Some 60 years ago, in the country called Yugoslavia, a little boy was holding his mother’s hand as they were standing in an Orthodox church, watching the re-appearance of old frescoes. All around them were those austere Byzantine saints who fill little viewer with fear and guilt, however misplaced!

The step-father, Rufim, and his team of conservators and restorers have just detached a mortar layer that had covered frescoes from 13th and 14th centuries. These now emerged into the light of the day for the first time in over 500 years. There is an excitement in the air, also commotion as something has been discovered in the outer vestibule. On the north part of the west wall, they have found an inscription, totally unexpected and out of place. It was thought to have been written in Arabic script people said, but the fullness of the mystery was to be revealed later.

The inscription represented a verse composed by the great Persian poet Hafiz (1325-1390), written in the Persian language and yet, it was incised in Arabic script over the fresco. One of the possible translations is: “The pupil of my eye is the nest to your beauty”.

We shall never know who the erudite traveller was; he, who profoundly affected by this beauty of another kind, gave orders to the calligrapher to engrave the inscription. Never mind that infidels created such a beauty, its presence made him bow to it, pay respects and let his heart declare it to posterity, as shortly afterwards, the church walls would be rendered, to be made visible again only 500 years later.

The noble traveller, possibly a chronicler of events for the conquering Turkish army, rose above his own religious background to recognise and acknowledge the transcendent Beauty which shines forever undisturbed in the beyondness. It was a salutation to the eternal celebration of man’s closeness to the Divine.

This hugely important event is, lamentably, almost completely unknown, both internationally and even locally. You would be guessing correctly if you said that the medieval town was Prizren, one of the centres of Serbia in 14th century, and the little boy was me. It is not improbable that this wonderful event planted a decisive seed in me, to become an iconographer myself. After I first tried myself in what I thought was icon painting, here I am, almost 50 years later, still attempting to produce this “perfect” icon.

Michael Galovic 
March 2017