I’ve always been impressed with St. Veronica’s bravery. Peter denies Christ and Simon of Cyrene tries to avoid carrying the cross, but here’s Veronica, surrounded by Roman soldiers, calmly wiping Christ’s face.
I also love the cloth as a relic. In my screenplay (The Fifth Husband) adapted from Chaucer, I enjoyed writing the Pardoner. He has a sack of Veronica handkerchiefs for sale, each one the “official” cloth that touched Christ. I gave the Pardoner a villainous intent based on his fraudulent profession.
These are fun details, but the foundational reason I’m painting St. Veronica is because she is one of the names my father chose (the other is Colleen) for the two miscarriages my mother had after I was born. As Catholics we believe that, from conception, an unborn baby has a soul. Even though these two young ones miscarried before sex characteristics could be identified, Dad wanted to pray for their intercession and remember them as part of our family. He hopes to reunite with them in heaven. He gave one the name my mother wanted for me, and the other was named in remembrance of his beloved aunt who died young. I’m comforted and fascinated by the thought of two sisters, unknown and unmet, who may be praying for me at this very moment.