image

CHRIST AND ART IN

Issue 117 December 2008
ASIA
Editor’s Note

In the recent ACAA conference aptly titled “Art, Theology and Imagination,” relevant contemporary issues were articulated in the gray
lines between art and theology. Speakers and participants from the different sides of the spectrum, and from different countries too,
come together to discuss theology’s relevance in the arts and how the arts can stir, evoke, move people into change with the help of an
ample amount of theological background.

Given that the times are changing, certain issues were pointed out, how the political landscape has changed both the arena of art
and theology. For one, the church’s relevance is in question. Being an institution that majorly affected political movement in the past,
and at the most extreme, controlled governments, and in its most powerful form, controlled history, the church’s relevance in our day
and age is waning since the demarcation between church and state was established. The church’s power in the past is no surprise of
course: Christianity was the vehicle of Western empires to conquer nations. Christianity in its very essence is alien to Asian culture
and its integration into the culture of its landscape has been long and tedious. Christian iconographies show us a Caucasian God, the
savior and chosen out, which obviously became a persuasive argument to conquer states. The context of this construct is what Joseph
Campbell says of a hero: a being from a different land out to rid a small village of its problem, slay a beast. History tells us of course, of
a violent narrative between the empires and the lands they conquer and it is far from a utopian world, it is violent and brutal until one
culture submits to the other.

Nowadays, the landscape of theology in Asia, as we know it, seemed more slanted in the Western way of things. We could say this
Christian culture is in character Western as points of reference lead us to a “white” Christ, narratives imbued with the culture alien
to Asian culture. The need for an Asian perspective in religion is urgent, and the church needs to understand the importance of its
expressions, be it in the dances, music, liturgy, literature and the fine arts. In the past years, ACAA has answered the call to artists
to express and contextualize Christian iconographies and narratives in an Asian context through the publication of Image Magazine.
The vocation of contextualizing Western frameworks is quite tedious since the church adorned with its dogma, rules set in stone. This
characteristic of the church to be dogmatic strike fear and aversion from its people, appearing as an institution imposing formalities and
unnecessary rituals with a very rigid moral framework that is almost impractical.

In this picture comes the need for artists. The church should recognize the value of art in theology, as it creates frames of the realities of
the culture in which the church operates. These frames of narratives become expressions of the way of things and helps people make
sense of a fuller understanding of their faith. By contextualizing worship, the sense of experience is heightened. Artists should realize
their potential to be agents in helping theology interpret the contemporary realities and come up with insights and reflections relevant
in our times.

Image Magazine has featured artists from different parts of Asia in hopes of cultivating a prolific atmosphere for Christian art.

On the cover On the Back Cover

ANGEL CREATION BANNER
Federico Domiguez Community project in Adelaide
Gouache on Bristol Board Paper Cut
3x4 meters

IMAGE | 2
 117
CHRIST AND ART IN ASIA December
2008

THE ASIAN CHRISTIAN ART ASSOCIATION

CONSULTANTS
Ron O’ Grady
Contents

Rod Pattenden
Harry Wallace 02 Editor’s Note
Judo Poerwowidagdo

MANILA OFFICE STAFF

FEATURED ARTISTS
Emmanuel Garibay 04 Federico Dominguez
Michael Balili 13 Zaki Baboun
Corie Cyrene Boongaling

FEATURED ARTICLES
06 Magnificat by RH SMith
_______________________________________
08 Art, Theology and Imagination
IMAGE is published four times a year and circulated free to 10 Of Empires, Christendom and the Christian
members of the Asian Christian Art Association.
IMAGE is a publication of the Asian Christian Art Association. Arts by Dr. Ferdinand Ammang Anno
ACAA and/or the artists hold the copyrights to all the images in 12 Artworks from Art, Theology and Imagination
this publication. To inquire about permissions to use, please
email us at mail.acaa@gmail.com.

All inquiries should be addressed to

IMAGE Magazine
25-D Malambing Street;
UP Village, Diliman, Quezon City 1101
Philippines
Paintings in this Issue

Mobile Phone: +639202059244 Yang ya Utaw si Manggob (Angel), Front Cover

Email: mail.acaa@gmail.com Yang ya Utaw si Manggob (Pamilya), 4
Yang ya Utaw si Manggob, 5
Yang ya Utaw si Manggob, 5
Yang ya Utaw si Manggob, 5
Visit the website at Second Adam Triptych, 6
www.asianchristianart.org
Flight to Egypt, 13
Second Adam (detail), 14
_______________________________________ Second Adam (detail), 15
Creation Banner, Back cover

Annual Subscription Fees

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3 | IMAGE
FEATURED ARTIST | Federico Dominguez

YANG YA UTAW SI MANGGOB

(on this page) 12 x 12 in; Gouache on Bristol board
(opposite page) 5 x 12 in; Gouache on Bristol board
from the collection of Mike Luz

IMAGE | 4
Federico “Boy” Dominguez was born on June 9, 1953 in Tangkulan, Bukidnon, Philippines. He traces his roots to the natives
of Siargao Island and Mandaya indigenous peoples of eastern Mindanao and the Tagalog ethnic group in Luzon. He spent his
childhood in Davao City but spent his vacations in his parents’ community in Davao Oriental where he experienced some of the
social events performed by his Mandaya relatives as well as several indigenous groups in Luzon.

He has been involved with various governmental and non-governmental organizations and people’s organizations as a freelance
artist doing posters, illustrations and layout designs on publications, mural paintings, and production and stage designs.
Dominguez has staged numerous solo exhibitions, most notably the “Wa Ya Kila” and “Illustrasyon” series. In Dominguez’
works, narratives from the bible are contextualized in Filipino culture and settings.

Yang ya Utaw si Manggob (When Manggob was Born) is a collection of paintings on the nativity contextualized in Filipino culture.
The title is in the dialect of the Mandaya, one of the indigenous people residing in the provinces of Davao, Agusan and Surigao.
The Angels are dressed as Mandaya and Bagobo of Davao del Norte and Davao City. The Wise men are represents the Kalinga
from Cordillera, Matigsalog of Bukidnon and Higaonon of Bukidnon and the Agusan provinces.

5 | IMAGE
FEATURE ARTICLE

Magnificat
by Rachel Hostetter Smith
(First of two parts)

“God’s ways are not our ways,” the saying goes. God consistently confounds the expectations of this world inverting the wisdom
of mankind as he pursues his purposes for his creation, choosing unlikely agents for equally unexpected undertakings. Moses—the
tongue-tied fugitive charged with negotiating with Pharaoh to lead his people out of Egypt to the Promised Land. Gideon—from the
weakest clan and the least important member of his family called to defeat the armies of Midian with a small band of men. David—the
impulsive adolescent shepherd called to be a warrior although he is apparently no match for Goliath. Peter—the ill-tempered disciple
designated to be the cornerstone on which the church will be built. Paul—the zealous persecutor of the followers of Jesus who is God’s
chosen apostle to the Gentiles. The list goes on and on. Unqualified, unimportant, unprepared, unsavory, and ultimately unsuitable;
they commonly respond like Gideon, “who am I to do this?” or try to wriggle their way out of doing what God has asked of them.
Why is it that God nearly always chooses such unlikely characters to do his work? The answer lies in that most unlikely culmination
of God’s plan for the salvation of mankind—the incarnation of the Christ through Mary—and perhaps more specifically in Mary’s
song recorded in the book of Luke (1:46-55), the Magnificat, that announces with a prophetic voice the imminent arrival of a new
age in which the present order will be overturned and replaced with a new one—God’s—which will reign supreme and for all eternity.

Creation. Incarnation. Art. God creates and calls it good. The Word becomes flesh for love of his creatures so that they might know him
better and be restored to himself. The painter paints for love of his materials and to know himself and his world more fully. Because we are
physical beings we come to know things through our senses. “I love paint,” says Bruce Herman. “I love the smell of it, the feel of it. I love to
work with it; to see what it can do and what it can become.” The smudges, scratches and occasional fingerprint in these paintings signal
this intimate involvement of the artist with his materials. Samuel Escobar has said, “the Incarnation is the greatest translation ever, and
poetry [or art] is a little incarnation,” making the invisible visible. These paintings have a palpable presence, inviting us into an equally

IMAGE | 6
intimate relationship with them. Achingly
beautiful, they ask us to be fully present
with them to contemplate being and
presence through their tactile surfaces and
sonorous color harmonies. As it is in the
case of the woman with the precious jar of
nard who anoints Jesus’ feet with a lavish,
apparently gratuitous outpouring of all that
she has, so the artist pours all that he has
into his art as an offering and gift in order
“to make paint sing.”1 Magnificat is both
proclamation and acclamation, inviting
us to celebrate the unbearable goodness
of being and the “radical physicality,”
as Herman puts it, of the gospel.
There is much to be learned from the
example of Mary and her participation in the
Incarnation. The two triptychs that anchor
this exhibit, Second Adam and Miriam:
Virgin Mother represent the dual paths of
discipleship that Mary exemplifies: the via
activa, where Mary is active participant
called to be a key instrument in God’s most
critical work and the via contemplativa,
where Mary is reflective witness pondering
the implications of God’s audacious
plan. Just as he has so often throughout
history, God chooses an unlikely, decidedly
unimportant, and apparently highly
unsuitable agent to be the means through
which he will come into the world a helpless
infant. What could be more unexpected?
What could be more uncanny? And yet what
could be more consistent for a God who will
overturn the powers and principalities that
rule in this world? Just as God chose to use
a small band of undistinguished men led by
Gideon to defeat the armies of Midian, so
God chose a poor young teenage girl to be
the vessel through which he would defeat
the forces of death. And as God explains to
Gideon, in this way it is God’s glory that will be
made known because there can be no doubt
about who has brought about that victory.
Influence and Inspiration
Herman credits a conversation ongoing
for over twenty years with trusted friend
and longtime colleague John Skillen and
their shared enthusiasm for and dialogue
with the Italian Renaissance tradition with
prompting him to undertake the subject
of Mary in his painting some five years
ago. But equally significant to this work is
the influence of the three most significant
women in his life—his wife Meg and
daughter Sarah, who served as models for
some of the paintings, and his mother. In
addition, conversations with close friend,
painter Tanja Butler, who has herself
recently undertaken a series of paintings
on Mary, have informed his understanding
of both the artistic and theological heritage
of Mary and have also provided insight
into his own work and artistic process.
Strong women, every one, it is they who
have inspired much of the thought that lies
behind this body of work by helping him to
recognize the distinct experience of women
in cultures that do not often honor them
and the particular sensibilities they bring
to negotiating the joys and challenges of
life with grace and integrity. The distinctive
dignity and repose in the midst of suffering
that Herman attributes to Mary in his
paintings derives from his observation of
these women. With this understanding, the
paintings of woman at significant stages of
life provide an indispensable counterpoint
to the themes of the triptychs, bearing
testimony to the mundane yet profound
truth that we often get our first glimpse
of God when we really look at each other.
“The shifting planes of
luminous blue and gold blur
the distinction between the
physical and transcendent
as architectural structures
transform into veils of color
and the impervious gilded
surfaces of the divine realm.”
In his essay “Tradition and the Individual
Talent”, T. S. Eliot (1919) challenges his
reader to understand that no artist stands
alone but must be seen in relation to those
who have gone before. We stand on the
shoulders of “the dead poets”, able to see
perhaps a little bit farther only because of
what they achieved before us. Herman’s
work embodies just this kind of complex
interplay between tradition and innovation.
Drawing from the deep well of the Christian
tradition, he casts that imagery into
our present moment by melding it with
contemporary modes of expression where
the abstraction of surface complexity carries
just as much meaning and weight as the
representational content. The patchwork
of gold and silver leaf, tarnished and worn,
with vibrant color passages scratched,
abraded, over-painted, and sanded smooth,
these beautiful yet marred surfaces are the
visible signs of divine presence in a world
that is broken and tainted by the Fall.
The aesthetic of fragmentation seen here
is the painterly equivalent of Herman’s
conception of the body broken—a visible
manifestation of all creation’s groaning, the
need for its redemption, and redemption’s
tremendous cost. A devastating house
fire that consumed his family’s goods and
most of his paintings in September of 1997
set his work on this new trajectory that
led to the series The Body Broken (2003)
and the group exhibition A Broken Beauty
(2006) which explored along with artists
like Erica Grimm-Vance, Tim Lowly, and
Mary McCleary the paradoxical relationship
between beauty and brokenness which
is the true state of human beings and this
world. Herman imbues his figures with
an arresting monumental importance, a
quality also found in the work of Bay Area
painter James Weeks, a mentor (along with
Philip Guston) in graduate school at Boston
University School for the Arts, who first noted
a striking correspondence with Richard
Diebenkorn’s painting in the veils of color
that provide an architectonic structure to the
work. Although a connection may be seen
between the lush color and enticing abstract
surfaces of Guston’s early paintings, it is the
social conscience that takes center stage
in Guston’s later figurative paintings that
relate to the probing of the human condition
that is the essence of Herman’s work.
Palimpsests—faint traces of things that
have been erased, reworked, or overdrawn-
-constitute yet another distinctive
component of Herman’s visual language.
Intrigued by the symbolic implications of
the palimpsests so commonly found in
Italian art and architecture that bear witness
to the ways in which an image or structure
has been revised, replaced, or renovated in
some way, Herman introduces these ghostly
images to indicate the multi-layered and
multi-faceted nature of reality and to remind
us of our incapacity to apprehend it fully. But
just as it is impossible to grasp the complex
unity of God’s redemptive work in a strictly
linear fashion with its overlays of prophesy
and fulfillment, hope and memory, it is
impossible to unpack the iconographical
intricacies and theological depth of
Herman’s paintings by dealing with the
paintings as discrete entities, one at a time.
They are best understood in dialogue with
one another. Like the sacra conversazione,
the Italian Renaissance altarpiece form that
inspired them, they invite us to engage our
theological history and the implications
it has not only for the Church but
perhaps more importantly, for ourselves.
Recognizing this, the paintings of woman
at various stages of life make manifest the
import and intent of the redemptive work
depicted in the triptychs, reminding us
that it is in every woman—and every man—
that God’s work is to be made complete.
(continued on page 14)
7 | IMAGE
IMAGE | 8
Art, Theology and Imagination
28-30 October 2008
Cardinal Sin Center, Loyola School of Theology
Ateneo de Manila University, Quezon City, Philippines

The recently concluded Asian Christian Art Association (ACAA) sponsored conference entitled “Art,
Theology and Imagination”, held at the Loyola School of Theology left artists and theologians like with
insights and reflections. ACAA, together with Tutok: Karapatan, an group of artists advocating human
rights, and the Loyola School of Theology, devised the conference as an opportunity for artists and
theologians to have a dialogue and in effect create discussions and disturbances from both parties.
The conference aims to construct an understanding of both parties on how each can help in honing
their craft.

It is well known that the world of art is vastly populated by religious images, made strange by the
artist’s imagination: depositions, pieta, Madonna and child, Christ Ascending, even narratives from
the Bible survive the artist’s rendition of the incredulity of Thomas, or the head of John the Baptist on
a plate. Theologians on the other hand, feel the need to add an artistic dimension in expressing faith,
either in songs, dances, liturgies, and most especially, an articulateness to contextualize religion.

In “Art, Theology and Imagination,” both parties were given the opportunity to converse with each
other. Participants came from different parts of the country and from different religious sectors and
artist organizations. The conference started with the lecture on church history by Dr. Ferdinand Anno
from the Union Theological Seminary (Philippines), a way creating a chronological framework of the
church as institution and the fundamental difference between Christianity and Christendom. Dr. Anna
Skagersten, from the Church of Sweden, talked on bridging theology to art and art to theology to create
a visual map of culture to wrap up the first day of the workshop. She also stress on juxtaposition of
opposites– i.e. their necessary coexsistence.

The second day of the workshop started with Dr. Rod Pattenden’s lecture on the many faces of Christ
in different cultures. His lecture started with a dance interpretation of the many struggles of humanity,
issues from the center and voices from the margins and how each paints a portrait of Christ. Dr. Alice
Guillermo’s lecture on the religion, society, art, ideologies and politics is an interesting study of some
paintings and murals from different artist organizations depicting social realism.

The participants were divided into groups afterwards and were given blank canvases. Groups consist
of artists and theologians, were encouraged to interact with each other and come up with an artwork
that exemplifies the face of Christ in this time, place and age.
The last day of the conference started with Fr. Rene Javellana’s lecture on Christianity, culture and faith.
Fr. Javellana talked about the indistinct and sometimes interchangeable definitions of culture and
faith, with an historical approach starting from the 1st century up to the post-post-modern times. The
workshop concluded with the presentation of the artworks created by the group collaborations, each
explaining the logos of their creation and how the workshop influenced their imaginings.

9 | IMAGE
Of Empires,
Christendom
and the Christian Arts:
Christening of the Public Imagination Toward a New Order of Life
by Dr. Ferdinand Anno

This short essay was prepared to outline or frame a discussion on the historical and liturgical contexts of Christian
arts as it evolved through the centuries. It does not however go into the minute details of history, of liturgy and the
arts in Western Christianity, or in contemporary global Christianity. It simply touches on how the logos and ethos of
Christendom intersect with the Christian theological imagination and artistic objectivations— the relationship between
the rise and fall of empires and the bondage and redemption of the Christian Liturgy and the Arts, i.e., Christian Arts.

To begin with, I want to point to a survey
made in relation to the ways in which
Christianity and the arts intersect, and
in particular, where the arts inform
Christianity (Arts 11:2, 1999). Arts and
worship intersects in several ways: firstly, in
worship, where the arts serve as the primary
medium of communication, or better yet,
as the media that connect the human to
the sacred; secondly, in the way the arts
and religion are one in raising questions or
issues on the meaning and purpose of life;
thirdly, in the arts serving as texts mirroring
the nature of historical and contemporary
faith; fourthly, in the prophetic role the
arts play particularly in the process of
conscientization and, more directly, in its
capacity to speak prophetically to us in
our time; and fifthly – in the sacramental
potential of the arts – to become a means
through which the holy is experienced and
comprehended albeit partially as in a dim
mirror. The above survey, indeed, speak
of the common ground where the arts and
Christianity or religion meet – of the common
ground where the sacred and religious
experience are objectified and the profane
and corporeal experience transfigured, each
one animating the other. Asian Christian
Arts locate itself in these intersections
Christendom
and the Christian Arts.
This survey of where arts and Christianity
intersect indeed gives us a very good way
of describing what Christian Arts is about.
But what is suggested in our discussion
of Christendom in the history of Christian
arts is a qualifier, a historical qualifier. That
Christianity is not as neat an historical entity
and a movement. Christianity, in most part
of its history, especially in its institutional
form, was part of empires and empire
building. And, in newer forms, this deep
attachment to imperial politics remains –
to this day, in some neo-Christendom form!
So that when we talk about the Christian in
Christian arts we also need to talk about the
institutional expression of Christianity: the
church and Christendom. The above survey
is mainly on how the arts are informing
Christianity. But how is Christianity in its
Christendom form informing the arts? Our
clue to this relationship or interfacing of
Christianity and the arts is the liturgy. As
already cited above, we need to locate
Christian arts in its liturgical context.
But before going into that, let me start with
an exchange I had with Anna, a performing
artist-friend. My good friend Anna was saying
Christendom is a Swedish word suggesting
‘knowledge of Christianity,’ and which further
leads us into the thought of Christianity as
key to knowledge of everything, of universal
truths, so that Christianity becomes, in
effect, the ruling idea! Citing this Swedish
etymological understanding then connects
us to the vocation of Christian arts for
a good number of generations, i.e. as a
cultural partisan for imperial interests.
Christendom and the Re-
sacralization of the Empire.
Christendom was historically the context of
the exultation of Christian arts. Christendom
can be defined i n many ways. Historically,
it was a political and cultural phenomenon
that started initially with the toleration
of Christianity by Constantine from CE
313. Sometime in CE 375, Christendom
took an institutional shape when it was
adopted as the quasi-official religion of the
empire. (It has its peak during the reign of
Charlemagne and continues to manifest
itself in many forms and embodiments in the
present). There are many historical nuances
in the development of Christendom that
were related to the politics of competing

IMAGE | 10
centers of Christianity (Constantinople
and Byzantium) and their corresponding
historical landscapes. However, I would
not venture into the details of the history
of European Christianity. It would suffice
for our purposes this morning to define
Christendom in relation to Christian
imagination, theology and the arts.
Historically, it refers to the ‘Christianization
of public space (M. Stringer),’ and of the
popular consciousness and imagination.
The history of Christianity as Christendom
is a history of centralization, and
consequentially, of marginalization and
exclusion. It is a hegemonic process of
empire-building aimed at maintaining a
‘center’s’ control over a subaltern marginal
majority. In this process of hegemonization
where’ societies’ discourses of consent‘ are
controlled and regulated by the dominant
discourse, the ruling powers also establish
and consolidate themselves in positions
of authority and power. The theological
debates during the formative years of
the empire church especially centering
on Christology, for example, resulted to
the tragic suppression if not persecution
of those who challenged the center and
its discourse. The consolidation of the
center through the silencing of dissenting
theological voices effectively established
orthodox Christianity and laid down the
institutional base of what would be the
cultural, spiritual and political colonization
of many societies from the centuries of
Roman imperial rule to the most recent
wave of proselytizing evangelization. In
this process of hegemonization the liturgy
plays an ideological role. In all its static
(textualization, visualization) and dynamic
(performance) objectivations worship
became an important instrument in the
institutionalization if not sacralization of
the center. This was due in part to the fact
that, in the Christian world, the period from
the seventh to the ninth centuries was not
so much noted for its literacy. Much of
the popular media that were available to
people outside of this period were remotely
accessible if not outrightly banned by
the empire church. Public worship and
popular devotion became the primary
formators of Christian culture, spirituality
and discourse. The control of the liturgy
thus was crucial to the powers that be.
Through the liturgical rite [and Christian
arts], t he empire found its most potent
means of self-communication and self-
rationalization. In and through the liturgies
consenting to and helping build hegemonic
discourse Christendom established itself –
to provide the empire its most dependable,
lasting religio-cultural and cultic base.
In the contemporary world, Christendom
has taken a new form in the alliance
of Church interests with contemporary
empire-building. In this contemporary neo-
Christendom church, the liturgy maintains
an ambiguous (a liturgy that is ‘of,’ ‘above,’
and ‘against’ the dominant secular culture
[to use H. Richard Niebuhr’s typologies] at
the same time) yet ultimately consenting,
collaborative and ideological stance vis-a-
vis the establishment. As in Christendom,
the art of contemporary establishment
Christianity serves as the aesthetic
rationalization and sacralization of the
imperial structures of church and society.
From Kristo Reylogy to
Kristology: From Christ the King
to the Dissident Kristo.
Emmanuel Garibay’s christo-graphy in his
Kristology, i.e., the concept of progressive
incarnation suggests a post-Christendom
route in the Christian arts. Christology in
post-Christendom arts is beginning to take
multiple incarnations and objectivations.
No longer is Christology solely subscribing
to imperial images and designs. Post-
Christendom arts have bracketed off the
Christological representations of the
empire to encounter the Christ in the
margins of contemporary empire-building.
The externalization of this encounter,
aesthetic wise, has now been objectified in
the image of a subaltern dissident Christ.
This objectivation of post Christendom
arts is now providing and establishing an
iconic center for mass dissent, where the
masses are able to construct and evolve a
new mythography for their emancipation.
This process is most evident in popular
resistance arts like in protest paraliturgies.
Christian resistance arts, especially in its
liturgical and religious context outsize and
outperform the canvass and the stage to serve
as a theographical and theological impetus
for mass emancipatory politics. Christian
arts and their larger cultic encasement owe
their efficacy to their capability to visually,
aniconially and physically mediate and
communicate divine presence and message
– speaking prophetically in our time, as
the survey above puts it. The image of the
dissident Christ in particular sets into motion
dissident energies to subvert the social,
economic, cultural and religious structures
that maintains imperial establishment
From Christendom arts to
theologies of struggle
Post-Christendom arts, especially those
that go astray into the dissident stream
are, beyond the artists’ wildest intents and
expectations, providing aesthetic resources
in the construction and articulation of
theologies of liberation and struggle. If the
icons of the ancient and medieval Christianty
were able to nourish a spirituality of reaction,
then a parallel role for contemporary
dissident Kristological iconography can,
in as powerful ways, serve as the lifeblood
of revolution towards social reversal. The
cult and arts of Christendom had, for a long
time, effectively kept the powerful in their
places and the poor in their wretchedness.
Through the same medium can the social
cancer of radical disconnectedness be
corrected – from the radical altering of mass
consciousness [-- the re-Christianization of
the public imagination] to mass upheavals.
Here, the Kristology and the popular cult
of colonial Filipinos come to mind, when
they effectively nourished the revolutionary
spirituality of the illiterate mass to launch
one of the first anti-colonial upheavals in
Asia. Theologies of Struggle – these are
where dissident post-Christendom Christian
arts may lead to. They witness to the
continuing relevance of the arts and religion
in the reordering of the cosmos, in the
construction of a new world and the birthing
of new life. It is this point of intersection
between the arts and Christianity or religion
in general that, finally, will bring the arts
into the home and womb of real culture.
Dr. Ferdinand A. Anno is a Professor of
Liturgy, Theology and the Arts at the Union
Theological Seminary at Dasmarinas,
Cavite, Philippines. This paper was
presented at the ACAA conference, “Art,
Theology and Imaginatiomn,” on 28
October 2008.
11 | IMAGE
FEATURE ARTICLE

Artworks from the participants of

“Art,
Theology
and
Imagination”
(Clockwise from left) The cross is a bridge between God and
Humanity. Jesus, who is both man and God, has become
the bridge. God reaches to humanity through Jesus Christ.
Humanity reached God through Jesus Christ. by Pablo Santos,
Raul Rodriguez, Martin Licup and Christian Martin Yanez

Knowing and understanding Christ is a continuous

dialogue. There is openness to what’s next. by Philip Yohan,
Alfredo Liongoren, Ivan Roxas and Emannuel Garibay

Everyone can be Christ as exemplified by our actions.

by Raoul Ignacio Rodriguez, Don Djerassi Dalmacio, Nilo
Sayson, Maximo Santiago and Sr. Leodie Riza Remedio

It is hope(ASA) that bridges the gap between the

search and the questions (ASAN) and finding
the answer(NASA). by Tinnah Dela Rosa, Jess,
Wesley Valenzuela, Mark Justiniani, CJ Tanedo

Christ is in us. We are a reflection of who Christ is. Our

identity as Christ and our Perception of Christ is also
shaped by the culture and the society. by Jocelyn
Calubayan, Buen Calubayan, Crisanto De Leon, Kirby Roxas

IMAGE | |12
IMAGE 12
 FEATURED ARTIST | Zaki Baboun

FLIGHT TO EGYPT

The Palestenian artist, Zaki Baboun was on born July 30, 1962, and lives and work in the town of his birth: Betlehem.
Zaki Baboun was only five months old when his father died, living the mother with three sons. From primary school,
Zaki Baboun went on to secondary school, but by his fifteenth birthday he had made up his mind to work in a garage
and become a motor mechanic, like his father.

But things turned out differently. What he like doing best was sketching and painting. He made carvings for the tourist
industry, but later discovered the pleasure of applying his painting to the woodwork . From 1994, Zaki has been
concentrating on painting with oils. He was born into a Christian family. Questioned about the significance of his faith,
Zaki replied “On Sundays, I was taken by my mother to the church. I heard lots of stories there. Those about Jesus were
the ones that enthralled me the most. Later on, in 1991, I was baptized in the Jordan, just as He was. I am not all that
familiar with the Bible, but I have a firm belief in God who wants me to listen to what His son has to say to me at this
present time. God... I think this name means much for Jews, Muslims and Christians. I could well imagine that God just
wants us to respect one another as faithful people.”

Editor’s Note: At present, correspondence with the artist has been difficult due to the Gaza-Israel conflict. The conflict, as of this writing, has tolled
898 lives and 3, 695 injured since the start of fighting last 27 December 2007.

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Mother of God, First Disciple
Until recently most Protestants had seldom
contemplated the significance of Mary
except as a foil for Jesus in the Christmas
story or as a mother grieving for her son
beneath the cross on Easter. This new
attention to Mary has had profound effects
within the church because, when one looks
at Mary, one is confronted not only with
Mary but with Christ and with one’s self.
Virgin, mother, servant, prophet, witness,
disciple—she is all of these but it is
perhaps this last, disciple, that is the most
significant to consider. Recognizing Mary as
“the first Christian” casts into sharp relief
some important truths that may easily be
overlooked. Mary is the first to believe that
the child she would bear was indeed God’s
son—the Christ who would restore mankind
to himself. She bears witness to that truth
by going to her cousin Elizabeth, perseveres
in that faith in spite of the collapse of all
expectations of what his coming would
mean to her and to the oppressed people
of Israel, stands with him at the cross, and
bears witness to the empty tomb. That belief
both carried her through as she fulfilled
her ominous calling to be the theotokos—
the mother of God or God-Bearer, as it is
more accurately translated—and cost her
dearly as she was required to embrace the
suffering that would necessarily entail.
The dispute over the designation of Mary
as theotokos (God-Bearer) or christotokos
(Christ-Bearer) in the early church was
fundamentally a debate regarding the
doctrine of the Incarnation and the true
nature of Jesus Christ. In the fifth century,
the designation christokos, which may
sound perfectly acceptable to our ears (after
all, how can we quarrel with the designation
of Mary as the mother of Christ?), accounted
for only one of those natures—the divine—
not both. With this in view, the phrase
“born of a woman” invites reflection on
the very particularity of the Incarnation—a
particular woman who bore a particular
man, Jesus Christ, who was no less than the
Word of God. Herman’s depiction of Mary
overshadowed by the Holy Spirit in the
central panel of the triptych Miriam:Virgin
Mother brings the incomprehensibility
of this convergence into sharp relief.
Who could imagine that the Almighty,
Omniscient, Omnipresent God would deign
to limit himself in such as way? But in view of
the theology of creation/re-creation where
God creates and Jesus Christ re-creates,
Mary’s “yes” to God takes on profound
significance and makes perfect sense.
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Magnificat—A Prophetic Call
The Magnificat represents Mary’s
resounding assent to Gabriel’s astonishing
announcement and God’s audacious plan.
Echoing the words and prophetic voice found
in both the Song of Deborah (Judges 5:2-21)
and the Song of Hannah ( I Samuel 2:1-10),
Mary celebrates the impending fulfillment
of the redemptive history foreshadowed in
the Old Testament with words declare it is
already accomplished in God’s righteous
sovereignty. This fulfillment takes center
stage in the triptych Second Adam where
kronos, historical time, collapses into kairos,
God’s time, where the relationship between
all things is known. The shifting planes of
luminous blue and gold blur the distinction
between the physical and transcendent as
architectural structures transform into veils
of color and the impervious gilded surfaces
of the divine realm. Beneath the Cross, the
first Adam, naked and bent by the toil that
is his lot grasps a vine that leads upward
to the crucified Christ, the source of all life.
The scored and fractured surfaces of the
ground that surrounds him indicate the
challenge of his circumstances that threaten
to engulf him. The vine, transfigured gold
above, links to Christ piercing the veil that
exists between the City of God above and
the City of Man below leaving a crumbling
edifice that signals the end of the powers
and the principalities that have ruled this
place since our first parents’ original sin.
The patches of blue breaking through
the frame at the top and the chinks in the
gilded surface that reveal the underlay of
ruddy clay boll indicate the breakdown of
the barrier between earth and heaven. The
crisscrossing lines behind Christ recall the
two thieves who represent the metaphorical
scaffolding of mankind’s sinful nature that
required the raising of the Cross. At the top
of the Cross, a spiraling form that could be
serpent or vine, recalls Moses lifting up
the golden serpent to cure the plague of
serpents unleashed upon the Israelites for t
heir disobedience, asserting that Christ is
the final and singular antidote that restores
all creation and mankind to himself,
thrust upward by the will of God against
the forces of death and destruction. This
represents the radical inversion of the
Gospel where death defeats death to bring
eternal life to those who do not deserve
it through the substitutionary sacrifice
of Jesus Christ. Christ’s gaze, cast down
in the direction of both Adam and Eve,
and Christ’s feet, touching Adam’s head
transcend the barriers of time to link these
events inextricably. The encrusted faces
and flesh of so many of the human figures
in both triptychs invite our touch as one
person to another and remind us that we
are all the sons and daughters of Adam—
which is from the Hebrew adama meaning
“earth”—and thus limited and otherwise
destined to be returned to it when we die,
as “dust to dust” and “ashes to ashes”. The
scale and somatic persuasiveness of these
figures requires our participation with them
blurring the boundaries of image and reality
so that we too become actors in this story.
To the right of Adam we find Eve, a broken
weeping suppliant cast in shadow blindly
reaching out to touch the vine which is
her only hope, her trailing hand marking
the legacy of sin that has passed from
generation to generation. Her prostrate
figure situated over gilded ground recall the
goodness of the created order, and God’s
presence with her despite her despairing
state as one who is lost but not abandoned.
Masaccio’s Expulsion from the Garden
depicted on a medallion on the base of the
column between Adam and Eve indicates
the rift their disobedience created with
God and between one another. Behind her
stands Mary, the second Eve, a suppliant
at the cross, turned inward in prayer to
contemplate the grievous cost of their—and
our—redemption. Pale transparent streaks
of mauve that frame her carry depths of
melancholy and confusion as she traverses
the realms of memory, hope, and grief. Yet
a golden light radiating behind her supports
and shores her up, holding her firm with
the tangible imprint of a hand reaching out
touching her arm as if to assure her of God’s
presence even, perhaps especially, in this.
Flanked by the shadowy palimpsests of the
earthly order that is fading away, Mary is
not only a mother grieving for her son, but
also stands as the Church pondering—and
treasuring—all things “past, present, and
future”, in Herman’s words, that converge
in this one moment. This Mary, standing
alongside Christ at the Cross, represents
the substitutionary suffering that is at
the heart of the Gospel, for just as Christ
willingly chose to give up his life so that we
might live, so Mary willingly undertook the
suffering that assenting to God’s call would
demand. But we can’t stop there because
these events also have implications
for the Church and for each one of us,
as Beverly Roberts Gaventa explains in
her essay “Standing Near the Cross”,
“to consider Mary in light of the cross
summons, first, images of the mater
dolorosa, the sheer fact of Mary’s grief
and the grief of all who acknowledge the
relentlessness of the human rejection of
Mary’s child. Yet more is at stake than
shared grief. Mary’s association with the
cross recalls for Christians the scandal at
the heart of the gospel: that God’s actions
on our behalf meet ever and again with
misunderstanding and rejection. In Mary’s
“standing near the cross” (John 19:25)
Christians may find themselves alongside
the suffering world and its vulnerable God.”2
Mary’s prophetic response to Elizabeth’s
recognition of the messianic identity of the
child she carries announces the coming of
a new age when the Lord will bring “down
rulers from their thrones” and fill “the hungry
with good things” sending “the rich away
empty.” The status inversion proclaimed
by the Magnificat where the lowly are
exalted and the mighty are brought down
designates her as advocate of the poor and
downtrodden, a calling widely recognized
beyond feminist and liberation theology
as central to the work of the Church.
In the panel to the left of the Crucifixion,
Mary is depicted at the wedding at Cana
meditating in hortus conclusus (the
enclosed garden that refers to her virgin
purity as the vessel for the Incarnation)
adumbrating the miracle where water will
be turned into wine and her son’s eventual
death. The overlapping of the three scenes
in the triptych and the translucent veils of
paint offering faint glimpses of forms and
colors just beneath the surface coincide
with the penetrable nature of time and
memory, suggesting a God’s-eye view of the
outworking of mankind’s salvation that was
anticipated from the beginning. A horizontal
line that passes from Adam’s hand grasping
the vine to Mary’s breast establishes a
connection between cause and effect.
Gazing at the water pots, she contemplates
the dilemma of the good wine that has
run out before it is time. Encompassed by
a golden light she stands as a witness,
wondering and waiting, for the fulfillment of
God’s promise, looking forward and back,
pondering the meaning of Jesus’ quizzical
reply to her request for help, that “[his]
time ha[d] not yet come.” The Eucharistic
implications are clear where the wine
foreshadows Christ’s saving blood. Linking
time from the anticipation to the fulfillment
of that promise, the two Marys in the panels
flanking the Cross are mirror images of one
another differentiated only by the color of
the headdresses and the texture of their
skin. Yet the visible weariness and signs of
aging in Mary at the Cross reveal a private
suffering and the personal cost of following
God’s call. Just as in the Italian Renaissance,
these figures are engaged in a holy
conversation with one another, collapsing
time to see things more whole from a divine
perspective. Contrary to the Modernist
emphasis on expression which turns
inward to focus on the self, this art aspires
to look outward inviting communication
so that we may commune or be truly
present with one another and with God.
Contrary to common perceptions, most of
the Reformers held Mary in high regard.
Many accepted the designation of Mary as
theotokos, understanding its christological
significance. Both Luther and Calvin
presented her as an exemplar of obedience
and faith who should appropriately be
honored and emulated, albeit avoiding
exalted titles or formal ceremony. It is in
fact Mary’s very humanness, so readily
seen in these paintings, that commends
her as a model to the Protestant mind. Like
Job, Abraham, David, and so many others
who came before her, she struggles and
misunderstands, yet persists in her faith in
spite of those very limitations. She provides
a model for the life of faith, it’s true, but of
a woman who is truly one of us. Lutheran
theologian Lois Malcolm writes in an essay
titled “What Mary Has to Say about God’s
Bare Goodness” that reflects on Luther’s
Commentary on the Magnificat that, “the
lesson that Mary…teach[es] is that God’s
bare goodness, even when hidden or unfelt,
gives the equanimity not only to defend the
right or the truth…but to face whatever may
come with an ‘even mind’.” Mary’s quiet
strength, so evident in these images, as
she wonders and waits for the unfolding
of God’s plan at Cana and witnesses its
culmination at Calvary can be no better
assurance of God’s faithfulness in all things.
(TO BE CONTINUED IN IMAGE 118)
Notes:
1
From M. B. Goffstein, An Artist (Harper & Row, 1980).
2
Blessed One: Protestant Perspectives on Mary.
Beverly Roberts Gaventa & Cynthia L. Rigby, editors.
Westminster John Knox Press, 2002. (page 56)
Rachel Hostetter Smith holds the Gilkison
Chair in Art History at Taylor University in Indiana,
USA. Before coming to Taylor in 1998 she was on
the graduate faculty of the School of Comparative
Arts at Ohio University. She earned her doctorate
from Indiana University with specializations in
Italian Renaissance, Asian, and Medieval Art. She
has curated several exhibitions, including East
Meets West: Asian Art in Michigan Collections.
Smith currently serves on the Board of Directors
of Christians in the Visual Arts (CIVA) and is chair
of the Publications Committee which oversees
the journal SEEN which is published twice a year.
She writes on a wide range of topics in the arts
including historical and contemporary subjects
in the visual arts, architecture, literature and
film. Her work has been published in books and
journals such as Explorations in Renaissance
Culture, Renaissance Quarterly, Sixteenth
Century Studies Journal, Christian Scholar’s
Review, SEEN, Arts, and Mars Hill Review.
Bruce Herman is a painter, and Professor
of Art at Gordon College, near Boston, where
he is currently Lothlórien Distinguished Chair
in the Fine Arts. Herman’s artwork has been
exhibited in over seventy-five exhibitions in
major cities in the United States (Boston, New
York, Chicago, L.A.) and abroad (England, Italy,
Israel). His work is housed in many private
and public collections including the Vatican
Museum in Rome; UCLA Grunwald Center at
Armand Hammer Museum in Los Angeles, and
the DeCordova Museum in the Boston area.
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