If churches weren’t beautiful, would artists still paint them? Is the church of today little more than a beguiling silhouette in a distant skyline, a symbol of a bygone era receding into the metaphorical background? This Easter Sunday, three Maltese artists talk about evolving natural and religious landscapes and why they still opt for the church as their muse.

A church-goer I am not, but when the Times of Malta live-streamed the pope’s arrival in Malta, I was glued, and no more so than during his speech at the Grandmaster’s Palace. As head of a waning organisation, often labelled ‘out of touch’, Pope Francis had his finger remarkably on the pulse. 

The pontiff addressed Malta’s most burning issues, calling for compassion for migrants and an end to the “illegality and corruption” blighting the country.

The word ‘pontiff’, from the Latin ‘pontifex’, means ‘builder of bridges’. If past pontiffs crafted new bridges to link humans to God, our current bridge-builder is re-constructing an old one, to reconnect us with morality.

The pope condemned the “rapacious greed” of over-construction and challenged us to safeguard the “luminous beauty of the landscape”.

For centuries, this “luminous beauty” has bewitched local artists, and the church, having dominated the environment visually as well as socially, has become integral to the typical Maltese landscape. Traditionally a focal point for paintings, the familiar shape of the church, once so distinct on the horizon, is being dwarfed by new buildings and cluttered with cranes. 

Fort Manoel Square by Mark Schembri

So, are these near ubiquitous scenes analogous to an antiquated faith being trampled into oblivion by the inevitable march of time? Are Maltese artists more rapt with the church’s seductive silhouette than the faith it stands for?

According to Christopher Saliba, Mark Schembri and Andrew Borg, three local painters with nuanced views on the church and a contemporary approach to depicting it, the current picture is about more than just religion.

Mtaħleb from Miġra l-Ferħa by Andrew Borg

“The church is often a domi­nant feature on the skyline of my landscape paintings,” explains Gozitan painter Christopher Saliba. “It’s symbolic of the tragic reality of local scenery endangered by continuous urbanisation. I attend church regularly, but I feel the presence of God elsewhere, especially while contemplating the beauty and grandeur of nature.” 

Expressionist artist Mark Schembri describes a separation between the church made of stone and the spirituality within. “I don’t consider myself religious ‒ but spiritual, oh yes! I believe the Holy Spirit sometimes assists me to paint, but I can pray and feel the relationship with God anywhere, I don’t need ceremonies crea­ted by man.”

“When I paint a chapel or church,” explains Schembri, “it’s purely an appreciation of the beautiful architecture being vandalised by the invasion of construction.”

The familiar shape of the church is being dwarfed by new buildings and cluttered with cranes

“I doubt one can consider the church as central to everyday life anymore,” says plein-air painter Andrew Borg. “I am not religious. My spirituality is more like an awareness of being, which lends itself well to the observation of my surroundings.”

“Aesthetically, churches are good shapes to depict,” explains Borg. “They were conspicuous as landmark shapes which defined skylines, but that’s changing nowadays.”

The past 50 years have seen half Malta’s population abandon religion, to perhaps, like these artists, find meaning elsewhere. 

Ramla valley by Christopher Saliba

So will this mass exodus reduce the church to a mere motif?

Artists have always painted the church for its magnificent physique. The practice was encouraged, even commissioned, by the church itself, which lavished its wealth on the finest architects and sought to showcase its splendour.

Ironically, society today conditions us to frown upon beauty for its own sake, a phenomenon observable in our changing attitudes towards aestheticism in art, whereby genres such as landscape painting increasingly play second fiddle to more conceptual, or socially engaged forms of art.

An elegant painting, while pleasing to the eye or emotionally uplifting, may no longer deliver the intellectual substance some audiences require. 

Tas-Salvatur Hill by Christopher Saliba

Fortunately for the church, its image is tied to secular values which supersede the Catholic faith, like family, community and charity.

Also, the way it has positioned itself within the physical and social landscapes may end up being what keeps it relevant.

So intrinsic is it to the national psyche that the familiar motif of the church may yet come to symbolise our basic human values and what we love most about Malta, the very things that are at stake if construction runs rampant.

In Catholicism’s wake, a ‘Religion 2.0’ may emerge in which the church not only continues to feature in contemporary art, but remains a meaningful part of Malta’s identity and connects us individuals with something greater than ourselves. 

Original paintings featured are available at allura-art.com.

Street in Żebbuġ by Mark Schembri

Żurrieq from Madonna tal-Ħniena Chapel Parvis by Andrew Borg.