lot of artists have been drawn to the angel theme. I didn’t realize quite how many until we started to put the display together.”
Some of the paintings were ‘primitives’, done by artists with talent but no training. Others were clearly done by professionals. A few of the paintings even featured the Angel Oak, while others showed angelic creatures holding back threatening shadows and monsters with their glowing swords.
“You know, angels are a theme almost everyone can identify with. Pretty much every belief system has some kind of angels, and we tried to display pieces that show a broad range of viewpoints,” Mrs. Morrissey added as I followed her upstairs.
On the way up the broad staircase, I stole a glance at an oil painting of a ball from the late 1800s. It had been painted at the Drayton House during a big party, and tucked into the back, trying not to be noticed, I saw Sorren among the many guests whose faces and outfits had been captured by the painter.
Displaying small collections in the Drayton House is pretty new for the Archive, but the front hallway and the upstairs ballroom are perfect for showing off pieces in a more intimate setting, and donors love it. Upstairs, the old ballroom was decked out in white, silver, and gold. Angels of every size and style graced the room. Some were blown glass and others were punched tin. There were angels of stone and wood, stitched from fabric banners, even woven from sweetgrass. A series of photographs showed the angel monuments from Charleston’s fine old cemeteries, and a local baker had created some interesting variations on the idea of ‘angel food’ cake. Standing in the center was a replica of the Angel Oak itself, a floor-to-ceiling model that still didn’t come close to the size of the real thing.
“That’s pretty amazing,” I said, nodding toward the artist’s version of the old live oak. Even though it was a fraction of the size of the actual tree, it was still huge. Although I hadn’t touched any of the artwork, the display filled the ballroom with a peaceful vibe, strong and confident. I felt myself relax for the first time in days, enjoying a sense of safety. There in the midst of the angel art, it really did feel like someone was watching over me.
“Isn’t the model of the Angel Oak striking?” Mrs. Morrissey said. “The artist received permission from the tree’s caretakers to use some of the twigs and acorns from the real Angel Oak. He really captured the essence, don’t you think?”
I nodded, looking all around at the artwork. “Whenever there’s been a difficult time, we’ve had a rise in art with angels,” Mrs. Morrissey said, leading me around the exhibition. “Yellow Fever, cholera, earthquakes, bombardments, hurricanes, and the like – people turn to making or painting angels. I guess it gives them a sense of comfort.”
“So the display is part of the fundraiser?” I asked.
Mrs. Morrissey nodded. “Yes, and I think it will be fabulous. Almost everything here is part of the silent auction to raise money to preserve the Angel Oak. The exhibition premier will be during the donor gala. It’s just a few days away – I have a million and one things to do to get ready!”
A grouping of paintings in the far corner of the room caught my eye and I wandered over. I could feel the energy shift as I headed toward the edge of the room, and the feel-good vibe became edgy. The angels in the rest of the display ranged from cute to protective, chubby cherubs to hunky bare-chested guys in white robes with flaming swords. But the images in this painting were much darker and more sinister. The faces of these angels leered or threatened, and their eyes were cold. The artist had painted the background in the colors of storm clouds: black, gray, sickly green, and a shade of purple that was the color of a deep bruise or a wound gone bad. I found myself face-to-face with a painting of three Nephilim.
“Why is this part of a display on angels?” I asked, taking a step back.
Mrs. Morrissey chuckled. “Interesting, isn’t it? It’s one panel from a series of paintings called ‘Nephilim Rising’. I suspect they’ll raise a lot of eyebrows. I call them our ‘bad boys’. Haven’t you ever heard of fallen angels?”
“Of course I have. Those just look like they fell hard.”
One of the fallen angels was in its monster-form. A second