Step On Some Toes

by Devin Weening (singhislove.blogspot.com)

This past week, I came across an article that Dan Haseltine (of Jars of Clay) wrote for Relevant Magazine back in January, titled “Can Offensive Art be Christian?” In it, he tackles some pretty important questions:

Can a well-placed expletive positively stir the soul? If something is deemed inappropriate for children, should it not be sold through “Christian” distribution channels? Can Christian art impact us positively through things that offend us? Is the act of “offending” a counter-Gospel act?

Haseltine's answer to these questions rests on the observation that the Bible is overflowing with stories that offend modern sensibilities. During His brief earthly ministry, Jesus never shied away from doing or saying something out of fear of offending or undermining the dominant religious leaders & institutions. He dined with tax collectors, prostitutes, & “sinners”; He broke the Sabbath laws (or at least the popular interpretation of the Sabbath laws); He was, in Haseltine's words, the “rebel Jesus”. He didn't conform to our Sunday School images of a tame, gentle teacher, speaking softly & carrying a lamb in His arms wherever He went.

Yes, Jesus was a rebel; many of His words & actions were “offensive”. But - & here's the key, I think – He didn't offend for the sake of being offensive. Every word, every action, served a purpose. It's possible that, without offending anyone, without “upsetting the apple cart”, Jesus could have been a great teacher; but He could not have been a prophet, much less the Messiah. In order to fulfill the task for which His Father sent Him into the world, Jesus had to step on a few toes - & He had to do so with that elusive combination of authority & love we see in John 8:9-11.

Two of my favorite songwriters, David Bazan & Derek Webb, have first-hand experience with the Christian community's attitude toward offensive art. While still recording under the name Pedro the Lion (& shortly before he stopped considering himself a Christian), Bazan included the following verse in his song “Foregone Conclusions”:

You were too busy steering the conversation toward the Lord
To hear the voice of the Spirit begging you to shut the fuck up.
You thought it must be the devil trying to make you go astray;
Besides, it could not have been the Lord because you don't believe He talks that way.

Not surprisingly (& not without a dose of irony), many of his Christian fans didn't appreciate the profanity, & the album didn't follow his previous releases to the shelves at your local Christian bookstore. In Webb's case, his 2009 album Stockholm Syndrome made it to those shelves, but with one track missing: “What Matters More”, an impassioned plea for tolerance within the church. That song contains the following verse (inspired by this quote from Tony Campolo):

We can talk & debate until we're blue in the face
About the language & tradition that He's coming to save.
Meanwhile we sit just like we don't give a shit
About fifty thousand people who are dying today.

In both of these cases, the artists use profane language to make a rather forceful (& valid) point about the jumbled priorities they've observed among Christians. In this context, it is hard to imagine how either artist could have communicated their frustrations effectively without using such strong language.

As any first-year English student learns, one should only use a direct quotation when the original language is more clear, concise, or effective than a paraphrase or summary would be; I think the same general principle applies to the use of vulgarity or profanity within Christian art. If you can't make your point or convey your emotion without being offensive, then be offensive – as long as your goal isn't simply to offend. Keep I Peter 2:16 in mind: “Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil.”

As Christian artists, our first responsibility has to be the truth: even when the truth is messy, or dark, or “offensive”. But even when we must offend – for there will be times when the Sunday School version just doesn't reflect the whole story – we would do well to imitate Jesus' example of authority mixed with love.

What is Art?

by Aletheia Schmidt (www.accordingtoaletheia.com)

I was recently asked why I love art – why I do it – and why it is important to me. And as loaded of a question as it is, I found that it was only a nanosecond after the words reached my ears that my answer spilled out in one hurried exclamation: “Ihavetodoart!” Inhaling deeply and forcing myself to breathe, I continued, “It is who I am...It is how I think...what I see...the way in which I talk...”

For me, art is what fills in the black lines of a coloring book and the inside of a balloon. It is what makes sense and what makes everything else make sense. Art is the best part of all things – the music in a movie, the imagery offered by the perfect words in a great book, the center of a sandwich, the corner of a brownie. It is what my eye catches and rests upon as I stroll downtown, rummage through my closet, poke my toes in the sand, sit on the grass outside my apartment, stand in line at a coffee shop, and flip through a magazine.

It is how I interact best with God, others, myself.

It is an essential, conscious and unconscious alike, part of every conversation. It is a sound voice, continually shaping and reworking my words and ideas, speaking new thoughts and revising old ones.

But even more than these things (and these are such very big things!) art, specifically my relationship with art, is the only thing in my life where I am completely free, and this is my very favorite thing about it. When I examine art, and especially when I create art, nothing else matters; my attention is captivated purely by the moment. Voices of perfection, expectations, and pre-conceived notions no longer hold microphones and all of the shoulds and coulds are poured into a bucket to be dumped out on the front lawn.

Art for me is simply being here, now. It’s about the experience, about interacting with the materials that are within reach of my hands and wholly giving myself over to whatever it is I want to do with them right then.

Art is my figurehead, a constant reminder of what’s on board my ship as well as that which juts out furthest, the first part of the boat that breaks the water.

And even my passion and love for art has been art; a dynamic, shifting, evolving process that is in-progress. It is something that leaves me with more questions than answers while still providing a deep sense of calm, satisfaction, and awe.

It has only been within the last three or four years that I have decidedly made art a regular part of my life, and only the last year and a half or so, that I would even think to consider myself an artist. Surrounded by creativity as a kid, I had a natural proclivity towards the arts, but my fear and doubt that I had anything of significance to offer kept me rooms away from paint brushes and sketch pads. Because I didn’t believe that I could create anything “good” I didn’t even bother trying.

But a few years back, while working for a university in the Midwest, I took an art therapy class and also began hanging out with Heather, an RA of mine who was really into painting. And between the introspective, creative activities, and my close observation and admiration of Heather’s ability to surrender herself to the oils, a deep and yet hidden part of me finally decided it was time to come out and play.

And I have been playing ever since.

I was who I was before art, but with its knock on my door, and its promise (and delivery!) that it could free my soul to express itself, and my decision to pull out my checkbook and give it a go, I have found that I am now an even fuller, more whole, fun, healthy version of myself. And what a wonderful surprise to see this become a catalyst for so many other areas of my life.

This past year, as I found an art mentor and made the commitment of setting aside time each week to do that which brings me life (paint, write, sketch, make things), I have come to realize too that, just like my hazel eyes, my cute feet, and my sweaty hands, art is a part of who I am. I like it, I need it, and it needs to stay. It must stay. I have to do art.

Rearranging the Deck Chairs on the Titanic

by Devin Weening (singhislove.blogspot.com)

A very quick perusal of the most reliable sources (ie. Google) reveals that the origin of the phrase “rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic” is a hot debate topic, but it seems that it was first used, in a slightly different form, in a New York Times article sometime in 1972. Regardless of its origin, its meaning is clear: the phrase is used to refer to an otherwise helpful exercise rendered futile by the surrounding conditions. On that fateful evening, everyone on board knew what was going on, & it would have seemed to them the ultimate lunacy to spend time worrying about whether the furniture was in order. There were much bigger issues at hand.

I don't think I've ever heard art referred to specifically as an example of “rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic”, but I have heard similar sentiments expressed in various forms. To be honest, there are times when I am tempted to agree with this perspective. Why should we pay attention to art – or, worse still, make art – when there are so many “bigger issues” to deal with? How can we justify painting, or going to the symphony, or reading a novel, when there are people dying, in our cities & around the world, every minute? Why should governments – much less churches – support the arts when they're faced with record deficits & massive budget cuts? What purpose do they actually serve?

This is not an easy question to answer satisfactorily. (For a more eloquent response than I'm capable of giving, read Schaeffer's “Art & the Bible” or Ryken's “Art for God's Sake” – but don't bother reading both; they're basically the same book.) The short answer is that, as humans, we need art. We need the comfort it brings; we need to know, in a way that art alone can teach us, that we're all in the same boat. If you've ever heard a song or read a short story & sworn that it was written about you, you understand how important this function of art is. Why did our ancestors carve the tales of the hunt into the walls of their caves? Because we all have a story to tell, & we all need to share somehow in the stories of those around us. St Paul commands us to “rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15), & art, in all its various forms, allows us to do this in a powerful way.

The long answer – for which most of the credit goes to G K Chesterton – is more a denial of the validity of the question itself than a true answer:

As insane as it would be to run around tidying up a sinking ship in one's final hours, it would be even more insane to run around insisting that, despite all evidence to the contrary, the ship wasn't actually sinking at all. Rearranging the deck chairs, even in such a desperate situation, could be chalked up to some sort of obsessive/compulsive need for cleanliness; but to deny the desperate situation altogether, or even to minimize it in any way, would be inexcusable. But this, even more than assuring us that we're not alone in our struggles – or our triumphs – is art's true purpose: to question the common mode of thinking about the issues we face, & then to offer suggestions about how we can solve the real issues. In his classic book Orthodoxy, Chesterton challenges the accepted definition of “evolution” as an unstoppable force on an unalterable course toward “progress”; he describes

a fourth class of people who take whatever it is they happen to want, and say that that is the ultimate aim of evolution. & these are the only sensible people. This is the only really healthy way with the word evolution, to work for what you want, & to call that evolution. The only intelligible sense that progress or advance can have among men, is that we have a definite vision, & that we wish to make the whole world like that vision.

This is our job as artists, & especially as Christian artists (or, if you prefer, artists who are also Christians). Despite all the overwhelming evidence that points to a rapidly deteriorating world – & not just in the environmental sense – we can, indeed we must, stand up & proclaim that, yes, our ship is sinking, but it doesn't have to be this way. Yes, our situation seems hopeless, but there is hope – first, hope for comfort in the midst of real suffering; second, hope that our suffering will not last; & third, hope that we, as ambassadors for His kingdom here on earth, may have an important role to play in the alleviation of others' suffering. In Romans 8, St Paul tells us that “the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the One who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay & brought into the freedom & glory of the children of God.”

At its best, art can be one of the ways in which creation is “liberated from its bondage to decay.” How can art live up to such a high calling? By acknowledging its two-edged relationship with reality: art has the power, not only to reflect & describe truth, but to challenge it & create it as well. Whether you write or paint or compose or sculpt or act or dance, you have an immeasurable responsibility – & a glorious privilege – to give an accurate representation of both the real & the ideal.

Delight in the privilege & embrace the responsibility. It's no accident that we call art a creative endeavor; your job as an artist is to approach life's problems creatively & offer creative solutions. & always remember that, as Norton Juster wrote in The Phantom Tollbooth, “so many things are possible so long as you don't know they're impossible.”

Welcome to The Mirror!

Welcome to the brand-new virtual home of The Mirror, a Toronto-based community of Christian artists. We're still working on putting together the first batch of content, but in the meantime you're encouraged to read up on our Vision & check out the various ways you can Get Involved.

Over the next few weeks, we'll be adding some new articles & other resources for Christian artists, as well as accepting submissions for our monthly Featured Artist. If you are an artist or know of one whose work deserves a feature on our site, send us an email at themirror.toronto@gmail.com & we'll be in touch!