The place of Beauty: A historical and theological observation - part 1

This is the first of a series of posts I will be doing on the subject of Beauty, The Church, and the Art World. It is taken from a paper I wrote several years ago for a class I had with Dr Charles MacKenzie at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando.

Nude Descending a Staircase No.2, by Marcel Duchamp, 1912

For the last two decades there has been growing interest in the arts within the protestant church. The voices of artists who are Christians from a Protestant tradition have been present in the 20^th century through such persons as Hans Rookmaaker, Francis Schaeffer, Nicholas Woltersdorf, and the like.[1] But it has only been in the last 20 years that those voices have become more apparent. In fact the increased interest in the arts by the Church has gotten to the point where the questions are progressing from “What is art?” and “Is it important?” to “Who are artists?”[2]

This is significant, especially from a tradition that includes the “iconoclasts” in its history. Nevertheless, if this is a movement that is to have any sustainability, then more work has to be done in the area of theology in regards to aesthetics, beauty, and art. There is still a fear of representationalism within the Protestant tradition, and that fear is not unwarranted. But I believe it should not immobilize the Church, but challenge it to approach aesthetics, beauty, and art with a vigilant confidence.

What I want to do here is explore recent history of the art world in general and their recent “rediscovery” of beauty. I will try to define beauty (as much as it can be defined) and the related theological implications. And finally, I will show how the art of Makoto Fujimura is a tangible example of the crossroads of beauty and theology (probably one of the best examples today).

There are two things to keep in mind while reading this paper. First, as I have done my research on this topic I’ve realized how broad and deep it can and should go. This both excites and perplexes me, especially the number of resources I uncovered. I realize that the rest of my life will be filled with the exploration of such resources as I pursue beauty. This essay is NOT an exhaustive treatise—far from it—but one I hope to continue to add to and adjust for the rest of my life.

Second, I am biased—as I believe all people are. Each one of us looks at the world from a particular perspective, influenced by a myriad of ideas, experiences, and worldviews. My particular bias is Judeo-Christian. I am highly guided by the life, words, and works, of Jesus of Nazareth—the Christ. I believe his life, death, and resurrection have immediate consequences to all parts of life—most especially, as I hope to show, the place of beauty.

In the latter part of the last century the art world began to recognize a discernable amount of malnutrition in its philosophical “bones”. Gordon Fuglie recounts a moment—in the late 1980s, at an art conference of prominent dealers, artists, and critics—where an attendee asked respected art critic, Dave Hickey, what he thought would be the big issue of the next decade—the 1990’s—for the art world. Fuglie recounted, “For some reason still unknown to him (Dave Hickey), he snapped to attention and heard himself say, ‘The issue of the Nineties will be beauty.’ ”[3] This was quite an intriguing statement to make considering the assumed objective of art is to express and visualize the beautiful. Apparently, Hickey was stating the need for something that appeared to have been absent from the art world’s diet for a century.

Arthur Danto, in his book “The Abuse of Beauty” summarized it this way:

The philosophical conception of aesthetics was almost entirely dominated by the idea of beauty, and this was particularly the case in the eighteenth century – the great age of aesthetics – when apart from the sublime, the beautiful was the only aesthetic quality actively considered by artists and thinkers. And yet beauty had almost entirely disappeared from artistic reality in the twentieth century, as if attractiveness was somehow a stigma, with its crass commercial implications…“Beautiful!” itself just became an expression of generalized approbation, with as little descriptive content as a whistle someone might emit in the presence of something that especially wowed them.[4]

69th Regiment Armory Building in Manhattan

This “disappearance” of beauty was also evident in academia. In her book On Beauty and Being Just, Elaine Scarry wrote of “The banishing of beauty from the humanities…for distracting from social justice…”[5] Her book was based on lectures she gave in 1998 at Yale University. She was attempting to make the case that beauty was in fact essential for the carrying out of justice, a case she felt she needed to make in order to teach aesthetics at Harvard where she was a professor. Danto exposed this “banishment of beauty” more clearly when he wrote:

So it was no great loss to the discourse of…art (or beauty) when early Logical Positivists came to think of beauty as bereft of cognitive meaning altogether. To speak of something as beautiful, on their view, is not to describe it, but to express one’s overall admiration. And this could be done by just saying “Wow” – or rolling one’s eyes and pointing to it. Beyond what was dismissed as its “emotive meaning”, the idea of beauty appeared to be cognitively void – and that in part accounted for the vacuity of aesthetics as a discipline, which had banked so heavily on beauty as its central concept.(my note)[6]

Entrance to the Exhibition 1913, New York City

The Logical Positivists started their rise to influence in Europe right after World War I—especially during the 1920’s and 30’s. Interestingly, some art critics and historians cite the Armory show of 1913 as the onset of new perspectives on beauty in the 20^th century—a viewpoint that has been, and is still being found lacking.

to be continued...

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[1] See Steve Turner’s “Imagine” cited later and especially Hans Rookmaaker’s complete works released in the last few years.

[2] Barabara Nicolosi, President of the screen writing program Act 1. said this in a speech at an arts conference in 2008. It is recorded in the book: Taylor, David O. For the Beauty of the Church: Casting a Vision for the Arts, Grand Rapids, MI, 2010, p105.

[3] Fuglie, Gordon. edit Prescott, Theodore L. A Broken Beauty. Grand Rapids, MI. 2005 p68. see also Hickey, David. The Invisible Dragon: Essays on Beauty. Chicago, IL. 2009.

[4] Danto, Arthur Coleman, The Abuse of Beauty: Aesthetics and the Concept of Art, Chicago, Il, 2003, pp7-8.

[5] Scarry, Elaine, On Beauty and Being Just, Princeton, NJ, 1999, p127.

[6] Danto, pp7-8.

I'll use Rocks

The other day a friend told me that the governor of Kansas was shutting down all arts programing for the entire state. You would have thought – from the tone of the statement – that the arts were dying or dead in the Jayhawk state. This kind of thing is not the only time I’ve heard of this happening – for the last four years since our “Great Recession” started in 2007 arts funding seems to have been a victim of scarce finances. I remember having discussions with some of my art friends at the start of the recession lamenting the fact that art programs would be the first to go. It appears we were right.

In 2005 I accompanied my friend, painter Makoto Fujimura to Washington DC to an event specifically designed to connect high income business people with artists in order to stimulate a culture of patronage. Simply put we were inviting the money holders to invest in beauty by supporting artists. During the day-long event, Mako was part of a panel discussion. At one point, a question was posed, “What would an artist do with $10,000 and what would they do with $1,000,000?” I will never forget his answer – to this day it still haunts me and I quote it often where appropriate. After a nervous laugh he said, “In many ways, for an artist $10,000 is too much, and $1,000,000 is not enough.” Frankly, I don’t remember anything else he said at the point and I certainly couldn’t come close to recalling what the other panel participants stated – nothing else needed to be said.

We have to remember at times that there is a difference between art and beauty, between the created thing and creativity itself. These pairs are tied very closely together, but they are not identical. We must remember that art and the created thing are not as important as beauty and creativity.

Our current economic climate is a case in point. All the governments of the world, every corporation and school district could decide tomorrow to defund their arts programs; every penny could be removed from artistic programs everywhere but beauty would not be touched – creativity would remain unmoved.

Why?

Beauty and creativity transcend the paltry functions of cultural structures. They are not dependent on the temporal or the fleeting. If they were, then all of us who are artists or involved in the arts ought to find a favorite seat in our nearest pubs and pickle our livers until we die.

Thomas Aquinas in his Summa Theologica wrote that beauty must include three qualities: “…integrity or completeness – since things that lack something are thereby ugly; right proportion or harmony; and brightness – we call things bright in colour beautiful.”[1] Many have used Thomas’ three characteristics not only as a way to think about beauty but also as a defense of the importance of beauty for a human being and society in general. Afterall, one doesn’t want to be an incomplete human being. A person wouldn’t want to be out of proportion in their personal life and in the warp and woof of existing cultural institutions. As for brightness – Robert Barron – in his book The Strangest Way – writes of how we need to escape our “taupe existence” – human beings need to avoid a dull life. But some have forgotten the context of Thomas’ characteristics of beauty.

Comeliness or beauty bears a resemblance to the properties of the Son. Beauty must include three qualities; integrity or completeness – since things that lack something are thereby ugly; right proportion or harmony; and brightness – we call things bright in colour beautiful. Integrity is like the Son’s property, because he is a Son who in himself has the Father’s nature truly and fully…Right proportion is consonant with what is proper to the Son inasmuch as he is the express Image of the Father; thus we notice that any image is called beautiful if it represents a thing, even an ugly thing, faithfully…Brightness coincides with what is proper to the Son as he is the Word, the light and splendour of the mind (my emphasis).[2]

Is it surprising that Thomas’ context was the carpenter from Nazareth, the Son of God, Jesus?

This analysis of beauty is why Mako can answer the money question the way he did. Monetary amounts matter little when beauty and creativity endure transcendently – and for him they are embodied in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Elaine Scarry once wrote, “What is beautiful is in league with what is true because truth abides in the immortal sphere.”[3] Therefore, according to Scarry’s logic, beauty is also immortal – it will last forever. In the Christian tradition, Jesus is now immortal after his resurrection from the dead – that is both true and beautiful.

You may not agree with me – that beauty and creativity are embodied and sourced in Jesus of Nazareth – you would not be alone in that belief, and I respect that. However, the issue still remains for you regarding the transcendence of beauty and creativity. Where does it reside for you? How you answer will affect how you respond to the increase or decrease of monetary resources in arts programs in national and local levels. If beauty and creativity are not transcendent, then the money would be the only thing that matters and losing $10,000 would be just as unsettling as gaining $1,000,000.

CS Lewis addressed a similar issue in his sermon on “Learning in Wartime”. At the time the issue was martial, not monetary. Should one even bother with learning and education when a war rages and people are dying? The defunding of arts programs falls far short of the death of a human being but the tension is the same. What is the point of pursuing beauty when no one seems to care – and their lack of regard is exhibited by the removal of money? Lewis opened his talk and summarized brilliantly:

A University is a society for the pursuit of learning. As students, you will be expected to make yourselves, or to start making yourselves, in to what the Middle Ages called clerks: into philosophers, scientists, scholars, critics, or historians. And at first sight this seems to be an odd thing to do during a great war. What is the use of beginning a task which we have so little chance of finishing? Or, even if we ourselves should happen not to be interrupted by death or military service, why should we -- indeed how can we -- continue to take an interest in these placid occupations when the lives of our friends and the liberties of Europe are in the balance? Is it not like fiddling while Rome burns?[4]

We are in a similar situation, and we should learn from Lewis’ reasoning. Why should we still pursue good and beautiful things in times of difficulty? Lewis answers:

If you attempted, in either case, to suspend your whole intellectual and aesthetic activity, you would only succeed in substituting a worse cultural life for a better. You are not, in fact, going to read nothing…if you don't read good books you will read bad ones. If you don't go on thinking rationally, you will think irrationally. If you reject aesthetic satisfactions you will fall into sensual satisfactions.

Difficulty does not give society permission to pursue bad art or no art at all; in fact hard times demand more beauty – whether in life or art.

With the loss of financial support from public institutions we ought to approach these times as an opportunity to strive for beauty and it’s objects – poems, screenplays, sculptures, paintings, etc – to thrive in the hands of both gifted and (as most of us are) common creators. Whether we participate in this or not makes no difference. If we ceased creating due to hopelessness it would matter little. In this visible world our lives would diminish in beauty a bit but the unalterable transcendence of Beauty would remain and eventually rear its head like a phoenix from the ashes.

Von Balthasar described Beauty as being closely united to her two sisters Truth and Goodness. He warned that Beauty would not be long separated from her siblings. In fact, she in her exile would take both Truth and Goodness with her in an act of what he called “mysterious vengeance”. A world that scorns Beauty eventually does the same to the True and the Good. Von Balthasar later states that those who lose Beauty are not only unable to pray, but also unable to love.

If Beauty is dependent on an institution’s resources then it is easily lost. But if it is dependent on some transcendent principle, or as I argue here – God, then no amount of an institutions resources matter. They certainly can help – as we have seen over the last several decades – but they ultimately aren’t needed by an eternal Beauty because by definition an eternal Beauty is infinitely resourced.

So I say to you artists, and supporters of the arts to pursue Beauty. When they take away your money – paint! When they tell you it’s useless – sculpt! Use whatever is at hand to create beauty because it IS worth the effort.

As I wrote this essay I am reminded of that passage in the Christian Bible where Jesus in his last days was entering Jerusalem and greeted by throngs of admirers chanting his name and yelling “Glory to God in the Highest!!!” – everyone seemed to favor him. Yet there was a group of leaders there who reprimanded him for the ostentatious display of praise directed at him. It was too much, they said. They wanted the admiration taken away and they told him so.

His reply? “I’ll use rocks.”

Peace,
Kirk & Sarah

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[1] Aquinas, Thomas. transl, O’Brien, T.C, Summa Theologiae, New York, NY, 1976, p133

[2] Aquinas, Thomas. transl, O’Brien, T.C, Summa Theologiae, New York, NY, 1976, p133

[3] In her book On Beauty and Being Just

[4] CS Lewis’ “Learning in Wartime” can be found in any copy The Weight of Glory.

10 years ago...

I had always thought I’d get to the top of them…but it could wait, after all they would always be there.

The morning started like I it normally did for me – reluctant to leave sleep but looking forward to seeing the students. Knowing that I was meeting Paul to collect materials to hand out at Pace University resonated in my mind as I slipped on my shoes and made my way to the subway.

The books, music CDs, info postcards, and special toys were all safely deposited in a self-storage building west of Times Square. Our plan was to meet at the storage, load everything we needed in a taxi and take it down to Pace located three blocks from the World Trade Center. We would hand these materials out to incoming and returning students as we did every year before looking for ways to help students during their years in college…and to remind them also that there is a Jewish carpenter who loved them. So Paul and I met at 9AM.

The first sign for me of anything unusual that morning was the sound of emergency vehicles echoing off the buildings. Normally there isn’t anything strange about this sound in Manhattan, after all there are a lot of people with needs in the City. But what was strange was seeing eleven vehicles pass hurriedly down 11^th Ave, a brief red blur. I remember making a remark like, “Must be something big” or “You don’t see that everyday” to a fellow pedestrian as we both paused to watch the passing vehicles taking the firemen downtown…some for the final time.

“A plane flew into one of the Trade Center towers,” was the reply I got from my brief friend. My initial thought was “Seems like a lot of fire trucks for a small plane” and I walked into the storage center – seems like such a ridiculous thought now, but not at that moment.

Images of old footage of the aftermath of the B-25 bomber that flew into the Empire State Building at the end of World War II entered my mind as Paul and I grabbed a cart and took the elevator to the 4^th floor. Fog was blamed for that accident in 1945 but this September day, as all remember, was crisp and clear.

When Paul and I arrived at our small storage space we began the process of sorting the materials and stacking the desired items onto our cart. I remember being frustrated with the time it was taking to collect a small amount of materials – I think we ended up loading and unloading that cart a half dozen times. When we finally finished we took the cart down the elevator and I waited on the loading platform while Paul went to hail a cab – there was little thought in my mind of that “small” plane that went into one of the Trade Center towers.

That changed when Paul came back 45 minutes later, cabless – that’s too long to not hail a cab on a beautiful, clear Fall day in Manhattan. He said that the authorities weren’t letting any cabs below 14^th Street. That small plane I had in mind? It got much bigger.

We decided we’d head back to our offices in the basement of the Empire State Building and determine from there what to do. So after heading back upstairs and “RE-storing” what we had not taken, we grabbed a crosstown bus on 42^nd Street to take a subway from Times Square. As we approached the Square the “small plane” that became a “much larger plane” exploded into a serious international incident when I read this line march across the Times Square ticker:

“President Bush says plane crashes are terrorist attacks!”

When we exited the bus and went down the stairs to the subway we walked up to the subway booth attendant who said in exasperation, “I have no idea WHAT is running and what ISN’T running, but if I were you I would not go in there.” I was on foot most of the rest of the day. From that point on the whole day took on an “apocalyptic movie” tone.

Paul and I decided to walk to the Empire State Building to see if our friends and teammates were still there or had at least evacuated. Walking down Broadway I wondered if all the activity around me was some sort of movie shoot. There were people gathered around cars, doors open, with radios blaring the local news channel. People gathered in front of “Mom and Pop” electronics stores watching the TVs as they broadcast the immediate scene happening downtown. People were on cell phones yelling to be heard over the antagonized buzz of the moment. People lined up at pay phones waiting their turn to call friends or loved ones because cell phone availability was sporadic. It was surreal, it was unusual – sadly historic.

As we passed one of the cars emanating the blaring news – I think it was a cab – I overheard the words “the tower had collapsed” over the din of noise. The severity of the moment punched my heart and I turned to Paul and said, “We need to pray.” So there we were two friends in Manhattan with little knowledge of what had just occurred a mere three miles away praying out loud for the people at the Trade Center, the City, and the Nation as we made our way down the crowded sidewalks of Broadway.

At the Empire State Building we were relieved to hear that everyone had been evacuated. But lacking information we decided to head to Paul’s place on 13^th Street because my place, even though closer lacked a TV. Our prayers for the City and Country continued as we walked to 13^th Street still wondering yet dreading the true depth and breadth of what had just occurred. We rushed to the roof of Paul’s building to look down 6^th Avenue to see what was there.

It was an astonishing thing expecting the two monolithic buildings to be there, but instead to see merely smoke and ash left me speechless. I still wondered when the movie was going to be over. We returned to the roof several more times that day with still the same sense of disbelief – was this just a nightmare?

The other thing that hit us was the stench. It’s hard to describe, not the natural smells of wood burning but an almost burnt manufactured smell. It lingered for weeks afterwards especially when the wind shifted from north to south – something I won’t forget.

From our vantage point most pedestrians were walking north, it seemed only emergency vehicles were on the roads moving both up and down town, sirens blaring.

We watched on the TV what all Americans pretty much saw, and we are different for it. I attempted to make calls to my parents and friends throughout that day with no success. I wouldn’t be able to reach anyone until later that night.

Two other things strike me about that day, one was around lunch time. Paul and I ventured out to see if we could find food. When we exited his building there was a line of people across the street that extended around the corner and down the block. At first I was a cynical New Yorker and thought people were in line to get food from the supermarket around the corner but when we walked by that corner I noticed that the line went past the supermarket and around the next corner. Apparently, it was a line of people who wanted to give blood at the local hospital, St Vincent’s, for any victims in need. I knew in my heart we were going to be alright from that moment, to see that line and New Yorkers wanting to pitch in and help reminded me that even in the midst of something so dark God’s generous spirit can move anyone.

The other moment I remember that was so poignant was later that afternoon. I didn’t even make an attempt to take the subway knowing they might not be running so I walked. It was about 5 o’clock, the time that is supposed to be the height of rush hour the streets full of life – and there was no one. Just another strange moment in a surreal day.

My day ended when a friend of mine asked me if I would come up and sleep on her couch because she didn’t want to be alone in her apartment that night. In the days after September 11^th all New Yorkers felt closer – or at least the desire to be closer.

In the ten years that have passed since that day I can honestly say I have become more emotional about the tragedy. I think the “surrealness” of it all created a sense of detachment on the 11^th. Since that day we have had time to hear and reflect on all the stories, both tragic and heroic, and allow them to touch the part of our humanity that Lincoln called the “better angels” of ourselves.

The things that I continue to reflect to this day are:

· The moment I saw the emergency vehicles pass – how many of those firefighters lost their lives?

· How Paul and I took so long to get our materials almost as if we were being delayed – a similar story heard from others in the days, weeks and even now years later.

· Walking down the busiest street in Manhattan, Broadway, the noise and mayhem surrounding us praying out loud to God for mercy and strength for the city and the nation.

· The line to give blood.

· The smell when the wind shifted.

· The desire for community in the days after.

· The regret I will always feel for never having been to the top of the towers because I thought they would always be there

May God Bless America,
Kirk and Sarah
(below are two pictures, one of Freedom Tower at Ground Zero being built, and the second a pic of us in front of Freedom Tower)