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In the grandeur of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, a crowd of modern-day newcomers—mostly Latino, Asian, and Black—gather on an incline carrying their modest belongings. An individual in a tee-shirt tenderly carries a child, while a kid in sneakers sits glumly in the foreground. High up among the billowing clouds, the Lamb of God stands on a white altar within the radiant glow of dangling golden lines evoking the presence of God.

This compassionate and splendid depiction constitutes a segment of what is perhaps the most significant new piece of public art in today’s riven America.

“My hope is that viewers grasp from this artwork,” declares the artist, “is our shared experience and unity. To utilize such a vast canvas for this statement is an extraordinary privilege.”

This house of worship, referred to as the people’s church, serves about 2.5 million New York Archdiocese Catholics. It’s one of the two most important cathedrals in the country and attracts the most attention with millions of annual guests. This artwork represents the largest permanent piece requested by the institution since its founding.

A Vision of Unity

In the artist’s competition-winning vision, the painting fulfills an enduring desire to commemorate the celebrated apparition depicting sacred beings such as Mary, Joseph, John, the Lamb, and heavenly messengers at a small Irish countryside chapel in 1879. The creator broadens that tribute to involve past Irish migrants along with the city’s diverse migrant history.

The sizable wall on the west side, flanking the cathedral’s main doors, displays five historical Catholic luminaries paired with five contemporary emergency service members. Each cluster is overseen by a grand heavenly being in a setting again of those gleaming stripes evoking God’s presence.

Recognizing Varied Impacts

Regarding the five Catholic icons the archdiocese named Irish-born archbishop John Hughes, Dorothy Day, the onetime nonconformist turned campaigner, and Pierre Toussaint, the ex-slave who achieved success as a groomer and philanthropist. The painter included early saint Kateri Tekakwitha, the premier indigenous holy figure, 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—an intentional decision. “Given that this is a domestic piece, not a European one,” the artist explains. “Europeans have hundreds of years of incredible ecclesiastical art, their methods have evolved. Yet locally, it’s essential.”

A Labor of Dedication

The mural’s enormous labor involved about 30 people, including an eminent fine-art gilder for the upper-mural stripes of gold leaf, platinum and heated titanium. Planning required half a year in a huge studio in Brooklyn’s Navy Yard, followed by three-quarters of a year for the demanding painting—moving up and down structures for evaluation.

“Given my familial background in design,” he responds. “Therefore, I grasped spatial planning.”

Concerning the stepping-down archbishop, he stated at the piece’s introduction: “Many wonder whether this addresses newcomer issues? Certainly, without doubt. Namely, that immigrants are children of God.”

“All are part of this collective,” the painter echoes. “Despite personal feelings,” he notes. There are supporters of various politicians among the models. Plus various beliefs. “However, common human experience unites all,” he insists. “It extends beyond personal compatibility.”