Icon - St. Elias

2010
egg tempera and gold on wood
15 3/4" x 20 1/4"

I painted this icon for my son, who is named John Elias. The icon of Elias is interesting for a number of reasons. He is usually shown with a red background rather than the usual gold, which represents the fire of the Holy Spirit who spoke through him and of the fiery chariot which took him to heaven. It is also interesting because it is the only icon I have ever seen of a person who has not experienced death. I chose to make his scroll red, as it was in one of the prototypes I was using, because the scroll represents his prophecy, which is inspired by the Holy Spirit.

Icon - Virgin of Crete

2008
egg tempera on wood
9" x 12"

This was the first icon I ever painted. I chose the Virgin of Crete prototype as a gift for my daughter Mary Eve. This is one of the few prototypes of Mary that does not show her with Christ, but rather by herself.

Unknown Saint II

2011
acrylic on 4-ply board
15 1/4" x 19 1/4"

My series of unknown saints intend to remind the viewer that the image of God is in all people, even where we do not expect it. The almond shapes in the background of this painting are called mandorlas and are formed by the intersection of two circles. I think of it as representing the unification of opposites - of God and Man, of the divine and the human - the incarnation of God and the deification of Man. This shape usually envelopes Christ in icons at moments of theophany.

Four Unknown Saints

2011
mixed media on 4-ply cotton rag board
5" x 5 1/2"

This is another example from my series of unknown saints. I encountered the term "unknown saint" in art historical books. For example, one might read about a medieval painting described as "Crucifixion surrounded by figures of Mary, John, and four unknown saints." The artists who made these images likely intended them to represent particular holy persons, but history has forgotten who they are. My idea is to take this term and give it new meaning by focusing directly on the unknown saints. I believe most saints are unknown, after all. Everyone we encounter is an icon of God created with a unique vocation to holiness and sainthood.

Chrysostomos

2010
acrylic on wood
8 1/2" x 10 1/2"

I'm not sure how I decided to paint John Chrysostom other than that I had this wide gold frame that reminded me of a bar of gold. I wanted to make good use of it and in thinking about gold, I thought about the golden-mouthed orator, John. Sometimes the materials themselves can remind me of the spiritual. This painting is quite a bit closer to iconography than many of the paintings in this exhibit.

Angel

2010
acrylic on canvas
23 1/4" x 29 1/2"
on loan from the private collection of Jack and Dusty Mansfield

This angel is painted almost entirely out of mandorlas. I wanted to convey something of the inhuman and purely spiritual angelic nature.

Theotokotokos

2008
acrylic on wood
9" x 11"

The title of this painting is a neologism that a friend and I developed meaning "the bearer of the God-bearer." It depicts St. Anna, who is the mother of Mary, who is the mother of God. The image upon the breast of Anna is based on a traditional prototype called the Panagia or Our Lady of the Sign. Just as Mary is shown in an orans posture of prayer, so is Anna. Just as the blessing of Christ comes to us through Mary, so Mary comes through Anna.

Pantokrator

2008
acrylic on canvas
35 1/2" x 39 1/2"

This painting of Jesus Christ is based upon the prototype called the Pantokrator, which means "Almighty." Traditionally, it is painted on the center of the ceiling or in the dome of an Eastern church.

Forerunner

2007
acrylic on wood
21 1/4" x 23 1/2"
on loan from the private collection of Aric Maddux

The following comments were written in a public forum about this painting by a man named David:

John the Baptist's iconography is probably my favorite of all the saints. I am most irritated by Christian art in which the edges are too smooth and the complexions and colors too glowing. The Baptist is the antithesis of all this: rough, dirty, and shaggy. 

So I am inclined by temperament to admire your painting, and indeed I do. The rough, shaggy quality is everywhere apparent, and the scratches and thin streaking that characterize your work are here especially appropriate. But the roughness does not interfere with the saintliness, as the halo (left mostly undefined by the corners of the canvass--though with circularity hinted at by a vague line) makes clear. 

The focal point of the painting for me is the eyes, and they are very expressive. The largeness communicates a kind of childish wonder or naivete, while their vague, shimmering quality makes them appear sad. The contrast of the sad childish eyes with the roughness elsewhere is a delight and makes me think of John in ways that I had not before. I have always thought of him as a man of violent temperament--but such men may hide inside them the fearfulness of a child.

Figure-Ground

2007
acrylic on wood
8 1/2" x 10 1/2"

This was an experimental painting in which I attempted to reduce the iconic figure to only its most essential elements using the vocabulary of painterly abstraction.

Nepsis

2006
acrylic on wooden door
24" x 80"

Nepsis means "watchfulness" and it is a spiritually aware state of being ever vigilant against temptation and attacks of the enemy. It is both a means to the end of theosis and a trait of those who have become one with God. This posture of the figure in this painting is taken from paintings of monks in the church of  St. Mercurius in Old Cairo, Egypt. I think of the  halo, which has obliterated even the face of the figure, as representing the divinity with which the person is united and the lower part of the figure's body as representing the passions against which the person is struggling.

Mandylion

2005
acrylic on wood
24" x 24"

The Mandylion is a cloth bearing a miraculous icon of Jesus not made by human hands, traditionally thought of as the first icon. This painting is inspired by images of this cloth. This painting contains a double image. There is the face at the center, but there is also a second face that becomes apparent if the painting is turned counterclockwise. I intended these two faces to refer to the two natures of Christ - the divine and the human.

Station XIII - The Lamentation

2001
acrylic on loose canvas
64" x 74"

I painted this just after my mother died. It was very poignant for me, after beholding my dead mother, to paint my mother in Christ holding her dead son. This painting was part of my mourning. Before I proceeded to paint the other stations of the cross, I originally called this painting, "My mother holding her dead God," which, for me, expressed the utter desolation and abandonment of death.  

Station X - The Stripping

2002
acrylic on loose canvas
44" x 66"

Station IX - The Third Fall

2002
acrylic on loose canvas
67" x 45"

Station VII - The Second Fall

No photo yet


2002
acrylic on loose canvas
65" x 44"

Station V - Simon of Cyrene

2002
acrylic on loose canvas
65" x 79"

This is the largest painting in this series. I wanted to emphasize that Simon was pressed into service and to speculate that his service was unwilling because I think we so often carry our crosses unwillingly.

Station III - The First Fall

No photo yet

2002
acrylic on loose canvas
60" x 43"

(I will place here some comments about this series of paintings. I'm not sure I'll have many unique comments for each piece. In 2001-2002, I painted 6 of the 14 stations of the cross. I originally intended to paint all 14).

These are painted on loose irregular canvas and hung with two large nails, ideally. The idea of this was to hang the paintings the way that Christ was hanged on the cross. I painted these traditional images in a style of painterly abstraction strongly influenced by action painting. In other words, I painted them with a significant degree of physical violence, which is, I think, appropriate to the theme of Christ's torture and death. Violence, physical and spiritual, is a theme of much of my work.

Rafka

2000
oil on wood
23" x 23"
on loan from the private collection of Jeff Muller

Rafka was a Maronite nun who, in 1885, "prayed to become a victim of divine love. She was struck blind that night and endured terrible pain in her right eye. that eye was eventually removed in an operation without an anesthetic. Rafka had hemorrhages from her eye two or three times a week every after as a result, yet this suffering did not stop her" (John Paul II's Book of Saints, p. 341). Despite and because of her great sufferings and disfigurements, Rafka was an image of God and an example of holiness.