Francis Newton Souza’s early years in Goa were immersed in Catholic tradition, shaped by his grandmother, Leopoldina Saldanha. After contracting smallpox in Bombay, he was sent back to Saligao in 1929, where his childhood was steeped in religious rituals. His grandmother, deeply devout, led the family in nightly Rosary prayers and Sunday Mass, filling his imagination with stories of saints, martyrdom, and biblical events.
The Church of Mae de Deus, where his family worshipped and where he was baptized, left a lasting impression, shaping his lifelong engagement with Christian iconography.
I would kneel and pray for hours
(F.N. Souza, Words and Lines, 1959)
F.N. Souza, Untitled (Man in Tunic), 1954
Souza’s depiction of the tunic, a recurring motif in his work, reflects the religious vestments of priests from his Catholic upbringing in Goa. His art often grappled with faith and institutional authority, balancing reverence with rebellion.
F.N. Souza, Untitled (Head), 1961
The wooden saints painted with gold and bright colours staring vacantly out of their niches.
(F.N. Souza, Words and Lines, 1959)
The scale and splendor of Goa’s churches also played a defining role in his artistic vision. Expelled from J.J. School of Art in 1945, he briefly returned to Goa and was once again struck by its towering cathedrals and elaborate rituals. His time there also fostered a deep engagement with religious figures.
The vicar and I became friends despite some of our ideas which were almost diametrically opposite; very much like those of a saint and a sinner. “And yet, a sinner could really be a good friend of a saint, and the saint must necessarily be a friend of the sinner.
(F.N. Souza, Nirvana of a Maggot, Words and Lines, 1959)
This duality was central to his depictions of Catholicism.
The smell of incense. And the enormous crucifix with the impaled image of a Man supposed to be the Son of God, scourged and dripping, with matted hair tangled in plaited thorns.
(F.N. Souza, Words and Lines, 1959)
His engagement with Catholicism extended beyond imagery. S.H. Raza recalled:
Souza had his ideas, he was well-read, interested in poetry and music. I remember he took me to a Catholic church where for the first time I heard Johann Sebastian Bach.
(S.H. Raza quoted in Nanak Ganguly's Progressive Art Group Show: The Moderns, 2012)
Church funeral masses, often featuring Beethoven and Chopin, left a deep impression on him, their solemnity mirroring the emotional intensity of his later works.
F.N. Souza, Untitled (Portrait), 1994
NOËL—a term signifying the holiday season—originates from the Latin nasci, meaning “to be born.” Its evolution through Old French (nael) into Middle English (nowel) underscores its association with both Christmas and sacred hymns.
Here, Souza asserts his individuality by using a felt pen over a Christmas poster, employing a technique of chemical alteration—where he applied solvents to printed paper without destroying its surface.
Christian iconography remained central to his oeuvre throughout his career. His early watercolors depicted Christ’s Baptism, and even in his final years, he continued painting Christ’s portrait. His works explored Catholicism’s contradictions—the piety of the Pietà, the suffering of St. Sebastian, the corruption of the papacy, and the ritual of self-flagellation. Yet rather than rejecting religion, Souza painted religion as he saw it—not a rejection, but a reflection, much like the stained-glass windows of the churches that inspired him.
