Print Details:

• Museum-quality posters made on thick, durable, matte paper.

• Paper is archival and acid-free.

• Unframed prints arrive rolled up in a protective tube.

Frame Details:

• Alder, Semi-hardwood frame

• Black in color

• .75” thick

• Acrylite front protector

• Lightweight

• Hanging hardware included

• Made in the USA

From the Artist:

My research for this piece began with imagery of Christ's mockery. Image after image had contorted, almost inhuman, figures torturing Christ and reveling in brutality, while Jesus was at peace. It seems the artists depicted Jesus leaning hard into his divinity, almost transcending the embarrassment, abandonment, and pain, but all I could think of when I read the text was how devastating and lonely it is to be misunderstood and made to be a joke. I felt that, in the last moments of Jesus' life, he'd be thrust into his humanity.

An art piece that was particularly intriguing to me was Christ of Saint John of the Cross by Salvador Dali. It has such a harsh downward angle on the cross; it visually connected me to Christ's mockery in a new way. It pushed me to consider different perspectives from which artists and people of faith have been engaging with this horrifying event, both physically and theologically.

One visual perspective I couldn't find was one looking directly down on Jesus’s face. At first I thought of this as the ultimate position of mockery—looking down Jesus' nose during the most excruciating moments of his thirty-three years. Everyone mocked him. It must've felt like this mockery was closing in on him. I wonder what his internal world was like... Were there parts of him echoing the mockery of the soldiers, chief priests, scribes, elders, and bystanders?

As I began to sketch Christ from this perspective, my thoughts and feelings about the piece took a hard turn. I was thinking about the text as I was holding my five-month-old little boy. He had a fever and was inconsolable. I felt desperate to offer him comfort and solace; it felt like my heart was breaking open. And then it occurred to me: this perspective I was drawing was not a position of mockery, it was metaphorically the perspective of God the Creator looking at her son who was screaming out in agony. In order to find the expression on Christ's face, I referenced images of children crying; their expressions were raw, real, and unencumbered. This perspective shift reveals something profound to me about the heart of God, and I connect with it in a new way after becoming a mother.

This image represents the deep lament of God. It holds the desperation of a parent and the betrayal of a loved one. These acts of abuse, cruelty, and indignity were fired at the Creator of the Universe by the very beings into whom God breathed life. Perhaps God is crying out to us, “Why have you forsaken me?”

One of my colleagues, Denise Anderson, reminded me that in Jesus' crying out, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani," he is quoting scripture. So I read Psalm 22, and found lament woven with praise, and humanity dancing with divinity. Instead of creating a mandala with mockery closing in on Jesus, I imaged the verses of Psalm 22. These images of grief and gratitude ripple out from Jesus' mouth and become a foundation, a grounding in his faith in this moment. In the visual, the moments of lament are faded while the images of adoration and praise shimmer a bit more brightly. The psalm gives him the fortitude to rest, and to offer up his last breath.

—Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman