Tag Archives: Art

Did you ever hear the adage that most of the lessons you learn in college are learned outside of the classroom?

Well, some lessons that you wouldn’t expect are learned inside the classroom, as well. One of those I learned very vividly during grad school: academics can take a beautiful concept, dress it in academic jargon that isolates it from everyone outside of the discipline, and treat it as something meant only for the intelligentsia. Sometimes, I suspect that academics do this to help themselves have an “ivory-tower,” exaggerated sense of self-importance.  And, when I say that, I readily confess that I’m just as guilty as any of the rest of them, because the jargon becomes embedded in your psyche after a year or so of study. Soon, you have little “common sense” left and a lot of elitist terminology that leaves people outside of your discipline ostracized from conversation that would only help everyone grow.  This happens in every discipline. I guess I just noticed it more doing graduate work in theology, because I secretly suspect that theologians are the worst at this.

But, I digress.

The point of that ramble is to mention a discussion I read over at Transpositions this week on the concept of “high art.” I wonder, sometimes, what determines whether a painting or play or novel is considered “high art.” The post I referenced here (reviewing a book) mentions that art holds a certain subjectivity because it is always seen through a cultural lens. Think about this: what would be considered of a certain quality and declared “high art” in the Western world would possibly not be received as such in Eastern culture, at least not as easily. Think of the differences in European or American music and Chinese or Indian music, for example.

High art is a term derived from the concept of high culture. High culture is defined in opposition to popular culture. Thus, those who gravitate toward high culture in certain art forms tend to eschew popular culture expressions in the same genre. The first time I really experienced this was, after having read exclusively novels that would be considered “literature” for months, I read a mystery novel. Classic literature and modern fiction to genre fiction in one day. I struggled with the change. And I didn’t like myself for struggling.

As much as I can be a total snob about certain pop culture art forms (I’m unapologetically so about “pop music”), I think that we must recognize that popular culture is still culture, and is still just as valid. The same is true of art. What U2 composes is just as valid as any symphony Beethoven ever penned. And it was, as I recall, an Inkling who adored writing detective fiction (what we today consider genre fiction).

I listen to academics and artists lament that there is not literature today like there once was, that our culture is incapable of producing anything of that quality. I don’t think that’s the case; there are many extremely gifted writers producing amazing literature today. There are also many bad writers, and bad musicians, and bad artists. They exist in high and low culture. They exist on a continuum, I think, with “really bad” on one end and “really amazing” on the other.

When (not if, when…I need to tell myself that) I finish the science fiction novel I’m writing, it will be, by definition, genre fiction. I hold no pretense that it will be great literature, and I don’t for a moment believe that it will be considered high culture (most especially because I intend to self-publish). But, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t valid.

I suppose my issue with differentiating high and low art, or high and low culture, is that it gives one group of people an excuse to feel superior to another. Academics do it. Critics do it. Unfortunately, artists do it, as well. As many programs across the nation that work to afford access to art by “the masses” at no cost attest, art is for everyone. It cannot belong to the elite, and its ability to touch lives and inspire critical thinking is not limited to the wealthy.

Some of the best conversations I’ve had about theology has been with people who have no formal education in the discipline at all. I love talking about literature, but I don’t have a formal degree in the area. I’ve worked with amazing actors who have no formal theatre training. And all of those people have come from all different backgrounds. A love for, and subsequent knowledge of, art…any art…can’t be trapped behind a high culture pre-requisite. Doing so is an effort to keep others away from art, which is simply an attempt to own art as a possession.

That’s just not how it was ever meant to be.

In some random coincidence after my last post, I read this piece over at Transpositions on the difference between art and craft. It’s an interesting read, because I think the perception of creativity is all too frequently confined to the “artistic types,” while craftsmen are very under-appreciated.

A year or so ago, Karen and I taught a workshop on creativity as a spiritual exercise. Our launching point was that everyone is creative. As much as our mathematics-obsessed, industrialized culture tries to drill it out of us, we are all creative in some capacity in our daily lives. Or, at least, we have the ability to be. Creativity, after all, isn’t confined to just the passionate painter who begins splashing paint onto the canvas while staring off into the distance and creating a masterpiece, or the novelist who locks herself into a room for weeks on end and forgoes all semblance of a life in devotion the characters she is creating. Those, after all, are stereotypes. I have a friend who is an engineer. He’s a problem-solver on a daily basis…he has to think outside of the proverbial box. Teachers do it, counselors do it, police officers do it. If we don’t do it in some capacity in our vocation, we do it in our avocation. I have friends who are pilots and attorneys who are great musicians in their free time. My father worked with wood. He has a wood shop, and, although he doesn’t make it out there much any more, I remember the intricate creations he would emerge with after being absorbed in his work for hours. I’ve spoken before about my grandmother’s quilts. These are not the things of which we would frequently think when we think of creativity, because they are “crafts” more than “arts.” I think, though, that they necessarily go together.

In theatre, there’s a very technical process to putting together the visual spectacle and story that you see unfold before you as a member of the audience. Sets have to be designed and built, colors chosen, lighting equipment focused and programmed, sound effects designed from scratch and microphones balanced. Costumes are sewn. Make-up is methodically applied. All of these disciplines are very technical in nature, but all must come together to create the artistic medium we know as theatre. The modern children of theatre, film and television, are the same in nature. In fact, even more technical expertise is required for these.

The post from Transpositions that I linked to above was the first of two. In the second, which posted today (and was the reason I waited to publish this post), moves more toward the conclusion. Summarizing the book the bloggers are reviewing, they decide that crafts are created with functionality in mind, whereas art is created with communication in mind.

While art and craft are equally important, I think there’s a danger in equating the two, because the functionality of the craft transforms into utilitarianism in art. When this occurs, beauty is not acceptable on it’s own terms…art suddenly needs a justification to exist, which is a burden of proof that should never be imposed on art. Yet, it is imposed all too frequently (anyone been to a Western Evangelical church, lately?).

I think it’s extremely important that all of us recognize our creative potential, because it’s there in all of us, whether we are artists or craftsmen/craftswomen. What does it take to achieve this today? Slowing down, making space, prioritizing…that would take another post entirely. For now, it’s critical to realize that your creativity is very capable and very much alive inside of you, patiently awaiting release. And, while the quality of the end result must stand on its own, the act of creating never, ever needs justification. Creation is its own justification, an impulse that is central to every human being.

Photo Attribution: Jeff Belmonte 

So, apparently there’s been some sort of controversy or uproar or something about Charlie Sheen lately. Or, so I hear. I don’t know the details, though. Nor do I want to know the details. Because, before Sheen’s publicity-stealing debacle, whatever the nature of it may be, there was…I don’t know, someone else. And then someone else before that. And, in a few weeks, there will be…you know, someone else. I mean, the media has to get clicks somehow, right?

I said a few posts ago that I really don’t understand this concept of celebrity. I mean, I understand it in the academic sense…in the sense that we like to create celebrities because we feel that we have power over them…but I don’t understand the fascination. I have no patience for news media outlets devoting coverage time to the exploits of actors or music celebrities. I become frustrated with the clutter of the trending topics on Twitter. At the risk of sounding pompous, I really don’t want to waste my time with this stuff, not because I don’t care about these people as human beings, but because their media-saturated misadventures tend toward the…well, toward the vacuous.

I listened to a differentiation last night that L’Engle made between “celebrities” and “stars.” She makes the differentiation that “celebrities” are success stories, those who have become extremely financially successful and achieved mainstream popularity through their work, and “stars” are those who are recognized because of their excellence in their craft. I think the reason I resonated with her statement so much is because she spoke of how the true essence of theatre…of working hard to master your craft in order to produce work about which you are passionate and that matters, regardless of how much you are paid…is currently present more in regional theatre than in the professional world. So often, I see actors venerated that aren’t that great at what they do (you know, the ones who are themselves pretending to be someone else on the screen instead of becoming a character?), or writing that just falls flat (a movie that is said to be “character-driven” but uses flat characters to bridge the time between spectacular explosions). Our standard of what is good, of what is excellence in the craft, has plummeted as celebrities are elevated, measured by the amount of financial and popular success that they achieve. There’s a point at which this just doesn’t make sense, because, while not all of us are actors of artists or writers, let’s be honest…we still know something good when we see or hear it, at least if we’ve learned  any kind of appreciation for the medium at all.

Because, at the end of the day, I think an artist who is excellent at his or her craft should be recognized for their hard work and talent. I don’t, however, see any point in esteeming someone for how much money they are able to make. In fact, I couldn’t care less.

I’m not claiming that every popular actor or musician or author or artist who is a great salesperson is poor at their craft. In fact, if the author (for example) wants to live at their writing, then they need to learn how to sell their books. Financially successful “stars” is not necessarily an oxymoron, but I do find it to be true in frequency. I dream wistfully of how much healthier the artistic culture of the U.S., to say nothing of its popular culture, would be were we to return to valuing excellence of craft and creativity.

Instead of the American holy grail of becoming financially successful.

Whatever that means, anyway.

Photo Attribution: k01e