This month's title does not suggest some Hamlet-esque existential crisis over whether I should write this blog post. Rather, it hints at a question that inevitably crops up whenever I start talking about the act of creating an icon. During the past month, I had the joy of leading a retreat on "Praying with icons" at Launde Abbey in Leicestershire. Twenty-two retreatants and I were blessed by three days of warm and sunny weather as we considered together how icons can enrich our spiritual life, as individuals and in our communities. I hadn't planned to address the question specifically and yet, even then, a number of those attending raised it with me on different occasions in one form or another.
Is it correct that we should say that you "write" an icon and not "paint" it?
So here I am, attempting to explain why this tradition of saying that we "write" an icon has arisen; as usual in church life, there are theological reasons and simple, practical reasons that have been suggested.
Theologically speaking, we must start with what an icon is and what it is not. My own journey into iconography, as I recounted in last month's blog post, came very much from the perspective of an icon as visual theology. It is a visual means of expressing what we believe. Consequently, the way that the icon is created is based upon the traditions of the Church, principles of sacred geometry and within an attitude of prayer. In its attempt to depict scenes from Scripture or the life and person of the saints, the icon is seeking to communicate the Divine to us, to open up a spiritual way of seeing the world differently. We can properly regard an icon as a kind of sacrament, as St Augustine put it, "an outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace". In that sense, we might liken the icon to Divine communication in a similar way to how we speak of Holy Scripture - the Scriptures in visual form. Since the Word of God is written, so also should an icon be.
Another consideration when thinking about what an icon is, is its contradistinction from religious art. At the start of our Launde retreat, we spent time reflecting on the characteristics of an icon that set it apart from Michaelangelo's ceiling of the Cistine Chapel, or a Madonna and Child by Raphael, for example. A piece of religious art is trying, perhaps, to communicate a message or point of view from the artist; religious art may draw on realism to depict an event from Scriptures, or be influenced by surrealism, or impressionism or any other of the art movements of the past or of our time. But with an icon, it should be God who speaks, not the iconographer. Icons generally are not signed by the person who "wrote" them; the icon is not an expression of the creativity of the iconographer in the way of a famous (or not) artist. Occasionally, you will see an icon marked "by the hand of [name] ", suggesting a process of the iconographer being directed by the grace of God to record the image, again similar to how some view the giving and receiving of Scripture. Using the term "to write an icon", therefore, is a simple way of distinguishing iconography from the creation of works of art, which are painted. I might choose to paint a copy of Holman Hunt's Light of the World, yet I would write an icon of Christ. Two different words to reflect the different approaches.
Light of the World William Holman Hunt
Photograph from St Paul's Cathedral website
The more practical explanation for why we often use the verb "to write" when referring to iconography concerns language and translation. As I understand it, in both Greek and Russian - two of the most significant cultures when it comes to iconography - the same verb can be used to mean both paint and write (and certainly in Greek, to draw as well!). Consequently, it is a peculiarity of English (and other languages) that when translating writings about iconography from the original Greek and Russian, the translator had to choose between different verbs meaning to write or paint. Once the particular choice of "writing an icon" had been made, it has stayed with us.
So where does that leave us? Is it correct to say that one "writes an icon"? Undoubtedly, yes. Is it incorrect to say that one "paints an icon"? For my thinking, no. Let me explain. First, let us focus on the process for a moment. As a medium, I use egg tempera, a form of paint that uses egg yolk as a binder with natural pigments. Egg tempera painting (as it is often termed) has been used for centuries and an early task of the iconographer approaching their work is to mix what I can only describe as "paint". I then apply it to the prepared icon panel using what in ordinary parlance are paintbrushes. To suggest then that I do not paint the icon just feels crass. Yes, there is a theological and spiritual dimension to what I do; yes, I create the icon in an attitude of prayer; yes the icon is of a qualitatively different - sacramental - nature from a regular painting. Yet if a child came and watched me at work (as many did during my recent artist residency) and were asked what I was doing, surely they would say I was "painting".
Too often I have witnessed people being "corrected" in their use of language about writing icons, with one person seeking to demonstrate their superior knowledge at the expense of the other. Working as a priest in the church, I am all too aware of just how many expressions and words there are in church life that have the ability to exclude the newcomer (and regular attenders) in this way, or make church life seem unfathomable. I still remember how it felt to sit in the congregation at my first ever Anglican church service and see in the service book the reference to "Holy Communion", having not a clue to what it was referring. Some years and a spell at theological college later, I found myself being introduced to a whole new dictionary of words, where terms such as Eucharist, chasuble, thurifer, catafalque and riddel posts became second nature. However, it has always been a core belief of mine - the best teachers are those who can explain the most complex of concepts in the simplest of ways. Using language gently, in a way that can readily be understood by the most people, should be at the heart of our church life. After all, that great Reformation stalwart of the English Church, Thomas Cranmer, was passionate about writing the Communion service in the language of the people of his day. We should never make someone feel small because they used the incorrect term or needed to ask for an explanation. Our life as a community of believers should be communicated with a spirit of gentleness and hospitality for all. So perhaps, as you read or listen to conversation or attend church in the coming days and weeks, you might reflect for yourself upon the language being used. In what ways is language being used to communicate freely or, perhaps, is it being used to erect barriers to understanding or to make the speaker seem more important? How might we change our own use of language to make our church communities more accessible and filled with grace? This is why, if for no other reason, you will most often hear me say "I'm an iconographer. I paint icons".
News
As the summer draws to a close, I have had the opportunity over recent weeks to make good progress with icon commissions. Earlier today, I completed an icon of Saints Mary and Martha offering hospitality to Christ, which I shall be pleased to share with you next time, once its new owner has received it. I move on immediately to begin an icon of Christ Pantocrator (meaning "Almighty", it is a specific representation of Christ looking ahead to the viewer as ruler over all). In fact, I now have a number of icon commissions booked, which should see me through to the middle of 2025. If you are interested in commissioning an icon, do get in touch to book your place on my list. Prices start from £180.
I am also excited to be making a start at Oxford Brookes University in a couple of weeks, as I study for a Masters in Fine Art. I'm hoping this will be an enjoyable opportunity for me to challenge my art practice, to reflect in more depth on how art can be used prophetically in today's Church, and to go beyond the limits of the iconographic tradition. A definite case of "Watch this space"!
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