Michelangelo Incarnate
After studying the history of the great renaissance masters, I began my art career as a muralist. One particular story I found amusing in my studies was that of Michelangelo as he neared the completion of his magnificent fresco, The Last Judgement, in the Sistine Chapel.
After the completion of The Last Judgement, a cardinal opposed, "It is most disgraceful that in so sacred a place there should have been depicted all those nude figures, exposing themselves so shamefully." He remarked that the painting was more suitable for the public baths and taverns than a papal chapel.
In response, Michelangelo worked the cardinal's face into the scene as Minos, judge of the underworld with donkey ears (indicating foolishness), with nothing but a coiled snake to cover his nudity. Reportedly, when the cardinal complained to Pope Paul III, the pontiff joked that his jurisdiction did not extend to hell and the portrait would have to remain.
Among my first commissions as an aspiring muralist, I was to paint the baptistry wall in a small Baptist church in North Carolina. My first church commission! I am in line with the great renaissance painters, so I reasoned.
The newly drained baptistry left a deep well below the back wall where I would paint the mural. So, I ingeniously positioned a thick 10" plank that ran across the baptistry with a 7-8' drop below. I purchased gallons of the primary paint colors plus black and white, mixed my palette into numerous plastic cups, and set them in a particular order on the plank. That way, I had my brushes and colors and could walk back and forth to paint on the 10" beam. To me, painting murals is like painting and performing circus acts simultaneously. My task was no exception.
An elderly lady in the church commissioned and paid for the mural. And what was her request? The Jordan River, of course. How mundane and typical, I thought. Not high church, but I was grateful for the commission. She was out of town but would return about the time I finished. Wonderful! I knew she would be ecstatic!
I feverishly set to work on the mural, puffed with pride over my ability, imagining that I was Michelangelo incarnate. Midway, however, I absently mindedly stepped back to critique my work and slipped on the board. It caused one end of the plank to fall and catapulted the end, which held my cups of paint upward. I fell into the baptistry abyss! When I glanced up, I could see my full cups of paint flying in slow motion through the air. I know I yelled and hoped I did not belt out an explicative in church.
The colors flew from the baptistry into the choir pews below. After laying at the bottom of the baptistry, assessing that I broke no bones, I uttered a prayer, "Oh God, help me!" Fortunately, the pews were wooden, not fabric, and the paints were water-based acrylic. So, after spending hours cleaning, I remixed the paint, trudged back on the board, and continued to paint.
The tiny gray-haired elderly lady returned from her trip on a day close to completion. She marched into the church, walked toward the baptistry, and protested, "No, no, no, no!" I did not expect THAT. She demanded, "The Rocks need to be white, and the river needs to be still, not flowing." I questioned, albeit politely, does she not want the rocks to have a representational form. And motionless water would make it the Jordan Pond, not the Jordan River! While seething, I did as my client requested.
The newly painted solid white rocks laid flat in the Jordan Puddle, and for a fleeting moment, I considered, wouldn't it be grand to paint this lady drowning in the pond?
I needed an income, so I refrained. I refused, however, to sign my name as I did not want anyone to know that I painted that disgraceful motionless mural. Driving home, I repeated to myself, "No more murals!"
Over 100 church, business, and home murals later, I reflect fondly on such experiences that helped develop my craft.
Thirty years later, I strictly paint oil paintings and portraits in an inviting studio - without any more circus acts or misconceptions that I am Michelangelo incarnate.
