Insights on Catholic Art through a child’s perspective

Art has held a distinct role in the history and practices of Catholic tradition for centuries. It aids practitioners in feeling a sense of wonder and awe or even a connection to the divine in the world’s best known cathedrals, through the masterful carvings of the marble statues, the delicate designs of the stained glass, or the meticulously detailed paintings covering the walls and ceilings. Catholic art can also be found in local settings, like schools, monasteries, and churches and chapels. Given the popularity and impact of the many works that have been created across history, it is no surprise that religious art has even found its way into the homes of Catholics all over the world.

Growing up, my home in rural Pennsylvania held a scattering of various copies of works of religious art representing more than a few art styles, time periods, and cultures. Like many of our knick-knacks and aging family photos, even the most noteworthy pieces blended into daily life over time. My house was certainly not Notre Dame, but it feels a little shameful to admit that dust collected on Saint Francis and Christ witnessed my childish misbehavior from the cross once or twice. Needless to say, we got used to the splendors and unique craftsmanship surrounding us until one day, when my mom made a bold choice in curation.

She hammered a single nail on both sides of the front door interior so that two framed works could distinguish the entryway. On one side, she placed a copy of Raphael’s Madonna della seggiola. In this image, Mary looks young and beautiful. She holds the chubby baby Jesus close to her and gazes at the viewer with a calm yet powerful stare. Despite her youthful glow, Mary has a regality fit for ruling the heavens. I couldn’t believe I had let such an amazing work of art fade into the background of my consciousness while I lived every day in its presence.

Description: The “Madonna della Seggiola” by Raphael is a round painting showing the Virgin Mary seated, holding the Christ Child, with St. John the Baptist nearby. The composition is characterized by the intimate embrace between the mother and child, their direct gaze at the viewer, and the gentle, rocking motion suggested by their postures. 

On the other side of the door, in equal stance to Raphael’s mastery, hung a painting done by my brother when he was in elementary school of the Madonna and Child. Where one painting was detailed and lifelike, the other was modern and free flowing–the best way to describe a child’s artwork.

The face of Mary was quite different in this piece, to say the least, but it drew attention.

Description: The recreation of the “Madonna della Seggiola” by the author’s brother presents the Virgin Mary seated, holding the Christ Child, with green background and leaves near the baby. The facial expressions portray some level of sadness. 

“She looks so sad,” my brother and I both agreed when we carefully scrutinized the new arrangement and wondered how his rendition of Mary and Jesus had even survived in the basement for so many years. The acrylic on copy paper had held up pretty well.

To our surprise, our mom enthusiastically agreed with our critical commentary. Before turning away to find some other new project in the house, she smiled at us and said, “That’s why I like it.”

I stood firmly planted in the entryway of our home for some time after she left, and I realized that the Holy Mother of God suddenly felt more relatable than ever before. “Of course, she was sad!” I thought to myself. In Catholic school, I had been taught that Mary stood bravely through challenges and hardships throughout her life, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t afraid, in pain, and human, like me.

Raphael’s painting was still just as beautiful in my eyes as it had been before my revelation, but I couldn’t help but smirk at the idea that, in my opinion, my brother, as a child, had created a more realistic image of a woman who had just given birth (painful!) to the Messiah (scary!) than some of the world’s greatest artists.

Last summer, I was touring the campus of the prestigious Jesuit university where I would be starting my new job. It was unsurprising to me that one of the most picturesque and historic buildings on campus held some magnificent religious imagery inside. What did catch me off guard, however, was my extremely personal recognition of Raphael’s Maddona della seggiola.

I felt a flurry of elated emotions as I settled into my position, looking up at Raphael’s painting again. Mary’s face was truly perfect in this image, just as it always had been, and seeing her in the grand hallway of the school that I was struggling to navigate on my first day made me feel like I was at home.

Months later, I don’t let this piece blend into the background of my daily life, like I did when I was younger. I let it inspire me, and I let it remind me, too, of the rendition my brother made, and how much his art had inspired me when it stood alongside Maddona della seggiola.

I believe this is why so many artists, both masters and hobbyists, continue to create images of Mary and baby Jesus: every rendition can connect with different viewers in unique ways. Despite the stillness of paintings and statues in cathedrals, churches, and even homes, they remain in these spaces because they speak to us. It is important that we remember to listen to what they are saying. Don’t underestimate the artwork of anyone, not even a child, and never let these meaningful pieces fade into the mundane.

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© Jane C. Fitzpatrick, 2025.

This work is licensed under Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0).

Cover Image: “Madonna della Seggiola”, by Raphael is Open Access.

Image 1: “Madonna della Seggiola” by Raphael.

Image 2: “Madonna della Seggiola” recreated by the author’s brother.