Becoming Light

by Gael Mooney 

As an art student just out of graduate school I was looking for a compelling motif to paint, one that would hold my interest over an extended period of time. A book of black and white photographs of the medieval reclining tomb effigies known as gisants which are housed in the Saint-Denis Basilica in France immediately came to mind. I was captivated by the beauty and mystery of these images as well as the paradox they embodied — their blissful expressions and peaceful demeanors seemed so at odds with modern notions concerning the finality and morbidity of death. As I later learned they are not intended to commemorate the life or death of the deceased. Instead, they are images of the resurrected soul, who with eyes open are beholding the light of paradise. Their purpose as such is to awaken us to hidden realities and to instill a belief in the afterlife. 

So taken was I with these images that after making paintings for a short time inspired by these photos, I traveled to France in order to see and paint the gisants firsthand. Thus began my love affair with the Saint-Denis Basilica and its medieval gisants that still endures to this day, some thirty-odd years later. 

Upon entering the cathedral for the first time, I felt as though the veil had suddenly been removed from my eyes. Its interior was glowing with brilliant colors and light unlike any that I had ever seen in any church interior. Light permeated throughout the cathedral, penetrating even the shadows and making the gisants appear to come to life, as if illuminated from within. I immediately recognized the light of the cathedral to be a compelling subject in its own right. It seemed as though I was witnessing the mysterious process by which matter is transformed into spirit occurring before my eyes. 

That I responded this way is no coincidence. Built by Abbot Suger in the 12th century, the Saint-Denis Basilica was inspired by a celestial vision, one that sought to make visible a sacred mystery and in so doing to induce a process of divine illumination. Suger’s conception for his Gothic chevet (the earliest and most sacred part of the cathedral that gave birth to the Gothic period) was inspired by the influential texts concerning the metaphysics of beauty and of light written by the 6th century mystic, Pseudo-Dionysius. 

In the light of the cathedral I see Pseudo-Dionysius’ philosophy concerning the metaphysics of beauty and light come to life such that the architecture, gisants and light become the incarnation of his thought. Stone which is solid and heavy appears to be weightless and transparent. The gisants glow with iridescent colors and light that seem to emanate from their interior. The gisants as such become like mirrors who pierce the illusion of reality to reveal its inner truth and essence. 

In painterly terms, the Gothic light of the cathedral is manifested in a variety of ways: as a luminous vibration that lends a feeling of transparency making the stone appear to dissolve, as an emanation from within and as a unity that draws disparate things together. It seemed that I had found my painting motif — one that was rich and multilayered enough to occupy me for a lifetime! 

I approach my work in the cathedral much like a landscape painter, moving my easel about according to the time of day and seasons as the light moves throughout the cathedral interior. Yet, the Basilica is no ordinary landscape but a sacred one in which all of its constituent parts — including the architecture, sculpture, stained glass windows and light — reverberate with symbolic meaning that I endeavor to uncover through the paint process. 

Such has been the impact of the countless hours that I have spent painting on the cathedral premises that I have come to see all of my work regardless of subject matter — including the series of works in this exhibition based upon two trees in Central Park — as recalling in some way those experiences. For example, though rooted in the soil, the tree limbs and branches like the arches of the cathedral rise up directing my gaze on high. As the early morning sun makes its appearance or at the end of the day when it declines, warm rays of the sun bathe the tree trunk with ethereal colors and light, making it glow from within, like an up-right gisant. Occasionally while painting in the park, a figure wanders into view. The dramatic shift in scale between the two underscores the tree’s monumentality evoking the same feelings of awe, wonder and grandeur as those inspired by the cathedral interior. 

My recent work at the Saint-Denis Basilica is particularly focused on heads or portraits of the gisants. Though not intended as portraits in the conventional sense of the term, rather than portraying a convincing likeness my aim is on capturing the ephemeral nature of the light and the ongoing process of transformation that it engenders. Standing in close proximity to the gisants magnifies tenfold the changes that are occurring from moment to moment such that the light totally surrounds me. Painting then becomes an immersive experience, like diving into water. My aim at such moments is to let go to see where this transformative process will take me. 

Essay published in the exhibition catalog Gael Mooney:  Becoming Light: Gisants and Trees, The Studley Press, 2023.