Lines and Highlights for the Icon

This is one of several posts on the process of painting an icon.
1 2 3.

When I set aside the icon of my guardian angel at the beginning of the summer, it looked very incomplete. In fact, the green undercoat to the face and hands looked strange, to say the least. It might look a little better now, that I've redrawn the lines and applied the first of three "highlights," applications of lighter-colored paint to add depth and color to the figure.


I read more of the Summa as I did. I was worried about repainting the lines: every time I have to re-do the face, I worry that it will look stupid and that I will have to look at a stupid face every time I look at the icon.

I continue to discover that the process of painting an icon exposes parts of my character or interior life, like my tendency to worry and my frugality to excess (hurry or the paint will dry and we don't need to waste any paint because it was expensive!!). It's tricky to try to focus on the person of my guardian angel, and not on the distracting stuff that constantly comes up.

</TMI> My plan for the icon's final colors is embarrassingly incomplete. When I began, I thought, "oh, I want the robe to be white in the end," but when I read more about the first highlight, which should be full-strength and very bright, I thought "uh...how's this going to work?" I have a long way to go in terms of technique.

The redrawing of lines is meant to represent order over chaos, as God separated and ordered parts of creation in the early days of the stories as a foundation for future creatures.

The highlight adds light to darkness, and stands for the lights we have by nature, like the powers of the soul (chiefly, the intellect).

And a final note: shadow is added not by application of dark paint, but by absence of light, just as sin enters creation not by action or existence, but by absence of good will and grace. (This is not to imply that my guardian angel or any holy person has sin, but the process of painting mirrors creation and part of the world that will appear on the last day, St. Augustine notes, are the shadows of sin.)

Next steps in painting the icon...

This is one of several posts on the process of painting an icon.
1 2 3

The icon looks very strange right now, since the technique practiced by iconographers begins with the darkest colors and proceeds to the lightest, symbolizing a movement from chaos to order, darkness to light. The process of painting an icon is a tiny replica of God's creation and salvation of our souls.

The strangest part is the green underlying the skin and hair of the figure. This first layer (called "sankir" in Russian) is browner or greener depending on the iconographer and the color tone of the holy figure painted, but it always contains some green. Green, the middle of the visible spectrum, reflects the balance which forms the foundation of a holy life. Interestingly, I am also learning this lesson from Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales. It is good to learn the lesson in two different ways: first, from St. Francis, using my intellect; then, from my guardian angel, using my body.

6. Sankir: a greenish base coat to the face and arms. (1Q107A4, including this gem: "as local distances do not prevent one angel seeing another, so neither does it prevent an angel perceiving what is ordered to him on the part of another [i.e. a communication of thought]."
7. Roshkrish: base coats. This figure is a guardian angel and holds a cross in his right hand and a sword in his left. (1Q107A5)
8. Background in a light gold, symbolic of heaven. (1Q108A1)

Another fascinating element of painting an icon is the opportunity to look at my flaws. The time I spend painting becomes a small image of my spiritual life. For instance, I noticed that I began to paint very rapidly when I worried that the paints would dry out and I would waste some. I grew so focused on painting quickly and well that I lost a little peace and forgot to pray for a large segment of time! Reflecting on this, I realize I often prefer results to peace, especially if I am inexperienced with a situation, experienced something unexpected, or prepared poorly (as I am inexperienced with diluting paints, was suprised that the white acrylic surface didn't behave like paper, and started with too much paint). My icon may have been better if I had a few more smudges and a little more prayer!

Icon progresses

This is one of several posts on the process of painting an icon.
1 2 3

If you are like I am, you're curious about the method for painting icons. You've heard that there are steps and that it is a process of devotion. You've heard that icons are supposed to be "windows to heaven," not ordinary pictures. How does one open a window to heaven?

To be honest, in one way I don't know. There are probably many methods and many different schedules of prayer and painting and fasting.

But in another way, St. John of the Cross tells us that to clear a window for heavenly light to pass through, we must be detached from earthly things. So, to successfully paint an icon is to cling more closely to God throughout the process and to grow in love and purity. (Easier said than done? You bet.)

That said, I am still interested in preserving, to the greatest degree doable, the traditional techniques for making an icon. I am trying to pray constantly as I paint, so I repeat the prayer to my Guardian Angel. Because I know so little about angels, I am also reading one article from the Summa for each step I complete. Here are the steps I have completed so far:

1. Preparing the board: three coats of white paint (1Q106A1, A2, A3). Icons painted according to old traditions have white gesso instead of white acrylic paint.
2. Painting the sides in brown (1Q106A4).
3. Transfer of the line drawing to the blank board (1Q107A1)
4. Painting the halo gold (1Q107A2). Isn't this interesting, that the first color to be placed on the board is the halo? In more traditional icons, the halo (and sometimes the background!) is gilded after application of red clay bole.
5. Painting a red line around the halo (1Q107A3).

It's amazing how effective these few things have been for spiritual growth. The application of my body and mind to acquainting myself with a holy person is really excellent!

Here are some gems from the Summa:

"...the other kinds of enlightenment that proceed from man or angel [i.e. all teaching of any truth] are, as it were, dispositions to this ultimate form [God]."

"...to him it belongs to change the will, to whom it belongs to bestow righteousness: for righteousness is the rightness of the will. But God alone bestows righteousness."

"...the angel's will is ever regulated by the Divine law which made the order in the angels..."

"The ecclesiastical hierarchy is derived from and represents the heavenly hierarchy."

"...the tongue of an angel is metaphorically called the angel's power, whereby he manifests his mental concept."

"The angels are ever speaking to God in the sense of praising and admiring Him and His works; but they speak to Him by consulting Him about what ought to be done whenever they have to perform any new work, concerning which they desire enlightenment."

First Icon: my Guardian Angel

Two wax paper tracings of the fresco I am copying

Madonna with 54¢ of cull lumber (five 3.25x4" pine boards)

I have put off beginning my first icon for a while: I wanted to start one at the beginning of Lent. Now that it is dangerously close to Pentecost and I am in a lull between classes and summer work, I realize my window is closing.

I really wanted to do this right. I read that some iconographers follow schedules of fasting and prayer. I didn't want to treat the process frivolously, mistreat the sacred, fail in obedience, innovate on top of holy traditions, etc, etc.

However, I also recognized that my desire to paint a holy person comes from a good intention, to spend time thinking about holiness in members of Christ's body and to exercise my devotion in a physical and visual way.

And I looked at the big picture: the Church has no partiality to one style or another (she is, after all, universal). In fact, just looking at the icons attributed to St. Luke one sees extreme variation across time and cultures. Materials, style, method--all these are accidental. What is essential to an image that will increase devotion in the painter and the future beholders is devotion and right intention.

With this in mind, I started last Friday. I am painting my guardian angel, with whom I barely converse at all and whom I barely know. The pattern I chose to copy is an Italian fresco (rather late considering the reported ancient source of many icons). This fresco, more than many other patterns that I could imitate, showed a masculine and attentive figure, with a face communicating significant activity. I will continue to post to record future progress.

Icons and iPads, Heretics and Humility

The other day, as I was studying with the icon in front of me (at left), a friend asked what it was.

Normally, I don't show it off. I'm usually in a study carrell or in a room by myself. That day, I was with a group but the icon was behind somebody's backpack and was only visible after that person packed up and left. (It's covered in bright red felt on the back, so once it's exposed it's hard to hide.)

My friend, a Protestant, simply said, "what's that?"

I turned it around, telling her it was an icon. She'd thought it was an iPad or some other gadget. I smiled and shook my head.

"No," I replied. And because I knew this friend was an earnest Christian I went on, "but it's sort of better. You're looking right at the Truth Himself."

I told her I carry it around so that I can look at Christ during study, a reminder of Someone I love and a little escape to reality about His constant presence. She asked if there were particular prayers I say when I look at it, and I shrugged "no," it's just to gaze at. She asked why it looks the way it does.

I told her about Mary's and Christ's outward gaze being like a conversation with the viewer, because an icon is a window to heaven. I explained Mary's three stars (she is the next-most-perfect thing to the Trinity) and the red and blue garments (Mary is human and clothed with divinity; Christ is God, clothed with humanity). I said the inclination of Mary's head indicates her role in pointing us to Christ. I showed her how the shape of Christ's hand identifies Himself (ICXC).

(If the conversation had continued about icons, I could've told her about the gold background signifying heaven, the two-dimensional features meaning that the figures are (in a way) not of our world and not in our time. I could've mentioned that icons are usually painted on wood, to use natural and durable substances for such an exalted purpose. But, there was a much more incredible conversation to be had!)

Speaking about Christ's hands I mentioned talking about the Greek Orthodox Church and the word "schism" dropped out of my mouth. She wanted to know the difference between a schism and a heresy. I told her that I'm not precisely sure, but a schismatic church can maintain valid sacraments, "and heretics usually deny something big, like the divinity of Christ."

"So," she said, "this might be an unfair question, but what was the Protestant Reformation?"

I looked at her and then at the carpet. "That would be a heresy," I said, and immediately mentally flagellated myself for such stupid phrasing and delivery of such an important thing. But somehow, she was very understanding! She's a very mature person, so she understood I was speaking about the historical event and not her, personally or even Protestantism today.

I looked it up later to make sure I'd said the right thing. Protestants are our brothers by Baptism. The merits of the Church gain salvation for all those saved. Protestants seem to meet the definition of material heretic, like many spirit-of-Vatican-II Catholics. But check out what then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger wrote in The Meaning of Christian Brotherhood:

...there is no appropriate category in Catholic thought for the phenomenon of Protestantism today (one could say the same of the relationship to the separated churches of the East). It is obvious that the old category of ‘heresy’ is no longer of any value. Heresy, for Scripture and the early Church, includes the idea of a personal decision against the unity of the Church, and heresy’s characteristic is pertinacia, the obstinacy of him who persists in his own private way. This, however, cannot be regarded as an appropriate description of the spiritual situation of the Protestant Christian. In the course of a now centuries-old history, Protestantism has made an important contribution to the realization of Christian faith, fulfilling a positive function in the development of the Christian message and, above all, often giving rise to a sincere and profound faith in the individual non-Catholic Christian, whose separation from the Catholic affirmation has nothing to do with the pertinacia characteristic of heresy. Perhaps we may here invert a saying of St. Augustine’s: that an old schism becomes a heresy. The very passage of time alters the character of a division, so that an old division is something essentially different from a new one. Something that was once rightly condemned as heresy cannot later simply become true, but it can gradually develop its own positive ecclesial nature, with which the individual is presented as his church and in which he lives as a believer, not as a heretic. This organization of one group, however, ultimately has an effect on the whole. The conclusion is inescapable, then: Protestantism today is something different from heresy in the traditional sense, a phenomenon whose true theological place has not yet been determined. (pp. 87-88, emphasis mine)

Lessons learned:

1. Don't mentally label people as heretics; it's not black and white. 
2. I am so humbled by people's good character. This mature and gracious friend is not closed off in her quiet love-chase for Truth. (So pray for her!!)
3. Icons are better than iPads (but you already knew that).

Iconography

Our Lady of Częstochowa

I love icons: I have a diptych in my study carrel at school, and a Russian nicopeia in my bedroom. I've often wanted to write icons, especially when I am reading about a favorite saint. However,  I'm woefully ignorant, so I am reading about iconography on my weekend off. (I had an exam last Friday and won't have another one for two weeks!)

I found rich quotes from the Catholic Encyclopedia and an insightful interview with iconographer Marek Czarnecki. I was most impressed with two points: the powerful, subtle way icons teach and the remarkable mentality of iconcographers.

First point: icons are designed to teach through every detail. Czarnecki had this to say:

We can compare an icon to a carefully constructed poem. Indeed, this is why we call it icon ‘writing’ instead of ‘painting.’ Every ‘word’ or element of it fits very concisely and precisely to contribute to the overall meaning and integrity of the whole.

He called iconography an "eternal language," providing a way to depict the Church's saints until the end of time. "Iconography is called, rightly so, a liturgical art. Just like a priest has a rite for saying Mass, so we also have our guidelines...the consensus and example of tradition." He also informed me about the importance of icons in our human lives:

In the eighth century, an ecumenical council was convened. At that time, St. John of Damascus determined that icons were not an ‘option,’ but rather a necessity in explaining the Incarnation of Christ. To not have icons would be a denial of the Incarnation itself.

It reminds me of the importance of the beauty of architecture, which I realized when TAC dedicated the Chapel my sophomore year. It was designed to be a church that teaches, so that the marbles used and the positions of the materials impressed on TACers truths of the faith. In the same way, shapes and colors on the wood of an icon impress us with truths. I've seen that the richest lessons are the ones I learn gradually and gently, unfolding day by day. The icons in my life do this.