‘I’m just the instrument’: In conversation with sculptor Timothy Schmalz

In 2019, Pope Francis unveiled a life-sized statue in St Peter’s Square entitled Angels Unawares by Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz. Weighing 3.2 tonnes, the bronze sculpture depicts a crowded boat of more than 140 people of all ages, races and cultures, seemingly making their way towards St Peter’s Basilica. While it is not Schmalz’s first artwork to be displayed in Rome, its installation inside St Peter’s Square marked the first time in centuries that an artist whose name is not Michelangelo, Bernini or Raphael has graced the square.

‘Some people were angry that something different was being put into St Peter’s Square,’ Timothy recalls. ‘They interviewed Cardinal Konrad Krajewski (head of papal charities), who’s very close to Pope Francis, and the critics said to him, “Well, it doesn’t match the Berninis.” And then Cardinal Conrad said, “It doesn’t matter if it matches the Berninis; it matches the gospels.”

‘And I love that,’ smiles Timothy. ‘To add a new piece in such an important place … It states that this is not a museum and that the faith is alive,’ he says.

I was in pursuit of something essential, something pure and something very important.

Timothy was recently in Rome as part of the celebrations for Jubilee 2025 and led a walking tour with participants of the Jubilee of Communications, reflecting on the inspiration for his sculptures and the role that art can play in bringing the Scriptures to life.

‘In pursuit of something essential’

As a young artist, Timothy went through what he calls ‘an artistic crisis’. ‘I was 19 and enrolled in one of the most prestigious art schools in Canada. But it was all sound and theory … All sizzle and no steak,’ he recalls. Within months, he had dropped out and decided to make his own way. ‘My school became the great masters, because I looked at what they were sculpting and what they were painting, and it was a eureka moment. I realised that you need to have great subject matter to produce great artwork,’ he says.

Timothy’s attention then shifted to developing a distinct style as he asked himself, ‘What am I representing, and why? And does it warrant me giving my life to represent these things?’ he recalls. ‘I was in pursuit of something essential, something pure and something very important.’

To take the Scripture—the words of Christ—and to bring them to life is, I think, really what what’s needed

He’s always drawn comfort from his faith but says that anyone who reads the gospels ‘will realise that it’s radical, it’s shocking’. And while he applauds art that is beautiful and uplifting, Timothy sees his own art as a way to challenge and elicit a response from viewers. ‘As much as it’s comfort food, [my faith] is also a slap in the face,’ he reflects.

Perhaps Timothy’s most recognisable work is the Homeless Jesus, which Timothy says is a visual representation of Jesus’ words in the Gospel of Matthew: ‘as you did to the least of your brothers, you did to me.’ It was first installed at Regis College in Toronto, and castings of the sculpture are now present in more than 50 places around the world. The bronze statue depicts Jesus as a homeless person lying on a bench, covered with a blanket. His head is obscured by a hood but his hands and feet depict his wounds.

‘To take the Scripture—the words of Christ—and to bring them to life is, I think, really what what’s needed,’ he says.

‘Our human inclination, or at least mine, is not always as Christian as it could be. So if I create these visual signs and reaffirm or remind everyone how Christ wants us to perceive [others], that’s good.’

He’s also leaned in to using bronze in his work, which he says is ‘the perfect material to evangelise’. Not only can the material endure the ravages of weather and time, but the statues are also inviting to sit next to, Timothy believes.

‘If I do the most beautiful wood sculpture or alabaster sculpture or marble sculpture, it has to be put inside. And that’s like preaching in a closet,’ he says. Having sculptures placed outside of places of worship is a way to inspire those who aren’t comfortable going inside to want to know more.

‘And when it’s outside, then it becomes part of the street, and the message becomes a part of the street’.

‘An instrument of God’s peace’

Just outside the entrance of the Ospedaliero Santo Spirito, the oldest hospital in Europe, is one of Timothy’s sculptures from his Matthew 25 series, depicting the corporal works of mercy. The piece shows a beggar seated in a corner, with his face barely visible. A closer look shows that the man is in fact Jesus, with his wounded hands held out to passersby.

‘When I first created it, I did not know what it was going to be or how it would look,’ says Timothy. ‘The only thing that I really wanted to do on this piece was to show the most humble representation of Jesus possible.

‘And it all fit perfectly with the idea of Matthew 25, because in [the passage] there is that ambiguity. “When did we see you hungry? When did we see you thirst?” And then that eureka moment where it’s revealed that it’s Jesus … and so likewise with this [sculpture].

‘First [you think] it’s a stranger or a homeless person,’ he says. ‘And then it’s revealed as you get closer, with more investigation, that the identity is Jesus.

‘This is where that idea of St Francis of Assisi, of being an instrument of God’s peace, really means something for me as a sculptor. I had total faith that this whole project would be guided, and I’m just, in a sense, the tool for it,’ he says.

Not long after its installation, another piece was commissioned by the hospital, this time of the Scripture verse beginning, ‘And when you visited me …’. The piece depicts Jesus lying down, representing those who are sick. ‘You can see the agony and the pain is represented with his hand over his face, which obscures who it is, and so it becomes every person,’ explains Timothy.

Once you think in terms of a space being a space of prayer, it actually influences how you create pieces.

Timothy has also created other sculptures illustrating the works of mercy, such as When I was in prison you visited me, which is located outside the Basilica of St Paul Outside the Walls and depicts Jesus’ face through prison bars.

‘This is the type of sculpture where you can reach out—or it reaches out to you—and it’s an invitation to come into the space and, by doing that, coming into the Scripture. That’s what I think is great about three-dimensional artwork: it takes up space, and people can engage with it,’ he says.

‘My work is my prayer’

‘I’ve been obsessively sculpting since I was 19, and what I’ve learnt is that I have to put tools in my studio to encourage [my] spirituality,’ says Timothy.

The artist is usually up and ready to work in his studio by 4am, spending around 10–15 hours there each day. ‘Over the last year, I’ve taken a break every 30 minutes to do some exercise and prayer, and then I’ll get back to work. And that routine just really feeds me, and it gives me that stamina to continue.’

He describes his studio not just as a place of work but as his ‘chapel’. ‘Once you think in terms of a space being a space of prayer, it actually influences how you create pieces ... I have to keep that huge space open every day, in case something miraculous wants to come upon me,’ he says.

For the last few years, he’s also had the gospels playing on loop in the background while working. ‘I’ll come to my studio in the morning and I’ll get one CD—I’m still on CDs—and the whole day [the gospels] are always in the background,’ he says.

‘And if you have that “wallpaper” in your studio, you never really know how it can really affect you. It can really influence you.’

In fact, it was when he was listening to the gospels in the background that the idea for Timothy’s now famous Angels Unawares piece came to him. The sculpture is inspired by a line from Hebrews 13: ‘Be welcoming to strangers, for many have entertained angels unawares.’

‘I had heard [it] hundreds of times, but I remember it was playing in my studio one day and I heard it and I really felt it. And I thought, this warrants a sculpture. This is one of the most poetic passages,’ he recalls.

However, it was only after he’d met Cardinal Michael Czerny, Prefect of the Dicastery for Promoting Integral Human Development, that the opportunity to create something presented itself. Cardinal Czerny, himself the son of migrants, encouraged Timothy to create a piece that would acknowledge and celebrate the migrant experience.

‘We’d talked about migrants and refugees, and I went home to my studio and I sat there, and the idea just fell on my lap—a raft, a boat, a crowd of migrants and refugees from all over the world, and in the centre an angel, but you could only see the wings because of the crowd of people. And I thought that’s a very discreet, subtle way of translating that beautiful passage of Scripture,’ recalls Timothy.

Oftentimes I think that with one sculpture we brought everyone into St Peter’s Square. Every corner of the world is represented within that piece.

He eventually sent the Cardinal a picture of the model he’d been working on, which was then shown to Pope Francis. ‘And then I got a beautiful email from Cardinal Czerny saying that Pope Francis wants you to bring the model to St Peter’s Square, because he wants to bless it,’ he recalls. ‘That’s the first time the Holy Father saw the sculpture, in its smaller version.’

Two months later, the artist received what he calls ‘the greatest email of my life’, when the cardinal informed him that Pope Francis wanted a life-sized version of the sculpture installed in St Peter’s Square. ‘When it was being installed, I remember one of the people from the Vatican said that this is the first time a new piece has been placed here in centuries,’ Timothy recalls.

But the sculpture, Timothy believes, echoes Bernini’s original design of the colonnade. ‘[His] design was meant to be two outstretched arms bringing people in. It was about welcoming the non-Christians too. And so, to have an artwork that shows 140 faces of everyone, I think, is very important,’ he says.

‘With one sculpture, we brought everyone into St Peter’s’

Timothy says the placement of the statue inside St Peter’s Square ‘reinforces that all human life is sacred’.

‘Oftentimes I think that with one sculpture we brought everyone into St Peter’s Square. Every corner of the world is represented within that piece,’ he says.

Angels Unaware, he says, illustrates the array of emotions that come with the migrant experience: ‘the courage, horror and love’. The sculpture features migrants of all ages, races and religions, including indigenous people, Africans, Europeans, Christians, Hasidic Jews and Muslims. In the middle of the crowded boat are angel’s wings that rise above the crowd. ‘This is like the Statue of Liberty, but you have real faces, and you have spirituality in the centre.’

‘In Canada, we have this expression: “We all came from some other spot anyway, right?” So I wanted to visually show that,’ he says. To achieve this, he used archived photos of migrants arriving at Ellis Island in New York to depict those in the boat—both young and old.

The sculpture continued to evolve over the seven months of its creation, Timothy says. ‘The expressions on the faces were as important as what they were doing,’ he explains. A woman standing at the front of the boat, a Muslim, was originally depicted holding a baby, but after some reflection, this morphed instead into a bag of the woman’s possessions. She is still holding a baby’s bottle, however. ‘So it’s kind of this haunting question of “Where is the child now?”’ says Timothy.

The sculpture leaves us with this question … Who are the angels? Are they the refugees, or are they us?

Crowded within the boat is the Holy Family, with Joseph represented with his carpentry tools in hand. Behind him is Mary holding baby Jesus close in her arms. St Frances Cabrini, the patron saint of immigrants, can also be spotted in the group.

The life-sized sculpture is unintimidating, with no plaque or barrier, allowing visitors to approach the piece freely and touch it or even lean against it. ‘I’ve even seen people sit on the boat,’ says Timothy.

Since its installation, Cardinal Czerny says it has opened up conversations ‘in a way that Tim could not have imagined’.

‘It’s obviously in a different style from what [many people] expect,’ he says of the sculpture. ‘I have a feeling that when people approach this, they’re looking for their ancestors—their people—and they find them.

‘And I think that’s one of its great successes: that without using words, the sculpture communicates the idea that we are migrants of all times and all places,’ the cardinal says.

‘Migrants or refugees will often say, “We were saved by an angel” or that “an angel helped us to get through some barrier or some impossibility so that we could finally reach where we want to go”, says Cardinal Czerny.

‘And so the sculpture leaves us with this question … Who are the angels? Are they the refugees, or are they us?’