Encountering the Meditative at the Art Institute of Chicago

Fall 2025

The wind found its way through my down jacket in the city of Chicago on the 11th of October as I walked from the Ogilvie Transportation Center towards one of the most prestigious sanctuaries of artistic works in the midwest. I warily passed the giant stone lions guarding the entrance and moved through the oddly-hinged front doors of the Art Institute of Chicago. Fellow museum-goers bustled inside, eager to get a glimpse of the works of some of the Titans of Western art including Monet, Picasso, O’Keeffe, Chagall, Matisse, and Pollock. Nearly everyone I observed during my visit took a similar approach to their viewing experience: a quick glance at a painting, an awestruck observation of how much money it was worth, some short-lived interest in what else the painter had created, and maybe his political bent. Sadly, and with some grim irony, this common mindset stood in stark contrast to a painting that I spent over 15 minutes in front of: namely, St Francis Kneeling in Meditation by El Greco.

Created sometime between 1590 and 1605, the St Francis held by the Art Institute of Chicago is one of many exact replicas of the painting by the famous Greek artist and architect of the Spanish Renaissance, and probably the highest-quality copy (Saint, Jordan). The painting was in high demand during the height of El Greco’s career. The artwork is inspiring because the meditation of St Francis is utterly focused, impenetrable. A skull sits in front of Francis reminding him of his mortality while he kneels on the uncomfortable stone floor, and yet Francis’ gaze is fixed upon the cross of Christ. There is no hardship that he might face that could take away his love for his savior. A wound in his hand resembles the piercings of Jesus and Spencer Chicagoland Project 2 draws a parallel between the suffering of Francis and those of Christ, reminding the viewer that meditation might even be painful. To fully surrender your desires and bodily needs to seeking the savior might have physical consequences.

I came away from this experience with new respect for a monastic sort of meditation. I also have hope that pictures like El Greco’s Saint Francis at the Art Institute could teach visitors to look more closely at the paintings they treat like expensive commodities at a market. There was a sort of similarity in the lesson I learned to the meditative expertise of the Tao Te Ching, which reads, “Under heaven all can see beauty as beauty only because there is ugliness” (section 2). The contrast between the ultimate stillness of Saint Francis and the bustling attitude of Art Institute visitors accentuated the beauty of the former. Most importantly, I believe that El Greco could point people to the ultimate object of meditation, Jesus Christ.