Immaculata Academy - Lilium Convallium Yearbook (Portland, OR)

Page 39 text:

iw i i LILIETIVIfCgONVALLIUM 31 Fra Angelico Fra Angelico was born at Vicchio in 1387. His real name was Guido or Guidolino. The beautiful surname Angelico was given him in later years because he excelled in painting angels. The history of his early life is extremely obscure. In 1407, at the age of twenty, he with his younger brother, entered the Dominican Order in Fiesole. Both were artists and wished to give their lives and talents to God. When they received the white habit of St. Dominic, the elder was called Giovanni and the younger, Benedetto. Fra Angelico began his artistic career as a miniaturist in the school of Masolino. This was probably before 1407. His gift for painting, however, was first fully recognized by his fellow religious. In the eloisters Fra Angelico painted frescoes of the chief Dominican Saints and decorated the cells of the monks with sacred subjects, chiefly scenes from the life of Christ, intended to assist the devout meditation of the brethren. Many of these were hastily painted and are badly injured, but they still retain a great measure of Angelico's peculiar charm. His figures are idealized and sanctified and exhibit a deep religious feeling. For him art was an act of adoration, a sacred duty of prayer and praise. In 1446 Pope Eugenius IV, who had visited Florence and stayed at San Marco for the dedication of the convent four years before, summoned Fra Angelico to Rome to decorate a chapel in St. Peter's. Soon after Fra Angelico's arrival in Rome the Pope died and his successor, Nicholas V, induced the painter to continue his work. By June the decoration of the chapel was completed, and Fra Angelico accepted an invitation to spend the summer months at Orvieto and adorn the newly erected chapel of St. Brizio. After this he returned to Rome, where he spent the next three years in decorating the Pope's Oratory with scenes from the life of Saint Stephen and Saint Lawrence. In the picture of the trial and death of St. Stephen, the bitter hatred on the faces of the Pharisees, the puzzled and suspicious look of the high priest, the curiosity of the spectators, and the indifference of the Roman soldiers are all depicted with a sympathy and insight that bring Fra Angelico before us in an entirely new light. It is said of him that while he painted the crucifixion, tears streamed down his cheek in sympathy with the agony of his beloved Christ. The pictures of a man who painted in such a spirit are not mere works of art. They are more. They lay bare a human soul, making the thoughts he thought our own, and the devotion and sympathy he felt, a part of our own lives. Unfortunately, these frescoes which reveal the painter in the fulness of his powers, are the only works of his in Rome that have escaped destruction. The chapel which he decorated in the old basilica of St. Peter's and the frescoes which he painted in the Dominican Church and Convent of Santa Maria sopra Minerva have all perished, and this oratory of Pope Nicholas in the Vatican alone remains to show that che earlier art of Florence is not unworthy of a place beside Raphael's. His work contrasted with Giotto's shows a more delicate appreciation of beauty. Giotto, like a narrative poet, gives us incidents and makes them livc by depicting movement and dramatic expression. His aim is to interest the mind. Fra Angelico, like a lyric poet, immortalizes moments of intense feeling. His aim is to touch the heart. The face expression of Angelico's saints is more saintly than those of any other master. His delicate and elegant shading speak to us of heaven and lift us above the things of earth. In this the mission of the angelic friar is fulfilled, for to him painting was only a means of glorifying God. il

Page 38 text:

30 LILIUM CONVALLIUM along the shore. The bright, handsomely built town with its broad streets, adorned by arcades and elegant squares, was very unlike the gray fortress back of them. Again they pursued their way down a dreary street and Ahmed led the way through a low doorway, down a narrow hall and into a large, open quad- rangle. Men dressed as aviators walked in and out of the huge sheds at the opposite side of the court. One of them, noticing the two, clanked over the rude stones and shook the little Arabian's hand most warmly. Ahmed, you indeed made good speed. Who is your fair companion? After an introduction to Herman, the aviator, Millacent regretted to hear her little friend say, Now, my friends, I am very sorry to take my departure but I have important business in Suez. I trust I shall see you both in the near futuref, Having received sincere thanks from his passenger for bringing about the realization of her dreams, the little man gave his charge over to Herman, hoppd on the rug and was soon a mere speck in the sky. Come, Herman directed, you must dress as befits an aviatrixf, Millacent sat in the flying machine. It hummed up into the blue and with a deafening roar set straight its path over the arid Sahara. On looking down as they sped along, Millacent could see an occasional oasis around which tents of Tibbu and Negroes were placed, protected by date-palms and olive trees. To the far east a caravan could be seen making its weary way over the sand dunes. Incidentally a few black cattle or zebra roamed over a knoll and hid themselves again in some foliage. All at once the air became cooler and more huts appeared. The airship made a dash for the roadway ahead and Millacent knew that she was at Timbuctoo. Together she and Herman walked to the top of the palm-covered hill. This she had done many times in her own imagination, but now she was able to stand with Tennyson viewing with her own eyes the beautiful city with its three mosques in the center and two old forts to the north. Far to the south the lordly Niger flowed and with Longfellow she . . . heard the tinkling caravans Descend the mountain road. She stood as one in ecstasy for a momentg then a mist curtained the scene from her. She looked around her in the gloom. Herman was not to be seen. She looked at her hands. They were no longer clad in leathern gloves but clasped a worn book. At her side lay the Arabian Nightsv. The palm- dates above her changed to acorns. And the light of the setting sun behind the hills of Utah broke in upon the mist. -BIBIANA MAHER, ,27.

Page 40 text:

LILIUM CONVALLIUM