Angels in Art (2 of 4): Symbolism
Introduction
In the previous post, we conducted a survey of how the visual portrayal of angels has developed over time in the Church’s various artistic traditions. It turns out that, despite the sometimes circuitous evolution, these ways of representing angels are designed to convey theological truths about angels’ nature.
To revisit our catechism, angels are spiritual creatures—they are like humans in that they are persons but unlike humans in that they have no bodies. They are also Heavenly beings—perfect as God created them to be and enjoying communion with God. In this post, we will learn how the visual motifs used to depict angels in art symbolize these realities.
Visualizing Aspects of Angelic Nature
Incorporeality
First, angels have no bodies. When we paint them, we have to give them visible form, but this is just a metaphor or symbol. Many artists throughout history, especially in the West, have used different techniques to remind viewers that the angelic characters in the paintings are not actually physical. One of the first to attempt this was Giotto in the 14th century.
Note in his fresco above how the bottoms of the angels’ cloaks seem like they are dissolving into thin air.
During the Renaissance and Baroque eras, angels were sometimes depicted as if they were composed of water vapor. In the following paintings, the clouds making up the divine Heavens are actually fluffy cherub heads.
We get the sense that, although we can see these angels, our fingers would pass right through if we tried to touch them.
As technical skills were honed during the 19th century, some artists became virtuosos at using light in their compositions and took this idea a step further. They made the angels seem visible but immaterial by convincingly portraying them as semi-transparent…
…or as made of light itself.
Freedom from Physical Constraints
Because they are incorporeal, angels are not subject to the limitations imposed by the laws of physics. This is really what wings represent—the ability to fly, to defy gravity, to be free from the constraints of being earth-bound.
It is for this reason that, once they were introduced into angel iconography in the 5th century, the use of wings to denote angels has endured with such constancy.
Another way of conveying that angels are free from earthly constraints is to make their movements seem fluid and effortless. This is well exemplified by Giovanni Odazzi’s painting of the Annunciation…
…but note that, in crafting Gabriel’s ballet-like pose, Odazzi has borrowed freely from an earlier composition by his teacher, Giovanni Battista Gaulli!
Freedom from Decay
Angels, even when they appear as adult figures, are always depicted as young, untouched by the ravages of age. This is not only because of the folk etymology of cherub (see Part 1) but more importantly because angels are immortal and therefore not subject to the ravages of age.
Pure Intellect/Will
In some paintings, a perceptive viewer will notice not only Cupid-like cherubs but also a smattering of what might be termed “reduced cupids”—these baby-doll heads with wings but no bodies.
They first show up in the Renaissance, and, by the time we get to the Baroque, they are seemingly everywhere.
I used to think that these floating baby heads were kind of dumb, but they actually make sense once we understand what they symbolize theologically. Angels are pure intellect and will, which is to say that they are unembodied minds. We associate our (embodied) minds with our brains and thus with our heads. So, in these angels, the visible form has been reduced to heads (symbolizing personal intellect/will) and wings (symbolizing of freedom from physical constraints).
Neither Male nor Female
Another consequence of angels’ lack of bodies is that they have no sex. Every once in a while, angels are depicted in a way that is recognizably gendered, and there is nothing wrong with this. Such an anthropomorphism can be appropriate in some contexts. For example, where angels appear as part of military metaphors, the figures may be decidedly masculine, as in this 15th-century fresco of the Angels of Judgement from the Apocalypse.
And occasionally, particularly in scenes involving the Virgin Mary in glory, we find angels who are decidedly feminine.
But for the most part, and for most of Christian art history, angels have been made to look ambiguously gendered, even androgynous.
This is deliberate—it’s a way of communicating that, although they may appear in human form, angels are not exactly human.
Anatomical Idealization
In addition to being ambiguously gendered, angels are almost always depicted according to Classical ideals of anatomical perfection.
Again, even though they are human in form, and of course wings aside, they never look like a person we’d see walking down the street or passing us in the grocery store. They are simply too perfect and idealized, devoid of the particularities of real people. And this indicates that they are Heavenly beings, without flaws.
Innocence
As discussed in the previous post, the Classical paradigm on which the “putto” cherub motif was based is Cupid, and he was depicted as a winged boy because the love god was thought to be naughty and mischievous. When this motif was co-opted for Christian purposes, however, the young age ceased to convey mischief and became a symbol of innocence and freedom from sin.
This is one of the reasons that this motif, once it was introduced into Christian art in the 1400s, really stuck—because it effectively conveys an important truth about angels’ essential nature.
Beatific Vision
Musical appreciation is the most abstract of aesthetic experiences and thus is sometimes used to represent the Heavenly bliss that transcends sensual pleasure. Because angels, as Heavenly beings, enjoy this Beatific Vision, they are often depicted engaging in music—singing or playing various musical instruments…
…even, in one case, a gigantic double-bass!
What’s Next
In the penultimate post in this series, we will investigate the narrative roles that angels have traditionally played in works of art.