PREFACE
There can be little written about Christian calling that would not be founded in the Word of God. As Christian artists, we can say that this would be particularly true. As God is the creator, we are privileged to create as well - but certainly not as originators, but as witnesses of all things that were, are or may be hoped for by Him. In that sense we are messengers with distinct and defined responsibilities and guideline.
In Deu. 14:22, one of these is specified. "Thou shalt truly tithe all the increase of thy seed, that the field bringeth every year.
There are those of us who believe that, in a large measure, we are shaped with certain given capabilities; that we have in us "seeds" that predispose us; even before conception. To be harvested as a product inherent in our giftedness. It is also true that in our development we are impacted by the many investments (seeds) that others have planted in us that connect to our basic nature and design.
We have, at the same time, a chosen path - chosen by God and a choice as to whether we follow it in faith. We are promised in Psa. 16: 11, "Thou wilt show me the path of life; in the presence is fullness of joy - at the right hand (there are) pleasures everywhere". The rewards are clear.
Purpose is what we search for most in our lifetimes. We may find it and lose it several times. Some seeds seem to be annuals - fruitful for only a season. Some are perennial because they have been recognized and watered - a lasting beauty in His garden. Eph. 1:11 shares, "In whom also we have obtained in inheritance, being predestined according to the purpose of Him who worketh all things after the council of his own will".
This book suggests that not only our own will is often a barrier to finding reason and purpose, but also a lack of belief that purpose has already been established in us. We, in the arts, may choose life with a gift already fashioned for completion and delivery to those around us, or one where we let it remain undeveloped and undelivered. We may further believe that our gift may not even be our lives work, but it may well be the thing that makes our LIFE work.
CHAPTER ONE
On a very early Wednesday morning during a period of "artistic wakefulness", as I now call it instead of old-age sleeplessness, I found myself pulling a worn green metal box from the closet shelf to lay its' contents out on the table .
It was probably eight years since I had done that. Only then because someone had passed away, or when there were papers that were needed. In the past I had many times shuffled through them in some kind of temporary reflective mood. In this bundle were papers that my mother had kept. Among the collection were my report cards from day one - many of them spoke to my early struggles with math and some proficiency in the arts. Perhaps this was an early revelation of my right brain/left brain dichotomy resolved only when I was saved by entering law school, finally, where you did not need to add and subtract - just read and argue meanings.
On that morning when I awoke, I set upon a strangely uncommon mission - to find an early tiger drawing of mine drawn in second grade and barely remembered. After sifting through all of this stuff, taking detours recognizing long-forgotten achievements; I recall a supportive letter from my dad that he wrote directed "to whom it may concern" about my mothers' history of working hard together with him in real estate. The letter touched me because it was dated just before his surrender to cancer. He knew she would find it. Why didn't he just tell her? Who else would see it except me? Maybe that's the point. Anyway, there was no tiger to be found.
I would not be disturbed except it was, in a profound way, a retrospective landmark - perhaps even prophetic. It was a simple crayon drawing of an eight year old. which may have lived on the refrigerator for a time before it was not to carefully folded and stuck into the box. As far as I know, I had no particular fixation on wild animals except maybe a scary dream or two, The strange thing, however, was that it was the only drawing of mine that my mother ever kept in the box, and I had done a great many over the years as art was taught in all of the grades.
This may not be too interesting in and of itself, but I am gripped by the coincidence that on that very Wednesday morning a half finished drawing of a tiger (my second ever) , was emerging from inked scratchboard, waiting for completion in its' soon-to-be jungle setting. The image had just been given to me by a professional nature photographer/friend who was visiting from Australia.
To resolve the situation, my speculation as to where the piece would find its' way was resolved later in the easy choice that it would be sent to the photographer, Cynthia, in Bendigo, Australia with the note, "Beware a tiger is on its' way!". Before I had sealed the envelope, out of my memory tank (now running about half full), came a couple stanzas of the poem "The Tiger" by William Blake ;
"TIGER, tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night.
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?"
Did He who made the lamb make thee?"
My depiction of a lonely tiger making way through moon-lit forests was so aptly covered by those verses. How vivid was the revelation of Blake's faith in those last two sentences.
I had just completed a large portfolio of exotic bird images that Cynthia and Rob had given me. I titled them, "They Neither Reap, Nor Sow" as in the biblical message of Jesus when He spoke of how much more the Father cares for us.
What do we do with "coincidences" like this? Because my lifetime experience in dealing with the many events that I could not explain, it settled part of it - in life some experiences do come full circle - the beginning and the end are one. We can see a level of finality or we can see it fostering something new - a new circle.
Gods' intentions for us are often delivered so subtly that we may look away and we miss them. The little boy artist in me has searched for over sixty years for some kind of mature expression. It was not the drawing then nor is it today. It is in the realization that God plants a seed within us. He visualizes maturity and completion and announces it in simple circumstances, and he stores it in His green metal box for us to open when we grow up-----in Him.
No discussion of art can begin without some foundational understanding of why art exists. Most everyone can agree that it is not born of itself. It is real, and a product and voice of His creation, destined for expression. It can be, at best, a revelation of His truth - at worst, its' enemy.
Thomas Merton says in," No man is an Island", that "art is not an end in itself. Art introduces the soul into a much higher spiritual order, which expresses and sometimes explains. Music and art and poetry attune the soul to God, because they induce a kind of contact with the Creator and Ruler of the universe. An art that does not produce something of this is not worth of its name".
This consistent reference to "soul" by past and contemporary thinkers may seem to elevate our work to a plain well beyond our early imaginations. While I may never have pictured that my childhood vision of a tiger would be tied to some universal force, I can imagine that there is some logical imperative that we return to who we are; children of God - open and receptive to the whole idea that seeds have been planted - that all things have a plan and purpose; a concept that pure intellect has very little to do with, but in which our soul is very comfortable.
Thomas Moore, author of "Care of the Soul" expresses it another way; "In a world where soul is neglected, beauty is placed last on its list of priorities. In the intellect-oriented curricula of our schools, for instance, science and math are considered more important than the making of pretty things. It should be about the preservation and containment of the soul. It is about arresting life and making it available for contemplation. Art captures the eternal and the every day, and it is the eternal that feeds the soul.". The clear implication is that the arts are dispensable - we cannot live without technology.
Further, "For the soul, beauty is not defined as pleasantness of form but rather as the quality in things that invites absorption and contemplation - and lures the heart into profound imagination".
In defining the role and purpose of art, Moore continues, "When fine arts are elevated and set apart from life, a dangerous gulf develops between fine arts and everyday arts. The fine arts are elevated and set apart from life, becoming to precious and therefore irrelevant. Having banished art to the museum, we fail to give it a place in ordinary life. The most effective form of repression is to give a thing excessive honor".
Whether or not our art is ever to be classified as "fine" by any criteria, it can be "soul-full", representing the best that we have in us. We can leave it to the viewer to make whatever distinctions that can be made and credit it as a true representation of feelings within us; perhaps within them as well. If it clearly connects - it is "fine" in a very practical and meaningful sense.
CHAPTER TWO
By now you must be curious as to whether I will continue talking in circles, extolling the virtues of refrigerator art, the value of looking into our whatever colored little keepsake box, or wrapping things together in one soulful package. Well, fortunately, no.
So many books have been written about "finding ones' destiny" as if it were missing. I submit that it cannot be lost - perhaps just misplaced. There is within us purpose that will be revealed only by and through our life as a Christian. And, this was revealed to me, as a Christian who happened to fully discover that truth late in life , and in my life in the arts as well.
My progression was not singular or separated, but a pre-ordained marriage of the two, religion and art, with a very long courtship.
During my formative years my progression went from crayons to watercolors: from home-made valentines to full scale poetry - from journals to stories and books. As a gifted person, your experience must be similar. All of us develop pretty much dependant upon the support we are given by friends and family, and the aspirations of our parents.
Mrs. Woody, my very supportive and proficient piano teacher was influential in my taking up the piano (or perhaps it took me up). I learned early that man cannot live on support alone - he must have clever fingers. Since few of them co-operated, I found that my piano days were pretty much over the day of my first piano recital. The applause was quite subdued and a few listeners remembered pressing appointments.
It later became apparent that three of those fingers were clever enough to become a trumpet player, and the other hand supportive enough to hold it still. Mr. Bowser, the band teacher challenged me to play in the "third chair". Perhaps you also might remember that "chair" was very important and that it was possible to also challenge someone "for chair" and move him down. It is a little like blocking some ones' shot in basketball and you score - but who keeps score besides your parents? Mr. Bowser was a score- keeper particularly when he was also your private teacher. He was mine.
Since it was an all- boy school with both a concert and marching band; what options did one have with no girls to chase? I managed, playing for social events outside school during the latter part of world war two, where there were ladies -a -plenty, ready to dance and "inter-relate" .
Senior year I moved to Denver from Kentucky where I faced the co-ed world with some trepidation and disappointment. The really cool ones were taken early on - not that I was really ready for "seasoned entanglements".
Now, the next year we are talking entanglement in college. I was a seventeen year old in a sea of twenty - something returning veterans and I was" forced" to skip a couple of chapters in my experience. On campus the response to "Where's your beanie, frosh? " was, "You know what you can do with your beanie!" The attitude was - let's get on with it we have a new life to live in the market place. Let's make some bucks, get married and get on with it.
The only art that I was introduced to was that of beer drinking and becoming a gymnast with my much older buddies - not in that sequence of course. Later, as scheduled, I went to law school.
I have the absolutely enviable distinction of having gone some five years in pre-law and law school without a math class. While I had found God early in my Kentucky days ( He was not hiding), I learned of His infinite grace and mercy. Although He is the consummate mathematician in the creating of all things, He also has abundant pity for those who can not add and subtract, much less tell you what "pie" is. My GPA, now sans- math, soared to new levels in a world totally devoid of science. This was my ultimate confirmation of the indisputable theory of gracefully- intelligent design.
I'm sure that I can speak for many of us who were not art school trained, and who chose a totally unrelated occupation. I mentioned previously that most of us are influenced greatly by others who help us make choices - as in paying for a career. Historically, theirs is a strictly utilitarian perspective focused upon making money; hopefully enjoying work along the way with a hobby or two for distraction, but not to get in the way!
Beyond this lies a long life where there may often be radical changes in our work experience that may disregard our formalized training entirely.
During all of this time our "gifts" remain the same. They are what they are, although it may take years to recognize and develop them fully. As long as we neglect them, they do not surface? But they do. God will not allow that disregard.
Mine surfaced often during my lifetime. Choices were made for me with respect to law school. This was my fathers' dream and I respected it. Frequently we secure a career focused education and end up responding to circumstances that re-direct us. Certainly, a law background can be utilized in many ways. I was blessed to have it and I never looked back.
All though the years as father of four, as I traveled extensively by car and airplane in my various jobs in marketing and management - art showed up in the form of writing, I had the down-time and the inclination. Before the day of the computer and the blackberry, paper and pencil were the sole and laborious choice.
The first significant surfacing of my desire to paint came after our move from Cincinnatti to Excelsior, Minnesota. We settled there for three amazing years as co-tenants (seven families) on a 300 acre farm in Lake Minnewashita. I found it impossible to resist doing paintings in that beautiful setting - a mile long lake, huge oak and fir trees and picturesque sunsets. The only irritant being "the state bird", the sparrow-sized mosquito, that was surely to arrive to sample us at dusk each summer evening as we picniced and painted at lake side. It was a small bloody price to pay.
Our spirits were nurtured by the frequent and eloquent recitations of Shakespeare by the long retired and respected trial lawyer/ owner of this veritable spa, Mr. Johnson. He bought the acreage as a tax write-off and refurbished the buildings and built new ones to house the seven families - then he supplied a bevy of farm and decorative animals (peacocks)- Each having the assigned responsibility of delighting the many children -residents.
We have two girls and two boys and they were engrossed in the "arts" of horse and pony-manship, waterskiing, manure spreader riding with Mike the handyman, skinny-dipping in the dark, and fishing for croppies with their fannies. All of this added to the growing of their souls if not their endurance.
We all look upon pictures and movies of these formative years "on the farm" as an irreplaceable experience - and for our children, the wholesome memory of the beauty and substance of God's creations; from ponies to peacocks to pussy-willows, finds its' way into their reflections to this very day. Their lives now speak of their love for all creatures; horses, goats, barn animals, dogs and cats still to be found in some of their hobby farms today. A sign posted in the curtained window of daughter Christa's chicken house warns "No Foul Language" and is strictly enforced - not only because they happen to be "designer chickens" that have no purpose but than to lay multicolored eggs and prance around like poodles - but that they are all named and very, very sensitive as well.
This same "seed" has proved to be generational in some of our five grandchildren. We always have to be careful where we step when we visit and be always ready to animal-sit when the travel.
For us as parents, while we would mirror some of this as well, we primarily give thanks for God's providence in placing us at the right place at the right time to establish so many values that we may have otherwise struggled to teach them, but in that place came so easily and naturally in those three short years.
After that time of fun and formation in the land of ski-do's and skiing, veggies and vermouth, we looked toward Denver, our first home and family ties. Audrey loaded the Porsche with the kids, determined to sell there to someone who realized it was not a Japanese car (as was asked by one of the Minnesota natives when I offered it for sale). Denver was my cars native land and it sold instantly. I arrived later and was to look for a job but I found none in that mecca for new arrivals in that growing community.
Out of this visit, however, came an offer in marketing from the Ethan Allen Corporation to go to Portland, Oregon. We had always secretly looked to returning to the west during our years of absence . We sold most everything, loaded up the small trailer and Buick wagon - Audrey in the V.W. with some of the kids. We took to the Oregon Trail feeling that this would be the end of our moving. We arrived, not without events such as loosing Audrey and two kids outside of Portland with no plan or destination where we would reconnect. I was way relieved when the officer pulled me over; "Looking for Audrey?" he smiled, looking down at me in my foolish dismay. Well, duh !
Oregon has been our home, through many moves (again), for nearly fifty years: Audrey always doing full time teen - through adult management of our four and myself. I managed another career or three in the meantime since then.
You might well ask at this point, What happened to this whole art thing that we were supposed to be talking about? I began to wonder as well, clear into retirement at age of 62 when art - in - me arose, it blossomed into an immediate, full time preoccupation. My decision was to become a professional watercolor painter. Not just "good", but "professional ", whatever that means. I think perhaps it is when you quit making so much stuff for your family and you by hook or crook try to sell it and do......... yes, for money!
The process is simple; First you make a lot of bad art and store it away under your bed so that it cannot be seen. Then, bit by bit, after you create new work that is not so bad, you pull out the old and critique it, throw most of it away and fix some of it - all to your total amazement as to having learned something by simply making a ton of bad art in such a short time period.
The break through was at the point I could show my work in open shows to the public. Some were sponsored by art groups and cooperatives. Up to this point my progress was enhanced by some four years of workshops and classes, some at community college, others by private and senior education facilities.
One landmark evening was at a critique session at an artists' society critique, where a new downtown gallery owner was present, and she asked me to bring some of my work by the gallery. I became a regular there for three years until the gallery closed shop.... not because of financial reasons but simply because they could not find the secret to generating the traffic and sustainable sales in the competitive and often fickle market of Portland. - even though they had hosted great painters who proved to be successful in other venues at other times. Go figure. I have no answer other than the fact that they were "outsiders" in the local art community, and did not have critical endorsement; Certainly not because I was there?
It is at this point where the real message of the book really starts, and you might say, "Well, its' about time!"
Most all of us owe our growth in a particular discipline to any number of people. And, as I did, they commit themselves to workshops and other forms of instruction and mentoring in an effort to "find themselves" in the craft. Perhaps we can even single out a time when someone described the path, the way, for us.
My experience was during studies with Linda, and amazing artist and teacher, with whom I had studied for three successive workshops. At the end of the last one, prior to her moving to Arizona, she gave me this advice; "If you really feel that you have put your time in reading the books, have studied with various people, and have made a great deal of art long enough that you have identified your strengths - then devote all of your energy working solely within them . Do not try to be looser, more structured - more anything that you are not. Concentrate on the daily devotion of what you are trying to say. You probably already have the how."
What a liberating thought! Especially, the turning away from the "means" and the idea that another course of instruction, (and another) would deliver the "magic bullet", when the magic is always in the message. Was I to be motivated by what sells, or do it just for me and let the cards fall?
The natural choice for those of us as Christians is to pray about it. I had to wipe the slate clean and choose a new course after the gallery closed. Why am I doing this at all? Somehow in the course of this inquiry my reading of scripture had increased - I'm sure based upon the basis of "What God has to say about it?" In a large sense I have already found the deep purpose that I was looking for in painting. The search then became one of finding meaning for my life.
I had previously been caught up in the idea of bringing my experiences in travel with an extensive "European Series" of landscape and landmark paintings. Certainly, my opportunity to view art at museums and galleries in my several visits to foreign countries provided me with exposure to explicitly spiritual work.
That was to be my focus and by far my greatest challenge, and the path that Linda mentioned became abundantly clear. I was to become a witness for His power and grace through my work.
If the net result of my deliberation and conversations with God was that I was to begin communicating the word and establish a foundation for witness - perhaps even a ministry, my choice was clear. I was to start to do art with that perspective; That it should be directed toward telling His story through the life of Jesus, His parables and miracles. I found this to be called " biblical narrative" and typical of that art found in such abundance in the treasured early Christian works in all of the classical galleries that I had visited during my trips here and abroad.
So much of my previous works were fairly tight architectural subjects and landscapes. My whole idea of gesture and figurative representations, so vital to the story telling, were a couple of multicolored dots in the distance in a beach scene, or an occasional poorly done close-up of few shoppers or musicians in a town square.
My question was "Who me? ( and, I still say that). The Spirit says; "Yes, You and me."
I began studies, doing random sketches in life drawing classes learning form, posture and gesture, and in direct representations of standard biblical works. There was a gallery or two where the convictions of the gallery owner superseded the almost required criteria for "saleable modernism". We all knew that there would be little opportunity for sales, but space was made available and a message of sorts was delivered, but the exposure mostly spoke to the conviction of the owners and their desire to honor God , with or without my work.
As I made art and framed piece after piece, I faced the dilemma of what to do with them. If felt that it was clearly God's intention for me, so I just continued making biblical art as if there were something to be done with it.
Perhaps it is as clear to you as it has become to me. God does not involve us with busy work, just waiting for the bus to come and take us somewhere. If it is His idea, and I am sure that it was in my case, we can rely upon that probable three-in- the-morning visitation, when He presents the schedule, the stops, and the destination. We also may be sure there is a price to pay (surrender) and a reward; that our lives will be blessed commensurate with our effort, and that the Spirit would unquestionably mentor and encourage us through the whole process.
This leaves us to determine where the bus is headed, who is on- board , what should we pack , and what is the ultimate destination? Some say, "Let's head for the "church" - Some say "What if it is closed?' Some say, "Did I bring the right stuff? Perhaps that is where we should begin.
Dr. Westly Hurd, of the Guttenberg/McKinsey study center in Salem, Oregon recently addressed a large group of artists in Portland, where I attended. His message recognized, as an artist himself, the struggle facing Christian artists in the post-modernism world. His concern has been that the same utilitarian mindset, that has been a barrier to the growth of spiritual art in the marketplace that has reflected deeply into the choices of subjects undertaken; that our struggle to walk that tight rope of not being "overly religious" may remove the option of the viewer to make his own choices. Reasonable?
Hurds' printed articles reflect the idea that basically the Christian may have little choice in what he presents. He must deal with the fact that, in his words," the soul of every human creature has a "telos", an end or purpose. The meaning of telos is illustrated by the relationship between an acorn and an oak tree - all the oak tree will ever be is contained in the tiny acorn. Similarly, the soil God gives each person at birth has the telos to become what God has intended him to become"
We can balance this with the same God-given freedom of choice, but always with the potential of frustrating our ability to grow in Him in ways not always available to the unbeliever.
Among his suggestions -"Parables are powerful, artfully crafted stories that break down normal expected direct perception. Signs and miracles speak plainly and directly. Each of these reflects the creativity of Jesus to approach our understanding in so many ways. So should our efforts be directed with broad challenge and interpretation."
As to what the artist should pack and bring with him; Hurd says, "The Christian artists calling, while different from his secular counterpart, differs not at all from his fellow believers. The Christian artist must confront his spiritual condition; is his heart open to the truth that God brings, and does his art making reflect this?" Everything depends upon our understanding of where truth comes from and the belief that others will recognize it when they see it. One needs only to talk with them or look upon their faces to know. It is in that treasured communication that we truly know of our success in allowing symbolism to make the point.
It is not as if our message needs to be upliftingly affirmative, it is enough that it makes us identify and take the next step to conclusion within our own lives experience. We, Christian or not, will make our own judgments within our values and perceptions of what truth is.
Finally, he adds, " We must use twentieth century styles, but not in a way to b dominated by certain world views out of which they have risen, We can recognize this perspective in treatment of moral issues of our time. And, it cannot be assumed that a Christian painter becomes more Christian as he becomes more and more like Rembrandt."
To this I would suggest, "Well it couldn't hurt!"
He ends the subject by saying, "Some artists are compelled to use religious themes " (as I am). "Some will never use them." And importantly," We cannot judge an artist by one work, but it is the whole body of work that is to be considered." And, we all say thanks be to God.
Thankfully, we are all merging into and out of one perception or idea or another during our lifetimes as we seek and obtain inspiration from the Spirit. Above all if we are to be judged, and we will be, we answer to a God who understands our directions and miss-directions. We know ultimately that He is interested in how we live, our body of works, not just how we communicate through our creative experimentations at any one point in time.
Before I go into what I believe to be God's plan for my future in art or ministry, I would like to summarize some of the thinking as to what constitutes "good "art by Christians. The consensus, again, is that it has a discernable message. How discernable is up to us - from explicit to suggestive. We tend to categorize works as speaking color, beauty, relevance or spirituality - and beyond, craftsmanship or level of professionalism. This would include our choices in matting and framing.
If we subscribe to the idea that "art is just art", or "art for arts sake", the simplistic view of some, we come away short of His intention by reducing it to a simple physical activity to be assessed only upon technical excellence.
Francis Schaeffer, author/theologian says, "It (art) must be honest to the artists world view" rather than playing to the audience or critics for pay or favor." Further, " It must be judged on its' content though we may not agree, and it must come under the word of God." This is where many of us separate within the interpretation of what is really means. Does it mean that it must be religious? I think not. It is hard to imagine anything that is not "of God" or not reflect His view of mankind. He does not say that this approach will insure sales or acceptance by everyone. The fact is, it may be a barrier. That certainly does not say that this will always be the case. And, if we choose to be "enigmatic" as often used descriptively by the critics, that's one way do be it.
In a different regard, Shaeffer cites that many artists have portrayed the fractured, even perverse nature of the world. Perhaps because they have lived there for a time as it was of T.S.Elliott in his poem, " The Wasteland", Almost every poet has explored the darkness-to- light experience that speaks of despair, hope and recovery. Picasso, in his brilliant moves on a single painting goes from realism to abstraction on the same painting,
CHAPTER THREE
If we were to make a choice as to where we might begin in our "path" toward responding to God's admonition "Neglect not the Gift" and his mandate that we offer it back in service, where should we begin?
It is logical to start with what you are doing right now. If your response is " I don't consider my work to be particularly spiritual", then ask Christian friends as to what they see in it; what message does it deliver? It is entirely possible that it is far more communicative than you ever realized. What was the inspiration, Was it communicated?
Simply stated, in my view; do others hear God's voice in what you have done? If the answer is yes, to any degree, you may be half way there - halfway only because there must now be a vehicle, an agency that I will talk about later, for that communication.
If the answer is no, "not clearly", as it was in my case, we need to examine the options for that expression. As I mentioned, my choice was at that time, biblical narrative; an explicit approach.
We find that many in those efforts to register that "voice", one would paint the painting - the find the appropriate verse with a word search on, for instance, "The Blue Letter Bible." It is virtually impossible not to find a marriage for your painting. We find examples of that where generic work on the internet is listed and an attempt is made to cross over to the religious genre - in a way to play both sides of the street. I certainly would not condemn this since a message is a message, but we can look at the inspiration and where it may have come from and value it visually.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that something more wonderful may happen if the word, the verse, however paraphrased, comes first. "You will receive the power when the Holy Spirit comes (to) you." When He does, you will know the impact of that visitation, as will the viewer