Role of a Christian Artist

I just finished reading, Christianity and the Arts, from theOoze.com. The writer, Brian Thomas, in describing the current state of confusion within the arts uses the following quote from Gene Veith:

Just as the current intellectual establishment has lost its conceptual basis for truth, the artistic establishment has lost its conceptual basis for beauty. A Christian view of the arts can supply both.

Being an artist in our postmodern-minded generation can be tough. As Thomas points out in his article, our culture no longer has any concept of beauty. While I will admit that the term is rather ambiguous, I also hold that some art is inherently beautiful. Even a young child can recognize beauty when it is before them.


My professor, Kayb Carpenter, explained one of her first aesthetic experiences; seeing Winged Victory (Nike of Samothrace). She was exploring the Lourve in Paris and upon rounding a corner she was literally left breathless as the sight before her. The sculpture stands at the top of a long staircase and Kayb stood motionless for several minutes just in awe of the beautiful work of art.


If beauty can be so obvious even to a young child, why do some artist and critics try to make it so difficult?

Grandpa's Shoes

Grandpa's Shoes by Jessica Everett

100 Years???

So, I was just talking with Ryan Chico about life and love and happiness. He is a senior on the Ghetto and is about to embark on another leg of his journey. I've always been encouraged by his friendship and enlightened by his perspective. While I am sure he will miss the college life, Ryan is really looking forward to the future.
This got me thinking about life and how we only live for a short time. One day you blink and you find yourself sitting on the porch with your wife, watching the grandchildren play in the yard. As I write this, my heart cannot help but ache. I wonder what it is like to be there, looking back over your life and knowing that you only have a few more years to share with those you love. I ache to be back at my grandpa's house, riding on his tractor trails, exploring the woods with my cousins. We would play all afternoon and then have a huge family dinner with all the aunts and uncles, cousins and siblings. And there sitting at the table would be my grandpa just taking it all in, and loving every minute of it.
My grandpa has gone away to heaven, and I do miss him dearly. While I know he tresured his time with us, I know that he is even happier there. Sometimes it is hard for me to think of him because I miss him so bad. But he is still with me, deep inside my soul his memory lives. And what a beautiful memory that is. Of all that my grandpa left behind, the most important thing was his legacy. He will always be remembered as the loving, compassionate grandpa who would light up when we came for a visit. His family was the joy of his life and as one of his grandchildren I will never forget how much he absolutely treasured every moment we were there.
The fond memories carry me through the heartache and make me wonder what kind of grandpa I will be. But I still have a life to live. My childhood is over, and my youth is coming to a close, but I can only live today. So I live, with every breath. With every moment I live. The words of Five for Fighting's song 100 years ring in my ears as I finish writing this post.

The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you’re on your way
Every day's a new day...
15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

Morton's Muse on Message

I was reading an article about my professor and fellow artist, Jeffrey Morton. He is one of the wisest people I've been around. While he is hesitant to put his ideas out in the open, I am always intrigued when he does. It was in this article that I discovered another of the simple yet profound ideas that motivate him in his calling as an artist.

As an artist, I don't want to be dogmatic; I just want to point and say, "Hey, look at that."

Clearly, the message any work of art conveys is a vital element of that piece. But as a young artist, I have never given much thought to the message of my work. Professor Morton points out how important the tone of voice in the message.
Does my art speak with a dogmatic tone, or do I simply point things out and leave the thinking the viewer? My art speaks...what does it say?

Manly Men and Their Manly Games

So, I went camping at St. Andrews beach in Panama City for two days over Spring Break. (I didn't go by myself, because I've never been able to be alone for more than a few minutes) And now that you how wimpy I am, let me tell you about how my ruggedly masculine adventures. I went camping in the company of three manly men; Bryan Everett, Kenley Stringer, and David Kuder. Being the man menly we are, we made the 1.5 hour drive in just barely 4 hours by getting lost. Once at the campground we decided to rough it...we only ate fast food twice. The other two meals, polish sausage and cereal, we cooked from scratch over a roaring fire. Besides being reckless adventurers, we did other masculine things. Like working on our tans, flexing a lot while playing volleyball, and smiling at the ladies. However our masculinity reached its apex during a brief momment of testosterone induced stupidity.

Let me walk you through the glorious event. Picture yourself at the beach, the skimboards and football no longer seem interesting and the waves are pathetic. You are left with two things; the beach and two frisbees. Although that sounds like three things, it is not (I am counting both frisbees as one item). Playing catch with frisbees is the first option...however there is a much more appealing and entertaining option available if you mix a little imagination with the original ingredients...

Recipe for Disaster by Alec Waller
Ingredients:
frisbees
shins and ankles
beach sand
Instructions:
1. Mark off small playing area on beach sand
2. Place frisbees within playing area
3. Repeatedly drill one everyone else in the shins and ankles with aforementioned frisbees
4. In the meantime, attempt to protect your shins by any means necessary
5. Accumulate masculinity by playing through the pain
6. Achieve manliest man status by being the last one standing...literally

That is what we did. It was very manly and fun...I think. So, how did you spend your Spring Break?

Think?

In his Contribution to the Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right, Karl Marx called religion the "opium of the people". However in our age of technology, there seems to be a new 'drug' of choice. TheOoze.com has an article by Johann Christoph Arnold titled Opium of the People? which points out the current abuse of technology:

Today the Internet is the drug that cures all ills. But we forget too quickly the old saying that "not everything that glitters is gold." The Internet has become our god, our idol, which we now worship instead of God. Yet we have never been lonelier or more isolated from other human beings.

While one of my professors refers to television as the opiate of the masses, I think that for our generation, the Internet is more deserving of that title. While this powerful tool has to capability to effect much good, it is terrifying to see how destructive it can be. Besides stealing our most precious commodity, time, there are numerous other negative consequences when the Internet is abused. As Arnold pointed out, our generation is filled with lonley souls starving to death in their dungeons of isolation. We are isolated not only from others, but also from ourselves.
You know exactly what I am talking about. After a long, busy day of school or work you just want to relax for a few minutes. You stretch out in front of your computer and just start to browse the Internet. You might chat with some buddies for a while or listen to your favorite iTunes, maybe you just look for an interesting web site. A few hours later you look at the clock, surprised to see how much time has passed. You sit there in disappointment, wishing you had done something worthwhile with your day.
Is that where it ends? Do you stop there, or do you allow you mind to wander a little farther? Has your mind been so dulled by this "opium" that you never think past that point of frustration? Or maybe like me, you silence that voice. All that now remains is the faint whisper, barely audible but still asking those piercing questions. "What are you doing with your life? How much time will you fritter away? What about your relationships? Why not spend some time with your friends, or maybe even your family? When is the last time you spent some time alone, you know, just you and God? You wonder why you haven't heard his voice, maybe you haven't really even listened."
"STOP!!! No, don't give me that crap!", your mind is made up. You'll never face those questions. You'll just continue to ignore them, those irritating questions that bug you whenever you stop and think...think, hmm that is an interesting idea. What if you think? Not too long or too hard at first, just a little thinking. Eventually you can think for longer and about harder questions. But for now, just work on stopping and thinking. You can do it anytime, anywhere. Some people call it daydreaming, others like the term "using your imagination". I like both, it really does seem like the same thing when you think about it...think about it....hmmm, now that's an idea!