Across the Finish Line

I completed the "Burning Bush Triptych" yesterday afternoon.   The photo is a bit skewampus but the colors are pretty accurate.  

I wish I could say that the last-minute decision to gild the fruit on the thorn bush was primarily motivated by theology, but actually, I realized that there needed to be something more in the background to balance the dominance of the gilding of the figures of the Mother of God and Jesus.  

In other words, the gilding of the figures made the burning bush recede so much that it almost disappeared.  

That said, I also realized that if I didn't balance out the figures in the foreground and the background, it would be distracting during prayer.  (This icon is for the prayer corner in my studio, which means I'll be praying with it a lot). 

 

Getting Each Step Right

Top Left: Archangel Gabriel (Annunciation); Bottom Left:St.Jean d'Arc; Center: Elousa Mother of God; Top Right: Mary, Mother of God; Bottom Left: St. Mary of Egypt

I've begun work on a tryptich which will eventually end up in the prayer corner of my studio. I did the cartoon back in October 2016, then put it aside as my Dad went into his final illness.  Almost a year later, I'm ready to begin the next stage of the work.  So this past weekend I cut the panels for the center and the wings.  And although the panels are cut, I'm a long way from being ready to begin painting.

Which is alright.

One of the life lessons I've learned from icon painting is the importance of every step of the process.  Historically and to the present day, icons are painted either as wall murals in buon fresco, secco (egg tempera on plaster) or mosaic or as portable panels in egg tempera, acrylic, encaustic, mosaic, cast metal or carved in wood or ivory in bas relief.  In every case, regardless of media, a lot of preparation and preliminary work is required just to get to the start line.

I've learned the hard way, that any rush to get to the "good parts" (the aspect of the work that is gratifyingly self-expressive) in icon painting is a mistake.  Although I try to work efficiently , there are no shortcuts.  Even those stages of the work that are tedious or boring (which I am tempted at times to regard as taking up time that could be given over to more creative activity) , are not a diversion but essential.

Essential not only in a practical, material sense -- a smooth polished gessoed surface on a panel is essential for gilding and painting -- but essential in a spiritual sense as well.  If. as has been my experience, every icon is a prayer made visible, every stage of the work is an offering of one's self and one's work to God.  The loving attention to detail, concentration and hard work to get each aspect of the work as close to perfect as one can manage, if done with the right intention, gives glory to God.

Which true, not only in the studio, but in the mundane but essential tasks of marriage, parenthood, work and prayer.    

 

Why I Always Use Red Bole

It turns out that burnished water gilding, that is applying gold leaf to a bole ground and then polishing it with an agate (or a dog's tooth) burnisher until it shines, is actually easier than you'd think it would be.  The secret is to apply a thin coat of gilder's clay mixed with size to the gesso, sand and polish it, and apply the gold leaf.  Piece of cake --  sort of -- as long as everything goes exactly right.  But if the clay/glue ratio is off, or its too dry or too humid, or there is unusual solar flare activity, forget about it going as planned.

But lately I've been able to manage to get pretty good results gilding and burnishing haloes.  Not bad for 35 years of effort!  Pretty OK.   Not perfect-the gilding is NEVER perfect, there's inevitably a flaw, a fault, a thin spot or a pinhole if you look carefully enough, which why bole is usually red. (The red makes the faults disappear.)

Seems to me an apt, if homely metaphor for grace .  The color is wrong, of course -  it is our sins that are like scarlet, not grace, but isn't it grace that covers over our faults, failings and sins and makes them disappear?

No Other Remedy

Of course, as I already knew yesterday, fortuna had really nothing to do with the setback I experienced with the halo of the icon of Christ. As is the case, inevitably, also in the spiritual life, it wasn't bad luck that was my problem but that I cut a few corners along the way.

So it was back to the basics. I ground the bole, first in water until it was smooth, then added the glue and ground it a second time.

I used a big brush --the biggest brush I could manage-- to float the bole on the icon. I don't know why exactly I held back earlier and applied it with a smaller brush, but I did and it made a difference. So the first layer of bole is back on the board and we'll see how it all turns out.

I keep a little collection of quotations by St.Teresa of Avila next to my prayer corner in the studio, open to this admonition of her's. It reminds me of my friend, the newly departed servant of God, Sr.Rosemary, who chose the quotations and designed each page with her friend Sr.Mary Grace at the Carmel of Terre Haute, Indiana.
When I look at her calligraphy I am reminded of her beautiful spirit. But I'm encouraged both by the words of St.Teresa and by my friend's example of perseverance in prayer and the hidden life of Carmel, not to give up on the 'one thing necessary', which is always communion with Christ in prayer.
My temptation in prayer which I readily admit to succumbing to more often than I like to admit, is to cut corners, to rush, to let my mind wander and then get so discouraged that I give up altogether.
So in the life of prayer, as in the work in the studio, there's no other remedy but begin again.

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Wheel of Fortune

The ancients as well as medieval people never seemed to tire of meditating on the idea of the "rota fortunae" literally, the "wheel of fortune" as a reminder of the transitory nature of worldly success. Fate or luck, personified as the goddess Fortuna, was depicted turning the crank on a large wheel. Seated on the wheel were various people either ascending to the top of the wheel or descending to the bottom.

In our example of the "Rota Fortunae", (courtesy of aclerkofoxford@blogspot.com) a regal looking fellow wearing a crown is seated at the top. He is holding the symbols of earthy power. But his crowned companion to is right is already headed downward, his neighbor has lost his crown and his regal attire and the poor unfortunate on the bottom is falling off the wheel entirely!

But to his left, clinging to the wheel with all his might, another man is being slowly raised up and the man ahead of him reaches for the prize.

I too managed to take a ride this evening on the "Rota Fortunae" . Of course, my turn on the wheel involved (what else?) gilding. The wheel started turning as I began carefully applying gold leaf to the bole of the halo of the icon of Christ that I have been hard at work on for the past couple of days.

After over an hour of painstaking work, I applied the final piece of gold leaf. There I was, the fellow reaching expectantly for the crown and orb, which appeared to be just within reach. After waiting for the requisite length of time , I began gently burnishing the gilding. That was when Bella Fortuna gave the wheel a turn -- the halo wouldn't burnish! And then she gave it another turn -- each stroke of the burnisher was scraping off the gold leaf!

Something, it soon became evident, was wrong with the bole, which meant that it had to come off. All of it, which involved soaking the bole, scraping it all away and then cleaning off the muddy red clay mess smeared on the icon.

In the end not too much the worse for wear.

So I'm ready to climb back on the wheel. I plan on hanging on tight and hoping that I'm on the upswing as I get ready to gild that halo again.

Is it my imagination, or does Fortuna have a slight smile? And isn't she supposed to be blindfolded?

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