WINDOWS INTO HEAVEN
FROM BYZANTIUM TO RUSSIA:
POPULAR ICONS FOR PERSONAL DEVOTION
On view at the Bates College Museum of Art in Lewiston, Maine
From October 17 to December 29, 2003
Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves
The truth is that art does not teach; it makes you feel, and any teaching
that may arise from the feeling is an extra, and must not be stressed too
much. In the modern world…we are obsessed with the notion that to think is
the highest achievement of mankind, but we neglect the fact that thought
untouched by feeling is thin, delusive, treacherous stuff.
—Robertson Davies
As a young Catholic girl, my first experiences with art came from the
church. Some of the images were transcendent: the stained-glass windows,
aglow with deep blue and scenes from the bible, as well as statutes of
Jesus, Joseph, the saints, and most beloved of all, the Virgin Mary. Others,
such as pictures of the crucifixion shown in vivid detail in our family
Bible, were more horrifying. These images have all come together to form
deep-seated impressions of mystery, beauty, terror, and spirituality, and
even today, I have a special fondness for religious art.
For the most part in the twentieth century, art and religion have parted
company. In the major museums, there are still many fine exhibits that
feature religious art from the Renaissance or the Middle Ages, but in Maine,
where the museums are smaller, the art is usually more secular. However, in
the past few months, there have been several exhibits in Maine museums that
have dealt with spirituality and religion. At Bowdoin College in Brunswick,
Maine, there was The Disembodied Spirit, an exploration of our
longing for a spirit world, and Dürer’s Life of the Virgin, a warm
and wonderful series of prints.
Now, at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine, there is From Byzantium to
Russia: Popular Icons for Personal Devotion. The icons in this exhibit
were mass produced for “ordinary” people, and as such, they don’t have the
artistic spark of Dürer’s prints or some of the photographs in The
Disembodied Spirit. Nevertheless, the icons have undeniable beauty and
feeling.
The Oxford American Dictionary’s second definition of icon is “a
painting or mosaic of a sacred person, itself regarded as sacred.” According
to the exhibit’s brochure, “When a Russian couple married, the bride and
groom each received an icon from their parents…Each new baby was given an
icon, usually of the infant’s patron saint. Persons traveling away from
home…took their icons with them….” They were an integral part of a person’s
spiritual life. In simple but beautiful words, one of the wall texts at the
exhibit describes the power of icons: “[They] were not merely pictures; they
were windows into Heaven, comforters in times of sadness and sources of joy
in an often difficult world.” Many of the icons in the exhibit are small
enough to be either worn or carried and are made of bronze. However, some
are larger while others are made of wood and were used in shrines in a home
or in a monastery.
As I looked at this collection of “approximately 100 works,” I felt as
though I was looking at something both familiar and unfamiliar. Many
featured the Virgin Mary, often with a background of cool blue or green, as
well as Jesus, the saints, and angels. There were also scenes from the
bible. Regardless of when the icons were made—the range extends from the
seventh century to the current century—they all have the same formal,
medieval look. It was as though the Renaissance had never happened. Some of
the images are serene, some are beautiful, and others are rather terrible,
but none of them have the warmth and immediacy of the images I remember from
my Catholic girlhood.
Different cultures, of course, have different approaches to religion and
spirituality, and there is certainly nothing wrong with this. The Eastern
Orthodox Church had (and continues to have) a more consistent, austere
approach to religious art than the Roman Catholic Church, whose art has
changed through the ages. As I wandered through the museum and looked at the
icons and their remote beauty, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was
perfectly appropriate to envision the holy in this way. The notion of God
and creation and the workings of the universe are not cozy images to be
considered lightly. There is true terror in nature, however much we might
like to deny it.
In addition, when we consider the turmoil on earth—the strife and the
striving, the cruelty and greed, the grasping for power—the formality and
serenity of the pieces come to feel like the inside of a dark house on a
glaringly hot day. It is not difficult to imagine the comfort they provided
and continue to provide in this all too hot world. In fact, this exhibit
made me long to have one of my own icons that I could tuck in my pocket and
touch from time to time. It would be of the Virgin Mary, of course, with her
eyes closed. She would be clasping baby Jesus to her chest, and they both
would be against a dark blue background. I can almost feel the brass against
my fingers and the coolness of the icon.
