An Annunciation reprised

I painted this annunciation last year and our friend Bob King bought it. Jami told me the other day how she wishes we still had it, but that's how art is: you can't hold on to things. Well you can, but the idea is that paintings get out into the world and hang on different walls where they're appreciated by a vast numbesr of people. The image of the annunciation is so charged for me that I'm bound to paint it again. Not that I'll paint a copy of this one. I do like the mirror element; in the past I've indicated God with a large hand pointing out of a cloud at a small girl reading. This annunciation takes Mary's sexuality into account. The angel, Gabriel, in Jami's words, looks like Snape, Alan Rickman. I suppose with the mirror I'm refering to, among other things, Brokhurst's image called Adolescence. Mirrors figure heavily in art: Vermeer and Van Eyck made great use of them. Manet's Bar at the Follies Bergere uses the mirror as a way to flatten and expand space at once. So is the mirror an indication of God? Does this say something about our image of God being fraught with our own projections, desires and fears? Gabriel has announced God's intentions to Mary and turned away, downcast (much like the angels in Wings of Desire), while Mary gazes at her body's reflection. If I were to recreate this painting as a color field painting it would consist of two vertical bars: deep violet and rich red - these two colors dominate the painting and create a mood of foreboding? Melancholy, perhaps. The prospect of giving birth to the messiah is a somber one and charged with sexual anxiety. We have stories of God impregnating humans: Zeus with Europa, Danae, and Leda. I think that this story is prevelant in other cultures and religions as well. The story of the annunciation resonates with these ancient myths: perhaps not so much for us, but for the first hearers of the gospels, the echoes would be unmistakable. Mary eventually absorbs Aphrodite (and takes her title "star of the sea") and Isis (taking her title "queen of heaven") - so that Mary, as God's vessel, becomes a space ship as well as an ocean going ship. By now though these associations are nearly forgotten when people think of Mary. The protestant tendency is almost reductionistic: to see Mary as simply a girl who gives birth to Jesus (leaving out the clasuse, "who God impregnates.") In the Middle Ages, when piety could not imagine Mary ceasing to be a virgin, even after giving birth, Mary's impregnation is typically depicted through the ear - the Spirit speaks a word (The Word) in her ear. This kind of reverence leads us astray though: When we refuse to imagine God being sullied by the very creation she created, and in maintaining this docetic comception we fall prey to the notion that matter is evil and unworthy of God - a gnostic error. Rabelais teaches us that God immerses himself in creation, rolls in the muck, eats the tripe, knocks up the maiden - and that these activities are the very locus of salvation, the very foundational things that God heals in sending Jesus to us; and it is in these things and through these activities that her creation is reborn. It is jolly, festive, feasting, grotesque (in the sense of hyperbolic abundance being celebrated) and it is for us, his creation. So my next annunciation will be slightly different - or maybe very different.