Angels in Art (1 of 4): Change over Time

Introduction

When Polly and I approach new commissions, it is important that we understand how our work will build upon the rich artistic heritage that we have as Christians. So, when I was asked to give a presentation on Angels in Art last month as part of a parish speaker series, I was grateful for the opportunity to brush up on this fascinating art-historical topic.

For those who were not able to be present, I am posting a written version, split into four parts, here. Part 1 will focus on how the portrayal of angels in Christian art has evolved over time; Part 2 on how this portrayal symbolically communicates theological truths about angels’ nature; Part 3 on the narrative roles that angels play in works of art; and Part 4 on the use of angels as compositional devices in structuring a painting. At the end, we will also touch briefly on the history of depicting fallen angels.

Angels

To begin, what exactly are angels? According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, angels are: “purely spiritual…personal and immortal creatures” with “intelligence and will.” They exist to “glorify God,” to “serve” him, and to act as intermediaries in fulfilling “his saving plans for other creatures.” (Paragraphs 330, 350)

The term angel means “messenger,” which refers to this intermediary role.

Angels in the Bible

The portrayal of angels in the Bible is complex, but, at risk of over-simplifying, we can provide a brief summary here.

Old Testament

In the Old Testament, there are two major categories of Heavenly beings who serve God. The first consists of the “angels” proper, who act as divine messengers when God wishes to communicate with human beings. They are rarely described but with a few exceptions seem to be human in appearance. No mention is made of wings, and sometimes, as in the passage about Gideon’s Altar, they are mistaken for ordinary people until they reveal their identity at the end of the story.

James Tissot, The Angel Puts Fire on the Altar of Gideon (ca. 1900)

The second category comprises the “cherubs” (or, using the Hebrew plural, cherubim). They, too, are rarely described in any detail, but they are referenced throughout the Old Testament, usually in the context of guarding sacred places or attending to the divine throne. God is often hailed as “enthroned upon the cherubim,” and the mercy seat atop the Ark of the Covenant was composed of golden cherubim.

In 19th- and early 20th-century Bible illustrations, the Ark is often portrayed with anthropoid figurines on top…

…but scholars today are pretty sure that cherubim were basically what we would call “winged sphinxes”—a sort of hybrid lion/bull/human/eagle beast common in Ancient Near Eastern mythology and iconography.

Neo-Assyrian, ca. 870 B.C. (photograph by Interfase)

Here are a few examples from around the time that the Old Testament was being written. They were especially common in Phoenician art, such as the relief carving on the right.

Neo-Assyrian, ca. 720 B.C. (photograph by Trjames)

Phoenician, ca. 800 B.C.

Below is a modern reconstruction of Solomon’s Holy of Holies (which was built in part by Phoenician craftsmen). In addition to the form of the mercy seat, note the prominent winged sphinxes standing guard over the Ark.

Salim Khalaf, “A Bequest Unearthed, Phoenicia”—Encyclopedia Phoenicia

Of course, today when we hear the word “cherub” we think of something very different from a winged sphinx!

We’ll discuss later how this evolution happened.

New Testament

Meanwhile, in the New Testament, descriptions of angels are largely in continuity with the conceptions seen in the Old Testament. Angels are messengers from God, like Gabriel at the Annunciation, and agents of God’s intervention in human affairs, such as when Peter was freed from prison.

Raphael, Deliverance of St. Peter (detail, 1514)

Finally, in the category of mythological hybrid beasts attending to God’s throne, we have the famous “four living creatures,” often known as the tetramorph, from the Book of Revelation.

Albrecht Dürer, Adoration of the Lamb (ca. 1497)

Angels in Art History

The visual motifs that have been used to represent angels in Christian art have evolved considerably over time. The earliest depictions of angels from the catacombs show human-like figures without wings or other differentiating features, which is consistent with the limited descriptions we have of messenger-type angels in the Bible.

Catacombs of Priscilla, Annunciation (ca. 200)

Eventually, though, artists wanted to differentiate clearly between angels and humans. In the Bible, the cherubim, though rarely described in detail, always seem to have wings, and divine messengers are usually human in appearance. As theology was systematized and both these categories of Heavenly beings became subsumed into the concept of “angel,” it made sense to combine the two elements—wings and human form.

Furthermore, Classical Greco-Roman culture had a history of depicting supernatural beings as winged humans. This motif is thought to be derived ultimately from Near Eastern sources, such as the Assyrian genie figure…

Neo-Assyrian, ca. 715 B.C.

…but in the Classical era the goddess Victory was frequently portrayed in a similar manner.

Greek, ca. 450 B.C.

Greek, ca. 200 B.C.

Roman, ca. 50 A.D.

Thus, it was natural for Christians to adopt aspects of this iconography in their art. One of the earliest Christian depictions of winged angels is the 5th-century Italian mosaic below…

Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, Annunciation (ca. 430)

…and before long the motif of the winged young man had become the universally recognizable standard for representing angels. Here are some examples of later art in the Eastern tradition, demonstrating little change from the 5th-century format.

Ohrid Annunciation (ca. 1310)

Constantinople St. Michael (ca. 1350)

In the Western tradition, the winged young man was also the norm from early on, as can be seen in these Medieval illuminations.

English Psalter, Annunciation (ca. 1225)

French (Lorraine) Apocalypse, War in Heaven (ca. 1295)

Now, in the 15th century, a new motif started popping up in the West. Ultimately, it was derived from a folk etymology of “cherub,” which was believed (inaccurately) to be related to the Hebrew word for “boy.”

Rabbi Rashi, 1040-1105

We must remember that, by late Classical times, hundreds of years had passed since the winged sphinx was part of the cultural milieu of the Near East, and people had forgotten what cherubim looked like. In about 300 A.D., a Palestinian rabbi named Abbahu noted a superficial similarity between “cherub” and the Hebrew phrase “like a youth,” an idea which was occasionally picked up in subsequent centuries by various Talmudic writings. The theory found a champion, however, in the 11th-century French rabbi Rashi (Shlomo Yitzchaki), who taught that cherubim had the faces of children.

Christian readers of this era ordinarily paid little attention to rabbinical sources, but Rashi was an exception, and, during the later Middle Ages, his commentaries were read and taken seriously by Christian Biblical scholars.

Meanwhile, around the time that the implications of this etymology were gaining currency in Christian circles, the Renaissance—a rebirth of Classical culture—arrived on the scene, and with it a growing willingness to co-opt frankly pagan iconography. The Classical Greco-Roman world had a history of representing the god Eros, or Cupid, as a winged boy…

Greek (copy), ca. 350 B.C. (photograph by Marie-Lan Nguyen)

…and sure enough, beginning in the Renaissance, these cute little “cupids” start showing up where we would expect cherubim to be—that is, adoring God and attending to his throne.

Raphael, Disputation of the Sacrament (detail, 1510)

Cupid-style cherubs, also known as “putti,” are a useful artistic device, and, when done right, they can be very charming…

Raphael, Sistine Madonna (ca. 1514)

…but they can also be taken to extremes, as in this 17th–century painting of the Virgin Mary surrounded by heaping, squirming mounds of fleshy toddlers!

School of Peter Paul Rubens, Virgin and Child with Putti (ca. 1625)

What’s Next

In the following post, we will examine how these and other visual motifs used to represent angels symbolically evoke theological truths about angels’ nature and role.