence of prolonged extremes means that a surprisingly large number of varieties of plants will flourish, including plants that one wouldn’t perhaps initially associate with Britain. For example, you see palm trees in Western Scotland, where the gulfstream hits the coast.  Once, when I visiting my brother who lives in California, I was surprised to discover that the ceanothus, a beautiful blue shrub that I remember from our garden at home in Cheshire, was growing wild in the hills above the Bay Area. It is indigenous to the region. I was told once several years ago that there are upwards of 100 common varieties of ceanothus available to gardeners and approximately 70% of them have been cultivated in the British Isles.

Mum and Dad are now retired and they spend the winter and much of the spring in Spain (along with several million other expats). Several years ago, once the four children had left home, there was no longer any need for the large house that I grew up in. This was sold and they bought a smaller one nearby in England, and taking advantage of the much lower property prices another small place in southern Spain (in common with many British retirees). This left them with the task of developing two small gardens.

The English garden is planted out with shrubs and herbaceous borders and although only about three years since they moved there, it is beginning to look established now. It is the planting of the little Spanish garden though that I find particularly interesting.

Many of the British people who have moved to Spain in the last 15 years, have tried to establish gardens there too. Their approach is to try to recreate a bit of English garden. But an English garden is always thirsty. So when I visit I see neighbours of my parents out every evening holding hosepipes that trail back to a tap on the house as they water annuals such as petunias copiously. If they did not do this, everything would die. My parents approach was slightly different. It was designed like at English garden, which is what they knew, but planted with indigenous plants, so that they would flourish without watering. My Dad explained to me that usually they have to water when they put the plants in, but once each plant is established, it just takes care of itself. This means also that there are no worries about the plants dying when Mum and Dad are back in England and can't care for them.

As a result, people in Spain have started to ask my Dad for advice. And its not just the expats – its the Spaniards as well. They are not used to seeing a garden like this, which is the English cottage garden style, so they are curious.

Pictures below are first, of the garden in England (graced by Mum, sometimes taken by surprise!) and the second set are in their garden in Spain.

and now Spain...

The view from the garden, over the olive groves to the mountains in the distance...

And just in case you didn't believe me... here are some palm trees on the coast of the west of Scotland, further north than James Bay in Canada

Is there a place for Celtic art today?

I have written a number of articles about ‘hard’ faceted patterned art and how it manifests sacred number, here. There is another decorative art tradition which might be termed, in contrast, 'soft'. This has the flowing and spiraling lines that we are accustomed to seeing in what generally seems to be referred to as Celtic art (although digging around, I have find Anglo-Saxon manuscripts that look similar to me). I am talking of manuscripts such as the Book of Kells or the Lindisfarne Gospels. However, it is not confined to this period, Romanesque, gothic and even the baroque periods had their own versions. It is non representational, but to me evokes the natural world in two ways. First it looks like the twisting and swirling shapes of vegetation, perhaps a creeping vine. This graceful, calligraphic flow of line gives it great beauty. Second, I am reminded of the mathematical functions that describe the natural world. I studied physics at university and the parabolas, hyperbolas and elliptical curves that are used in the mathematic description of the natural order (here in astro-physics) so often seem to jump out at me from these elaborate designs. Considering now exclusively the 'Celtic' style. It has an appeal way beyond sacred art and there are many artists today working designs directly inspired by these forms into media ranging from tattoos to jewelry. There is also a strong association with new-age-crystal ‘spirituality’. As a result, I find it difficult not to associate most modern attempts at sacred art incorporating this style with 1970s-vintage folksy Masses trying too hard to be trendy. Despite this, given the striking beauty and broad appeal today of the originals, I do think it is worth considering how we can use it for a genuine Christian purpose. Looking at reproductions of the old manuscripts, the decoration is not usually produced in isolation but as an embellishment on something else, a cross, script or figurative art. I am particularly interested in the figurative art because it is an authentic Western variant of the iconographic form. It is interesting to me that their figurative work not only has a decorative additions such as border (which other Christians have also) but their representations of the human form incorporate the swirl and flow into the lines as well. This makes them as highly stylized as any iconographic form that I know. (Interestingly, and I have no explanation for this, I cannot find images of Our Lady or Our Lord in this style.) As a result of this high level of abstraction, and correspondingly low level of naturalism, the form is even more two-dimensional than other iconographic forms.

If you have the figure in any pose other than straight on (we see St Luke from the Lichfield gospels left), staring out of the page, then it becomes very difficult to incorporate it succesfully. First, the image relies on a balanced symmetry to work. As soon as the figure is rotated, perhaps to three quarter profile, it makes it asymmetrical to a degree that erodes this balanced harmony. Second, the more that you introduce poses in the figure that are not face on, then more that you need the illusion of space in the image to describe the form. Take the simple example of a face in three-quarter profile; that is slightly rotated. Due to the rotation of the head, one eye is further away from us than the other. In order to make this read, usually the artist will make the more distant eye slightly smaller than the nearer one and in doing so introduces a slight natural perspective. Consequently a few inches of illusionary depth is introduced into the image. If trying to work in this ‘Celtic’ style, the artist then has to consider how to apply this rotation to the decorative element, which has an unavoidably flat, two-dimensional form. It is very difficult to accommodate both while retaining a sense of consistency in style. Any artist today, who is not naturally working in this style, living and breathing it as it were, will find these poses very difficult to create without them looking out of place. (The masters of the past did mange it, however, the four evangelists of the Lindisfarne gospels are not drawn front. St Luke is shown below.)

For a similar reason, this style does not lend itself to narrative imagery. In order to relate, for example, a scene from the life of the saint, each figure to turn and interact with others in the scene. The problem of style consistency in these scenes would be harder again for a the modern-day artist. I was very interested recently to see the work of Daniel Mitsui. He is unusual in that he is trying to recreate the figurative art in this style (not just the decorative swirly parts). I recently had a discussion about him because I saw examples of his work and liked them. I contacted him because I wanted to encourage him to do more. His ‘In principio’ and the St Patrick work well I think. The figurative piece is clearly based upon the traditional form (with figure fully facing us). It has also a contemporary feel, but this, in my opinion, doesn’t detract. His St Columba works less well. The face of the main figure is fine, but the narrative scenes below the main figure are struggling to grapple with the difficulties I describe above. As a rule, I am very reluctant to focus on any negative publicly. However, with his permission that I bring them to your attention, because I think it illustrates exactly the way in which artists learn, by doing it first, then analyzing (often with the help of others) and finally, one hopes, learning from these early attempts we can go on and produce even better work.

There is the question also, even assuming we can master this style today, as to where it is appropriate. I find it difficult to imagine a 6ft mosaic or fresco in a church in this style. I can see it, however, working in the setting from which we draw most of the originals, in books - say a Book of Hours or lectionary.

Above, three pieces by Daniel Mitsui.

Below, St Matthew, Book of Kells

An Old England Walk in New England

The pleasure of going round in circles I have written before, here, about my belief that farms and gardens are, or at least with God's grace can be, even more beautiful than the wilderness. I have also referred to my love of walking in the countryside. There are lots of set aside hiking trails in New Hampshire, nearly everything I have seen is set in conservation land, owned by the state and so not farmed but rather, it is left to grow wild. Typically, therefore, one is walking through a tunnel through trees, emerging occasionally at vista points to see...tree tops. I seek the pleasure of good old fashioned 'walk in the country'. This is an aesthetic pursuit which, while involving exercise, emphasises more the enjoyment of the scenery and, if done in the company of others, conversation along the way.  The modern version is a 'hike in the wilderness'. This is much more an athletic pursuit. Clearly there is enjoyment of the scenery there too but often expressed in a new-agey spiritualism:  the individual seeks to  'commune' with Nature. Just to illustrate the point, when I arrived in New England I signed up for a group that walked regularly in the White Mountains in northern New Hampshire. On the sign up form, there were sections in which they invited people to answer questions that gave a bit of background about themselves.  Sample questions were: 'What sort of goals and challenges are you going to set for yourself in this group?'; or 'What is your greatest achievement as a hiker so far?'. I couldn't quite see how 'pleasant conversation' could fit into the category of goal, challenge or achievement.

When the middle classes of Jane Austin's novels went for walk in the country, they didn't pull on their ergonomic rucksacks and aim for three peaks or 50 miles in a day.

Since I arrived in New Hampshire I have been trying to discover circular walks in farmed countryside. There is no tradition of public footpaths across private land here, so I try to connect public, unmade roads and old cart tracks (some do exist) that run through at least some farmland. I have managed a couple. Recently I thought I had completed one near the Blackwater Dam near Webster, NH. Unfortunately I couldn't complete the circle because the old cart track bridge over the river had collapsed. There was a ford for horses, but this was too deep for me to cross. Nevertheless, this leaves me with too very pleasant walks along a river, in which I will just have to go so far and then retrace my steps. Here are some pictures.

These stone walls mark the boundary of what used to be a field for pasture, now overgrown with trees.

The old bridge collapsed many years ago. The water is too deep, so its either swim across or turn around. (I chose the latter option!). Unfortunately I didn't have a pair of waders like our friend below..

Beauty and Superabundance in Business

Consider two musical notes. They can be played separately, but when heard simultaneously something profound happens. Without destroying the integrity of each individual note, a new third entity has been created – a chord. What is interesting about the chord is that is created out of nothing. Crucially, the result is beautiful. What has this got to do with business? This little example is analogous to what happens in business when wealth is created. In his encyclical, Caritas in Veritate, Pope Benedict XVI describes how wealth is created out of nothing – he uses the phrase ‘superabundance’ to describe it.

It is out of nothing because nothing materially new has been created. Through a transaction two people have exchanged one thing for another which they value more highly (otherwise they wouldn’t have chosen to do it) and wealth has been generated.

The principle of superabundance is based upon the presence of God. When human relationships are founded upon love (ie mutual self-sacrifice) then God, who is Love, is present in a special way. When He is present, they are termed ‘covenantal’ relationships. Covenantal relationships are always fruitful – something new is created out of nothing. In the family, this fruitfulness of love is realised in the creation of children. Clearly not all human relationships are intended to be as profoundly loving as a marriage, but all of them, even those in business, can be ordered to love rather than selfishness and will be more productive for it. Relationships which, in the other hand, are based upon the alignment of self-interest, are termed ‘contractual’.

Pope Benedict describes covenantal relationships in the context of business as being imbued with the principle of ‘gratuitousness’. Gratuitousness exists when something is freely bestowed by one for the benefit of another. It relates as much to the how of the action as to the what. If, for example, the way we treat someone communicates that we genuinely trust and value that person then that is going beyond the simple contractual aspects of the relationship (which are in accordance with the demands justice). This he says is not just desirable, but necessary. He goes as far as to say that, ‘Without internal forms of solidarity and mutual trust, the market cannot completely fulfill its proper economic function.’ Note he says explicitly the economic function is fulfilled – he is not referring here to incidental social benefits. There is no exchange without some wo

Beauty, I would suggest, is a litmus test of love and so of the maximisation of superabundance. When it is present in our actions then it indicates that we are opening ourselves up to the source of inspiration for greatest creativity and productivity. The generation of ideas and seeing them through to fruition is the basis of entrepreneurial activity.

To the extent that what we do is beautiful, it will be in harmony with the common good also. This means that in serving the aims of the business, there can be no conflict with society or God’s creation. If this is true then we might have found the route to genuinely ‘green’ business activity: one in which the more profitable and productive it is, the better it will be for the environment. This is something much more profoundly ‘green’ that many green activists envisage. The assumption behind the secular worldview appears to be that man is necessarily in conflict with the environment and so their solution is damage limitation in one form or another. This usually boils down to reducing the amount of human activity (which in turn usually equates to reducing the number of human beings on the planet). In contrast, the idea of superabundance offers the vision of a transformed human activity that improves upon the natural world. It is better than an activity that is neutral ie does not destroy the wilderness; it actually improves and perfects it. Nature is meant to flourish under man’s influence, and with God’s grace it is possible. When what we do is in harmony with nature, then in contrast to what we described before, the more active man, is the better it is for nature; and accordingly the more people there are doing it, the better.

How can we combine consideration of what is beautiful with the other considerations of running a business? Profit has to be the driving consideration and this doesn’t change that. Provided that moral law is not contravened the motive of profit will dictate what decisions are made. But an education in beauty (as described in more detail here) will naturally stimulate ideas that are simultaneously good for business (in the sense of profitable) and in harmony with the common good.

There are occasions when I can imagine the principle of beauty being considered consciously: for example when there are number of options available that seem equally valid by other criteria. At that point one might ask which is the most beautiful option? Even then I don’t imagine it will always be an easy criterion to use, we may be trying to apply it in situations in which beauty is not normally associated. In some situations it will be obvious though: if price is set by the perception of the value of an object, and if we make objects for sale more attractive then people will pay more. This is the idea that pitches the more expensive yet visually appealing and user-friendly Apple against the cheaper PC. But we are talking of something deeper as well. Beauty is a guide (along with morality) to the right exercise of our free will. Whereas morality restricts options, beauty multiplies them.

There is another aspect to this. The more we take the principle of beauty into account, the more our actions will be covenantal. We will giving of ourselves and going beyond the limited demands of justice. This gift of self, says the Pope, ‘by its nature goes beyond merit, its rule is that of superabundance.’ Business has its place in the fulfilment of the common good and to that end must be seen as something that is good in itself and business done beautifully is going to be closer to the fulfilment of that ideal.

It is important to note that we are living in a fallen world, and so seeking to institute a covenantal model of operation does not preclude contracts. The market is regulated by law in accordance with the principles of justice (or at least it ought to be), and contracts reflect this. While contracts are necessary, they are never enough. Contracts alone cannot generate the trust and goodwill that oil the wheels of commerce. It is the covenantal behaviour that permeates this legalistic structure that does this and so must be there too. I know of one person who has successfully developed and applied a systematic method of identifying and developing naturally occurring covenantal relationships. John Carlson of System Change, Inc. looks for  those revenue generating covenantal relationships in the companies that he works with. They permeate through and sit alongside the formal management structures in any company (and extend out into the client base). Once identified, he uses these as a basis for sustainable growth in accordance with a covenantal business model.

These considerations, I believe will hasten the business on to its proper end. The end of a good business is the steady creation of wealth in harmony with the common good; but take note, the right end of a bad business (if it doesn’t change) is failure! The indications are that the employment of these principles in the past (for example by the Benedictines) and by modern entrepreneurs works well for sustainable growth when understood in these terms.

For more detail on these principles see articles Sustainable Growth and Art, Grace, Education and the Beautiful Business, both at our sister site, www.thewayofbeauty.info.

PS There are two more blogs that have recently started that discuss these and similar matters: Andreas Widmar has started a blog Faith and Prosperity Nexus which is about 'sound business and strong faith in action' and knowing Andreas as I do, it'll be about enjoying the process too!

Fr Michael Sweeney's new blog, Re-Visioning Society discusses the common good and Catholic social teaching. He is an insightful and inspiring speaker if you ever get a chance to hear him.

http://thewayofbeauty.org/2012/04/the-green-green-grass-of-texas/

The Role of the Catholic Artist Today

Daniel Mitsui, whose blog  The Lion and Cardinal is doing a series of interviews of contemporary Catholic artists. He recently spoke to me about the practical process of creating art (which you can access here). The interview probed me, quite deeply, on how I approach painting - the attitudes I feel I must adopt, prayer, and how to draw on tradition discerningly.  He also reproduced a few of my paintings for any who are interested. The homepage of Daniel's blog, the Lion and the Cardinal, is here. And, while we're on lions and cardinals, the picture, is a detail of the 15th century painting (by Italian artist, Colantonio) of St Jerome removing the thorn from the lion's paw (a medieval tradition).  St Jerome was not a cardinal (there weren't any all until three centuries after he died) but he is one of the great Fathers of the Church and a Doctor of the Church. So we can assume that if there had been any when he was around, he would have been one of them! It is appropriate that today, September 30th, is the memoria of St Jerome.

I have given some more paintings of him below, one showing him in red cardinal's garb, anachronistically.

El Greco, 16th century

Ribera, 17th century

Caravaggio, 17th century

Japanese Landscape

The compatibility of traditional Japanese and Western Landscape I have discussed before the compatibility of Chinese and baroque landscape. The controlled variation in focus and colour  is common to Eastern and Western forms - the most important parts of the composition in sharper focus and, if it is not monochrome, most intensely coloured. Traditional Japanese landscape is worthy of study too. If anything the variation is even more marked. So much so that I would suggest that any budding landscape artist study these as part of their training, even if eventually they wish to concentrate on the Western form. One of the hardest things to do when painting from nature is to decide which parts are blurred and which in focus so that the end result is a coherent, unified impression. I feel that study of these Eastern forms would help develop this faculty.

This is not a new idea. The landscape painters of the 19th century, such as the Impressionists and others such as the great John Singer Sargent studied Japanese art (especially woodcut prints) and their compositional style was affected by it. If we look at the painting at the bottom by Alfred Sisley, (who came from and English family, but lived in France) example, the hanging boughs that frame the composition and the indication of branches and foliage in the very near foreground is a development in the 19th century that corresponds to the Eastern style of composition.

Other articles describing the principles of baroque landscape here.

News: Catholics TV series featuring David Clayton

The Way of Beauty is now the name of a new TV series produced by Catholic TV, which is based in Boston. We have been filming this over the last year at locations around the area including the campus at Thomas More College. It is a 13-part series and the first two have been aired. You can watch each show, after it has been aired at the Catholic TV website here. Alternatively you can go through the page on this blog 'Way of Beauty TV Series'. If you click the icon of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, it will take you through to the page on the TV company's website where you can watch each show.

News: a musical premiere in London by Catholic composer

Frederick Stocken, my favourite contemporary composer and one who definitely follows the via puchritundinis is giving an organ recital, which includes a premiere of sacred music composed by him. It is on  Wednesday 29 September 2010, 7.30pm, at St Mary and St Joseph’s Church, Poplar, London, E14 6EZ. The programme includes works by Bach, Sechter, Bruckner, Franck and Boellmann. It closes with the premiere of his own work, St Michael the Archangel. Here are his comments on the piece: ‘I first realised that I would write a collection of pieces for the organ based on the archangels on this very day, 29 September, the Feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael (otherwise known as Michaelmas) a couple of years ago; hence the idea of unveiling St Michael on this feast. I am still writing the other movements because other projects intervened, but am due to give the set its first complete performance next October at St Michael’s, Cornhill. I hope it will suffice to say that I have tried to capture, however imperfectly, something of the power and magnificence of this ‘Prince of the Heavenly Host’, as Pope Leo XIII described him in his famous prayer to the angel. I also had one practical consideration: that each of the pieces would not be so long that they could not also be played in due course after a mass or service as a useful voluntary.’ To read more, visit his site here.

Business Culture and Creativity

Business decisions are driven by aesthetics When I was living in Oxford, I met an American called Michael Black, who is a former MD of the American Stock Exchange. He is now based at Blackfriars, the Dominican house at the University, where he specialises in the study of the theology of business. In conversation with him one day, he told me a surprising thing. When one examines what motivates people to make the business decisions they do, contrary to what most people assume (even those who make the decisions), it is neither pay nor profit that is the primary motivator.

When he examined actual behaviour and decisions made it suggested something else to him. ‘However, you structure a pay or commission scheme,’ he told me, ‘people act in accordance with the company culture rather than what the commission scheme is motivating them to do. Also you might think, at least for the management within the company, that profit would be the strong motivator; and at one level it is. Except that the way that profit is defined depends upon what is valued, and in practice that varies from company to company. Even standard accounting practices allow for a whole range of definitions of profit.’

If you go to the root of the decision making process, he says, you always find a set of arbitrary assumptions about what the company ought to be doing. Some businessmen may like to think that they act purely by reason, but in fact like everyone else in all walks of life, decisions are made by applying reason to empirically gained information in accordance with assumed principles. What really piqued my interest was Michael’s assertion the choice of starting assumption is at source and aesthetic one; consistent with an innate sense of what is in harmony with the core values of the individual. In other words, whether they are aware of it or not, people choose what they believe to be beautiful.

This means therefore, that an education in beauty is an education in business practice. When we apprehend beauty, we do so intuitively. Therefore, an education that improves our ability to apprehend beauty, as Thomas More College’s Way of Beauty does, develops also our intuition. All creativity is at source an intuitive process so this education develops creativity also.

Beauty like morality is a principle (or perhaps a set of principles) that guides our freely chosen activities, helping us to make good choices. Morality tends to work on a negative basis – it cuts out options that are bad. In contrast, beauty is a principle that operates on a positive basis – it presents new possibilities in the form of new ideas that are in harmony with the common good. Choosing what is beautiful will invoke the principle of 'superabundance'. Superabundance is the creation of wealth out of nothing that Pope Benedict XVI describes in his last encyclical, and which I describe here.

The ‘company culture’ is formed from the aggregate of the values of the people within in. By values I mean what they believe to be good. People flourish within the company when they act in harmony with its culture. And in turn, ultimately, a company will flourish as God intends when its culture is in accord with the common good.

Of course, any culture can be good, or it can be bad. However, Catholics who have a deep understanding of what culture really is  (or at least what it ought to be) are in a position therefore, to create a culture that is in harmony with the cult that sustains and perfects all that we do, that is the liturgy of the Church with the Mass at its centre. The Way of Beauty is rooted in the premise that Catholic culture, in its broadest sense, is rooted in liturgy.

The photographs are of a selection of 18th century mill buildings.

The Symbolism in the Content of Fra Angelico's Frescoes

The Sermon on the Mount Rather than talking about form, my usual interest in painting, I thought that this time I would focus on the symbolism of the content contained in an example of gothic art by focusing on a fresco of the Sermon on the Mount, once again by Fra Angelico (1395-1455). It is in cell 32 in the north wing of San Marco in Florence and was painted between 1440 and 1450. I should mention that I am indebted to a lecture given by Dr Lionel Gracey who was my colleague when I was teaching at the wonderful Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England for much of the detailed information here. First of all there is the symbolism of the colours of Jesus’s clothes. The red under garment or tunic is red, which is a symbol of blood and a sign of his humanity; while the blue outer garment or cloak symbolizes his divinity. I was told that originally in this fresco the blue of the cloak matched precisely the heavenly blue of the sky. Fra Angelico often uses this colour symbolism for Christ and it is seen in all three liturgical traditions (although it is certainly not true to say that depiction of Christ is limited to these colours). Shown below is the Last Supper of an earlier gothic master, Duccio; a modern icon of Christ by Gregory Kroug, the 20th century Russian émigré; and The Kiss of Judas by Caravaggio from the early 17th century. All have the same colour scheme for Christ's robes. Judas is depicted in Fra Angelico’s painting as well, indicated by the black halo – an aura of darkness representing evil.

Dr Gracey pointed out how unusually shod Jesus is, in a slipper of some sort rather than sandal or barefoot. He speculates that this is an allusion to the Eucharist because during Passover the Isrealites were required to be shod.

What strikes me about the composition of this fresco is the vertical dynamic in colour, light and composition that sweeps the eye up and down the painting through the geometric centre, which is somewhere around his knees. Our eyes sweep continually from earth to heaven and back, so to speak.

The colour dynamic comes in the match (when still bearing the original colours) between the blue shawl on Christ to the blue of the sky above. This causes our eyes to sweep upwards. Also, Christ’s hand points directly upwards. At this point commentaries often say that he is telling us figuratively that his kingdom is ‘not of this world’ (John 18:36). The light takes us down in the other direction. As described last week, the upper part of Christ is dark and the lower portion is light. The eye is taken from here to the brightly lit rock plateau beneath him.

A link is often made between the Sermon on the Mount and the 10 Commandments. Christ resumed these Commandments in the double precept of charity -- love of God and of the neighbour; He proclaimed them as binding in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5). The mount upon which Jesus is preaching echoes Mt Sinai on which Moses was given the commandments. This parallel is emphasised by the bright illumination of the rock. Also Peter, whom Christ appears to be addressing, to his right, is ‘the rock’ upon whom He would build His Church.

Given Fra Angelico’s masterful manipulation of light (as I described last week, here) Dr Gracey suggested to me that this was the perfect painting for contemplation of the third Mystery of the Light in the Rosary, the Proclamation of the Gospel.

This is the third short article about Fra Angelico and the gothic that have been written for the New Liturgical Movement. The second was last week, already referred to and the first is archived here.