Thoughts and Concerns Regarding the Question of the Value of the Arts

The question, of the value of the arts is, for me, one of a broad relevancy to all people. As would be expected from a person who has decided to dedicate her life to the pursuit and development of her artistic and creative self as well as the desire to share her experiences and knowledge of the arts with students in a college setting, I firmly believe in the relevancy of the arts. I feel urgency in the need for such pursuits. The depth of commitment and the urgency I sense is not an outcome of my choice of a career. The commitment and the sense of urgency came first and was the directing force behind my choice of a career.

I first felt and began to grow to understand the urgency of the need and value of the arts when I was but six years old. My father, being an officer in the United States Navy, was commissioned on the U.S. Springfield and was sent to Villafrance, France. At the age of five I moved with my family to Europe and began a three-year experience of immeasurable proportions. As I vividly recall, I found myself standing at the edge of the sea with my parents. I can still hear the sound of the waves hitting the shallow walls that divided the water from the town that faced it. The waves seemed to push and leap with such force. I was struck by the power and the grace of the waves. Small fishing boats danced and rocked surrendering their every movement to the desires of the force under them. I could smell the fish and salt in the damp air.

There were two older women sitting under a shallow shelter to escape the heat of the sun. I watched one of these women. She had gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. There was a dark colored fishing net draped across her lap and seemingly folded in some kind of order at their feet. She was mending the net. Her hands fascinated me. The skin of her hands was weathered and wrinkled yet seemed about to burst open to the fullness of the flesh within. She moved her hands with a consistent speed, aware of the task before her and seemingly little else. She never looked up. I was drawn to her “beauty.” She seemed timeless and noble. I believed that she knew some secret (wisdom). I felt that I was a part of her in some way.

Suddenly, I became aware of a light from a small doorway to my right of this woman who “knew a secret.” I could see paintings illuminated within. I turned to my mother and asked if I could enter. After assuring her that I would not “touch” anything, I walked in. The aroma of wet paint filled the room. The room was strangely silent. I looked. I saw. I stood in the silence and felt what I now call a “holy moment.”

At the age of six, standing in a small gallery in a small fishing village in France, I began a journey and continue this journey to this day. My journey is one based on the ideas of our connection one to another (as I have experienced in such holy moments); of my desire to experience life to the fullest (the glory of God is a person fully alive); and of there being values and experiences that go far beyond our abilities as human beings to fully comprehend. These ideas have developed into the beliefs that we are creatures who feel lost and isolated and in search of a connection; that most people go through life half asleep (blind to most of what is trying to present itself to us); and that these feelings of being lost and blind nurture the less human aspects of our nature. These beliefs have led me to a dedication to the immense value of the arts as they help us live in ambiguity and still help us develop a sense of connection to all of humankind and beyond; as they speak to our spiritual selves as can only art, music and literature; as they teach us to see, to really see what is real and what can be real if we can only extend our imagination; and that they help us ask difficult questions of ourselves that nurtures the qualities that help us to be noble, strong, wise and good people.

Creative thinking cannot be limited to only those who express themselves with a paintbrush or a pencil. Our world is crying out for creative minds in all fields of study. Our challenge is to see more, experience more, feel more and to live creatively.

These are not just pretty words to me. There is a weighted seriousness connected with these words. I do believe that the world is crying out. Years ago I was overwhelmed with the feelings that the whole of humankind was in deep pain. Upon entering graduate school shortly afterwards, I read an article in an issue of a Christian publication, Weavings. I was delighted by the ideas I shared as set forth in one of the articles. The author had also, as she expressed it, “heard the weeping.” She challenged us as Christians to ask ourselves this difficult question: What is the weeping asking of me? (Hints, Signs, and Showings: The Compassion of God by Wendy M. Wright, November/December 1990)

I already knew the answer for my life. What is the weeping asking of me? The weeping of humankind asks me to be and to share the healing, the hope, and the fullness of life gained through visual and creative thinking and expression. I experience these things as I draw near to God and I have learned that I worship God best when I paint and draw. Just as the Olympic runner stated in Chariots of Fire, I feel His pleasure. It is in this pleasure that a person can indeed experience healing, hope and fullness of life.

So, what do I mean by healing? One of the main causes of our alienation and need for healing in this century, in my opinion, is our obsession with materialistic gain. While working on some research, I came across writings regarding our need for humanization and how our century has been dominated with objects. We want more and more and more . . . and are never satisfied. Our society has become deeply wounded through this deceptive pursuit. These wounds are revealing themselves in the deepest sense through our increased inability to experience the spiritual. We have forgotten how to speak with our spirits, with our souls. We are wounded and know not to what extent because we no longer can remember what life was like before all the wounds appeared. We accept the sick and the unhealthy as the norm.

I want to be a part of the healing and not a part of the wounding. In this fast paced world that bombards us with information, we need to find the silence. I connect the creative with the ability to face the silence. I talk to my students of the need for facing and embracing silence. As an Eagle’s song is titled and states: Learn to be still. Or to quote a source closer to most of us, “Be still and know that I can God.” (Psalms 46:10)

The silence, the healing, the spiritual, the arts; these are connected to each other. Do we remember how to be still: Do we remember how to just be? Are we afraid of the silence? Do we know how to truly see?

In relation to my thoughts regarding our crippling materialistic world and our need for silence and the development of our creative self, I would like to direct you to a classic text on the arts and spirituality written by Vassily Kandinsky (1866-1944), a Russian painter and pioneer of abstract painting. The 1912 work is entitled On the Spiritual in Art.

Our souls, which are only now beginning to awaken

After the long reign of materialism, harbor seeds of

desperation, unbelief, lack of purpose. The whole

nightmare of the materialistic attitude, which has

turned the life of the universe into an evil, purposeless

game, is not yet over. The awakening soul is still

deeply under the influence of this nightmare. Only

a weak light glimmers, life a tiny point in an enormous

circle of blackness . . .

On the matter of the spiritual and the need for silence, one of my favorite Christian authors, Madeleine L’Engle (author of the children’s classic A Wrinkle in Time), writes in her 1980 work Walking on Water, Reflections on Faith and Art,

When I am constantly running there is no time for being.

When there is no time for being there is no time for

listening. I will never understand the silent dying of

the green pie-apple tree if I do not slow down and listen

to what the Spirit is telling me. . . .

I leave you with this quote from Original Blessing by Matthew Fox and a question:

Art is not a genteel thing. Creativity is not tiptoeing

through the tulips . . . .Creativity – whether we are talking

of the powers to make a Trident submarine . . . the power
to create a symphony, or the power to build a table for the 
living room or to write a poem to a loved one – creativity 
is so divine that it is awesome. . . 
We are heirs of the fearful creative power of God . . .
Is our creativity to be for life or for death? 
For people or for profit? For injustice or for

forgetfulness?

What questions is the Creator asking of you?