To my great delight, Sister Theangeli collected me the next morning for a tour of the icon studio, just as I finished up my breakfast. I was brought back into the monastic enclosure, between workmen, piles of tools, dust and disassembled doors.
As usual, I was immediately thrilled with the site of the worktable, rows of pigments and brushes, drawings waiting to be put onto patient panels, all waiting their turn. Half
-finished paintings and prototypes haphazardly scattered everywhere. Although I have not painted much over the last few years, I still find myself feeling "home" when surrounded by these elements.
We spent quite some time discussing technique. She was very interested in the more Russian-style painting with which I am mostly familiar, commenting that she has always wondered how Rublev acheived the luminescence in his painting. She seemed amazed that it
was done with light pools of color, carefully floated on top of one another, allowing many hours of drying time between each one. She loves the transparencies, and commented that one iconographer who visited (working in encaustic technique by the way!) said these frescoes in the church are not "true fresco" because they do not have the luminescence they should. That's probably not a distinction I would have noticed, but perhaps it's a point to consider.
I, in turn, absorbed the images around me, asking her questions about the process of tracing her images onto the panels rather than drawing, and looking carefully at the different tools and aids she had created to help her learn the "alphabet" of icon painting. One thing in particular, a large schemata of an eye, a set of lips, an ear, and a nose I
thought was most interesting.
We discovered that neither of us care for the highly-polished gold ground made with red clay bole, preferring rather the gold leaf put on with glue. And both of us have dabbled in some fresco, she more than I. She showed me a very unusual material she'd used to create a beautiful fresco of St. John the Forerunner. It looks like dried grass all compressed together, and must be some sort of recycled wood or paper product. It is very porous and both light and
strong. I've never seen anything like it. She offered me a huge piece to take home and I laughed to think of what the Customs officials would say. She cut it down for me.
We also discussed books and brushes. She gets her brushes from Germany, so I knew I had nothing to offer her in that respect. Some of the brushes I use are also from Germany and the Daniel Smith Autograph series I told her about which is produced locally in Seattle she already knew of and has a catalogue for them. In terms of books, her shelf looked awfully familiar, and some of the Russian volumes she pulled out are among my top 5 favorites. The wonderful productions of Panselinos and Theophanes the Cretan I already have, and she showed me a few key others to consider from Greece.
She was very excited to show me something else, and I was most amazed. She opened a cupboard to reveal a large pile of variously-colored stones. "Here is ochre," she said. And it certainly was! Another of red ochre, another stone with a band of white and a glass jar filled with smaller rocks boasting stripes and crevices of bursting blues: malachite, cerulean, aquamarine. She told me that the hills here are extremely mineral-rich and that they mine and grind their own pigments, using a local miner as a guide. They have found many of the stones containing blue minerals, which are very rare and costly. She gave me one to take home. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to pulverize these rocks into pigment. She showed me photos of them with safety glasses and gloves, working away at the grinding. She also said they used many of these in the frescoes in the church, and that they discovered with the blue stones that if they grind them smaller, the color becomes lighter. She showed me a photo of the Panaghia's blue robe and pointed out the darker areas with larger grind and the lighter areas with smaller grind. She said they used no white to lighter the color, just adjusted the grind. Fascinating.
I was sorry to have to leave the studio, although I'd had a good half hour there. Basil was becoming restless and we needed to pack up our things and head on our way. The rental car needed to be returned before 2PM. I was most grateful to have this opportunity at the end of our stay, though. Sister Theangeli and I agreed to keep in touch and help each other out. She offered to procure images for me when I'm having trouble finding a prototype, particularly of an obscure saint. And I promised to send her some information and photos on the Russian style of painting. On my way out, I admired the striking St. John the Forerunner fresco that she did.
We were all saddened to leave Lavrio. The sisters had been very hospitable and kind. They almost all spoke English, and it was easy to communicate with them. We felt at home there. We relaxed and eased into the rhythm of their life a bit. Emma was a bit weepy as we were accompanied down by sisters Theophani and Theoctiste, with whom we had spent most of our time. They urged us to come back again, asking Emma particularly if she would. She had said the night before that she wants to return to Zakynthos and to Lavrio. In these places, she has really been touched by the sisters and their life and love for her. I am most thankful.
And we are off... heading back towards Athens!
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