"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa"

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa"

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

It was in 1992 that I painted this image of Saint Teresa in ecstasy, the year following my mother's death. The subject matter of the painting continues my obsession with Saint Teresa and her mystical tryst with the amorous, arrow-wielding angel. The heavily layered impasto paint is applied within a strict structure, reminiscent of ecclesiastical stained glass. Saint Teresa was a cloistered Carmelite nun of the Spanish Middle Ages. The Carmelites are a contemplative Marian order of the Catholic Church, their primary object of devotion being the Blessed Virgin Mary. For this reason, I incorporated two mother and child images within the composition of the painting. One is a traditional, devotional image of the Regina Caeli (Queen of Heaven) and the other is an image of my mother and I, taken from a family photograph. I was in a state of deep anguish and mourning for my recently deceased mother when this picture was painted. It was no accident that the two mother and child images directly associate my own beloved mother with the Blessed Virgin Triumphant in Majesty. In fact, I did so deliberately. 

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

Detail from my 1992 painting, "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa", revealing an image of my mother and I in the form of a devotional holy card of the Madonna & Child, secreted within the composition of the painting. The original photograph, from which this image comes, was taken in 1954 and can be viewed here:

 http://kerryoz.blogspot.com/2011/05/mum-me-1954.html

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

"The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

Original 120cm x 90cm (4ft x 3ft)

Detail from my 1992 painting, "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa", revealing an image of the Regina Caeli (Queen of Heaven) in the form of a devotional holy card, secreted within the composition of the painting. 

"Portrait of David" (Detail)

“Portrait of David” (Detail)

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

Scroll down for original.

"Portrait of David"

“Portrait of David”

Kerry Wright, 1992

Oils on Canvas

60cm x 50cm (24in x 20in)

This portrait of my friend, David, was painted during a particularly turbulent period of my life. My mother had died the previous November and an all-enveloping cloud of deepest mourning and grief had descended upon me. I had been very close to my mother and I felt her loss acutely. Incomprehensibly, into my disconsolate state at that time swaggered David’s immutably laconic presence. We first met through a mutual friend in early 1991, not long after Mum had been diagnosed with inoperable, terminal cancer. I was in a deep state of despair, though I managed to function cheerfully when in my mother’s company and we had many happy times together in the final months of her life. David was everything that I was not. He worked as a tradesman and was from Sydney’s outer western suburbs. He was nine years my junior. He was confident in a cocky sort of way, with a decidedly contagious joie de vivre about him. He was a tonic. But there was also a dark side to his personality. On the night I painted his portrait, he gave me a small piece of blotting paper with a little printed image of a robot on it. I didn’t know what it was, but he assured me it would lift my spirits. “Put it on your tongue and let it dissolve,” David told me. I knew nothing of drugs. For a man in his forties, I was decidedly naïve about them. So when the LSD began to seize me, I had no idea what was happening. Initially I slunk into a corner and stared into space. But then, for no conceivable reason, I rushed to my easel, grabbed some paints and brushes, and started to paint David’s portrait. David soon grew tired of such esoteric pursuits and departed, leaving me to finish the portrait alone, working on into the wee small hours of the night with a manic intensity. I never really have fully recovered from my beloved mother’s death. I was sitting by her bed, holding her hand, at the moment of her death. And I know that she will be sitting by my bed, holding my hand, when my turn comes. David’s portrait presently hangs in his home in Sydney, Australia.