Title: Saint Panteleimon Icon
Artist Name: Unknown Byzantine Master
Genre: Religious Icon
Date: First half of 12th century AD
Materials: Egg tempera and gold leaf on wood panel
Location: Megisti Lavra Monastery, Mount Athos, Greece
In the silent region that seals the coasts of Mount Athos — there where everything seems to stand on the boundary between the material and the intangible — a treasure of inestimable value awaits the visitor who will dare to meet its gaze. Perhaps only when one stands before the icon of Saint Panteleimon in the Great Lavra does one fully comprehend the unrepeatable power that is hidden in the Byzantine art of the 12th century. This creation — born from the quiet collaboration of egg tempera, gold leaves and a soul whom we ignore — reveals to us something more than a simple theological statement.
Art Beyond Representation
What makes a painter choose the gaze as the centre of his expression? Observing the form of the young martyr, one ascertains that this is an art that cares not to hide behind official formalism. The unknown creator — and how characteristic this unknown is for his era — seems to have discovered that secret which permits materiality to be transubstantiated into a spiritual experience. Every brushstroke declares the presence of a thought that operates beyond the mechanical repetition of approved motifs.
Here, in the heart of this mountainous community, something imperceptibly yet relentlessly changes in our appreciation for what artistic achievement means. The golden surface that surrounds the saint does not behave as a passive background; on the contrary, it creates a pulse of light that converses with the flame of the candles, rendering the icon a participant in the very liturgical act. One could perhaps suggest that we find ourselves here before a moment where art crossed that threshold which separates representation from presence.
How to explain the paradoxical sensation of direct contact that this face provokes? The colourations — those reds that emerge from the depth of the flesh — do not seem to follow only the logic of visual reality. There is an internal dimension, something reminiscent of the theory of the Byzantine theologians about icons as ‘windows to heaven’. And while we recognise the symbolic basis of this approach, here we encounter something that transcends the symbolic: a direct psychological effect that seems to touch the heart of the mystery of therapeutic presence.
The Synthesis of Faith and Form
It is worth noting that the choice of the subject — Saint Panteleimon, a member of the Anargyroi — should be considered neither accidental nor simply conventional. In the collective memory of Byzantine society, this figure embodied the ideal fusion of scientific knowledge and spiritual devotion. As Henry Maguire observes in “Art and Eloquence in Byzantium”, Byzantine creators ‘were not content with the simple imitation of reality, but sought to reveal the spiritual dimension of the persons they depicted’. In the case that concerns us, this insight reaches levels of rare success.
Remaining on the details, that which impresses most is the manner in which the painter handled the expression of the mouth. The lips seem ready to utter words — not some general prayer, but specific words of consolation oriented towards the one who stands before the icon. In this detail is condensed the function of the saint in the Byzantine faith: a mediator who does not behave as a distant divine agent, but as someone who understands human need from personal experience.
If we attempt to place the work in the broader context of its era, we will ascertain that it appears during that period where the Byzantine empire still maintained its cultural sovereignty. However, Mount Athos constituted a particular space where the official imperial aesthetic met the eremitic tradition. The result of this encounter — and the icon of Saint Panteleimon constitutes a characteristic example — was the birth of an art that combined technical refinement with spiritual authenticity.
Investigating more deeply the craftsmanship of the work, we identify that the use of ochre and of roseate tones on the face follows a tradition that traces its roots to ancient Hellenistic painting. At the same time however, the overall approach shows an adaptation to the theological demands of Christian iconography. This dual faith — in the craftsmanship taught by tradition and in the new spiritual mission — creates a tension that appears on the surface of the work as a peculiar dynamism.
An Enduring Presence and Modern Legacy
What however does the confrontation with such a creation mean for a contemporary viewer? Remaining nine hundred years later in the same environment where it was born, the icon has not simply survived — it has continued to function. Every morning, in the light that scatters through the windows of the monastery, the gold background resurrects its original gleam. Every evening, in the lamplight of the candles, the face of the saint seems to acquire that unsettling vitality that makes the viewer wonder if he is truly looking at an icon or encountering a living intruder from other worlds.
According to the study presented in “The Glory of Byzantium”, ‘Saint Panteleimon, recognised by the inscription, is one of the anargyroi, healing saints, and the icon in the Louvre Museum constitutes a point of reference for the understanding of such depictions’. This observation allows us to place the work of the Great Lavra in a broader context of similar creations, without however underestimating its uniqueness.
Bissera V., in her study on the aesthetics of icons, underscores the importance of the metallic revetments: ‘another silver-gilt icon of St. Demetrios, with a frame and jewels, is similar to the icon of St. Panteleimon which is covered by a partial metal revetment’ (“The Sensual Icon”). This observation opens an issue that transcends the simple technical dimension: the metallic surfaces function as means of converting natural light into something that resembles supernatural radiance.
Contemplating all these things, one arrives at the question: what kind of legacy does this creation constitute for the modern era? It seems that the icon of Saint Panteleimon offers us something more than historical information or aesthetic experience. It constitutes a testimony to the potential of art to function as a bridge between the visible and the invisible, the temporal and the eternal. In an age where medicine has acquired unprecedented capabilities but where at the same time the therapeutic relationship has lost many of its personal characteristics, the presence of a saint who combines scientific knowledge with spiritual compassion acquires a particular relevance.
In the silence that surrounds the monastery — there where only the breath of the Aegean maintains an incessant conversation with the earth — the icon continues to exist not as a simple museum relic but as a living presence. Every face that turns towards it becomes part of a chain that extends back in time to that moment where an unknown master took up his brush and began to create not simply an icon but a window towards other dimensions of existence.
Bibliography
- Evans, Helen C., William D. Wixom, and Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York, N.Y.). The Glory of Byzantium: Art and Culture of the Middle Byzantine Period, A.D. 843-1261. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1997. https://books.google.com/books?id=Caqa12aj55wC
- Maguire, Henry. Art and Eloquence in Byzantium. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019. https://books.google.com/books?id=v6h6DwAAQBAJ
- Spingou, Foteini. Sources for Byzantine Art History: Volume 3, The Visual Sources. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022. https://books.google.com/books?id=qltoEAAAQBAJ
- V., Bissera. The Sensual Icon: Space, Ritual, and the Senses in Byzantium. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2010. https://books.google.com/books?id=qD6sBZCXnloC