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AB/Joseph O’Brien
Adoremus Bulletin, September 2017
Jokingly referring to himself as a “Spirit of Nicea II Catholic,” Daniel Mitsui shares the mind of these eighth-century council fathers, who taught: “The Tradition does not belong to the painter; the art alone is his. True arrangement and disposition belong to the holy fathers.”
sacred, it has to follow a tradition that is informed by the Church fathers, the liturgy and what was done in the past.” Like all elements of liturgy, Mitsui says, his work should encourage the faithful to prayer even as it serves as an intimate part of prayer. “Going back a while in history, there is this idea that to pray or worship means that you quietly think pious thoughts to yourself,” he says, “and anything artistic, any artistic form that makes it harder to think pious thoughts to yourself is a distraction and therefore not prayerful.” But art must be a part of worship, Mitsui insists, and must participate in that same sacramental reality which turns earthly things grasped by the senses— water, bread, oil—into divine instruments of grace—baptism, communion, confirmation. “The idea that worshiping would involve sacred art, architecture and music as part of the act of worship has become foreign to us,” he says. “But I’m trying to create images that have enough significant and symbolic detail that by looking at them for a longer time and concentrating on them, they become prayerful rather than being easy to ignore.” “Your senses are a part of your Christian life as much as anything,” he adds. “I think that’s mostly forgotten these days.” Tradition and the Individual Artist Throughout history, the Church has always underscored the importance of the senses in worship, Mitsui says. For example, in 787 the Second Council of Nicea responded to the Byzantine Iconoclasm that followed from the imperial edict of Leo III and supported by the Council of Hieria (754), which called for the suppression of sacred images. At Nicea, the Church restored the use of icons as a means of devotion. In his 2015 Franciscan University lecture, Mitsui notes that the Nicean fathers assert that “The Tradition does not belong to the painter; the art alone is his. True arrangement and disposition belong to the holy fathers.” For Mitsui, artistry and tradition must work in harmony: “Artistry without tradition is like an empty reliquary; beauti-
“ Artistry without tradition is like an empty reliquary; beautiful, perhaps, but unworthy of veneration. Tradition without artistry is like a relic kept in a cardboard box; worthy of veneration, but deserving of better treatment.” ful, perhaps, but unworthy of veneration. Tradition without artistry is like a relic kept in a cardboard box; worthy of veneration, but deserving of better treatment.” By comparison, Mitsui says, religious art should not be confused with imaginative art. “It’s as different as Adam of St. Victor writing a liturgical sequence for the Feast of St. Michael and a novelist writing a Catholic novel about St. Michael,” he says. “It’s a different approach, a different form of art and it has a different purpose.” As a religious artist, Mitsui sees his efforts firmly planted within the tradition. “I want to make things that have this liturgical, traditional, patristic order,” he says. “I want to be able to say that this work of art would be approved of by the council fathers who laid down these principles in the Council of Nicea.” Taking the Second Council of Nicea as his north star, Mitsui refers to himself as “a Spirit of Nicea II Catholic.” “That is a joke,” he says. “Its point being that I keep that ecumenical council at the forefront of my mind, living as I do in a time similar to the iconoclastic crises. I do not seek to interpret its doctrine regarding art and tradition beyond what its words actually say; indeed, what they actually say is bold enough.” “Little” Picture Book Having discovered such a deep foundation in the craft and tradition of religious art, Mitsui was emboldened with equal
parts humility and confidence to launch his newest project, the Summula Pictoria, as an attempt to illustrate these same aesthetic and theological principles—literally—in what he hopes will be the definitive reference work on religious art in the 21st century. “I hope to undertake this task in the spirit of a medieval encyclopedist, who gathers as much traditional wisdom as he can find and faithfully puts it into order,” he says in a statement at his website. “I want every detail of these pictures, whether great or small, to be thoroughly considered and significant.” As for the arc and expanse of the project, Mitsui says he hopes to accomplish the work in about 15 years. “Over fourteen years, from Easter 2017 to Easter 2031, I plan to draw an iconographic summary of the Old and New Testaments, illustrating those events that are most prominent in sacred liturgy and patristic exegesis,” he notes. “The things that I plan to depict are the very raw stuff of Christian belief and Christian art; no other subjects offer an artist such inexhaustible wealth of beauty and symbolism.” The name for the project, Summula Pictoria, communicates the effort’s breadth and modesty: 235 full-colored, double-sided pictures—each no bigger than a page in a book—drawn with metal-tipped dip pens, paintbrushes, and pigment-based inks, on calfskin vellum. The project, Matsui says, while ambitious, seeks to embody everything he wants to say about religious art. “When I look back on my career, I want to be able to say, I drew the life of Christ and the scenes of the Old Testament that I think are the most important liturgically and, in the Old Testament pictures, as prefigurements for the most important liturgically and theologically significant events of the Bible.” Mirroring the liturgy, the pictures will be drawn with the same telltale Gothic economy of detail that has informed all Mitsui’s work. “I want to make everything that goes into each picture significant and don’t want it to be merely ornament,” he says.
“ When I look back on my career, I want to be able to say, I drew the life of Christ and the scenes of the Old Testament that I think are the most important liturgically.” “I won’t put something in because this backdrop would look nice with sunflowers in it. I want every element to convey something—to place it in its actual location.” The project will also strive for the same popular appeal that has been a hallmark of Mitsui’s style. “My hope is that [the Summula Pictoria] will be useful to anyone who wants to make religious art, or to understand it,” he states on his website. “My idea is not to make a scholarly text or a university course; it is to offer, free of charge, something more accessible, comparable perhaps to a cookbook in which a professional chef shares his recipes.” Setting up a website to chronicle this cookbook-in-the-making, Mitsui invites the public to visit his blog, www.danielmitsui.blogspot.com. At Home—Yet Not Home Yet Having found a place to call home in rural Indiana, Mitsui knows that his geographical identity is not nearly as important as his artistic identity and, ultimately, his supernatural destiny. “Sacred art,” he notes in his August lecture at St. John Cantius Church, “does not have a geographic or chronological center; it has, rather, two foci, like a planetary orbit. These correspond to tradition and to beauty; one is the foot of the Cross; the other is the Garden of Eden.” For more information about Mitsui’s artwork or to contact Daniel Mitsui, visit his website: www.danielmitsui.com.
St. Hugh of Lincoln was a 12th-century Carthusian hermit who became the Bishop of Lincoln in England. He oversaw the rebuilding of the city’s cathedral choir after an earthquake in 1185; his efforts led to one of the most beautiful examples of Gothic architecture in England. In this depiction of St. Hugh by Daniel Mitsui, the artist follows the medieval artistic tradition of presenting the saint holding a crosier and a chalice in which the Christ Child sits, with a swan nearby. This swan befriended the bishop, ate from his hand and guarded him while he slept.