St. Joan of Arc, Maiden of Orléans
I grew up “country”, as the saying goes, wandering—nearly always barefoot—the wooded acres we called home in the quaint river town of St. Francisville, LA. My parents, new to the faith, were discovering what it meant to be a Catholic family, delving into the traditions of a Church which from its beginnings has been rooted in domestic life. While that tradition would eventually lead me to my vocation as a sacred artist dedicated to beautifying Louisiana’s churches, my acquaintance with the wonders of Catholic art and architecture was at first quite sparse, St. Francisville being roughly as far from the great cultural centers as Nazareth. Nonetheless, here and there I caught glimpses of the grandeur of the Catholic visual arts tradition, as for example on first seeing Dom Gregory de Wit’s Pantocrator in my parents’ wedding pictures from Sacred Heart Church. That church, this style of art, was altogether new to me, and altogether awe-inspiring. It was a first taste of the 2000 years of living tradition that were about to form me.
Most of my adult life has been spent outside of Louisiana and even outside of the United States. I began to be more deeply acquainted with the Catholic intellectual and artistic tradition during my years at Franciscan University, when I also studied in Gaming, Austria. While there, I visited countless churches and museums and toured Catholic cities in fifteen countries across Europe. I was further immersed in the artistic tradition of our faith by studying at the Sacred Art School in Florence, Italy. There I learned the techniques of oil painting, while simultaneously gleaning inspiration from churches ranging from the magnificent Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, with her world renowned dome, to hidden gems such as Santa Felicita, where I stumbled upon several works by Pontormo while wandering my neighborhood one day.
The city's museums overflowed with masterpieces of sacred art, and visits to the hallowed frescoed cells of San Marco, the halls of the Uffizi, and the impressive Palazzo Pitti, among others, proved transformative. The vivid Catholic culture of Florence drew me in. Whether through partaking in traditions such as the exploding cart, or “scoppio del carro”, which explodes in fireworks and sends a dove shooting into the cathedral on Easter, or joining in the joyous celebrations for the Festa di San Giovanni, the city’s patron saint, I was being formed by a unique Catholic culture. And while I loved the medieval fairyland of Florence, I couldn’t ignore the deep-rooted hunger for the familiarity of my own vibrant culture. Having been led on a scenic path of preparation, I happily returned to my homeland with my husband and little son.
Upon return, I was blessed to be invited to join the St. Louis IX Art Society. It was refreshing to enter into a community of artists who share a common goal of enriching our Louisiana Catholic culture through the arts. I was soon asked to paint an image of St. Joan of Arc for a local parish, and I passionately dove in.
The commission was to paint the magnanimous St. Joan for her namesake parish in LaPlace, LA. I worked with Fr. David Ducote, whom I’d first known as a fellow pilgrim at World Youth Day, in Madrid, ten years ago. Fr. David recognized the opportunity to represent his parish’s patroness anew. St. Joan of Arc is a familiar figure to many in Louisiana. Whether from New Orleans’ annual St. Joan festival, or simply from the city’s iconic gilded statue, most of us probably have a mental picture of this maiden saint. Many of us envision her as a heroine, suited in armor, astride her horse, boldly bearing her battle standard at the head of an army. Given this common depiction, we may never have had the opportunity to consider her as a simple maiden, a maiden as typical in her native village as the wild-eyed, barefooted children of our own region are to us.
In my painting, St. Joan is presented at the beginning of her mission, as a young girl of rural Domrémy, receiving the messages from St. Michael for the first time. We encounter a young girl, barefoot, seated in a garden. Her hand lies open on her lap in a gesture of receptivity, and a radish, released from her grasp, lies in front of her. Joan gazes intently upwards, encountering St. Michael for the first time. St. Joan’s ordinary adolescence and simple labor were inspired by Jules Bastien-Lepage’s beautiful naturalistic genre paintings of French peasants. This realistic, though stylized, garden, is set against a patterned, medieval-inspired background to suggest the clashing of the mundane with the heavenly mission within the story of St. Joan. The garden is filled with Louisiana flora: delicate irises, crinkly collard greens, and reaching red clover. St. Joan exhibited an intense love and connection to her home, and she sits as if rooted to her native soil. She even looks like the bordering Louisiana irises, with her royal purple garment and sage green apron. The bright red of her head scarf alludes to her eventual martyrdom.
The painting’s background works as a tapestry weaving together symbols and narrative, and seeks to create an ethereal atmosphere by employing motifs of illuminated manuscripts and medieval frescoes. Situated outside the natural realm, it draws us up into the place of angels and saints. Fortunately, St. Joan’s testimony has been preserved, and so in her own words, explaining the instructions she received from “her voices”, we find marvelous insight into the mystical space the courageous saint occupied between heaven and earth. We know that she was instructed, for instance, to have a battle standard painted featuring an image of Jesus enthroned, flanked by two angels, depicted in a manner that people of that time would have seen “in church,” as she put it. The pattern of golden fleur de lis is also taken from the battle standard. I likewise incorporated the heavenly messengers Sts. Michael, Catherine of Alexandria, and Margaret of Antioch, who routinely instructed Joan. St. Michael is off canvas, and though we intuit she is beholding him, his appearance remains veiled as he did in her trials. St. Joan testified to a great light accompanying St. Michael during their meetings, though she kept many of the particulars of his visitations private. The beams of light from above are meant to allude to this heavenly presence. Sts. Catherine and Margaret also led courageous lives as virgin martyrs and led St. Joan along her own path of victory and eventual death for her faith.
St. Joan, who lived and died for love of God and for her beloved France, was wrongly tried without fair defense, and killed under the guise of heresy. Astonishing as her bravery is to us, she herself desired to be known simply as la Pucelle, the maiden, and this title is inscribed into the gold leaf halo which adorns her. Joan became a Saint, not because she was strong, or smart, or persuasive, but because she was faithful to the messages she received from her heavenly guides. She is known for her loyalty, her love, and her faithfulness to God and her native land. Though we may not be called to lay down our lives in the way St. Joan did, God does call each of us to a path of faith that is as unique as the particular person he has created. May we take St. Joan, la Pucelle, as our model, and step forward in faith to carry out what God has called us to. May her words, “The King of Heaven commands it,” be branded on our hearts. We never know where the Holy Spirit will lead us, but, with St. Joan as a model, we can count on it being a grand adventure that leads us to our final home.
[This essay originally appeared in the inaugural Spring 2023 issue of the Joie de Vivre print journal. To purchase an annual subscription, click the Subscribe tab above.]
Blair Gordy Piras is a Louisiana artist devoted to making sacred art rooted in Catholic tradition. You can find her work at www.blairbarlowart.com.
