Household Saints
I visited my
mother recently and stayed in her company round the clock for four
days. One thing that particularly stood out from the visit was the
quiet time she spent every evening with her collection of saints.
She carries around in her purse about 40 small postcards with images
of saints. Most have prayers on the back. At night she sits for
two or three hours in her armchair with her dog asleep on her lap
reciting the prayers to herself, lips quietly moving in a manner
unexpectedly evocative of Tibetan monks at prayer. And it is a decidedly
private affair. She does not ask me to join her. She prefers that
I'd be off doing my own thing somewhere.And it's not as if she were
a particularly devout or observant person. She does not attend church
services or partake in any religious activities except when invited
by friends.
It is the act
of contemplating these images and the repeating of the words that
seems to attract her in a way that nothing formally religious has
ever done. Naturally, I became curious as to what these images would
say to me. As she sat in her chair, I took this time to play around
with the images on my laptop and came up with very satisfying versions
of what three of the saints meant to me.
As I was packing
to leave, I came across a couple of rolled-up canvases in a brown
paper bag. My mother, seeing me looking at the bag, picked up one
of the canvases and unrolled it. It was an unfinished oil painting
of La Caridad del Cobre. I picked up the other, another half-finished
canvas of the same image in a more abstract style. She looks at
me and says, "You were always trying to paint my saints when
you were little but you would get upset and stop, saying it wasn't
quite right." I had totally forgotten. It took me almost 40
years to get it right.
Click on image title to see them larger.
I now accept
For purchases go to Shop for Prints.
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