Anima Sola, The Lonely Soul

I had an Anima Sola prayer card pinned near my worktable for years. It was the kind of icon you find in Mexican botánicas: cheap cardstock, the figure chained and burning, eyes turned up. She seemed desperately sad, so I would offer her a glass of cold water every time I sat down to paint. Over time the card became faded and worn, and then eventually disappeared during one of my many moves. I always liked the image, but something about her pose never sat right with me. Imploring. Waiting to be rescued by someone else's prayers. It felt too passive for what I wanted to say.

So I painted her, and then I burned her.

I sketched her, worked the painting up in full, and once she was finished, I set the canvas on fire. Let it burn. Put it out. Then I repainted her directly over the charred surface. I wanted to heal her, in a sense, by bringing her back through the damage rather than around it. The char is still there underneath. You can feel it in the texture even where the new paint sits on top.

That process is the piece, as much as the image is. I didn't want her waiting for someone else to free her. I wanted her to have already fought her way out, to be standing in the aftermath of her own fire, not the middle of someone else's punishment. I wanted her to realise she was finally free.

Prayer to the Anima Sola

By Susanne Iles

Anima Sola, Lonely Soul,

You who have walked through fire,

You who have known the weight of chains,

Stand with me in my sorrow,

And teach me the strength of release.

Through your lifted gaze,

May I remember hope.

Through your loosening chains,

May I feel my own burdens fall away.

Guide all who suffer in silence,

All who wait for light,

All who thirst for mercy.

Lonely Soul, radiant flame,

Remind me that no soul

Is ever truly alone.