In 1985, by happy coincidence, the annual Tertiary Students Christian Fellowship conference was held in Auckland, as was the Monet Exhibition, a bringing together of Monet paintings from around the world so us little old Kiwis could have a taste of "great" art without needing to take a plane ride to London, Paris, New York, etc. (I was living in Dunedin in those days.) I recall the excitement of the exhibition coming to NZ, of wanting to go, of going, and don't recall much about what I actually saw or felt when I saw the paintings - though I have, ever since, had a very high liking for Impressionist paintings, including Monet's.
Since then, occasionally rather than regularly, I have viewed art - paintings more my thing than sculptures - and perhaps have done so with the awe that comes when one is not an artist and thus admiring of artistic skill, vision and endeavour that is not a gift embedded in my life. I have also come to admire those art historians and critics who explain paintings with about 99 more insights than my one thought :).
Recently I have had opportunity to view some of the great paintings of our world - where and what particular paintings I have viewed don't matter for the purposes of this post. My reflections flow from the initially personal to the role of art in religious experience. However there may be nothing peculiar to Anglicanism in this post. Indulge me as a budding art critic!
One criterion, obviously very personal, for appreciation of paintings is whether I would like to have the painting adorn the walls of my own home. Would I like it to be constantly available to view? Could I imagine myself growing tired of it and thus, after a few months or even a few years, growing tired and regretful of making the purchase? (Let's set aside for the moment my generally impoverished financial state relative to the actual cost of great paintings, and the lack of much wall space suitable for great works which sometimes are of great size!)
On this criterion I could see myself not wanting to buy every conceivable Impressionist painting: some move me with deep emotion and some, well, do not. But also on this criterion, I find myself asking why I would love to have a Pollock (he of splashing paint against the canvas fame) and a Mondrian (he of straight lines, squares and rectangles fame). Neither tell an obvious story (to this non-art historian), but both kinds of paintings move me to wish I could have (at least) one of each.
Recent viewings have led me to another criterion - again, possibly quite personal. We are all aware that in the past, portrait painting was a "thing", no doubt because, without photography, it was a way not only of honouring a person but also of enabling their memory to endure. But I find a lot of portraits leave me quite cold as a potential purchaser (even when the portrait is of a famous person and painted by a renowned artist). But the criterion which has come to my mind, as at least being an important marker for me, is that the portrait draws me to want to meet the person portrayed, to enter their world and to find out more about them. An outstanding example of such a painter is Rembrandt. His faces are amazing, not only because of the way he captures light on faces, but because the faces are painted in a way that, at least for me, makes me want to enter the world of the one who has been portrayed. An NZ equivalent, in my view is C.F. Goldie.
I have thought of a third quality a painting might have, which is still about "drawing me into its world" though not necessarily directly into the world as portrayed by the artist (so this is different to the second criterion above). Recent viewings of religious art have reminded me that some of the great Christian art works (of the "Mary with the child Jesus", "Jesus and the disciples", "St Francis and the animals" kind) have been painted as though these biblical scenes occurred in the contemporary world of the artist (per buildings depicted in the background, style of clothes worn, even style of painting of the bodies of people/animals/angels involved in the depiction, etc).
Into that contemporary world, I have not found myself drawn, but nevertheless I have been moved by the devotion portrayed. Somehow the artist has captured the vibe of the biblical story/event-in-Christian-history being illustrated and the vibe - utter devotion to God encountered in the moment (if Jesus not depicted) or devotion to Jesus - connects with me (mostly to trouble me about my lack of devotion!). This third criterion, then, is that the painting draws me out of myself towards something I see (or "see") which is greater than me - likely God and the world of the Bible or major moments/people in church history - and that greater thing is inherent in the painting rather than directly portrayed. It is inspirational because, somehow, between intent to depict the past and doing so in a manner contemporary to the artist's own time, nevertheless a timeless engagement of human(s) with the divine is represented and I, the viewer, am drawn to enter also into that engagement. (Obviously a related reflection is involved when pondering what it is about iconography which moves our spirits, though in that case, artists make their depictions in a certain format which continues across generations and eras).
Incidentally, the NZ artist I most admire in terms of this third criterion is Colin McCahon - whose paintings are not well known outside of NZ, but - in my very humble and I am not an art historian view - would grace any of the best known galleries around the world.
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Just because by next Monday the moment may have passed, because ... well lots could happen in the next seven days ... I think it worth acknowledging President Trump's achievement [to date] re peace in the Middle East. Perhaps 99/100 Trumpian things are debateable if not objectionable (see all kinds of things happening in the USA re migration, ICE, National Guard callouts, activist attorneys appointed with one arrest specifically in mind, defunding of all manner of things useful to USA society and to humankind generally (e.g. scientific research), whatever is or is not going on re US/Qatar relationship, etc, and, indeed, many et ceteras). But here, on this one matter at least, Trump has achieved what his predecessor could not and which, arguably, no other national leader currently in power could do - not even if they all got together to exert their collective influence. It is unimaginable that either Xi or Putin would have exerted themselves one iota to solve the problem of achieving a ceasefire.
A challenge for for those who lean "pro Palestinian" or even are "all in, pro Palestinian" - I suggest - is whether we can appropriately acknowledge Trump's influence on this matter! I raise this challenge because some internet surveying in the past day or so suggests an unwillingness to so acknowledge ... which is coupled, in my view, with a lack of "real politik" about what might have achieved the ceasefire ... certainly it was not going to have been achieved by protest marches in cities far from the Holy Land, nor by flotillas sailing closer the the Holy shores, nor by declarations of recognition of Palestine as a state. (To be clear, all such actions have their own value in generating a climate of expectation that the war must stop. My point here is simply that none of them alone or in accumulation was going to stop the war).
Our prayer, summed up, as always, in the words of our Lord, "Your kingdom come", must continue to be that this present ceasefire leads to a lasting just peace.
Postscript: I could be wrong. Maybe Trump was just a pawn here, subject to forces with more power than meets the eye? Or, is this a fantasy?
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