To see gallery of entire works together, click HERE
This is the current series I am working on and will be displayed at Writ & Vision in April 2024. Drawing on traditional Western European and well known works on the Savior, this series explores the Atonement in light of modern issues. Symbola Salvatoris, latin meaning “Symbols of the Savior” replaces the body of Christ in each image with a symbolic object, while compositionally exploring issues ranging from ecofeminism to colonialism. This series also highlights models from the Utah cultural arts and literary scenes, especially around Provo, Utah.
ANNUNCIATION
Annunciation
Featuring James Goldberg and Kathryn Knight Sonntag
May 2020
Writers James Goldberg and Kathryn Knight Sonntag cast as the Angel Gabriel and Mary respectively in this scene of the Annunciation. Christ is represented as a sprouted seed, alluding to ideas of conception, the Tree of Life, and the "Holy Seed" spoken of in Isaiah (Isaiah 6:10). In the New Testament Christ is referred to as the “vine” and the “branch.” To me it has implications of Alma's "seed of Faith"--faith being rooted in Christ, and Lehi's dream, the fruit being "the Love of God,"--Christ's atonement, as well as some of our cultural notions on Christ's conception.
While I was preparing for this piece I happened to listen one night to an episode of the BYU Maxwell Podcast interviewing Catherine Gines Taylor, a scholar whose work specializes in early Christian art and iconography and centers around images of women. The imagery she references is from the Protoevangelium, an apocryphal text that specifically mentions the annunciation scene and indicates Mary as one of the weavers of the temple veil. The text reads:
“And to Mary fell the lot of the pure purple and the scarlet, and she took them and went unto her house and Mary took the scarlet and spun it. And she took a pitcher and went forth to draw water and behold, a voice said, ‘Hail, thou art highly favored, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women.’
And she looked around on the right and on the left, to see whence this voice came. And trembling she went to her house and put down the pitcher and took the purple and sat down upon her seat and drew out the thread.
And behold, an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before her, saying, ‘Fear not, Mary. For thou hast found grace before the Lord of all things and thou shalt conceive of his word.’”
This view of Mary is significant because later depictions have her in a very scholarly, demure position--often with a book, and not a member of the religious working class. I loved this more involved view of Mary (especially with the thought of her helping to create the temple veil) and decided to include it in my piece. At that time we were in full lockdown so with limited options I was so grateful to Dan Barney for sharing some spindles with me and Sister Aycock in my ward for sharing her red and purple yarn (which I had to reverse engineer so that it looked like she was spinning the dyed fibers).
So the tabletop was an interesting decision--I felt the water pitcher was necessary for traditional images we associate in our cannon of Mary gathering water when she's visited by the angel, and the account from the Protoevangelium also has her with a pitcher. The bread is referencing the Savior as the bread of life and his eventual sacrament. The parcel is my own personal reference to the Covid-19 Pandemic, through another work of art. I spent a lot of time looking at art from earlier plagues and I just kept coming back to Pieter Brueghel's "Massacre of the Innocents." This painting wasn't specifically about the plague but he was alive during that time and he has other paintings that reference the massive suffering. What is so interesting to me about this painting (besides directly referencing the Christ narrative) is that the more gruesome images of dead children were eventually painted over at the behest of the Holy Roman Emperor, Rudolph II. Some are dressed up as bundles, with weeping mothers grieving over them—it's a chilling painting and I couldn't get it out of my head for tying this piece to the Pandemic, even in this strange roundabout way.
I had reached out to both James Goldberg and Kathryn Knight Sonntag for separate reasons and I love how their work and individual writing styles dovetail so nicely with my individual take on the Annunciation scene. Kathryn's recently published book of poetry "The Tree at the Center" ties the symbolism of the Tree of Life to Heavenly Mother. It pairs so well with my decision to represent Christ as a sprouted seed that I can't emphasize enough the role that I feel inspiration plays in my work.
James' writing is somehow both frank and deeply layered. It weaves together his Jewish, Sikh, and Mormon heritage in a really engaging way. Latter-day revelation identifies Gabriel as Noah, and while we don't know what Noah looked like, I have a feeling James looks more like him than any of those medieval cherubs. I also love that the book James is holding is his actual writing notebook (his outfit is also his own!). When reading his "Five Books of Jesus" I found his poignant use of the broken vessel imagery especially kismet since my (unbroken) water pitcher in the piece is also referencing that very trope. I came across this idea at the Bougereau Exhibit at the San Diego Museum of Art back in January. I learned that the broken vessel was a popular symbol during Bougereau's life for a loss of innocence or a loss of virginity--so to me, having an unbroken pitcher was fit for the idea of a virginal Mary, though (thanks to some comments from Brigham Young) I really went back and forth on whether to have it broken or not.
The arch of branches and vines is a reference to the common imagery of "Hortus Conclusus," a latin term of "enclosed garden," that was often employed in scenes of the Annunciation.. I also thought it appropriate since Kathryn Knight Sonntag earned a Master of Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning, with her thesis focusing on the transcendent in landscapes. I built this arch from various types of sticks and vines from my neighbor's yards. Melissa was so helpful again and provided the burgundy and mustard colored Cornus Sericia that I tried to mirror in Mary's dress coloring.
INSPIRATION SOURCES:
Annunciation Imagery
Maxwell Institute Podcast “Rediscovering Mary, mother of God, with Catherine Taylor” Episode #101.
Pieter Brueghel the Elder Massacre of the Innocents
Pietà
Pietà
Featuring Lee Udall Bennion
August 2020
Longtime renowned Utah artist and painter, Lee Udall Bennion is cast as Mary in this reinterpretation of Michelangelo's Pietà. Replacing the body of Christ with a slaughtered sheep makes real the ties between Old Testament practices, hopes and beliefs, and the passion of the Christ.
Isaiah's words echo from chapter 53: "But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities . . . and with his stripes we are healed. . . . He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter. . ." There has been much to mourn over these past few years, not the least of which is the ubiquitous effects of a global Pandemic, but I still have hope that through the “great and last sacrifice” we can all be made whole.
The idea for this piece came while I was pregnant with my third child and was opening my first solo show at Writ & Vision. I made sure to sketch it out immediately, but I had absolutely no idea how I would make this piece actually happen. But I committed to following whatever inspiration came my way. I started with talking to a very nice taxidermist from the Bean Museum at BYU who gave me some leads at the Utah Farm Bureau and some other taxidermists. Lee suggested some slaughterhouses, but all photography is prohibited in these locations. I talked to a veterinarian to see if we could possibly tranquilize an animal (as I very much wished to produce the piece without using a dead animal) but found that to be illegal for non-medical purposes. I looked at prop houses in Los Angeles and reached out to a few prop designers. I contacted a number of 4H representatives at several high schools and state fairs to see if we could have a well-trained sheep sit on the model's lap. And I talked to a good number of sheep farmers. Nothing was working out or feeling right. Luckily, Joe and Lee had the idea for me to reach out to Dale Peel, a fellow Spring City resident who is a sheep farmer AND an artist. When I explained what I had going on in my head, he was so generous and willing to work with me.
This piece was an intense labor of love, involving both agony and ecstasy, and over a year of coordination and planning. Lee was my top choice as model and I realize now that the piece would not have been complete without her. She was invaluable in her suggestions of where to source sheep, her mentorship to me throughout the process, and her deep faith and respect for art, all living creatures, and the environment. This culminated in an emotionally intense rendition that could not have been achieved in any other way.
One of the many reasons I wanted Lee for this piece was her age. I wanted to challenge Michelangelo's position that Mary should be "eternally young." I also felt that Lee, with her ancient soul and towering wisdom, would give off distinct Heavenly Mother vibes, adding another dimension to this Pietà. Because of this, I have thought about this piece recently in relation to a communal mourning over some institutional pushback on Heavenly Mother. I also became aware during the planning of this piece that Lee was the first LDS artist to paint a Madonna figure with a halo (thanks to a panel presentation with Rita Wright for the Certain Women Show). I had already felt strongly that she needed to have a halo, and I love when connections happen in my work that I didn't plan or know about previously. It confirms my feelings that there is divine power at the heart of creativity--that creativity is inherently intertwined with the Creator.
Lee also helped to restore some of the Teichert Murals in the 1980s and when it was announced they would be removed during the Manti temple renovation, there was such a an outcry (myself attending the rally organized in Provo) that this piece became a symbol of the collective mourning over that potential event for me. The thought of losing the Teichert mural sent shockwaves throughout the LDS artistic community in Utah and especially the residents of Sanpete county, including the Bennions. Luckily, it was later announced that the murals would stay in the Manti temple and a new temple would be built in Ephraim.
The day of the shoot was especially emotional. I had never seen an animal slaughtered before and I sensed I owed it to the creature for whom, although slated to die that season, I still felt responsible for. We met at the Thatcher residence very early in the morning in Spring City to set up before the day got too hot. Joe had scouted out their barn for me and Dale’s son arrived soon after with the sheep. When Dale arrived, we set about doing the deed, which was accomplished with Dale and his son. Lee, myself, and my photographer were very emotional, and though it made going through with the shoot very difficult, we pushed through with the help of a prayer offered by Lee.
The sheep is an ancient symbol of the Messiah. A lamb was typically used for animal sacrifices in the Old Testament as a type and shadow of that last great sacrifice. I knew a baby lamb would be more accurate but that the scale wouldn't translate for the body of Christ, especially for Michelangelo's monumental "Pietà.”
For me, this piece also illuminates ideas about our relationship to the earth, the costs of not engaging in consciousness about ecological issues, and a hope to repent and return to a sense of reciprocity. Reciprocity, the goal of living in such a way that creates a symbiosis and mutuality with the earth, is popularized in the book “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kemmerer and is an aim that is important to both Lee and myself. Overall meat production and consumption is a concern as it contributes to the global warming crisis we are in now, and without change, will continue to experience. We believe that we are stewards of the earth and that neglecting to take care of it will continue to result in devastating consequences, especially for the poorest among us. Sister Sharon Eubank recently shared “...some people will say, ‘Isn't there something more important to do? Shouldn't we be caring for the poor versus caring for the Earth?’ And my question is, are they not linked so inextricably that we can't do one without caring for the other?” If all are truly “alike unto God” we must do better to live in harmony with this beautiful planet the Lord has provided for us.
This shoot was an epistemically-transformative experience. As much as I wanted to create the piece without the sacrifice of an animal, I also know it would not have been as impactful. I wasn't aware of the cost or the change that it would incur to me personally, nor could I know! My work often contends with moral dilemmas and the qualia of progression in my personal theology. I believe in the importance of agency, but struggle with a God who allows such horrible, horrible things to happen to His children. I know part of this is my lack of perspective, I have to believe this life is not the end. I have to believe the Atonement will right every wrong, heal every wound, and dry every tear. I have to believe that Christ will eventually fill every hole and mend every broken heart. I have to believe that to loving Heavenly Parents, “all are alike unto God” and that eventually everything will be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
INSPIRATION SOURCES:
Pietà, by Michelangelo, 1498
Braiding Sweetgrass, book by Robin Wall Kimmerer.
Heather Kay, artist (@ettakay.art) Heavenly Mother digital paintings.
The Smell of a Kiss, by Lee Udall Bennion.
Certain Women Panel Discussion, Zion Art Society Podcast.
Isaiah Chapter 53, Old Testament
Deposition
Deposition
Featuring Michelle Franzoni Thorley
July 2021
I firmly believe as disciples of Christ we must root out racism, and that begins with each of us and ends with examining every system we participate in. I worked with my friend @florafamiliar who is a Xicana artist, biracial geneologist, and anti-racist educator to collaborate on the themes presented and model for the role of Mary. The shoes presented here signal holy ground, a popular motif in art history and in my own work, but take on the added meaning of the possessions left behind by many who are crossing the border. The marigolds are a funerary flower in Mexico and Michelle additionally uses a lot of plants in her work, which I knew I needed to include in this piece. I was especially affected by the Philodendrons in her piece, "Making Space for Us" in which I learned that the root "Philo" is tied to the Greek word for love, also seen as "Phileo," and is most associated with familial friendship and the love of equals.
Deposition paintings will usually feature a skull at the base of the cross. This is because Golgotha was known as the "place of the skull" and as I thought about how I could translate this for my own thesis, the journey of the immigrant came again to mind. Ranches frequently dot the southern border and the bleached remains of cattle would be common among the scenery.
The Veil here stands in for Christ (represented by an old proscenium curtain). In the scriptural account, the Veil in the temple was torn when Christ gave up the Ghost, Mary here holding the rent pieces. This was an exciting connection because Michelle often uses red fabric or thread to tie families together in her own paintings. In addition, the temple veil represents Christ as an essential pass through in order to get to the celestial kingdom. In the bottom of the shot you can also see a dagger being presented from Mary Magdalene. This is in reference to the prophecy of Simeon that Mary's heart would be pierced (seen often as the Immaculate Heart motif). Simeon mentions specifically that this is done so "that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed" (Luke 2:35). I know Michelle and many people of color have suffered the effects of racism here in Utah and in the Church. I appreciate and believe in the work she is doing and feel that through her and the accounts of others on social media that the "thoughts of many hearts [have been] revealed." Their work needs to be supported and their accounts need to be heard, validated, and acted upon so that we can root out the sin of racism within our community.
INSPIRATION SOURCES:
The art and experiences of Michelle Franzoni Thorley
Nativity, by Brian Kershisnik
"El Sueño Americano" by photographer Tom Kiefer
IN THE GARDEN
In the Garden
Featuring Adam Thomas and Anthony Sweat
July 2021
The idea for this piece came because I've always loved Harry Anderson's "Gethsemane" painting. However, all of the garden portrayals I've seen growing up have never quite portrayed the physical intensity that I imagine Hematidrosis (the condition of bleeding from skin pores) would induce, Luke commenting that His “sweat was as it were great drops of blood” (Luke 22:44). This whole series is about reimagining images of Christ in different symbolic ways, hopefully giving some new insight and deeper narratives to wrestle with. The image of the winepress felt appropriate and I especially liked the duality it presented.
The horn is a symbol of priesthood power, and it was what came to mind when I meditated on what vessel the liquid should be poured into. LDS liturgy uses olive oil in horns during priesthood rituals as a symbol of Christ's sanctifying power. In the New Testament Christ is referenced as the "Horn of Salvation" (Luke 1:69). In the Old Testament, priests would put some of the blood of the sacrificial animal on the horn of the altar, representing Christ's power to save us from sin (Leviticus 4:5–7, 30). Again, I enjoy the duality that whether we are sinner or saint, every step of the way Christ is the answer.
I have Anthony and Adam's faces in sort of a reverse 3/4 view to make it easier to imagine ourselves in these places, the "everyman" view that I used in my Dollhouse piece as well. I wanted each person to be able to view themselves as both the instigator and the receiver of Christ's gift. The dual nature of the Atonement: that Christ is there to catch us when we fall, but we are also the involved in the reason he had to experience pain in the first place. We spend so much time playing the "us vs. them" game in Church culture and I never find it productive. In any scenario I think it's good to think of ourselves as both hero and villain and to meditate on what that means and what our impact could be either way. I know a lot of people turn away in shame at this prospect, but I think it's so humbling and reminds me not to run away from the dark parts of myself, our "shadow self" in Jungian philosophy, allowing the Atonement to heal and work through those parts rather than pretending they don't exist. Usually we only see ourselves as receivers and even though I don't think we are necessarily at fault or to blame for Christ's suffering, we do cause other people's suffering, all the time. It's important that we examine ourselves in both roles if we want to make progress.
The gnarled tree was important to me, not only because it references the classic image of Harry Andersen's "Gethsemane" but I've been reading Jacob's allegory of the tame and wild olive trees and placing myself as the vineyard (credit to my husband for first bringing up the concept) and it has been so powerful. We are all in various periods of growth and decay, we have to learn to love all the parts of ourselves--the light and the dark. I love the thought of a Savior that is continually working to heal my broken parts, and pleading to "spare [her] a little longer" (verse 50). Sometimes our branches grow wild and we need to strengthen the roots, sometimes we need outside help to be grafted in, even to the "mother tree" (verse 60). It takes time and patience to "clear away the bad according as the good shall grow" so that bitterness does not overpower the sweet and sublime.
Since I've done this piece I thought a lot about its implications in terms of Mother Earth and our relationship to the natural world. Again, that duality I mentioned before: that at any point we can be the ones extracting or inflicting pain with our impact, or accessing mercy and healing--sometimes at the same time! The root of everything we use and consume in our day to day lives ties back to the earth and her processes–if we can’t grow it, it must be mined. The whole series actually has a lot of deliberate, intentional, and (hopefully) intersectional eco-feminist threads running through that I hope people consider and explore. I have a deep belief that we need to humble ourselves and turn to Christ (who I believe cares deeply about the Earth) in order to fix some of the major problems we are currently facing as a society and a human race.
INSPIRATION SOURCES:
“Christ in Gethsemane,” by Harry Anderson
NATIVITY
Nativity
Featuring Esther Candari
May 2022
"John 4:10 Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water." —John4:10, KJV
I knew when I got the idea for this Nativity piece that I hadn't ever seen one like it (at least that I could remember) and that always gets me excited. The bottom right corner of the work has a few objects to help balance out the composition and bring in some pertinent symbolism. The knife is actually the one modeled in one of Esther's paintings about Jael, an old testament heroine and not someone usually drawn to parallels with Mary--but maybe she should be? Mary gave birth to a radical, some of which I'm sure He got from her. I also feel like the knife would possibly be used to cut the umbilical cord--if I were to redo this piece I love the idea of having midwives present but I was thinking a lot about the singular and sometimes isolating experience of giving birth. This image can be quite visceral to me at times. The hay is there to reference the manger, the grapes and bread to reference His messiahship.
The dress Esther is wearing is one she had in her own collection that she died herself. The color was exactly what I had in mind--which was all tied into the color story from an Avett Brothers album cover. It's the "I and Love and You" cover with a memento mori type oil painting done by one of the band members. I don't think it has anything to do with Mary or Jesus but whenever I thought about this piece and the lighting/mood I wanted to use I could NOT get this album cover out of my mind. It's the weirdest thing—sometimes I have that, something will get stuck in my craw—sometimes I find out later that it actually adds meaning to the piece (it's so cool when that happens) but most of the time I just have to trust my gut.
Here Christ is represented as "living waters" (John 4:10) and when I was hunting around for a shallow container I could have her pour the water into I came across this dish used for gold panning, which I thought was perfect. Sometimes being a disciple feels like panning for gold—so often it's so much of nothing or drudgery or boredom but man when those nuggets come and I move from a place of complexity to harmony, the feeling is indescribable. The ability of Christ to create reconciliation and bring meaning to our struggles is so much better than staying...wherever you were before, whether mired in negative emotions or just static simplicity, Atonement is miraculous.
The reeds were placed in part to balance the composition but they also made me think about Moses and his mother having to send him off on a river all because of political circumstances she had no control over. Ludicrous, but also too similar to realities happening today. 'm thinking about all the mother's and children in Gaza, in Ukraine, in Syria and I pray for some hope. Some end to this fighting. It's such a waste, and I'm frustrated with how powerless I feel. Many of the Jews did not believe Christ because he wasn't what they were expecting. Being open to how Christ can help me bring resolution in ways I can't anticipate is one way I keep moving forward. May we all do what is within our power to lift the burdens around us, near and far.
One thing that Esther and I discussed about this piece was the cultural expectations in Church culture (and wider society) around motherhood. Motherhood should be supported in real and tangible ways as opposed to the flowering words that don't always equate action—and for women who can't or choose not to have children, the pedestal is even more of a prison. Esther's MFA thesis was on biblical depictions of infertility and how it can build empathy. From the show description: "This thesis draws upon a review of current literature related to the empathy-building potential of fine art and experiences of infertile women, especially those within Judeo-Christian communities, to build a case study for utilizing fine art to create stronger more empathetic communities...These paintings, which depict the Biblical stories of three infertile women —Sarah, Rachel, and Hannah—were executed in a realist tradition with special effort made to communicate emotional and historical nuance, breaking from the stereotypical miracle and natal-centric narratives of western art history and Judeo-Christian theological tradition."
Right before this shoot Esther had a show called "Chosen Vessels" that dovetailed so nicely with this image I had in mind and is part of the reason I chose to have her model this particular scene. From the show announcement: "Chosen Vessels is an exploration of the stories of women and their roles as bearers of power, burdens, prophecy, joy, and sorrow. A tribute to the things that are held within and the things that are poured forth." I love this empowering view of vessels--a common symbol used for women that has too often been associated with ornamentation or passivity. May we all be vessels of change, agents of creation in all its forms.
Doubting Thomas
Featuring George Handley, Ben Abbott, and Steven Peck
May 2022
I don't remember when I got the idea for this piece but I was so excited when all three men agreed to be in it. It largely deals with my anxieties around climate change but Steven Peck, George Handley, and Ben Abbott are all doing amazing things to help raise awareness, educate, and change policy around how we engage with the environment in Utah. I am deeply grateful for their work and was so honored that they agreed to put on costumes and be photographed (in public!) for this piece. If you aren't already aware of their individual CVs, please google them now.
I first came across Steven Peck's writing when I read "A Short Stay in Hell" a few years after everyone else did. If you've never heard of it or still haven't read it, you must! It's absolutely brilliant and shortly after I finished it, I went to George Handley's book reading and Steven Peck was sitting right there! This was while my first solo show was up five years ago so I was able to immediately introduce him to my art. From then on we would run into each other at events and friendship inevitably bloomed (and to which I delight in immensely). It was also at Steven Peck's book launch of "The Tragedy of King Leere" where I first heard Ben Abbott speak. I had heard about him peripherally and was familiar with some of his work but now I had face to the name! All this to remark on the power of creative places and events that help people meet and cross pollinate.
I have used this fishing net Ben is holding before, specifically in my collaborative self portrait. Overtly it is a reference to the Savior and discipleship (Peter, Andrew, James, and John were all fisherman) but I thought it was appropriate for Ben to be holding it because of his specific work on Utah Lake. In 2021 Ben organized a symposium which brought together environmental lawyers, engineers, and managers to discuss restoration progress and problems around Utah Lake. In 2022 (the year this photo was shot) Ben became the *literal face* of saving Utah Lake after being sued by the company that was planning to dredge the lake to build an island larger than the city of Salt Lake. This would have had devastating consequences for the lake and possibly caused permanent harm by altering the characteristics that create its ability to naturally sustain itself. I and so many others are grateful for the climatology work that Ben Abbott has done (and for the legal defense that helped him win this important case).
In this piece Christ is represented by a tree and was photographed at my favorite (and possibly most ecologically significant) tree in Provo, behind the historic courthouse. A rare breed of Ulmus Americana, it is the only known tree of its kind in the United States. Landscape experts have not been able to find another one like it. Additionally, the tree has never been successfully cloned or reproduced. The knot in the tree was actually superimposed (from another tree in Provo near my house), but stands in as the side wound for Christ. The mandorla or almond shape was commonly used in early Christian and Byzantine works to reference the side wound of Christ and often surrounds an image of an iconographic figure. The compositional scaffolding for the piece is taken from Carl Bloch's "Doubting Thomas" image and is used often in LDS manuals and lesson plans.
George Handley is a BYU Humanities Professor, Writer, Environmentalist, and Provo City Councilman! I first heard from him in an interview with Terryl Givens for the Faith Matters Foundation. I hadn't even moved back to Utah but I was grateful there were environmentalists working in the LDS space and I know it has deeply informed both his writing and his decision to work in politics. His book "If Truth Were a Child" shares my love of paradox in the Gospel and finding beautiful truths in disparate places, while at the same time navigating a cultural landscape with charity and grace where other people inevitably see things differently. I have been so grateful (and often relieved) to know he is working to craft the policies in Provo that will hopefully help us coexist peacefully with our environment. I know it's a long slog, and probably feels really hard at times, but I sleep better at night knowing he is there. I am grateful for all these men and the many others working towards reciprocity with our environment.