Painting “The prodigal son”

“The Prodigal Son” by Tamara Paetkau

Paintings rarely end the way they start, but evolve as the creative process occurs. In the earliest sketches of my painting of the prodigal son (see cover), the son was kneeling (as he is in most traditional paintings of this parable) and the mother wasn’t in the picture.

I decided to include the mother after discussions with my pastor. A mother plays a vitally important role in a child’s life, and she would want to hug her long-lost son as much as a father would. Her open arms signify open love – a love without condition.

The brother of the prodigal son appears as a silhouette, working in the field. I painted him with a scythe, which he is using in his work. The primary purpose of this, however, is to create a relationship of visual tension between him and his father. I positioned him so it appears he is aiming at his father’s head. This violent image represents his bitterness towards his father – a bitterness he probably doesn’t even know exists within him.

Notice that this son is not present to witness the father’s joy. Can you imagine if the prodigal son had met his brother first, instead of his father? He probably would have run away in shame at his brother’s reaction. I think Christians often behave this way. We can scare people off with our reactions, before we show God’s love.

Eating outside

The table is important because I have always, since hearing this story as a small child, pictured the feast happening outside. I love eating outside; there is something celebratory about it. It means something special is happening. The table represents the father as ready and waiting for the return of his son. He made preparations, he had gotten a table and chairs ready.

The coat on the chair is the one the father orders put on his son. It represents the privileges of the son being restored at forgiveness. It too has been waiting for the son’s arrival. All the robes in the painting have areas where copper leaf has been applied to them. I wanted this to represent the richness and unity of a family whose members love and care for one another.

The prodigal son has had a hard life in his recent past. He is in rags and is barefoot, for he has been working with pigs for quite some time. I’ve depicted him with a shaved head, as some scholars believe slaves would have had at that time. He probably would have been unrecognizable to those who had formerly known him.

The eyes of mercy

And then we come to the father. I read somewhere that “the eyes of mercy are quicker than the eyes of repentance.” The father recognizes his son despite the fact that he is in rags, has a shaved head, and probably even walks differently than before. God too has a way of seeing that we as humans do not understand. At a glance God sees right through to who we really are.

In my painting, the father does not give the son time to drop to his knees. Forgiveness is given even before an audible confession. (For all the father knew, the son could have been coming back to ask for more money.)

In The Journey of Desire, John Eldredge points out that the story of the prodigal son is a story of desire. The brother of the prodigal desires recognition for his long years of work. The father tells him, “All that is mine has always been yours,” yet the son never voiced his desires.

The prodigal son has desires he not only voices, but actively fulfills. These desires get him into a world of trouble. The father so desires the return of his lost boy that he senses him coming from far away.

I hope that this painting will remind us to share our desires with God, and to always enter into and experience God’s embrace.

Tamara Paetkau attends Jubilee Mennonite Church, Winnipeg.