Satisfying Our Longing for Beauty: A Visit with Two Local Artists

"We can at any rate say that beauty arouses a hunger and a longing which is never satisfied in this world." -- J.B. Phillips

Our living room played host to an art show last week. It was a modest affair by the standards of the art world, but a worthwhile show nonetheless. Back in May, our youngest daughter -- a budding artist
 herself-- sent out a call for artistic submissions to each of her family members, in anticipation of her first annual art show. Unfortunately, the timing was bad -- and this meant that her art show -- originally scheduled for June 1 -- had to be pushed back a few weeks, to just last week. That allowed time for each member of our family to create something -- a painting, a series of photographs, a drawing, or a collage. Kara opened the show with a short presentation on the importance of art: "Art is important because it is a way we can make something beautiful," she explained. Each participant then had the opportunity to share their piece, along with an explanation of what they created and why.

Clockwise, from top-left, paintings by... Piet Mondrian, (Unknown); Matisse; Picasso, Picaasso, Picasso; Seurat, Lichtenstein, Picasso, Unknown, and Warhol.

Incidentally, this hasn't been our first brush with art this summer; during our vacation to Washington DC and to New York City, our family made visits to several art museums, including the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Smithsonian National Art Gallery (you can see a few of our favorite paintings above). It was an enriching -- if sometimes challenging -- experience wading into the waters of creative expression. Kids don't always "get" art -- and neither do adults, for that matter. At one point, as we strolled through the exhibit of American Modernist paintings at the Met, the consensus from our family was, "I could paint that!" and "That really doesn't seem like art!"

The church hasn't always been kind to the art community either. For many among the Christian community, art has long been viewed with a measure of suspicion -- it's often judged as superfluous or elitist at best, or as an expression of left-wing ideology, or a gateway to idolatry at worst. The exception has long been "Christian Art" -- art that portrays some element of the Christian story. Just ask a Christian

Self-Portrait (Rembrandt)

artist struggling to make it today. Art that is judged "acceptable" in the eyes of the Christian community isn't likely to be found hanging in a world-renown art museum -- but it may be acceptable for a Sunday School classroom. Some time ago, I visited another local artist -- a member of my church, and a talented artist who is also a Christian. She explained it to me this way:  "I think that there is a stereotype of what Christian art should look like: The Jesus with the blond hair, and the lamb, and being so handsome."

The truth of the matter is that the church needs artists -- and in fact, the world needs good artists. And while Christians have a profound opportunity to influence the broader culture through the use of their artistic talents, Christians do this best not when they paint "Christian" paintings (or write "Christian" music, or produce "Christian" plays or movies, or author "Christian books...) but when they do their work well. What do I mean by that -- and how does good art influence our culture?

In his book Culture Care, Makoto Fujimara makes a compelling case that art (and although Fujimara himself is a painter, he includes all manner of arts) is a means of culture care -- it is a means by which the artist uses her authority (for more on the idea of authority, see my write-up of Andy Crouch's book The Strong and the Weak) in order to cause the broader culture to flourish. But don't listen to my definition; hear Fujimara's: "[Culture Care] is to provide care for our culture's soul, to bring our culture our bouquet of flowers so that reminders of beauty -- both ephemeral and enduring -- are present in even the harshest environments where survival is at stake."

In other words, the purpose of art isn't limited to illustrating biblical concepts (a purpose that would severely limit the skills of artists) but it is to bring beauty into a world that is fraught with ugliness: the ugliness of broken relationships, the ugliness of greed, the ugliness of corruption, the ugliness of pride, and hostility -- the ugliness that the Christian vocabulary terms sin. Against this backdrop, artists contribute a glimpse of beauty that can sustain the soul wearied by the ugliness of a fallen world.

How? In his short work Art and the Bible, Francis Schaffer makes the case that as human beings made in God's image, we are designed to experience and delight in beauty. After all, God is the original artist. Fujimara builds on this idea and goes as far as saying that "God created a world he did not need because he is an artist." Did you get that? Art is necessary precisely because it is not necessary! God is not utilitarian -- when he creates, He does not do so only with an eye for usefulness; he creates with the unnecessary element of beauty. Beauty, in other words, is a reflection of God's character -- and as people who bear God's image, we are made to experience, enjoy, and replicate beauty.

Self-Portrait (Van Gogh)

What might this look like? As a starting point, I suggest the following. First of all, artists have a unique opportunity in culture to express both truth and beauty in a way that is visually appealing. Truth may not always be expressed propositionally -- sometimes, truth is better communicated on a canvass, from an orchestra pit, on a theatre stage, or in a jazz lounge. Such mediums can often be used to communicate despair, meaninglessness, or cynicism -- but these can also be places to express the hope of a
Christian worldview. Francis Schaeffer wrote of the "Major and Minor themes" of the Christian life -- our art, he argues, will not shy away from expressing the ugliness of sin in our world. We will grapple with it, express it, lament it, grieve over it -- but, he goes on, this minor theme must be supplanted by the major theme of hope that is ours because of the gospel. (Here, it's important to note that Schaffer makes a point of distinguishing between an artist's piece and her portfolio, reminding us that while each individual piece may not express that hope, the portfolio of work should arc towards that hope). Artists: Lift our hearts and minds to the heavens, and help us see the beauty of God as it is reflected in this world! You have a profound opportunity to speak into this world a message that cannot otherwise be communicated.

Bathsheba at Her Bath (Chiari)

Second of all, indulge the arts. For too long, art has been a marginalized field within the church -- and in broader culture as well. Not long ago, one local gallery was forced to close its doors; the Red Raven Gallery which featured many local artists who created with a variety of mediums, simply could not sustain their gallery in my small town. A shame too -- we need to support local artists however we can. Visit an art gallery, take in a concert, try your hand at a project of your own, and find ways to encourage your children to do the same. The soul of our weary culture needs the nourishment that beauty can bring us. Related to this -- find ways to draw beauty into your own field. Beauty is not simply the task of an artist -- it is something we can all latch on to. An architect, for example, does his best work when he is not merely imagining a building that will be structurally sound, but aesthetically pleasing as well. A small-business owner might find ways to design his or her office space in a manner that intentionally features local art, and music that is pleasing to the ear. A stay-at-home parent might frame her child's pictures in a corner of the house as a "gallery" of her child's art. A lab technician might play Beethoven in the lab (not so loud as to be disruptive, of course!) -- and so on.

Finally -- and more philosophically -- weave the threads between the work of the artist, and the span of

Isaac blessing Jacob (van den Eekhout)

eternity. The bible is rife with the beautiful -- Eden was a place of beauty beyond words; the Temple and the Tabernacle (even in a fallen world) were intentionally designed as places of architectural and aesthetic beauty. Heaven itself is depicted (in Revelation 21) as a place of beauty that is barely expressible in words. Interestingly, the bible also shows us that the means by which God secures this beauty for us is by entering into the ugliness of this world, and absorbing it upon himself. In fact, we are told in a lofty passage in Isaiah that Jesus, on the cross, was so physically repulsive and ugly that people had to hide their faces from him: "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him ... we considered him despised and rejected..." (Is. 53). The centerpiece of salvation, then, is the epitome of ugliness. But as Phillip Graham Ryken reminds us,

              God did not simply leave his Son in death and decay. No, he's much too good an artist for                   that. His design was to transform ugliness into beauty. He did this first with the body of his                 Son, raising Jesus from the dead and giving him a glorious resurrection body more beautiful               than anything we can imagine. (quoted in Art for God's Sake)

Perhaps another way to see this is that our longing for beauty is ultimately satisfied in the beauty of the gospel. Artists, then, can play an invaluable part in this sad world -- offering a glimpse not just of what is, but of what will be. Mako Fujimara puts it memorably:  "The biblical vision for the flourishing of our lives, lived fully under God's love, includes the beautiful. This is what we long for."

Earlier this summer, I took two of my kids on a stroll through Pioneer Cemetery -- a local cemetery which, as the name suggests, is the final resting place for the first European settlers of our area. The headstones are old -- dating back over a century. Yet blooming amidst the plots of decay, we found early summer wildflowers peeking up, coloring scenery that would have otherwise been little more than a reminder of death and mortality. Beauty among ashes. That's what good art does. It injects the truth of beauty into a world badly needing an encounter with the beautiful.