Angel Dressed in Music

An old text in a religious book—and I forgot which book—spoke of the appearance of an Angel Dressed in Music. It took my breath away for a moment. I instantly loved that angel dressed in music. It spoke to me. To speak in paradoxes when referring to the divine is to add poetry to our lives.

But what did it say to me? The language of mystery. How can one, even an angel, dress in beautiful, immaterial sound? In this human world, it is an impossibility. And just because it is impossible, it refers to another dimension, to another world where wonders are possible. Thus, I set out to draw an angel dressed in music. I had to.

To add music, I used various references. The body of the angel takes the shape of a treble clef (), next to a note, the most well-known part of music notation. Then I gave the angel a cloak adorned with musical scores. Finally, I framed the angel dressed in music with musical scores. I copied the musical score of Gregorian chant: Hódie sciétis, quia véniet Dóminus et salvábit nos: et mane vidébitis (etc.)—celebrating the birth of Jesus (cf. Ex 16:6-7; Is 35:4; Ps 23).

Angels inspire artists; notice the embellishments of churches and cathedrals, and you will find angels everywhere. Not only artists have felt inspired by angels—philosophers have too. For a long time, people looked down on medieval thinkers discussing how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. This was, however, not a silly question but a scientific inquiry into how the material relates to the immaterial, how the spirit (mind) links to the body, and how the observable and the unobservable are connected.

My musical angel carries well wishes. It asks us to speak to each other so kindly that it feels like music to our ears. A wish that we need these days. 

Paula Kuitenbrouwer