While visiting the Vatican Treasury in Rome, I gazed, mesmerized, at rare diamonds there that were as large as crystal doorknobs.  Jewel-encrusted, 24-carat-gold chalices.  Emeralds.  Rubies.  Sapphires.  Citrines.  A baroque pearl that looked like an irregular full moon on a clear night.  It was wealth beyond any form of measure, and it saddened me because on my way to the Vatican Museums, I’d seen an aged, homeless woman sitting curbside, folded into herself like a question mark—as if her body asked the question, “Why me?”  This stunning figure appeared to have worn all the clothes she owned on a 90° day, as she sat next to a large cardboard box, which must have been her shelter.

The saintly lady was as blessed as the Madonna depicted in the great Vatican paintings.  It was clear to me that she was Madonna della Via (Madonna of the Street) and my daughter, Kate, whose dark chocolate eyes misted with love of humanity, side-stepped over to her and quietly dropped money into her beggar’s cup.

I reflected upon the stark contrast of the massive wealth of the Vatican Treasury and the abject poverty of the beautiful woman and was dispirited by the inequity.  It was at that moment that I knew I had to paint Madonna della Via.

- Kathleen Huddle

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