By Denise Trull
My husband’s mother has this bottomless box of treasures that she pulls out whenever we visit, and she gives us things. Earrings, scarves, and sometimes a Holy Card or two. She says that at her age it is time to start giving things away. Once, she gave us a fantastic, old, German prayerbook with a pressed rose from the late 1800’s tucked within its pages. One can’t help daydreaming a hundred different scenarios as to how and why that rose was laid there. You never know what you are going to pull out of that treasure box, but it is always intriguing.
One Sunday, she gave me this picture. It is called: Let the Children Come to Me by Fritz von Uhde, circa 1800's. The actual painting was hung, and perhaps still hangs now, at the Museum der Bildenden Kuenste in Leipzig, Germany.
Fritz Uhde was a restless young painter who was frustrated with the art school he attended in Dresden and decided to leave it all behind to join the army. He spent several years at his given task of training his regiment in horsemanship. One day he chanced to meet an artist, whose conversation and work stirred up in Fritz the old creative fires once again. In 1877, Uhde decided to leave the army behind and take up the thread of his old, interrupted dream of becoming a painter. He ended up in Munich and there was introduced to the paintings of the old Dutch masters, most importantly Rembrandt. Fritz fell in love with the colors, the subject matter and the mood set forth in these paintings. He was especially drawn to the play of light and how it illuminated the faces, irresistibly drawing your eye and your heart to ponder their mystery. The Dutch masters had a glorious way with light. Fritz was mesmerized, and was inspired to do the same.
Eventually, he made the acquaintance of the Impressionist painters of the French school and he was quite attracted to, and began to experiment with, painting “en plein air” (out in the open air) one of the first German painters to do so. Over time, he developed his own unique style -- a combination of realism and impressionism. Uhde had a passion for depicting the ordinary lives of families: peasants, fishermen, housewives, and village pastors. His works brought out the beauty in these plain and rugged faces. Not unlike the Dutch painter Vermeer, Uhde gave much attention to the details of a room’s surroundings, which always revealed “the magic of the domestic scene.”
Other artists began to notice that Uhde was a master at painting children. He did not depict them as artificial dolls, but quite naturally drew out their genuine childlike innocence. He created several unique paintings where he placed Jesus physically, and quite naturally, within the domestic lives of poor and humble people. What would Jesus be doing if we could actually see him there among us? These particular paintings of Uhde’s were like a meditation that invited one to prayer. It was one of these paintings that my mother-in-law had given me.
Uhde was once heard to remark: "many of the French artists wished to find the light in Nature. I wished to find the light within the figures I was presenting. In Christ, I grasped the embodiment of the outward and the inward light." Uhde's ideal of beauty and his standard of perfection was the figure of Christ and Christ giving off a gentle radiance which is always reflected in those He loves. As you gaze on this painting for an uninterrupted and silent few minutes, you discover that Christ is lighting up every child in the room, wherever they are standing or sitting. He is the source.
Before I knew any of this, I unceremoniously gave this painting a cursory once over and I judged it as simply one of those overly sentimental offerings so prevalent in the late 1800's. But somehow I couldn’t stop looking at it. The light and where it fell. The muted peace of the colors. The calm and wonder on the faces of the children. The benevolence of Christ -- his quiet dignity and yet his intimacy. His light reflected in all the faces of the children and their mothers and fathers -- even from the little boy behind His chair, who surely didn’t think he was being seen at all, but he was. Christ knows where we all are!
It strikes me that even if a painting is assumed sentimental, we might want to take a closer look. I decided to do a picture study -- the kind of study we used to do in our home schooling art classes of bygone days. I sat a while with it and began to see subtle things.
This painting professes a profound and beautiful reality: that Jesus is present everywhere and He feels quite at home wherever He is invited. He is part of the works, joys, and sufferings of our day. If told about Him in the correct way, children cannot help but draw close to him in trust and awe. He is as truly present in the Blessed Sacrament as He seems to be here among these poor but loving people bringing their children to school. It is the elders -- the mothers and fathers -- who bring the little ones to Him. They cannot come alone, being so small.
All the grown ups in this picture look as if they would wait all day in the background just to furtively steal a glimpse of their little ones very near to the touch of God. We learn the love of God from our parents’ love for God -- a love that takes our hand and brings us into His presence. A mother or father can share this painting with their child in a quiet corner of an evening, and together they can look around their own room and try to visualize where Jesus might be in their house, and how they would make Him feel welcomed. Maybe using the good dishes, maybe serving Him ice cream with chocolate sauce, or showing Him a favorite book and asking shyly if he would like to read it with them. To try and visualize each others’ faces as though the light of Christ were shining upon them. Paintings like this help us to understand ourselves in relation to God, if they are carefully studied. It is what Fritz Uhde had in mind as his end. That we might practice the presence of Christ.
Jesus reaches out to us individually -- as you can see, He holds the hand of the little girl, while hugging the little boy close. But His eyes rest on the mother who is carrying a little baby in her womb, looking so intently at Him. Even the unborn babies are brought to Him. Everyone is experiencing Him differently, and He, always coming the way we need Him most.
He is at once familiar and completely other in the center of this poor little schoolroom. He sits in the chair -- perhaps the best chair they have, which is always saved for visiting dignitaries. Everyone else stands, for He is different than they are. And yet, his bare foot almost touches the poor, worn sabot of the little girl -- letting us know that He shares our poverty as well.
The little boy behind the chair is the most poignant for me. Perhaps too shy to be front and center, just pressing up against Jesus's chair. It seems enough for him. And you can feel that Jesus knows He is back there waiting to do some little service if He asks Him. Each face is lit with His light. Each face is suddenly beautiful because Christ is shining in and on it. Even our shy children can take heart from this painting. That Jesus knows they are there without them having to say a word.
The colors used by the artist are ethereal with just a hint of fresh, living green here and there. And it is truly mesmerizing in the best of ways -- both of Heaven and of earth -- the way we should be leading our everyday lives, constantly aware of the Divine hovering over us protectively and with interest wherever we go. At school, at work, in the laundry room, preparing dinner, Jesus sitting at our table sandwiched between two children perhaps, listening to their happy chatter.
Gazing on this painting allows us to believe Jesus is there among us just as real as He is presented by Fritz Uhde’s imagination. This kind of meditation spills over into our adoration and Holy Hours. Perhaps bringing a child for a short 15 minutes and letting him or her look at a painting like this as they sit before the Blessed Sacrament would be a beautiful way to keep their attention on the reality that Christ is there Body and Soul before them gazing down with love.
One wonders about Fritz Von Uhde and his prayer life, his obvious love for children, his understanding that we all need to be near to the physical Jesus wherever we live, whatever we do, rich or poor. He comes where we are. Thank you Fritz Von Uhde for returning to art school and for your particular vision.
This only makes me more convinced that art matters and deeply. It connects us with realities we cannot see, makes us broaden our understanding and hones our senses to actually focus on what is there before us. Art is as important to a child as arithmetic, spelling, and grammar. Make room for it in your home. Hang it on your walls and let your children see you studying it as you walk by. They will do the same. Studying pictures naturally slows down a day that might have started out frazzled. It can change the mood just to sit and talk about what someone has drawn and to look at the light, or to ask, “What is your favorite color in the picture?” You will be amazed what little children see. And Christ will be shining down upon you. Fritz Von Uhde is sure of it. So must you be.
Perhaps when I get older I, too will have a treasure box for my children and grandchildren to reach into and be surprised by what they find. Perhaps I will put this painting in my box for future generations to discover, that they may wonder their own wonderings. It’s what grandmothers are for, I think. Fritz Uhde, I am sure, would smilingly agree.
Denise Trull is the editor in chief of Sostenuto, an online journal for writers and thinkers of every kind to share their work with each other. Her own writing is also featured regularly at Theology of Home, and has appeared in Dappled Things. She also can be found at her Substack, The Inscapist. Denise is the mother of seven grown, adventurous children and has acquired the illustrious title of grandmother. She lives with her husband Tony in St. Louis, Missouri.