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In the grandeur of the famous New York church, a gathering of today’s immigrants—primarily of Latino, Asian, and Black descent—rest on a sloping hill with their humble sacks and bags. A man in a T-shirt cradles an infant, while a kid in sneakers sits glumly in the foreground. Above in the lofty skies, the Lamb of God stands on a white altar amid the clustering gleam of golden pendulous stripes implying a heavenly aura.

This humane and magnificent scene is a component of what is perhaps the most significant new piece of public art in a currently divided United States.

“My hope is that viewers grasp from this artwork,” affirms the painter, “is that we’re all in this together. Employing this grand stage for such a declaration stands as a remarkable opportunity.”

St. Patrick’s, known as “America’s parish church,” caters to approximately 2.5 million local Catholics. It ranks among the top two cathedrals nationally and attracts the most attention with millions of annual guests. This mural is the biggest lasting installation ordered by the church in over a century.

A Vision of Unity

Via the prize-winning idea, the mural realizes a longtime wish to commemorate the celebrated apparition featuring holy figures including Mary, Joseph, John the Baptist, the Lamb, and angels at a little rural church in Knock, Ireland, in 1879. The painter extends that homage to encompass earlier Irish newcomers along with the city’s diverse migrant history.

The sizable wall on the west side, flanking the cathedral’s main doors, features a quintet of historic local Catholic notables paired with five contemporary emergency service members. Each cluster is overseen by a grand heavenly being within a context of luminous lines suggesting the divine.

Celebrating Multifaceted Contributions

Regarding the five Catholic icons the archdiocese named Irish-born archbishop John Hughes, Dorothy Day, the former free spirit turned advocate, and Pierre Toussaint, the former enslaved Haitian who became a New York society hairdresser and major Catholic benefactor. The artist added New York state’s 17th-century Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, the first Native American canonized, and selected public servant Al Smith from the interwar period. The first responders were the artist’s idea too.

The piece’s technique is distinctly figurative—a deliberate selection. “Because this is an American painting, rather than European,” the artist explains. “Overseas, there are centuries of religious artistry, they don’t need to do it that way any more. But we do.”

A Labor of Passion

The huge undertaking required around thirty individuals, including an eminent fine-art gilder for the upper-mural stripes of gold leaf, platinum and heated titanium. The drafting phase lasted several months at a large workspace in an industrial area, then nine months for the arduous painting—ascending and descending platforms for assessment.

“Since my parent worked in architecture,” he replies. “Thus, I knew how to organize the area.”

Concerning the stepping-down archbishop, he stated at the piece’s introduction: “People inquire if this comments on migration? Well, sure we are, all right? Namely, that immigrants are children of God.”

“We’re all in this together,” the artist repeats. “Regardless of preference,” he notes. Diverse political adherents appear in the piece. Plus various beliefs. “Yet, universal human traits bind everyone,” he insists. “It includes those beyond one’s circle.”