Imagine painting an image - perhaps we don’t even have to imagine - that despite all our hopes, has turned out a disaster. No one can bear to look at it, but you painted it to the wall, so it can hardly be removed. All that can be done is to hide it away by a curtain.
This happened to postulant Pauline Perdrau, in the convent of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart at Trinità dei Monte. All her excitement, passion, and begging had finally received permission from the convent to try the painting.
Imagine the sigh when you realize that your misgivings were right, to let the postulant try something she had little skill in. You hide it away; imagine Pauline’s disappointment, the shame she may well have felt; perhaps the questions of why, did she feel so moved to paint when she was unsure of the outcome?
This may be something many of us creatives can relate to.
But then the pope arrives on a visit; and to your discomfort, commands the curtain to be removed.
There no disaster, but this:
God used all that love, excitement, the chance given by the superiors, even all that pain and any troubled thoughts that came, as a Cinderella story in fresco: He repainted it full of the beauty of the love and devotion that Pauline had held when she hoped to paint an image worthy of the Virgin Mary.
We see Our Lady, possibly depicted before the Annunciation, wearing an uncharacteristic rose - that is, compared to the reds and blues traditionally used through the ages. At once we feel a lighter femininity that does not usually come with the deep and vibrant blues; sweetness and gentleness, and a feeling of spring.
Her garb is more medieval than Biblical in style, but the massive pillars and the multicolored tiling bring to mind a grand building, like the Temple in Jerusalem, where tradition tells us Our Lady grew up before her marriage to Joseph.
The lily of purity is familiar, but the distaff and basket book, not so much; Our Lady is simultaneously in work, perhaps paused just for a breath, and meditation, reminding us that with practice, we can be with God just as much with busy hands as without. While the sun could be setting as a secondary halo, a rising sun would speak of the Annunciation and Incarnation soon to come.
Christ is the Dawn; she is the sky; He is the Daystar, she the Morning Star; both are Rose and Lily.
May we push through our own failures and doubts to do God’s work, and use our creativity and all our skills for His glory, despite our misgivings and shortcomings and fears, in all love, devotion, peace, and joy. Let us dedicate our works to Him before we begin, that He may use them, failures or not, as an opening for grace.
Mater Admirabilis, ora pro nobis!
For more information:
https://www.ashrosary.org/explore/history/feast-of-mater-admirabilis
https://www.theregisschool.org/about/head-of-school-blog/blog-post/~board/head-of-school-blog/post/guest-blog-post-mater-admirabilis
https://trinitadeimonti.net/en/mater-admirabilis-chapel/
Once again Gods timing is impeccable. Today I have just started a large 20x24 watercolour painting of Christ lying in Mary’s arms, a copy of a Byzantine icon. It is well above my level of craft right now, but the Icon spoke to me, God spoke to me.
Can you imagine my surprise when I stopped for the night and opened my Substack to this being the first post I see.
God speaks to all of us, in so many ways, if you just stop to listen. I’m so excited to continue painting tomorrow, God bless you for this post!