Commissioned for the Diocese of New Ulm in the United States, Our Lady of the Prairie is a sacred image that speaks into place, culture, and the universality of grace. She was finished, packed, and left the studio on Our Lady of Fatima, 13 May 2025. Now residing over 13,000 km from her origin in New Zealand, she stands as a physical reminder of the Church’s reach across oceans and peoples, and the movement of the Gospel through time and geography.

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Mary: The Beacon of Hope

At the centre, Our Lady stands radiant in white. She’s clothed in the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, not just symbolically, but as a bold, visual truth: untouched by sin, made ready to bear Christ. She stands in front of a darkness that represents the brokenness of the world, sin, death, despair but she’s not afraid of it. She stands firm, victorious, and luminous as the beacon of hope.

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The Gaze That Leads

Her feet rest on the moon, recalling Revelation 12. She’s above time, but fully present in it. Her gaze meets yours as you approach but as you move directly in front of her, she gently hands you over. Her eyes shift. She leads you to Christ.

 

Christ: The Seated Word

Christ is seated on her left arm, not fragile, but enthroned in the seat of wisdom, Sedes Sapientiae. His gaze is wise and merciful. He lifts His right hand in blessing. From His right hand He shall sav, that’s why He’s on her right (as you look at the painting, Jesus sits on her left). In His left rests the Gospel, oversized and adorned in royal purple with Dakota beadwork. It’s not just a book. It’s the Word made flesh. The presence of the beadwork honours culture. It doesn’t erase it, it fulfills it.

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Around Mary’s waist is a sash patterned after Our Lady of Guadalupe. In the original tilma, she wore a black ribbon that signified she carried the Christ child in her womb. Here, she wears it not as a sign of waiting, but of fulfillment. Christ is no longer hidden within her, He is revealed, enthroned, and held in her arms. But the sash remains. It declares that this is the same Mother who appeared at Tepeyac, the one who came for the peoples of the Americas. She is not only the Mother of Christ, she is the Mother of the Americas.

As the New Eve, Mary reverses the disobedience of the first garden. The floral pattern on the dress of Our Lady of Guadalupe is reflected on the sash of Our Lady of the Prairie, which evokes not the paradise lost, but the garden to come, an eschatological garden where creation is made new in Christ. She is not only the vessel of redemption but the first flowering of the new creation, a living sign that heaven has begun to break into earth.

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The Flowers on the Gospel Cover

Brown-eyed Susans (deep golden) symbolise Christ’s divinity, God’s glory shining into creation. Purple Gentians affirming Christ’s royal lineage from the house of David. Red prairie blooms recall the Passion His poured-out blood and the suffering Mary shares in, as foretold in Luke 2:35.

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The Twelve Stalks

On Mary’s right arm, she holds a sheaf with twelve stalks of wheat, a symbol of the Apostles, but also of the prairies. Wheat is the lifeblood of the land and becomes the Eucharist. Here, grace and soil meet. Mary is shown as Queen of the Apostles and the first tabernacle. She carries both Christ and the beginnings of His Church.

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The Rosary: Her Weapon of Peace

The rosary wrapped around her arm is her spiritual weapon a quiet but powerful tool of grace. This image began on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary (formerly Our Lady of Victory), and that’s not by chance. The rosary has always been a weapon of peace and intercession and it still is.

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Her Robe Like a River

Mary’s robe flows with movement like a river. It starts with Christ and spills out through her. It’s alive, like the river in Ezekiel’s vision and the water that flowed from Christ’s pierced side. Her garment pours onto churches, teepees, rivers, fields, barns, cathedrals, and homes. Grace does not stay distant. It touches everything.

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The Foundations of the Church

At the base, Saint Peter’s Basilica appears under the Cross, its shadow falling as a sign of Peter’s martyrdom and the roots of the Church. On the other side sits the Cathedral of Saint Paul in Minneapolis, marking the missionary spread of the Gospel. Between them, the Mississippi River flows - beginning from beneath the Cross like the water from Christ’s pierced side - and moving throughout the heartland of America and into the whole world. Along its banks, we see tipis, canoes, and three fish representing the Indigenous peoples of the land, reflecting the three interlocking fish on the coat of arms of the Diocese of New Ulm. The river, which once provided food for the Indigenous communities, now also symbolizes the flowing river of grace in the life of the Holy Trinity, pouring forth into the prairies of the Diocese.

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The Domestic Church and the Cathedral

A house and barn reflect the domestic Church and the sanctification of daily labour. Beside them, Saint Joseph’s Church, the first Catholic parish in the region, symbolises humility, quiet faith, and deep roots. All of these lead upward to the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, the visible centre of the Church today.

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From East to West

Above Rome, the sun rises. Over New Ulm, the sun sets. From east to west, the name of the Lord is praised (Psalm 113:3). It’s one Church. One mission. One endless movement of grace.