Photographs as Icons

One of the most remarkable things about the camera is that it allows us to see saints, with certainty, as they actually are. This is of vital importance for the same reason that icons are of vital importance. It permits us to contemplate and identify with saints as real people, people you might even meet in the street. I think it was part of the genius of John Paul II to realize this and its significance, and to give us so many new, modern, photographed saints.

Following is a gallery of some of them--not all photographs, but when not, the images have been matched against existing photographs for accuracy. These are some of the faces you can expect to see in heaven.

The exercise itself teaches that paintings and statues of saints are not terribly accurate. There is a natural tendency to airbrush out all imperfections, which I find, personally, counterproductive.

  St. John Bosco, the great Salesian teacher. A personal favourite: he's the man. His face shows something I find again and again in these pictures: an asymmetry, especially about the eyes. One here is wider than the other. A knowing half-smile--one side of the mouth up, the other down. Saints, I suspect, develop the tendency to look at the world a little bit cockeyed.

Not a saint, yet, but probably the first genuinely holy man of whom I became aware personally. Blessed John XXIII. I want to include him, because otherwise saints seem altogether too good-looking. It's good to know we ugly ones also have a chance. It is hard not to love Blessed John's ears, and his sense of humour. Like most Catholic saints, he seems to have a broad forehead, and a strong jaw. Sainthood, contrary to some popular belief, is not for sissies.

However, like most non-photographs, this one has prettied him up a bit, and therefore we miss a few things. Here's an actual photo:

 And now we see it: his eyes do not match. And again that half-smile: one side up, the other down.

 St.. Maximilian Kolbe, looking terribly intense, and tired. If he is not cockeyed, his glasses must be. Note that broad forehead. You will see it again and again here.

 Saint Damien of Molokai. We usually see him after he had contracted leprosy, which of course dramatically changed his appearance. Again a great intensity around the eyes, no? This guy has seen something...

 Saint Teresa Benedicta, aka Edith Stein. Again those intense eyes; and note that they do not quite align. One side of the mouth up, the other down. And another physically very attractive face.

 The strikingly beautiful St. Bernadette of Lourdes. Those saints we saw above were learned men and women; Bernadette was a simple girl of the countryside. This is significant, because we might think the broad forehead is connected with intellectuality, rather than sainthood. Note, nevertheless, the same the broad forehead and the widely-set eyes. And the strong jawline--something we would not necessarily expect in an intellectual, but do most often see in Catholic saints.

 Perhaps to my eye the most attractive here after St. Bernadette, Australia's own St. Mary MacKillop. Cockeyed, half-smile. Hard to say, but I think the right side of her mouth (her right) goes up, while the left goes down. Her left eye looks larger than her right. Broad-set. Can't see her forehead.

 Saint Maximilian again. This photo shows his broad forehead to advantage.

 Saint Theresa of Lisieux. Frankly, I find her hard to look at. We have an unusually large number of photos of her, and in all of them, even those of her in dramatic costume or as a young child, she looks essentially identical. This is uncanny. And always those terribly knowing eyes that seem to stare right at you. Puts the fear of God in me; to look at Saint Therese is to look through an open door into another world.

Broad forehead, half-smile.

 Another lovably unbeautiful face: St. Katherine Drexel. Again that cockeyed, half-smile. In her case, it somehow looks like a smile, but both sides of her mouth go down. This cockeyed look and half-smile is not quite unique to Catholic saints, but it is not something you see commonly everywhere. If you do not believe me, do a Google image search on a random name. Most people smile when they smile, and frown when they frown. Interestingly, besides Catholic saints, the one other place where I consistently see this look is among working artists. 

I think this is important--saints and artists are the same type. In a way, you can see a saint as a perfect artist, with their life their work of art.

 St. Bernadette again. 

 Everybody knows what Padre Pio looks like in old age. But we  rarely see him as a young man. Here's the young St. Pio; again that broad forehead, and again the eyes don't match. In his case, he seems to have a "lazy eye"--he's wall-eyed. St. Pio also lacks that half-smile; as Catholic saints go, this makes him look rather severe, even cross. I wonder, though, if it might actually still be there, but not visible because of his beard. 

The face of a Catholic saint seems to be very like the face of William Blake, and perhaps for the same reason. As Blake wrote:

Now I a fourfold vision see

And a fourfold vision is given to me.

Tis fourfold in my supreme delight

And threefold in soft Beulah's night

And twofold always; may Gos us keep

From single vision, and Newton's sleep.

Let's throw in Blake for a special cameo appearance:

William Blake, St. Pio--separated at birth?

 St. Faustina Kowalska. I love her last name; it sounds so much like a name you might run into on the street, at least in Canada. A profoundly beautiful woman, but also cockeyed, half-smile. Can't see forehead.

 St. Benedict Menni. Again the broad forehead, the broad-set eyes. Again the strong jaw. Again the half-smile, and the eyes seem to be looking in two slightly different directions. One is looking straight at you, one off into the distance.

 St. Andre of Mount Royal. Again, a saint we usually see only in old age. Here he is as a young man. Broad forehead, broad-set eyes, strong jaw. One eye is higher, and larger, than the other. One side of the mouth up, one down.

 St. Benedict Menni again. In this photo his face is harder to see, but more plainly the face of a Catholic saint. Half-smile, one side up, one down; eyes one up, one down; broad forehead.

St. Andre of Mount Royal, age 70. As a Canadian, it is especially meaningful to me to see a saint in an overcoat. Is he smiling? It's hard to tell.

 Saint Daniel Comboni. Along with Blessed John XXIII, and St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Daniel makes the important point that being thin or fat has nothing to do with morality. Again the broad forehead, again the broad-set eyes, again the intense look. Again his two eyes do not seem to be looking at quite the same place. The beard conceals the smile.

 St. John Newman. Looks too severe and too upper-class English for me to immediately warm to--but that could just be an Irish reaction. There's some history between us and the English, after all. Again the good strong jaw. But there is no half-smile here--St. John is frowning. Nor do his eyes look intense; rather the reverse. They look glazed. Though definitely cockeyed.

Maybe this is what you get from being raised as an Anglican rather than a Catholic.

 Can you look at this face and not love it? St. Alberto. Very definite asymmetry here. Are those two eyes really from the same face? One side of the mouth up, the other down. Here, we do not see the usual broad forehead. So much for it being related to intellectualism--St. Alberto is a Jesuit. Should be here if anywhere...

 Saint Josephine Bakhita. Again the eyes do not match. Again the half-smile, one side of the mouth up, the other down.

 Dear St. Katherine Drexel of Philadelphia again. A real, full smile this time--but still, one side of the mouth up, the other down. And cockeyed.

 St. Mary MacKillop again. One side up, one antipodean.