You’ve Never Seen Catholic Art Like This Before

Why the Church Needs Art That Speaks to the Heart of a New Generation

When I walked into my Spanish father-in-law’s house on our first meeting, I was greeted in the entryway by a huge painting of a young man being tortured. His face was twisted in agony, his body starved to almost a skeleton. The colours were dark greys and death-deep reds, framed by a heavy, baroque-esque gold frame.

In response to this “welcome,” my torso and throat tightened. I wanted to burst into tears and run away.

I was agnostic at the time and had no understanding of the Christian story, and an image like this one certainly didn’t spark my curiosity—it cemented the idea that this was a theology to steer clear of.

Through study, literature, and life in Spain—a Catholic culture—I’ve learned what Christianity means, and I’ve converted to Catholicism despite its outdated aesthetic, not because of it.

As my husband and I make Catholicism part of our lives, we keep saying, “They (the secular world) can’t see what we see because this art is out of date.”

My husband, who is a master in marketing, is always saying, “This Catholic marketing is all wrong.”

To the outsider, we’re weirdos—worshipping death—when those of us living this experience know that it's really about lightness, life, mystery, gratitude, hope, faith, and transcendence.

These ancient images are fundamental. An image can speak a thousand words. It was depictions of Mary holding the baby Jesus that spoke to a deep part of me—one that no words could ever have reached. But I found this because I was looking.

How does Catholicism today engage an audience that has not only forgotten its story entirely, but seems to hold a deep disdain for it?

How does it speak to a culture petrified of death? A people who see birth and babies as a mere lifestyle choice, like any other?

I believe it needs a beauty that beckons beyond all rational thought and reason.

My husband and I created a gratitude journal for Catholics, hoping to offer something fresh, soft, hopeful, minimalist, and relatable for a modern audience.

We discussed this at length—what colours, what font, what quotes to include. The cross is a bird: the Holy Spirit, spreading its wings in transcendence. We carefully considered what would sit comfortably on a modern bedside table, desk, or bookshelf.

And that is what I’m always looking for in religious art: something that feels now, alive, something that brings the most epic story of the Western world to its new people. I’m always looking to be moved by stories and works that hint at—or directly point to—the profound beauty and Truth living within and around us.

And then I found… Spanish sculptor Javier Vivir.

All Images: Javier Vivir

These works leave me speechless. Such tenderness and sweetness in solid form. A modest, humble, vulnerable, pure, and peaceful Mary, all in white, emanating her spirit and message. She would sit beautifully in the modern-day home, drawing curiosity and interest. Commanding attention.

A crucified Jesus, overcoming his cross, almost embracing his brutal fate with courage and trust.

An earthy image of Mary praying to God—the image of a young woman that most modern women could identify with, despite her ancient robes.

Mother and child.

When my son saw this image, he said without skipping a beat, “It’s me and you.” And that is exactly what you want a modern audience to see: for them to see and feel the divine living in them, and calling them to thoughtful action.

Baby Jesus.

A minimalist nativity scene that conveys the palpable joy of Mary and her newborn. Any modern parent could connect with this family… and that is what they must do to remember—so that their curiosity might be set alight.

As Viver says, “Art is the fundamental way the Church has always spoken”—from the earliest Christian communities using images, song, and ritual to convey the mystery of salvation.”

This type of imagery, which is up-to-date with the modern aesthetic, allows people to confidently announce their faith within their homes.

“Art that doesn’t generate communion isn’t art… its role is to offer society a sliver of hope, a fragment of paradise.”

Image: Forum Libertas

While selling his smaller pieces and working on private commissions, Vivir is also working on the biggest religious project Spain has ever seen.

A 37-meter-high statue of Jesus that will be finished by 2030 and will become the largest Jesus statue in the world.

“You can't evangelize today with logic alone; we lack poetry—beauty is essential.”

And this quote, for me, says it all. Catholics today are asking people to use logic and reason—which, in my experience, doesn’t get one very far. Especially when asking an audience to take a leap of faith. Especially when asking people to sacrifice part of themselves to find something bigger.

We are so used to forceful ways of pushing messages and ideas that we have forgotten the unbeatable and epic power of beauty itself—to reveal deep truth, to tell an ancient story from a dusty book over and over again, and to make it feel as fresh as spring flowers.

Because in the end, it’s beauty, not reason, that unlocks a heart to wonder, and leads it from wonder to belief.

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