Creativity's letter to Christianity, and a response from a forgotten lover

The following is A letter to Christianity from Creativity" found at Matthew Paul Turner's blog, "Jesus needs new PR."

Hi Christianity,

It’s me, Creativity. Listen, I got your text message last week. I also heard from Social Media that you really wanted to talk to me. And according to Statistics, you need me. I’d like to see you again, but honestly, I’m torn about whether or not I want to work with you again.

Now, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t miss you sometimes. You’re sort of like Tom Cruise–completely nuts, yet intriguing enough to still want to watch you on Oprah.

Now, regarding your text message, of course I remember the good times working together.

We had lots of fun back then. I remember fondly the day I hooked you up with Michelangelo. Gosh, you absolutely loved what Mitch dabbed on the ceiling of The Sistine Chapel. And you just about walked on water when you saw his painting of The Last Judgment. Sure, we had a mishap or two. Yes, David’s penis should have been circumcised; still, that sculpture is one of the most magnificent erections the world has ever seen.

Oh, and your God loved what I was able to whip up through Bach, Mozart, and Handel. But honestly, back then, finding good musical talent among God’s people was easy, like looking for homely Jehovah’s Witnesses. Still, I helped you discover the cream of God’s musical crop.

And then there was Rembrandt who often made you look brilliant. And of course, Da Vinci! He was a pain in the ass to work with, but when we were able to get him to stop wasting his time on science, the art was usually well worth the wait.

Heck, Christianity, in our heyday, you and I were unstoppable. People called us the Abraham and Sarah of the Modern Times! Yes, you were angrier back then. And I didn’t like the fact that you killed people. But ironically, you were much easier to work with. Fighting wars, governing nations, and roasting heathens over an open fire kept you preoccupied and out of my hair. And back then, I knew what you wanted from me. Even though I didn’t always agree with your politics and theologies, and yes, you were sexist and racist and utterly hypocritical, but I did what you asked me to do: I looked for new ways to tell the stories of God. And I did it well.

Let’s face it; the art I helped you create is pretty much one of the very few redeeming qualities of your reign across Europe. And much of it is still appreciated today.

But then the Puritans happened. And while they loved you, they also wanted Freedom. And as much as you promote Freedom, let’s be honest, you don’t like her all that much. Surprisingly, Freedom has done wonders for me. She’s pretty, talented, mostly fantastic, really. And flexible, which is very hot. I think she might have a drug problem, but she doesn’t interfere with my work, so I love her. But it seems that, ever since Freedom and I became friends, my relationship with you has been a bumpy mess. You basically walked out on me during the late 19th century. Do you remember why?! Because I wouldn’t help you sell your “rapture” idea. I don’t create sensationalized fear, Christianity-well, I don’t unless it’s a horror flick or science fiction or something produced by JJ Abrams. Besides, we’d already spent centuries–long, dark, and ugly ones–promoting your whole “God/fear” thing. I’m over it, and so is everybody else.

At best, our relationship has been bumpy since the late 1950s. And we’ve gone our separate ways a few times. You spent years revitalizing fundamentalism. And I spent time in London discovering the Beatles. Both of us have made our mistakes: You started whoring around with the Republican Party and you told Michael W. Smith he could sing. But to be fair, I made the mistake of loving heroin and thinking that Elizabeth Shue had talent.

Now, that’s not to say we haven’t experienced a couple moments of Pentecostal glory. We wrote a few decent songs together. Switchfoot was fun. But I take no responsibility for Chris Tomlin. And I’ve enjoyed working on a few books with you. In my mind, Joel Osteen is one of the best fiction writers out there. If only he knew it!

But if the rumors are true, that you are indeed interested in working with me again, I’m interested. But I must be blunt, things will need to be different. So before you write back, please consider the following list of ideals.

1) Building a healthy and productive relationship with me begins with this: Give me a good story to tell, preferably a true one, and one that doesn’t conclude with a sales pitch. I’m not Capitalism; I don’t do sales, at least, not the kind that come with eternal damnation. I tell stories. I present truth. I entertain.

2) If you want me to be brilliant and imaginative and to do it on a ministry budget, then trust me. Give me the freedom to tell the stories that you want told. I don’t work well when I’m stressed, paranoid, and fear-filled.

3) When the morality police come to you and complain about my work, I expect you to grow a pair and support me once in a while. I will not create my best work if you continually fall prey to the one person who throws a fit about what I do. No, I don’t want you to cut off their heads. I want you to stop letting them cut off mine.

4) I don’t do Amish fiction, bald eagles, or Michelle Bachmann.

5) The truth is sometimes ugly. When you leave out the ugly parts of a story, it ceases to be the truth. Let me tell the truth.

6) Most importantly, you must learn to say no to Kirk Cameron.

Here’s the thing, Christianity: Putting roadblocks up in front of me doesn’t simply prevent me from being my best at presenting you, it actually leaves me empty. Offering me guidelines and hints and direction is fine, but mandating how I tell a story or paint a picture has never been your gift and it only stifles mine.

Look forward to hearing back,

Creativity

This is the response from Creativity's forgotten lover:

Dear Creativity…

You seem to have amnesia…that was no one night stand we had together! We went together for nearly 1500 YEARS! Have you forgotten us?!!!??? We know that modernism and nominalism split right brain from left, head from heart, faith from reason, earth from heaven, fact from value, and all other sorts of nasty either/ors. But we never were part of that scene. Please, please, don’t ignore us. We loved you, and we continue to love you. Let us together inspire Christianity once again.

–Love,

Hagia Sophia,Sant’Appolinare Nuovo, San Vitale, the Byzantine mosaics and icons, the Romanesque Cathedrals, the Gothic cathedrals, innumerable illuminated manuscripts, Utrecht Psalter, the Dagulf Psalter, Gregorian Chant, Stained Glass artists of Chartres,etc., Dante, Cimabue, Duccio, Giotto, the Wilton Diptych,The Limbourg brothers, Gillaume de Machaut, Francesco Landini (and other Christian artists of late antiquity and the Middle Ages)

Two artistic punctuation marks

I want to remember two small, but mighty theatrical experiences today, one operatic, and one ballet.

1)The Met radio broadcast this morning was Tosca. Patricia Racette sang "Visi d'arte," to which which Bryn Terfel (Scarpia) responded with three slow, sarcastic claps of applause. What a brilliant idea! It's difficult to imagine anything better than the way Maria Callas and Tito Gobbi played that scene, but Terfel definitely added his own creative stamp.

2) Tonight while I was ironing, I turned on Classic Arts Showcase.They aired an incredible pas-de-deux from Roland Petit's "Proust," with Natalia Makarova. I wasn't exactly clear about the story line, but it seemed to be like a young man was remembering a long-gone romance. Makarova lay still as death on the floor, on top of a puddle of silk made by the long drape extending up high behind her. There was nothing else on the stage. Her partner lifted her from it, and gradually got her to become a bit more animated.

Makarova danced as if she were literally a memory; fluid, impossible to completely capture. After a long series of backward steps, her partner finally realized he had to let her go, and supported her as she returned to the silken puddle. She laid motionless. But he moved back, with his arm out, hand outstretched, the entire drape fell from above, and covered her, as if it were a shroud! That single bit of stagecraft took my breath away.

The Canon Didn't Get Closed...

"One Nation Under God"

Some people really think the Constitution of the United States was divinely inspired. Artist Jon McNaughton is one of them. Be sure to read his interview and response to "liberal criticism." A glicee print is yours for $130.00.

Rain Choir

Via Gary-- this is amazing.

Patricia Piccinini: artist and theologian?

More works of one of my favorite contemporary artists, Patricia Piccinini are collected here . She writes:

The sculptures present a series of creatures that I have designed to ‘assist’ a series of the endangered Australian animals. In the photographs, we follow more closely one of these creatures, ‘The Bodyguard (for the Golden Helmeted Honeyeater)’. It is very seductive to think that we could find a simple technological solution to complex ecological problems such as extinction. It is far more exciting to talk about genetic engineering than to designate a large area of habitat/real estate as national park so that dozens or even hundreds of native species might be given a better chance of survival. We have a long history of scientifically introducing new stuff into our environment in order to make it better, however it has rarely worked. Yet our relatively recent understanding of genetics seems to have left us ready to add yet more stuff in an unprecedented way. Why do we think we have it all figured out now?

I wonder how much of what she says is transferable to the way we think about the church? Continuing the long obedience in the same direction...

The Uniform Project

This via a friend on Facebook:

Can a woman wear the same dress 365 days a year, and achieve a different look every day? The answer is at The Uniform Project.

Various shots of the Black Dress Project

Ecclesiastical Romanticism?

There are differing models describing what it means to be an artist. I think they can be used to different different models for being ministers.

The first is medieval, and organic. The artist sees herself as part of a larger purpose, and uses her gifts to further that calling. The focus is not on her, but on her work, and the way it reveals something real, true, good and/or beautiful. Aesthetics, like ethics, follows metaphysics. The artist is not an isolated, autonomous individual, but a particular person who is participating in and reflecting something greater than herself. Even if she is working alone in her studio, she understands that her work as directed beyond herself and somehow "connected."

Think of the countless anonymous builders of cathedrals, some making stained glass, some carving stone, some hewing beams, and so on; all individual master craftsmen, dedicated not to their own glory but to the glory of God. We may not remember their names, their work has withstood the centuries and continues to move us today.

The Renaissance gives us another model. Again, aesthetics follows metaphysics, and the metaphysics of the modern period denies universals. What is real is the individual. Hence the focus is on the artist, the artist as genius. So familiar are they that we are on a first-name basis with them: Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael. Individual perspective and talent is celebrated so highly that it eventually leads to the cult of genius.

It plays out in the 19th century Romantic image of the autonomous and misundertood artist, one who is an "outsider," or "rebel." He stands valiantly against tradition and institutions, out of the conviction that change is the engine of creativity. This eventually makes art into a quest for novelty. I have in mind now artists like Théodore Géricault, Manet, Cezanne and the painters of the Salon des Refusés.

Ultimately we come to the current situation where often one's credentials as an artist are the degree to which one can invent oneself as an artist. The greatest work of art now is not the object but the subject: not a painting or a sculpture, but the artist.

So how does this relate to ministry?

It seems to me that there are some ministers who follow the Ecclesiastical Renaissance model. They are the celebrated superpastors whose names are familiar to us because of their unique perspective or individual charisma. We know them by name: Rob Bell, Mark Driscoll, John MacArthur, Rick Warren. We try to imitate them, adopting their techniques, their language, their dress, their worship styles. This can be instructive, but in the end one can only become what one is already, potentially.

Then there are the clergy who are Ecclesiastical Romantics, a particularly tempting position for some emergents. These are the folks who are "disillusioned with church as building, box, organization, meeting place and program." They set themselves outside of tradition and institutions, and seek to create something that will feel authentic because it is new and different. Ecclesiastical Romanticism may be the only way to reach a culture that thrives on novelty and narcissism, but it seems to me to lack the resources to help that culture move beyond itself.

So, tonight I wonder: is there any place remaining for ministers who aspire to the medieval, organic model? Is this what New Monasticism might be calling for?

Andrew Wyeth Dies

Andrew Wyeth died today. He was 91. I loved the cool clarity and austerity of his canvases. Though other works of his are far more popular, the one above, "Monday Morning," is my favorite. Go to the library and get a book which will offer a larger, better reproduction. Notice the way he paints the wicker, and the dusting of snow, and the stucco. Inhale the frosty air. Rest in the stillness.

Peace to his memory.

(View more examples of his work here.)

An Artist's Journal, or Skivington so Far

My dear friend Janice has begun a blog, "Janice Skivington:
An Artist's Journal or Skivington So Far." I am so excited that she has finally begun blogging, because it means almost every day there will be some image to enjoy. It also means that she will be prompted to produce even more new images!

Jan's portfolio includes work for

InterVarsity Press
The University of Notre Dame Press
Tyndale House Publishing
SRA McGraw Hill
Highlights Magazine
National Wildlife Federation
Lady Bug Magazine
David C. Cook Publishing
Concordia Publishing
Children's Press
Scott Foresman
Quarasan
Harcourt Press
University of Chicago

If you have read The Book for Children or the original editions of F.F. Bruce's The Hard Sayings of Jesus or Alasdair MacIntyre's After Virtue, you have encountered her illustrations.

Jan and I go back to the days at Notre Dame, when our husbands were in the graduate philosophy program. She and Jay were the first of our circle to have a child, who is now married and is at Fordham pursuing his own academic career in philosophy.(Can it possibly be?) Jan has raised four children, two dogs, rats and a lizard, travelled with her family from the Philippines to China to central America to England, and run marathons. She is a phenomenal mother, wife, sister, and Christian woman. But most precious to me, she is my friend. So, Jan, I thank God for you, and pray that He will give you many more years to explore His world and share your art with us all.

The Episcopal Church and Visual Arts Exhibition

via Brad

"Venite Adoremus" is the title of an online exhibition of artwork inspired by the hymns of Advent, Christmastide and Epiphany. Below are my favorites. Be sure to read the commentary for each work, and the accompanying hymn. (I trust I am not infringing copyright by reproducing these images here...if so, I welcome correction. My sole intent is to give readers a taste of this wonderful exhibition, so that they will want to visit the site for themselves.)

O Antiphons
Digital Art, November 15, 2005
Jan Neal

MIRABLE DICTU (Wonderful to Behold)
gouache on paper board, 1969
15x10 inches
Harvey Bonner


"Rejoice! Rejoice, believers and let your light appear..."
watercolor, ink , and pencil, December 2004
12x9.5 inches
The Rev. Kristy K. Smith

Epiphany
oil on canvas, 2004
48x48 inches
The Rev. Nancy Mills

Small delights

Has anyone else been delighted by the latest version of the Google logo?

Amazing Japanese Creativity

http://www.noob.us/miscellaneous/creative-waterfall/

This is the spellbinding waterfall at Canal City, Fukuoka, Japan.

Why Protestants are Musicians and Catholics are Architects

Donn Johnson has a fascinating post entitled "Shrine?" prompted by his reflections while on vacation in France. Here is my response:

Amen. The Orthodox understand this shift of time and space and foster it via liturgy and iconostasis. Catholics do it through liturgy, eucharist and (supremely!) their philosophy, art and architecture.

What is fascinating to me is that fact that these traditions are not nominalist in their theological presuppositions. This means that participation of particulars in universals is part and parcel of their life and worship. IMO they are better able to be authentically trinitarian as a result. You might say that the centrifugal ("particular," "different") and centripital ("universal," "unity") forces are balanced.

We Protestants, however, were born Nominalists and have been struggling ever since. We are not characterized by "participation," but by division. Centrifugal forces outweigh centripetal ones.

Incarnation therefore becomes difficult for us, and we are constantly tempted to fly off, either to a gnosticism which holds the spiritual as more "real" than the material, or to a social gospel which holds the material to be more real than the spiritual. Either way, "shrine" becomes unnecessary or even pernicious.

It is no accident that Protestantism tends to produce musicians more than artists or architects!

Your Divine Art

Here's a site worth visiting: Your Divine Art


I especially like this work, by Ann Fawssett-Atkin's piece 'Female Chaffinch'. She says: "Amongst the clouds is a large figure of the dove (now at rest) after 'The Baptism of Christ' scene by Piero della Francesca."

All Saints Day and the Sistine Chapel

Today is All Saints Day, and on this day in 1512 - Michelangelo's paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel were first exhibited to the public.

I wonder if this was done intentionally. Certainly the Last Judgement scene gives us a meditation on the place of the saints with Christ through eternity. But there are twelve figures painted upon the pendentives that are also worth thinking about on All Saints Day. All twelve prophesied or represent some aspect of the coming of Christ. Seven of them are male: prophets of Israel. Five of them are female: the prophetesses (sibyls) of the classical world.

They are:
Persian Sibyl (PERSICHA) representing Babylonia
Erythraean Sibyl. (ERITHRAEA) who was from Chaldea and prophesied in Ionia, an area of present day Turkey.
Delphic Sibyl. (DELPHICA) who prophesied near Delphi, but was not associated with Pythia, the oracle.
Cumaean Sibyl. (CVMAEA) prophesied at a Greek colony near Naples
Libyan Sibyl (LIBICA) who prophesied at an oasis in the Libyan desert.

From a Protestant perspective, these five should have no such place of honor, but I love the way Michaelangelo includes them. They remind me of Matt. 8:11, where Jesus says,

"I say to you that many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven."

Won't it be wonderful when we get to meet all those folks at the Feast?

John Collier, Artist and Sculptor

I have just discovered the work of John Collier. I want you to do so, as well.

From Episcopal Artists:
"When Roman Catholics from St. Peter’s and its mission parish, St. Joseph’s, in lower Manhattan, wanted to create a memorial to those who died Sept. 11, 2001, they turned to a Texas sculptor who is an Episcopalian....(more)



Biography

another bio

paintings

sculptures

more

Waiting for Another Annunciation

It looks like my teaching career will soon be ending. I have always received highest marks on my evaluations (from both students and administrators) but the pool of students wanting to take non-required philosophy classes has been shrinking over the past two decades, and colleges are responding to market pressures. Teaching the liberal arts has become a luxury our family cannot afford, and not enough Christians are seeing it as a genuine ministry option worthy of support.

I am depressed but not surprised. As our culture increasingly has grown more and more experiential, pragmatic, and less interested in the reality of truth, beauty and goodness, philosophy has become more and more marginalized. Now only first-tier institutions can afford to offer it as a major. Besides technology and the sciences, education, business and psychology are the breadwinners for higher education. There are still a few English and History majors around--they have always outnumbered the philosophers--but (with great sadness) I predict even their days are numbered.

John W. Garder was president of the Carnegie Foundation, Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare under LBJ, and helped create the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. In his book, Excellence (Norton, 1984, p.102), Gardner points out that the society that scorns excellence in plumbing and tolerates shoddiness in philosophy will find that “neither its pipes nor its theories will hold water.” In the Land of the Blind, the one-eyed man may be king; but if the blind think they can get along just fine thank you without sight, then the one-eyed man will be seen as a freak and left to starve.

Every once in a while there are articles in newsmagazines that challenge my cynicism and tempt me to hope that I am mistaken. But as long as 65% of med school applicants major in biology or another physical science it seems like it will be a while before I can take their reassurances seriously.

So I will begin searching for a job. At my age (53) and without accounting or medical skills, there will be fewer options. I may have to bite the bullet, admit that "if you can't fight 'em you gotta join 'em," and go get an M.B.A. After all, I brought this on myself. No one forced me to teach, muchless teach philosophy. It was my own choice, in response to what I understood the Lord to be calling me to do. So it will be interesting to see what God has in store for me, personally. Again, I want my prayer to be the same as Mary's:

"I am the Lord's servant; May it be to me as You have said."

(Credit: The illustration above is by John Collier)

At Millenium Park

On Thursday, Jan and I took the train in from her home in Wheaton to Chicago to go to the Art Institute. Before entering, she showed me the new Millenium Park, just outside the museum. It was a hot day, and the crowd around the Crown Fountain was delighted to be able to splash-dance.
Designed by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, the fountain features light, water and video images reflected off glass bricks. Water cascades down, continously, but every so often the faces purse their lips and WHOOSH! Out comes a concentrated spray of water like a firehose. The kids were ecstatic, and watching them made me want to be five again!

Then we moved on to Anish Kapoor's 110 ton, 66 foot long/33 foot high elliptical sculpture, the Cloud Gate.

In comparison to Calder's Flamingo at the Federal Center Plaza and the Daley Center's Picasso sculpture , I think Cloud Gate is something for the city to celebrate. It's much more engaging--wonderfully reflecting the skyline behind you as you face it.

Kudos to Mayor Daley and the people of Chicago for creating an important and inviting public space. It will be even more widely appreciated when you welcome the world for the 2016 Olympic games! (grin)

At the Art Institute of Chicago

Last Thursday Jan and I took the train in to Chicago to go to the Art Institute. What a fabulous time we had! Jan was my personal guide, helping me to see the artwork not only historically, but from an artist's eye "I can only handle one Rembrandt at a time," she said, rapt before The Old Man with a Gold Chain. Or before Chagall's The Praying Jew: "Look, he's painted one eye looking upward, and one eye looking outward." Or her disappointment that there were no Rothkos available: "I love those blockes of color. I wanted to be able to share them with you."

Jan, we may not have been able to share Rothko, but we shared so much more together last week! Thank you, and thank God for you.

Francisco de Zurbarán
The Crucifixion.
1627
Oil on canvas


Sano di Pietro,

Virgin and Child with Saints Jerome, Bernardino of Siena, and Angels
1450/60
Tempera on panel



Rembrandt, Old Man with a Gold Chain.
c.1631
Oil on panel
Claude Monet,

Water Lilies.
1906
Oil on canvas

Marc Chagall,
The Praying Jew.
1923
copy of a 1914 work
Oil on canvas







Marc Chagall
White Crucifixion
1938
Oil on canvas

Dieric Bouts

Mater Dolorosa (Sorrowing Madonna).1470/75
Oil on oak panel


Constantin Brâncusi, Suffering. 1907
Bronze

Transhumanism: What may lie ahead

"The Young Family," by Patricia Piccinini

See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:The_Young_Family.jpg

as well as: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transhumanism

More of Piccinini's work, including "Still Life with Stem Cells" can be seen at http://www.patriciapiccinini.net/wearefamily/index.php?sec=yf&pg=01

The following is a statement by User:Patriciapiccinini about the work:

The Young Family (2002-3) presents a transgenic creature. The inspiration behind this work is the expectation that we have of growing human organs in other species, especially pigs. Rather than make a didactic image that argues for or against these technologies, I want to address the reality of these possible creatures in a very compassionate way.

The question I raise, that I am interested in, relates to the distinction between human and animal characteristics: Not so much her humanity, but the 'animalness' in us. Genetically, we share traits with her, but also we share the fundamental trait of looking after offspring.

I am interested in the kinds of ways that we look at the many ethical issues that surround medical technologies. There are two kinds of people who are thinking about these issues; those who are objective observers, and those that are actually affected by the issues, such as somebody who has a family member who is affected by a disease. These two viewpoints are often very different. It is impossible to be objective about these issues when you are emotionally involved, but I don't think that is a bad thing.

These are not simple issues with easy answers: It is one thing to talk about an idea and another to be confronted by the emotional reality of a creature, and yet another to be in need of what that creature might provide.

NOTE: This image is copyrighted. The copyright holder allows anyone to use it for any purpose, provided that this promotional image of a work of art is properly attributed. [I hope I've attributed correctly...if not, I would appreciate instruction in how to comply. --BB]