I have a wonderful print of one of Brian Andreas’ works. Not everyone would like it, I’m sure.
There are two figures who look as though they were drawn by children … squiggly outlines filled in with bright colors. They look somewhat like jesters or clowns. The text that accompanies them doesn’t clarify who they are. Without reading the title of the print you might think they represent us – those of us who looking at the picture. But I’m pretty sure they are supposed to be the angels to which the title of the work refers – “Angels of Mercy.”
Andreas always prints text with his Story People (that’s what he calls the figures in his art.) The text with his Angels of Mercy says, “Most people don’t know that there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don’t get too comfortable and fall asleep and miss your life.” That may sound like a silly notion – that we’d sleep through our lives, but, that’s only because so many of us tend to be literal with our language. There’s sleeping, and there’s sleeping.
Unlike our predecessors, most of us no longer inhabit the world of poetry and metaphor. As a people we are far from fluent in the languages of music, dance, and the visual arts – languages that readily interface our world with deep mystery. We value the factual, the serious, everything we consider “grown-up.” The world in which most of us have been enculturated to be comfortable is a world of reason and logic and control.
Andreas’ angel seems to suggest that play could offer us a way to metaphorically stay awake and not miss the fullness of our lives. “Unless you become as a little child …” and all that. What if we were to push back the fear that angels never support and get over our worry about looking silly, or worse yet incompetent? What would it take for us to just try something creative/something artistic/something right-brained? And how might it help us not miss some of our life?
For many of us our first image of an angel was the picture in which a little boy and girl are crossing a bridge over a raging river. Behind them there is a beautiful blond figure with flowing white robes, a star over her head, and large white wings. Her gesture we intuitively know means that she is keeping the boy and girl safe. She is their Guardian Angel. Like so many representations of angels she is female and has white wings. She certainly is not playful. Her role, while calm and serene, is serious. She is there to protect the boy and girl from this moment of their lives. You can almost feel that when they make it home, they will fall asleep exhausted by life, literally and perhaps metaphorically.
While this Guardian Angel may be our first exposure to angels, she is nothing like most angels that are found in older church windows. Try googling “images church stained glass angels.” You may be surprised. What you will find are androgynous figures, who for the most part have colored wings. While some are golds and pinks, most of them are fiery crimsons and amethysts and greens. These are no “There ... there ... I’m going to take care of you” angels. They are “You have every reason to be terrified, but even so fear not” angels. Even the “baby angels” – the cherubs – often have hints of red and purple in their wings – trainer colors.
Being a messenger of the Creator of the Cosmos, if art is to be believed, is a very high intensity thing. No wonder the angels of Biblical scripture have to tell us not to be afraid. But is it the fiery messengers or the message they deliver of which we are terrified? After all, who would want to be told they are missing their life?
“Perhaps Andrea paints playful angels to give us the notion that we don’t have to fear their visitation; that we can stay open to their message; and that we have the capacity to BE awake and not miss our lives. Of course, the question then is worth asking, “What would that look like for you and for me?”
Leigh Waggoner is priest at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church. She can be reached at 565-7865, or rector@stbarnabascortez.org.
