As Catholic parishes seek to reintroduce traditional art in the wake of the architectural relativism that characterized much of the late 20th century, many have turned to Eastern iconography as a means of incorporating art that is meaningful, beautiful, and rooted in tradition. However, there is a potential concern with the use of these images, particularly when they are employed to “traditionalize” otherwise modernist church buildings. The issue is not that these icons originate from a non-Roman tradition, but rather that they were created for a specific purpose that does not align with their typical use in the Roman Catholic context, namely, veneration.

Within the Western tradition, the veneration of icons does not play the same theological or liturgical role as it does in the East. As such, the incorporation of Eastern iconography into Roman Catholic churches may in fact continue a departure from, rather than a return to, the Western artistic tradition.

Given the evident desire for icon-like sacred art in the West, it is worthwhile to draw attention to several Western artistic traditions that could serve this purpose more appropriately. These traditions, deeply rooted in Roman Catholic patrimony, offer a path toward developing a robust and coherent liturgical artistic language—one that resonates with the theological and cultural identity of the Latin Church while meeting the desperate need for beauty, symbolism, and reverence in modernist sacred spaces. Since there is a clear desire for icon-like art in the West, an examination of the Western tradition with this in mind might bring forth old traditions ripe for revival and reintegration in contemporary churches.

Defining Terms

Before turning to specific Western artistic traditions, it is important to clarify what I do—and do not—mean by the terms icon and veneration, and why it matters to those tasked with considering what art to include in their parish.

The term “icon” is tricky. Icons usually represent figures with their temporal and historical context either removed or muted, which is distinguished from the traditional point of narrative images, which intentionally ground figures in a time and place. Artistic language, especially religious artistic language, can always be difficult to pin down, but most would accept that “an icon is a devotional image that demands reverence and respect; it is holy in the sense that it shares in the sanctity of the figure whose likeness it bears.”¹ Since the image itself is holy as it shares in the sanctity of its likeness, the icon is differentiated from other religious art insofar as it necessitates a form of veneration.

Sacred art in the West traditionally exists in service to the rites: altarpieces, statuary, and mural cycles don’t exist so much for private veneration as to illuminate and deepen actual participation in the Mass.

In the Eastern tradition, an icon is “hypostatically different, yet in nature identical to that which it is depicting.”² When praying to an image of St. Paul, Eastern Christians believe that one is truly interacting with St. Paul through St. Paul’s nature. St. John of Damascus writes that “the image of Christ is Christ, and the image of a saint is that saint. The power is not split asunder, the glory is not divided, but the glory becomes the attribute of him who is depicted.”³

This is clearly not how most Western Christians understand the art in their churches. Most in the West would understand an icon of St. Paul to be only accidentally related to St. Paul: it depicts him but is not actually him.

All of this is to say that Eastern Christians believe, in a certain sense, that an icon actually is the saint it is depicting. The reverence and veneration Catholics give to relics is equivalent to the veneration Eastern Christians give to icons, an avenue to interaction with that saint through their actual nature. A Latin Rite Catholic certainly venerates an image of Christ in the sense of showing it respect and reverence; however, he does not regard the image of St. Christopher on his car’s dashboard as a manifestation of the saint’s true presence.

When images created to be prayed with during the liturgy are used in the same manner as those meant for personal devotion—or vice versa—the result can be a confusion of visual language that undermines both artistic integrity and liturgical clarity.

Finally, it is in this comparison between East and West that a very relevant distinction needs to be made, especially insofar as we work for traditional liturgies and liturgical images. In the East, iconography is often venerated on its own, outside of a liturgy. Eastern icons saturate a sacred space and image veneration arises from the visual environment.

In contrast, the Latin tradition, though certainly not devoid of extra-liturgical devotion to images, typically orders sacred imagery toward and through the liturgy. Within the context of art within churches, while prayer at shrines, statues, and devotional images is common and important, such practices remain ancillary to the liturgical life of the Church. Sacred art in the West traditionally exists in service to the rites: altarpieces, statuary, and mural cycles don’t exist so much for private veneration as to illuminate and deepen actual participation in the Mass, even outside of a formally sacramental setting.

The Eastern and Western understanding of images is crucial here. St. Paul’s nature is still understood to be just as present in his icon, whether or not a liturgy is taking place. A statue of St. Paul in a Gothic church, though, is not venerated as a manifestation of his real presence per se, but serves to direct the attention in prayer, and that is most fully done within the context of the liturgy. This functional specificity means that images in the Latin tradition are more tightly integrated into their particular contexts, whether as part of an altar, a devotional shrine, or a narrative cycle, and their meaning is often inseparable from that setting. An icon designed for an iconostasis taken out of an Eastern church is still just as much an icon as before. A Western altarpiece taken outside of a church loses its purpose, and much of its meaning.

Having clarified the distinct purposes and theological frameworks of Eastern and Western sacred images, we may now turn our attention more fully to the Western tradition. Here we find a rich and varied visual heritage—shaped by centuries of theological reflection, liturgical development, and devotional practice—that offers its own profound contributions to the renewal of sacred art in the contemporary Church.

The Devotional Image

It is within the context of specific devotional images that the Western artistic tradition most clearly intersects with that of the East. Devotional images in the West have many similarities with icons in the East: namely, that their simplicity, dignity, and centricity are designed to evoke inward spiritual responses through prayer and contemplation on their own.⁴

Perhaps the most widely recognized examples of Western devotional imagery today are modern works such as the Divine Mercy image given to St. Faustina. The Divine Mercy and the Sacred Heart are well-established within the Catholic imagination and aren’t innovative in the context of church decoration. These often exist scattered throughout a church without organic integration, so it is crucial that these devotional images are placed such that devotees can devote!

For those seeking older, icon-like images rooted in historical tradition, there exists a rich reservoir of artistic forms that predate modern devotional styles and offer a more symbolically structured and liturgically resonant visual language. One such image, particularly esteemed by the late Pope Francis, is the Salus Populi Romani housed in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. Despite its Eastern origin, the Salus Populi Romani has been received and integrated into the devotional life of the Latin Church in a manner that is both liturgically and culturally appropriate. Its longstanding use as an object of veneration in the West makes it a unique example of a Byzantine icon whose presence and function align naturally with Western devotional practices.

We need to ensure that efforts to reinvigorate churches with traditional art don’t suffer the same fate that 20th-century churches are facing now. If we superglue icons to a brick wall, frame a low-resolution print of a Caravaggio, or do anything else that doesn’t make liturgical sense, future generations will rightfully look at that work, see its incoherence, and tear it down.

It would be appropriate, then, for parishes to seek out certain devotional images that are well suited to their spiritual and architectural contexts. Such an approach ensures that the visual language of the church remains theologically coherent, pastorally appropriate, and rooted in sacred tradition.

There are, of course, many devotional images for churches seeking to incorporate art outside the immediate context of the liturgy. However, it is essential to recognize the difference in function and theological intent between images intended for liturgical use and those designed for private or paraliturgical devotion. When images created to be prayed with during the liturgy are used in the same manner as those meant for personal devotion—or vice versa—the result can be a confusion of visual language that undermines both artistic integrity and liturgical clarity. Proper discernment in the placement and purpose of sacred images is therefore crucial for fostering prayer and worship.

Romanesque and Early Gothic

While devotional images are intended primarily for prayer outside the formal structure of the liturgy, the Western tradition also thrives when it incorporates icon-like images within the liturgical setting itself. These images—whether found in altarpieces, processional art, or the decorative programs of sacred architecture—are not merely devotional aids but integral elements of the liturgical environment.

Two artistic traditions which are particularly appropriate in this vein are the Romanesque and the Early Gothic—traditions that fulfill the desire for icon-like imagery within the Western prioritization of participation in the liturgy. Romanesque and Early Gothic painting, spanning the 11th–13th centuries, typically depicts simplified forms in narrative scenes designed to heighten prayer in liturgy.

Romanesque and Early Gothic paintings are characterized by solidity and symbolic clarity. Frescoes and manuscript miniatures favored strong outlines, flattened space, and vibrant colors, often accompanied by inscriptions or narrative sequencing. Most Romanesque and Early Gothic icons necessarily function to facilitate liturgical or prayerful participation through narrative. They serve to heighten participation not in themselves, but in the liturgy.

Ultimately, what unites Romanesque art across media is its commitment to visual theology. Whether through architecture, sculpture, or illumination, Romanesque artists sought not merely to decorate, but to instruct—to make visible the invisible truths of the faith, and to prepare the faithful to enter more deeply into the mysteries of the liturgy.

Romanesque and Early Gothic imagery would be especially well-suited for use in contemporary Catholic churches, particularly those constructed during the late 20th century. In many such spaces, the prevailing architectural language—often minimalist or abstract—is theologically dissonant with the content of the liturgy and preaching. The formal solidity and symbolic clarity of Romanesque and Early Gothic art offers a needed corrective, grounding the visual environment in a coherent expression of the faith.

Moreover, the stylistic simplicity of the figures, with their clear lines and deliberate abstraction, harmonizes naturally with the minimalist aesthetic of modernist church architecture. The warm, earthy color palette characteristic of the 11th and 12th centuries—reds, oranges, golds, and bronzes—complements contemporary materials. As a result, the integration of Romanesque and Early Gothic imagery into late 20th-century churches allows parishes to recover a more traditional visual language without requiring a full architectural overhaul, restoring a sense of continuity with the Church’s liturgical and artistic heritage in the aftermath of a deep discontinuity.

Importantly, Romanesque art supports both actual liturgical participation and private devotion without conflating the two, respecting the distinct functions of sacred imagery in the Western tradition. In short, Romanesque and Early Gothic art offers parishes a coherent, traditional, and pastorally effective visual language—deeply rooted in the Latin Church’s own heritage.

Maniera Greca and Sienese Painting

Another promising option for congregations seeking icon-like art is the maniera greca—a term coined by Giorgio Vasari to describe the “Greek manner” of painting that gained prominence in the 13th and 14th centuries. Popularized by artists such as Cimabue, this style preserved the symbolic richness and formal clarity of Byzantine iconography while adapting it to a distinctly Western theological and artistic context. The maniera greca represents a moment of genuine synthesis, where the visual language of the East was received and reinterpreted within the Latin tradition, resulting in devotional images that are both theologically resonant and liturgically appropriate for Western use.

The maniera greca’s adaptation of Byzantine stylistic elements to suit Western devotional sensibilities allows these images to avoid the idiosyncrasy that a purely Byzantine icon would introduce in a Western liturgical setting. By integrating Eastern aesthetics within a Western framework, this style maintains visual familiarity while remaining theologically and culturally coherent with the Latin tradition.

A final suggestion to those parishes wishing to maintain symbolic depth with more naturalistic tendencies would be the styles of Cimabue’s student Giotto and the Sienese painters in the early 14th century. These works are painted with a vibrancy and refinement that deeply enriches their symbolic value, while incorporating more naturalistic understandings of perspective that may be more palatable to contemporary parishioners. These works and their style were created first and foremost as holy things intimately connected with the liturgies that were being performed before them in churches.⁵

A Path to Tradition

Most traditions after the 14th century consciously steer away from the iconographic tropes, but for those parishes desiring iconographic art, the Western Church possesses a rich and vibrant tradition—art for both liturgical participation and private devotion. These two contexts, though complementary, are distinct in purpose, form, and theological orientation.

All of this is not to say that the Catholic artistic tradition needs a hard reset to the 12th century. Rather, it is to suggest that the artistic styles proposed offer the most coherent avenue to traditional Western art that isn’t itself revolutionary. We need to ensure that efforts to reinvigorate churches with traditional art don’t suffer the same fate that 20th-century churches are facing now. If we superglue icons to a brick wall, frame a low-resolution print of a Caravaggio, or do anything else that doesn’t make liturgical sense, future generations will rightfully look at that work, see its incoherence, and tear it down.

For the sake of preserving and cultivating a coherent liturgical language, it is essential that those involved in the design or renovation of churches possess a clear understanding of this distinction. Only then can sacred art truly support the worship of the Church and the spiritual life of the faithful in a manner that is both beautiful and theologically sound.

1. Thomas Noble, Images, Iconoclasm, and the Carolingians (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), 29.
2. Leonide Ouspensky, Vladimir Lossky, and Titus Burckhardt, The Meaning of Icons (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1982), 32.
3. St. John of Damascus, Commentary on St. Basil the Great, appended to First Discourse in Defence of Holy Icons.
4. Kristen Van Ausdall, “Communicating with the Host: Imagery and Eucharistic Contact in Late Medieval and Early Renaissance Italy,” in Push Me, Pull You, Imaginative, Emotional, Physical, and Spatial Interaction in Late Medieval and Renaissance Art (Brill, 2011).
5. Bruce Cole, Sienese Painting, from Its Origins to the Fifteenth Century (Harper Collins Publishers, 1980), xii.