"Let God be true, though every one were a liar, as it is written,.." ~Romans 8:4
Ever since coming to this school, I have been angry. Scratch that, I was angry before I came here.
But it has gotten worse.
I feel so angry when I think about the things we are taught as art: feces, exorcisms, pornography, etc. For me, this beautiful, wonderful thing called art is being desecrated because the world is full of liars. Like the story of the Emperor's New Clothes, no one wants to speak up for fear of being thought a fool. Even I have to wonder if I'm just being small-minded.
For the record, I have been able to see things for their artistic value that I might not have in the past, and I think that is a good thing. But at some point, there has to be a line between what is art and what isn't.
I mean, what is the difference between Cabanel's "Birth of Venus" and Vanessa Beecroft's "Show?" Although one could argue for the painterly skill that is revealed in Cabanel's piece, it is still very pornographic, especially at the time of its creation.
It just makes me sick. I feel threatened, and I am concerned that I will be drawn in and become a modern art convert. I feel so small and afraid and depressed.
"Depressed?" You say. "Why depressed?" Because when it comes down to it, no matter how much I try to put up walls of safety and morality, I find I am not enough. My heart wants to wander and feast on sin. I feel like a werewolf that comes to its senses and wails in agony. And even though I am not a terribly immoral person as the standards go (sexually pure, not a murderer, nor a thief, etc.) I finish my day feeling like such a failure.
I'm so dang tired.
And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. If there was some spiritual enlightenment test that required me climbing a mountain or scaling a building, I would take it. But you can't rush art, and you can't rush God.
"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 and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." ~Romans 8:20-23
We live in The Now and Not Yet, even in the art world. I guess that is why art is not always beautiful, but is still valuable. Our pain is valuable, although not beautiful and if it is captured, somehow, it can still be art. There's a fine line and I don't know if we'll ever discover the truest meter for rating what is art and what isn't until Jesus comes back.
Come, Lord Jesus. Deliver us from this bondage to sin and death.
Ever since coming to this school, I have been angry. Scratch that, I was angry before I came here.
But it has gotten worse.
I feel so angry when I think about the things we are taught as art: feces, exorcisms, pornography, etc. For me, this beautiful, wonderful thing called art is being desecrated because the world is full of liars. Like the story of the Emperor's New Clothes, no one wants to speak up for fear of being thought a fool. Even I have to wonder if I'm just being small-minded.
For the record, I have been able to see things for their artistic value that I might not have in the past, and I think that is a good thing. But at some point, there has to be a line between what is art and what isn't.
I mean, what is the difference between Cabanel's "Birth of Venus" and Vanessa Beecroft's "Show?" Although one could argue for the painterly skill that is revealed in Cabanel's piece, it is still very pornographic, especially at the time of its creation.
It just makes me sick. I feel threatened, and I am concerned that I will be drawn in and become a modern art convert. I feel so small and afraid and depressed.
"Depressed?" You say. "Why depressed?" Because when it comes down to it, no matter how much I try to put up walls of safety and morality, I find I am not enough. My heart wants to wander and feast on sin. I feel like a werewolf that comes to its senses and wails in agony. And even though I am not a terribly immoral person as the standards go (sexually pure, not a murderer, nor a thief, etc.) I finish my day feeling like such a failure.
I'm so dang tired.
And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. If there was some spiritual enlightenment test that required me climbing a mountain or scaling a building, I would take it. But you can't rush art, and you can't rush God.
"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 and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies." ~Romans 8:20-23
We live in The Now and Not Yet, even in the art world. I guess that is why art is not always beautiful, but is still valuable. Our pain is valuable, although not beautiful and if it is captured, somehow, it can still be art. There's a fine line and I don't know if we'll ever discover the truest meter for rating what is art and what isn't until Jesus comes back.
Come, Lord Jesus. Deliver us from this bondage to sin and death.
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