One of the world's greatest sculptures has been hiding in plain sight for nearly two centuries in an unlikely location: a modest convent in St. John's, Newfoundland. Giovanni Strazza's "The Veiled Virgin," carved from a single slab of Carrara marble and considered by some art experts to rival Michelangelo's Pietà or Auguste Rodin's Balzac, has remained largely unknown to the world while residing in the Presentation Convent and School.
Newfoundland, a sparsely populated region of Canada with St. John's serving as its capital city of just 250,000 residents, remains remote and mysterious even more than 1,000 years after Norse explorer Leif Erickson first landed there. The province, which was a British colony before joining Canada in 1949, is best known to many as a green blotch on transatlantic flight maps, where majestic cliffs plunge into waters filled with orcas and icebergs.
The Presentation Convent doesn't fit the typical image of a masterpiece's home. Rather than featuring alabaster walkways or tree-lined courtyards, the two-story Classical Revival building resembles a Department of Motor Vehicles branch, situated at the end of an asphalt parking lot shared with a soup kitchen. The only indication of the sculpture's presence is a small black-and-white photograph displayed with viewing hours.
Visitors must buzz the door and wait in a small, austere reception room, entering their names in a logbook while a receptionist handles convent business. Eventually, they are escorted down a hallway to the oratory, where the fortunate ones receive Sister Marilyn Doyle as their tour guide. Instead of traditional religious attire, she wears a wool sweater and sneakers, speaking with a soft Newfoundland accent that approximates an Irish brogue.
Sister Doyle, who holds a master's degree in art education and taught in local schools before joining the order, explains the sculpture's fascinating history. According to her research, Bishop John Mullock purchased the piece during his travels to Europe in the 1850s to furnish the adjacent Basilica Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, completed in 1855. While in Rome meeting with the Pope, as all bishops did then, Mullock encountered Strazza's masterpiece and arranged for its shipment to St. John's.
The bishop recorded the sculpture's arrival in his diary on December 4, 1856: "Received safely from Rome, a beautiful statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary in marble, by Strazza. The face is veiled, and the figure and features are all seen. It is a perfect gem of art." The statue initially resided at the Bishop's Palace next door until 1862, when Mullock decided to give it to his beloved sister, Sister Mary de Pazzi Mullock, who was a nun at the convent.
For over 150 years, the sculpture remained behind closed doors, visible only to nuns and occasional building service workers. The sisters began welcoming the public in the 1990s as part of broader Church policy changes aimed at opening religious institutions to the world. Despite this accessibility, the masterpiece remains remarkably unknown, even to many locals.
The sculpture itself is surprisingly intimate—a life-size bust displayed in a rectangular glass case on a velvet-covered stand. Created by Strazza in the early 1850s, the work showcases the artist's mastery of the Risorgimento school's neoclassical-realist style. Strazza, who grew up in Milan and attended the renowned Brera Academy, was part of the Italian nationalist art movement that referenced Renaissance masters like Michelangelo.
The technical achievement of "The Veiled Virgin" lies in its extraordinary illusion: the face appears covered by a veil, yet everything is carved from one piece of Carrara marble. Strazza cut the stone so precisely that light penetrates a few millimeters beneath the surface, creating a gossamer transparency that makes the marble appear as delicate silk casting thin shadows across the Virgin's face. The veil seems to dance on her cheeks and chin, caressing her hair and nose while revealing her graceful downward gaze.
According to Claire Barbillon, director of Paris's École du Louvre, the veiling technique dates back to 1170 with Notre Dame de Fers (Our Lady of the Shackles) at the Orcival shrine in France's Auvergne region. Barbillon notes the paradoxical effect: "Marble is a hard material which resists chisels and carving, and here it seems to have a flexibility and lightness that creates a paradox." She explains that veiled statues share common traits—they were created by virtuosos, are extremely rare, and are considered must-sees among art aficionados.
Other famous veiled sculptures include Giuseppe Sanmartino's "The Veiled Christ" (1753) in Naples' Sansevero Chapel, where visits must be booked weeks in advance, and Antonio Corradini's "Vestal Virgin" or "Veiled Woman" (1743) in Rome's Palazzo Barberini. Raffaele Monti's "The Veiled Lady" (1860), featured in the 2005 adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice" where Elizabeth Bennet stares at it mesmerized, is currently housed at Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, England.
Barbara Musetti, a sculpture historian at École du Louvre, suggests that "The Veiled Virgin" distinguishes itself from other veiled sculptures through its seductive powers. During a 2021 France Culture broadcast, she explained: "These extraordinary effects of the almost wet fabric that adheres to the body create a very strong game of seduction between the character represented and the public. There are many other sculptures with similar veiling, especially in the Neapolitan tradition, but none arouses as much enthusiasm, perhaps thanks to this ambivalence between serenity and sensuality."
Despite its significance, the sculpture receives no promotion from St. John's tourism authorities or Newfoundland's Department of Tourism. Neither organization mentions the work on their websites, and calls to the mayor's office went unreturned. Many locals remain unaware of the masterpiece, including Catherine Ryan, a taxi driver and St. John's native who attended Catholic school next to the convent, and Colin, a waiter who claimed extensive knowledge of local trivia.
The artist himself remains enigmatic. Although Strazza created other notable works, including "Ishmael Abandoned in the Desert" in Milan's Galleria d'Arte Moderna and another sculpture in the Vatican, he died in 1875 without achieving the fame of contemporaries like Corradini and Sanmartino. His neoclassical style became dated as Italy moved toward futurism, and his greatest work's isolation in Newfoundland certainly didn't help his reputation.
Intriguingly, an 1856 article in The Newfoundlander refers to "The Veiled Virgin" as Strazza's second work featuring a veiled woman, suggesting another sculpture exists somewhere. Art critic and former diplomat Paolo Sabbatini claims several Strazza works, including a veiled damsel sculpture, can be found in Cairo's Marriott Hotel Omar Khayyam Casino, formerly a royal palace where Strazza was commissioned by Egyptian khedives to create sculptures for the halls.
When asked how "The Veiled Virgin" compares to other veiled masterpieces, Sister Doyle smiled and shared her perspective: "Someone showed me a postcard of another veiled statue. It was of an aristocratic lady, and she had a sort of a crown on her head and the veil was down over it all. And it was truly a beautiful piece. It was. But the Virgin captures something entirely different, and which makes this work unique—its simplicity itself."
For art enthusiasts planning a pilgrimage to see the sculpture, St. John's offers an international airport with daily service to Toronto and Montreal. Alternatively, adventurous travelers can take a three-day journey involving an overnight train from Montreal to Halifax, a six-hour drive through Nova Scotia's Cape Breton to North Sydney port, followed by a 16-hour ferry ride and nearly two-hour taxi to St. John's—a route that mirrors the challenging journey the sculpture itself took in 1856.
As visitors walk through hallways lined with photographs of long-gone nuns who could admire "The Veiled Virgin" daily, questions arise about whether increased attention might transform the peaceful convent into a tourist attraction. Sister Doyle addresses these concerns with characteristic grace: "We have something that we know is very precious, and if we don't let people see it, they will never appreciate it."
The sculpture's location holds particular historical significance. Just a two-minute flight east from the convent sits Signal Hill, where Guglielmo Marconi received the first transatlantic wireless transmission in 1901, ushering in the age of modern communication. While the world has since embraced radio, television, the internet, and today's digital chaos of misinformation and social media distractions, the veiled Virgin continues her silent vigil—eyes closed, veil drawn, ready once again to offer forgiveness for humanity's sins.
