Painter Descending from a Cross

There's a passage in James Arthur's poem "The Death of the Painter" in the March 26, 2007 issue of The New Yorker that elegantly captures the exquisite pain of the visual artist:

When he painted, it was descent
and descent and descent from the cross,
and when he died

the sepulchre was simple.
His late-life love
wept from another room.

I'm not sure if they timed this for the Easter season or not, but the imagery is timeless.