Abstracted liberalism

Some people think this is art…

I don’t.

Abstract art doesn’t fit my subjective view of art. Objectively, I suppose it could. If I assume, for example, that the artist who painted The Black Square was trying to convey a message of loneliness then I suppose he or she has created art (in the purely objective sense). But a black square is not art in my very subjective mind. It’s a black square.

Just as emotion without the constraints of reason can, from a political/societal standpoint, destroy lives and families, so too can emotion without reasonable constraints destroy art. Abstract artists paint, draw or write music which conveys some emotion; hate, anger, love, peace, etc., but they do so in a way that appeals merely to the lowest of our brain functions—instinct. This is the same truth marketers and casino owners take advantage of. Black is power. White is purity. Red is passion. And so on. It doesn’t take much to trigger a knee-jerk emotional response in someone. But it takes tremendous talent to touch someone’s soul—to appeal to their human will and intellect. Abstract art just can’t do what real art can do.

Now I’m going to contrast the Black Box with a real painting.

The painting below, by Timothy Jones, does much more than simply jar my reptilian brain like the Black Square. Tim’s painting moves me. It moves my spirit and intrigues my imagination.

At first glance, the person in the boat seems all alone. But he does not suffer from loneliness. He’s on his way out to do some fishing for his family. It will be a long day out on the sea by himself, but he enjoys the quiet and is comforted by the knowledge that what he is doing will bring joy to his family when he gets home. The other figure in the boat, a tackle box I imagine, is placed directly in front of the fisherman. Perhaps it serves as a reminder of his task.

Abstract art just cant do what art like that of Tim Jones can do.

Further thoughts on the liberal question

A while ago I asked the question, Why are artists liberal? I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about this question recently. Though I don’t feel I have completely formulated a succinct answer, I’m going to at least try to put down a few thoughts.

Most artists I know are driven by their emotions. Many paint, write poetry, write music, because they find in their craft an outlet for pent up emotions. I know I personally write my best poetry when I am feeling the most emotional. We artists have things, which weigh on (or lift up) our hearts and souls and we want to tell the world—sometimes for our own personal relief and sometimes to help relieve others.

Most liberals are similarly driven by emotion. There are of course the more libertarian liberals that seek an almost anarchistic freedom, but most liberals, at least those like Sean Penn, are motivated by pure emotion. They support gay marriage because they feel the “plight” of the gay community. They seek abortion rights because they feel terrible for the rape victim. They fight for universal healthcare because they want to help the poor and downtrodden. And I’d imagine being in Hollywood, surrounded by peers driven by the same guttural emotions, only stokes the internal emotional fire. The mob mentality, after all, isn’t known for its calm calculating reason.

So, what am I saying? Well, I’m certainly not implying that all liberals are artists or that all artists are liberal. What I am saying is that many liberals, like many artists, are driven primarily by their emotions. Emotions are a good thing, but they must be tempered with reason. G_d gave us souls AND minds. If you take the compassion of a liberal and apply reason, you get someone more like Mother Teresa than say Bruce Springsteen. You get someone who is indeed driven by compassion but who is also able to use reason to apply that compassion in a way most pleasing to G_d. You get someone who is as equally willing to bathe a leper as to tell the world’s most powerful leaders that ALL abortion is evil.

I truly respect people who are not afraid to be lead by their emotions, but if that emotion is not constrained with reason, we end up destroying families, innocent lives, and even souls.

This argument goes the other way as well. One need not be void of compassion to be conservative, but that is a topic for another post.

Chesterton T. Bunny

I was looking for some images of Chesterton when I was pleasantly surprised to stumble across this one.

Chesterton T. Bunny

The drawing was done by David T. Nethery, a former Disney artist who runs the blog, “You’re a gazelle”. Make sure you hop on over there (sorry couldn’t resist) and check it out. His cartooning skills are flipping fantastic. Also, judging from his About Me page, he appears to be a Christian with interests in Chesterton, Lewis, and Tolkien among others.

Why are artists liberal?

Why are so many of my favorite artists so liberal. Alec Baldwin is super talented, so is Matt Damon, Bruce Springsteen, Eddie Vedder, Sean Penn and so on. All of them are very liberal—Marxist liberal. Why?

Do artists in general tend to be liberal? Or is it just the mob/peer pressure of Hollywood?

Is it just the cool starving artist thing to do even though all of these guys are rich?

My hope is that it is distorted compassion. I can appreciate compassion, even when it is misguided. I get why someone would protest against war—I hate war. I get why someone would try to protect animals from unnecessary harm—we should be good stewards to God’s creations. But I cant understand how someone can fight so veraciously to protect a monkey from cosmetic testing and yet think its ok to kill a baby still in his mothers’ womb.

I say I hope it is distorted compassion because I don’t like believing that people are motivated strictly out of a desire for immoral, personal, freedom. It’s often the case, but it is disheartening to think artists I admire so much for their talent can be so misguided. I would be ok with Bruce Springsteen telling me he hated war and violence and everything else we all hate if he would only also wage war on the genocide that is abortion. I’m ok with Matt Damon thinking Bush made bad decisions if only he would acknowledge that fetal stem cell research encourages and promotes creating babies for destruction and experimentation.

I’m a conservative, but I can appreciate liberalism when it comes from compassion. However, I cannot understand liberalism when it comes from and angry desire to protect all from everything except the weakest from death and the world from the Truth.

Who can improve an Artist’s work?

I was listening to a discussion on Kresta in the Afternoon on my way home today. Al was having people call in and give their opinions on what kind of cosmetic enhancements are morally acceptable. Some people claimed that even modest makeup is inappropriate. Others felt that anything was fine (including plastic surgery) as long as it was not taking away from one’s love of God. There were also those who’s opinions fell somewhere in between.

I’ve personally never had the urge to have plastic surgery (I’m a guy—what do I care). But I have certainly suffered from unhealthy “impression management” as Al called it. I’ve spent too much of my life worrying about what others think of me. Be it my appearance or what I drive or how I speak or what I read. I care too much about what other people think. It’s not that I think highly of myself—it’s that I think poorly of myself.

So, it was the last caller I heard on Al’s show that prompted me to write this post. She said that we shouldn’t make permanent changes to our appearance. Her reason was, that as an artist, she would not want someone updating a painting she had created because the other person thought it would look better. By that logic, she continued, (I’m paraphrasing) God is an artist too. We are His creations. I don’t want to meet Him in heaven and tell Him I didn’t like His work so I had it “fixed.”

Certainly we should take care of ourselves. After all, it’s like taking care of a painting. Treating the painting with care and respect shows respect for the Artist and appreciation for His work. But we shouldn’t let others make us feel that God made a mistake.

What is the greatest form of art?

I asked myself a question recently.

What is the greatest form of art?

In my mind, art covers many areas. What Mario Batali does is art. What Claude Monet did is art. What Rodin did was art. Robert Frost was an artist. Pixar movies are beautiful art. Gregorian chant is art. Even some rap is art (no really, some of it is). So, what is the greatest form of art?

The Liturgy of the Catholic Mass.

Art, in my opinion, is man’s attempt at stimulating the five senses for the purpose of touching one’s soul or moving one’s spirit (chose your cliché of choice).

The Liturgy of the Catholic Mass fulfills my definition of art on every level and certainly takes it to a level not possible by any other form of art. I wondered how I could convey this belief. I decided it would be easiest to explain by describing one of the most memorable liturgies I’ve ever experienced.

The church was stark white inside with a modern look that I don’t normally like, but this church was different. It had a little details which gave it a holy warmth. Directly behind the alter, in clear view, was a beautiful golden tabernacle. The presidents chair was off to the right side of the sanctuary tilted in towards the alter. There were many more details like this. Details which turned an otherwise sterile and modern church into a true house of worship.

The church smelled pleasantly strong of incense and beeswax. Though every pew was filled beyond normal limits, the congregation was quiet. There was nothing but holy silence as we all knelt in adoration for the hour leading up to Mass. Though the monstrance was as bright and beautiful as a golden sun, everyone’s eyes were focused on the center of the monstrance. We were focused on our Lord. The silence was broken only twice. Once for the Rosary. And once for the Divine Mercy Chaplet.

Mass began with the entrance of the alter servers, the lectors, the local Deacon, Fr. Bill (the pastor), and  Fr. John Corapi. The procession song was lead by a young adult choir. They were accompanied by the congregation (who all seemed to sing beautifully), an organ, and a single trumpet. The result was a sound I can only liken to what I believe heaven sounds like.

Father ended our adoration and began Mass with benediction performed completely in Latin and done as reverently as I have ever seen.

Tantum ergo Sacramentum
Veneremur cernui
Et antiquum documentum
novo cedat ritui
Praestet fides supplementum
Sensuum defectui

Genitori, Genitoque
Laus et jubilatio
Salus, honor, virtus quoque
Sit et benedictio
Procedenti ab utroque
Compar sit laudatio. A-men

The church now smelled quite strongly of incense. I was reminded of the book of Revelation when we are presented with the imagery of the Saints in heaven receiving our prayers in the form of incense and presenting them to our Lord. By the time Fr. Corapi venerated the alter, I was in tears.

The readings were beautiful. The Gospel was beautiful. And for anyone who knows who Fr. Corapi is, you can imagine how wonderful the homily was. The rest of the Mass continued with the same fervent reverence—not only of the celebrants, but of the congregation and the choir as well. It felt like heaven. And I swear to you, that when we began singing Agnus Dei, I could hear the angels in heaven singing with us.

As we watched the gifts of bread and wine turned into the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ…as we all professed our faith and belief with our joyous Amen…I began to realize my hunger. As I stood kneeling listening to the angelic choir and the footsteps of the congregation making their way to the alter, my hunger grew. I was so excited when I was finally able to stand up and walk down the isle, I could barely keep the grin off of my face and the tears out of my eyes.

When I eventually heard the words, “The Body of Christ” and I responded with “Amen”, and I received our Lord on my tongue, my hunger vanished and a peace fell over me beyond even what I had felt up unto that point. Once I received His blood as well, I went back to my seat and knelt in thanksgiving.

I don’t normally sing after communion but this time I did. I joined the angles and the congregation and the choir in singing, Holy God, We Praise Thy Name. And when it was done. And the Fathers and the Deacon finished cleaning the vessels and put our Lord back into the tabernacle. We all sat. We sat without sound. We stayed there. Silently reflecting on our Lord Whom was with us in a very special way. He fed my hunger. He stimulated my senses. He moved my soul.

Aint no artist who can do that. Only our Lord.

The Drawings of Artist Daniel Mitsui

I just found the website of artist Daniel Mitsui. Wow! He does beautiful black and white drawings of iconic religious images. His drawings are inspired by “the sacred iconography of the Middle Ages”, but his drawings are entirely unique.

Daniel’s drawings are not merely pictures of individuals or places, but are interpretations of events. He composes the events with complicated simplicity. The level of detail in his drawings is stunning really. Every area of a page is stark white, jet black, or heaving with wonderful little details. Details which seem to add more depth to the meaning and character of the drawings. And like his iconic inspirations, Mitsui also makes wonderful use of words within his drawings.

Here is one of his renditions of the crucifixion. Make sure you go to his site and zoom in on this picture and look at the details.

I can’t confirm that every image or link on Daniel’s site is appropriate for all eyes (art is subjective that way), but I can personally attest to the remarkable ability he has and the captivating modern religious iconography he has produced.