SWAMPSCOTT -- Sacred artist Michael Corsini sometimes sees his canvas like a battleground.

"There are moments where you feel really connected to the Lord, and moments where you feel that you're in the vein of the art and in prayer," he said. "And then there's days where it's a complete battle to drag yourself to the easel."

Corsini speaks of his creative process in visceral terms. He said he was drawn to sacred art so he could create images "in the bloodstream" of church tradition. There is nothing more exciting or more intimidating to him than a blank canvas. The only way to win the battle, he said, is to have the courage to push himself to paint. His blank canvas is a battlefield, and sometimes, so is the completed work.

His latest opus, a 20-by-15-foot mural of the vision of St. John Bosco painted for St. John the Evangelist Parish in Swampscott, is a sweeping seascape illuminated by threatening skies. The 19th-century saint saw the church as a great ship under fire by hordes of pirates. They battered the barque of Christ with cannons and books, representing academic and theological attacks on the church. The pope, the captain of the ship, is struck down in battle, but a new one resurrects to take his place. The ship, like Christ, suffered five mortal wounds.

In Corsini's painting, hellish fire bellows and water gushes from the ship's blasted hull, like the blood and water that poured from Christ's pierced side. The battle seems unwinnable. Then, the resurrected pope steers his ship in between two towering pillars, their bases hidden beneath the churning waves. Atop one pillar is an image of the Eucharist, glowing like the moon. Atop the other is a radiant Mary, dressed all in white, her arms outstretched. Upon seeing the strength of these pillars, the enemy ships flee.

"This image may seem dark," Corsini said at the dedication and blessing of the mural on Sept. 28. "It may seem dramatic. It is. But what we see here is the church that is unfailing, even when it seems all hope is lost. All hope is never lost. There's a path in the storm, and it's carved out by the church."

Corsini came to Swampscott from his studio in Waymart, Pennsylvania, a small town outside of Scranton, with his wife Jessica and their five children. The oil-on-canvas mural of St. John Bosco's vision, and an equally large mural of Jesus walking on water, were rolled up in pieces and transported on a van. They were then installed on either side of the altar like wallpaper. It is the most ambitious project the 47-year-old Corsini has ever undertaken, and according to Msgr. John McLaughlin, pastor of St. John's, is one of the largest artworks commissioned by the Archdiocese of Boston in over 50 years.

"You might have heard this before, but the artist is called by God to make the visible invisible," Corsini said.

As he spoke to the parish, he was dwarfed by his own art.

An image of Jesus walking on water was originally painted on the ceiling of St. John's apse. In September 2024, Msgr. McLaughlin approached Corsini in hopes of restoring the image to the coastal church. He also asked for a more obscure scene: St. John Bosco's vision of the pillars. Donors from Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Hawaii, Idaho, Nevada, and New York funded the murals.

"At first, it took me a little while to see the connection, but then the connection is brilliant," Corsini said. "The connection is this: Cling to Christ. Lash yourself to Christ. Moor yourself to Christ."

He said that the same battle is happening within everyone inside the church.

"There's a daily attack on you, and this is just making the invisible visible," he said.

When painting Jesus walking on water, and Peter falling into the waves as the disciples in their boat are beset by a storm, Corsini wanted to depict "the great drama of salvation." He made Christ stand as if he were on the cross. His pose is dynamic, almost surfing along the towering wave. His right hand, representing his divine authority, holds back the wave to save Peter from drowning. His left hand, representing his humanity, reaches out for Peter.

"Through the perspective of Christ, you can almost say that Christ has become a window from which Peter now can see the trials and tribulations of his life," Corsini said. "And this was really my prayer for all of you while I was painting this, that this would become your perspective."

Bishop Robert Reed, a Swampscott native who was ordained a priest at St. John's, blessed the murals. He jokingly called Msgr. McLaughlin "Father Michelangelo" for commissioning the monumental paintings.

"It means a lot to me, as it does to you, to see this church so beautifully decorated and prepared for the celebration of Mass and the sacraments," the bishop said. "And so, I'm thrilled, as a hometown boy."

After the blessing, Corsini was feted by St. John's parishioners, many of whom he had come to know since painting the murals.

"Everyone's been so generous, and it's been so humbling," he said.

Corsini grew up in a non-religious household in Maryland and became Catholic after a pilgrimage to Rome when he was 24.

"I got to see the history of the faith," he said. "And then it was really the experience of Jesus in the Eucharist that pulled me over the edge."

He discovered the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal, "fell in love" with their order, and entered the seminary, but before taking his final vows, decided that God was calling him to be a husband and a father. A childhood love of drawing and dreams of becoming an animator took him to the Ringling School of Art and Design in Florida. After restoring some old statues in a local parish, he decided to pivot to sacred art. He wanted to make movies, and in a sense, he still does. When he conceives his paintings, he thinks of them as stills from an epic film, with striking compositions and lots of motion.

He began painting the murals for St. John's in January. His studio wasn't big enough, so he rented a warehouse.

"Staring at a canvas that was 40 feet wide and 15 feet tall was a little bit intimidating," he said. "I honestly threw myself into it."

He worked in the warehouse alone for eight to 10 hours a day, sometimes painting on a ladder and a scissor lift.

"I knew that this painting was going to be transformative for the parish in the sense of scale, and I felt a really strong sense of urgency that this needed to be one of, if not the best thing I've ever accomplished," he said.

He put the finishing touches on the water swirling around Christ's feet in August. All he had to do after that was wait for the paint to dry.

"It felt a little like spiritually giving birth," he said.

Like many artists, he has the tendency to nitpick his own work. He tries not to dwell on things he could have done differently.

"When I see that people are really profoundly affected by it in a beautiful way," he said, "at some point I'm accepting of that and, it's enough. It's finished."