So yesterday afternoon I decided to do something that, historically, has been very rare for me -- I decided to go visit a museum. Not just any museum. The MOMA. The museum of modern art. The epicenter of NYC "cool."
In reflecting on it, I think I have stayed away from this place for two reasons:
1) I have always thought modern art was sort of a joke -- something that my 11 month old son could accomplish if he could just direct his drool onto a canvas and change its color...
2) I used to feel very intimidated and excluded by the "hipsters" walking around there. I felt "judged" and "inadequate" -- like there was an inside joke and I just didn't get it. If I really got it then I would understand the need to wear skin tight jeans, square eyeglasses, black shirts and converse sneakers. Instead, clothed in khakis and a polo I remain destined to stand out as someone who "doesn't belong."
I think I realized something yesterday. The MOMA is a church. It is a church for humanists and nihilists. For people that don't believe in God... That have no hope. I went thinking that I would do well just to "fit in" for an hour or two and I left feeling empathy and sadness for the artists and the patrons... also for myself.
Briefly, the term "modern" art encapsulates most art from the late 1800's onward. The thread that unifies seemingly disparate artists such as Picasso, Dali and Hirst is their willingness to "disregard the past." Free of the burden of "perspective" and the "laws of nature" these artists create works that are designed to reflect the world and man as they "really" see it. The emphasis is usually on the "shocking" and "provocative."
What I believe these artists identify correctly is the brokenness of the world and of themselves. Shame on me for not taking their work more seriously -- these people are not drooling on canvas. The "output" might be easily recreatable (is that a word?), but the "input" -- the suffering, the insight, the pain, that is all quite real and quite serious. It is no joke. There is little doubt in my mind that their art correctly reflects a world without God. A world without "rules" or "purpose..." a world that appears random, chaotic, evil and painful. Their work calls attention to the plight of the everyday man -- from the mockery of machines (modern artists seem to love nothing more than hating on capitalists inventions like the assembly line) to the hopelessness of the goals we all strive for...
The problem, of course, is that there is no hope in modern art. Once we "give up" on tradition like these artists -- once we decide "we can make our own rules," the story always ends the same -- in utter despair. We can't save ourselves. Even the most talented and wonderful artists -- like Leonardo DaVinci (with paint and sculpture) and William Shakespeare (with words), come to the end of themselves, the end of their lives and are utterly despondent. Why? Because they do it all for their own glory and some ideal of achieving salvation and perfection. They can't process the brokenness of the world and of themselves and stay sane. It is too much. Their insight and understanding into human nature crushes them. If these men, these geniuses fell short, what hope do the rest of us have?
This is serious business. I might have looked at these "hipsters" with cynicism, but now I realize, in my own way, I am one of them. I am just like them -- it turns out even though I don't know the dress code, I too belong with them. Every time I try to do anything (not just drawing or painting) without praising God or following his law, I too am trying to color outside the lines. Coloring outside the lines, while tempting because it speaks to my pride's desires to "create my own rules," ultimately always fails.
The thing I am missing and these artists and hipsters are too, is that there ARE rules, God's rules. There are lines, God's lines. There IS hope, God's hope. When we obey his two commands -- to love Him and love others, we can find the freedom and peace that our heart's desire. There is boundless joy in that. There is boundless freedom. All we have to sacrifice to access it, is the pride we take in ourselves (which isn't worth anything anyway -- just ask Shakespeare and DaVinci).
Incidentally, once this is done, then we will have true freedom to "create" in celebration of our Lord. We will have no fear of failure or rejection. It is why the music of someone like J.S. Bach is so powerful, so moving, so true and yet so hopeful. Since, while it recognizes the brokenness of the world and ourselves, it also points towards a higher truth and perfect love that overcomes the world and ourselves -- the love of Jesus.
Now THAT is something worth painting about.
Praise the Lord.
CPP
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