While looking for something else, I can't remember just what, I recently ran across this picture created in the workshop of Hildegard of Bingen, a medieval mystic and abbess.
The German title says it is an image of the Christ, displaying his wounded palms, enfolded in the unity of the Trinity -- don't ask what that means, just look. I find it strangely calming. It was an illustration for one of the abbess' books of theology.
Robert Lentz is a Roman Catholic Franciscan friar who paints contemporary icons. Sometimes I'm a critic of his work -- I don't much like his Harvey Milk. The gay leader and martyr was a Jewish secularist who seems to me violated by depicting him as a Christian saint. And I loathe his Dorothy Day. Alive, Dorothy was beautiful even when old, even when distracted, or tired, or feeling stern.
But I am gripped by Lentz's Ss. Brigid and Darlughdach of Kildare.
Now there's power. An explication of these two women:
I can relate to that.
I'm not the only one drawn to icons. Ran across this left in a barred window on San Francisco's hip Valencia Street:
The mother looks over the passing stream of humanity.
I don't want to just gripe here all the time. I do after all, quite frequently, encounter things and people that delight me. Hence a new feature: occasional posts labeled "rays of effing sunshine."