Stewardship of the Artist’s Eyes

The Ladder of Vision: Stewardship of the Artist’s Eyes

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If your eye is sound, your whole body will be filled with light.” — Matthew 6:22, NABRE

We are made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27). Our eyes are not merely optical instruments but portals to the soul—windows through which light, truth, and beauty pass into the inner life. For the artist, sight is both a gift and a vocation: the means by which creation is perceived and the vision of the heart is made manifest in art.

Through years of observation and practice, the artist ascends what I call the Ladder of Vision:

1. Looking — the initial registering of outward forms.

2. Seeing — trained observation; perceiving relationships, proportion, and light.

3. Insight — grasping meaning beyond appearance, sensing the unseen causes behind the visible.

4. Visionary — apprehending patterns and harmonies that reflect the divine order.

5. Inspired — creating in union with the Spirit, who first spoke, “Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3).

As an artist matures, reliance shifts from the mechanics of the physical eye to the wisdom of the inner eye—what I call the lens of the heart. This lens is poetic, rooted in contemplation, attuned to the eternal. The lens of the mind, necessary yet more concerned with outward appearances, becomes the servant of this deeper vision.

And so, in the freedom of divine inspiration, the question rises:

Do I paint the lightor does the light paint me?I think the latter—now I’m free.

“For with you is the fountain of life, and in your light we see light.” — Psalm 36:9

The Impressionist Eye

The Impressionists practiced a way of seeing that was more than visual—it was immersive, whole-bodied, and contemplative. Their eye-gate gathered impressions through all five senses, allowing the mind and heart to merge with the subject.

Looking at a flower became more than sight—it was smelling its perfume, touching its petals, hearing the hum of the bee nearby, tasting the air it scented, seeing the colors in shifting light. Then came the inner work: memorizing it, reimagining it, becoming one with it.

Even with eyes closed, light continues to enter—penetrating through the eyelids in a warm, red glow. Resting in this awareness allows us to imagine how sunlight penetrates not only the surface of the body but the soul itself, filling it with radiance.

“For God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.” — 1 John 1:5

This way of seeing was not merely a technique—it was an act of unity with creation, a form of contemplation where observation becomes illumination.

The Stewardship of Sight

The gift of vision calls for stewardship. The eyes must be cared for as one would maintain a treasured instrument, for they are the portals through which the work of the soul enters the world.

“The ear that hears, the eye that sees—the LORD has made them both.” — Proverbs 20:12

This means honoring both the spiritual and the physical health of sight. Practical disciplines that protect and strengthen vision include:

• The 20-20-20 Rule — every 20 minutes, look at an object 20 feet away for 20 seconds.

• Palming — resting the eyes in total darkness by cupping the hands over closed lids.

• Blinking — intentionally refreshing the cornea to prevent dryness.

• Fractal Nature Walks — restoring mental calm and visual harmony by engaging with God’s natural patterns.

• Pencil Pushups — holding a pencil at arm’s length, focusing on its tip, and slowly bringing it toward the nose until it blurs, then returning it to full extension; this trains the focusing muscles for both near and distant work.

• Three-Distance Viewing — study your own paintings at close, middle, and long range, just as an art connoisseur would examine a masterwork. This reveals how your work communicates across perspectives and helps you understand how the world receives your vision.

  
  

“At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.” — 1 Corinthians 13:12

Just as the faithful move from partial vision to full revelation, the artist moves from close detail to the fullness of the whole composition, perceiving layers of meaning that only distance and time can reveal.

The Candle Meditation

“Open my eyes that I may consider the wonders of your law.” — Psalm 119:18

In a darkened place, light a single candle. Gaze gently into the heart of its flickering flame. Attend to the details:

• The fine, clear intensity near the wick.

• The warmer, fuller glow in the body of the flame.

• The soft nimbus—a halo of light—radiating outward, delicate as a rainbow, with tiny sparks glimmering along its circumference.

• Beyond this, a further ring may appear, repeating the divisions of the spectrum, each hue dissolving into the next.

Allow the gaze to be steady, yet unforced. This is not a glare but a contemplative seeing, an ascent toward the Ladder of Vision.

As you watch, pray slowly and with full attention:

Our Father, who art in heaven,hallowed be Thy name.Thy kingdom come,Thy will be done,on earth as it is in heaven.Give us this day our daily bread,and forgive us our trespasses,as we forgive those who trespass against us.And lead us not into temptation,but deliver us from evil.Amen.

In this meditation, the candle’s flame becomes a living icon of Christ—the Light of the World.

“For God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to bring to light the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of Jesus Christ.” — 2 Corinthians 4:6

The concentric circles of light are like the ripples of grace flowing outward into creation, illuminating not only the eye but the soul.

“They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.” — John 17:16“Arise! Shine, for your light has come, the glory of the LORD has dawned upon you.” — Isaiah 60:1

The artist’s eye must engage the forms of the world without being enslaved to them, always looking beyond to the eternal reality they signify. To guard one’s sight—body and soul—is to honor the Light itself: both the light that illuminates the canvas and the Light that “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).

Painted by Light – Interpretation

This sonnet moves like a five-part jazz suite, each stanza a stage in the artist’s journey — from the first spark of perception to the moment where light itself becomes the creator.

First wink — the world sways in a hush, a refrainThe poem opens with playful intimacy. The “first wink” is the instant of awakening, the moment the eye-gate opens to receive not just sight but the full embrace of the senses. Fragrance, texture, taste, and sound fold into vision, creating a rich impression. The reference to Thelonious Monk signals that this journey will be syncopated, unexpected, and full of improvisation.

Brush greets the canvas as sunrise greets leavesHere, vision is no longer passive. The artist responds to the world’s offering, scattering color in patterns that dissolve and reform — much like light itself, or like musical motifs that appear, vanish, and return transformed. Seeing becomes an active, living rhythm.

Lean in… step back… step farThe third movement mirrors the practice of studying a painting at different distances. Up close, every brushstroke is a microcosm. At midrange, the whole breathes in balance. From afar, the work transcends its surface, and the soul catches the laughter of light. This shifting perspective mirrors the spiritual path — moving from partial understanding to a glimpse of the whole.

Through closed lids, flame spills its rose-golden skinThe candle meditation begins. Even with eyes closed, light penetrates — a metaphor for divine grace that reaches beyond the senses. The prayer of the “Our Father” becomes part of the improvisation, its rhythm aligning with the flicker of flame. The artist now participates in the light rather than merely observing it.

Do I paint the light — or does light paint in me?The question in the final couplet resolves the journey: creation is reciprocal. The artist shapes the light, but the light also shapes the artist. The act of seeing becomes an act of being seen, and the act of painting becomes an act of being painted. This surrender is freedom — the soul illumined, set free.

 

Painted by Light

First wink—the world sways in a hush, a refrain,petals breathe fragrance in soft velvet rhyme;touch folds into sight, taste wanders the vein,and Monk’s left hand answers where right would not climb.

Brush greets the canvas as sunrise greets leaves,color breaks free in syncopated streams;motifs dissolve, return—like breath that weavesthrough shifting chords of half-remembered dreams.

Lean in—each stroke a cathedral of glass,step back—the whole breathes, unbound in its frame;step far—the soul hears light’s laughter pass,and every hue speaks its unspoken name.

Through closed lids, flame spills its rose-golden skin,“Our Father” rising in concentric grace;Do I paint the light—or does light paint in me?Either way—the soul is illumined, set free.