My wife and I always have the conversation about art and music. Typically inspired by the most recent episode of "Making the Band 47: These girls can sweat," one of the caked on girls in short shiny golden shorts says something like, "they just don't let me express my art." To which I snicker and guffaw and say something demeaning about their "art." Natalie chides me for my musical snobbery and closed-minded approach to all things lyrical and melodical.
Aside from the fact that I should generally be kinder and gentler with people on TV, the question is one worth considering... what is art? This has been an evolution in consciousness for me, because for whatever reason, God has given me a heart for the arts. For a long time I considered art... musically speaking... to require something risky or edgy and preferrably created on the spot. I followed Phish around and am still intrinsically moved by the jam band scene. I'm also an extreme jazz novice who can't get enough. I considered these expressions high musical art because of prevalence of the value of creation. At a Phish show, the songs themselves become frameworks for creation. Love it or hate it, the 20 minute "jams" are musical things that are created as you watch and as you listen. That's why a show is so special, because there haven't ever been two of them alike. Sometimes they fail, but sometimes there are moments of transcendence that closely mirror worship (that's another topic for another time).
That led to my first, and broader, definition of what art was. Art was something creative vs. something created (meaning manufactured). That fit nicely with my enjoyment of "the jam" and jazz. But I soon came to realize that there was a lot left out of that. For instance, I love Bob Dylan. I also love Matchbox 20's first 2 albums. More recently I've fallen in love with the music of Anna Nalick. These "pop" musicians defy my first attempt to classify or define art
(side note: I realize the absurdity and stupidity of trying to classify something like art. In this sense, I use the words classify and define purely as a means to try and understand why some things definitely seem to be art, and some things definitely don't.). While there was definitely something creative about them, their songs were simple and easy. No modal vamps or tension/release jams.
These artists don't necessarily have improvisation as their hallmark. They are more vocally driven or lyrically driven (in the case of Dylan). That was Natalie's point in the MOTB conversation. A little closer to home, she uses herself as an example. For those who don't know, my wife has a voice like an angel. Seriously, it's one of the most amazing things that I've ever heard, but she doesn't play an instrument and hasn't (yet) written any songs. Which led me to my final (current is a better word) understanding.
For something to be art, it must move you spiritually or emotionally in your soul to a higher place. Art must lift you. It must
create a feeling or a mood or an experience. It doesn't necessarily have to make things sunny and easy, but it needs to expand your consciousness in some way and, even if only momentarily, make you see the world differently.
I don't hesitate to call my wife an artist. She moves me when she leads worship. Dylan is an artist because he created his own music, but he tells a story with a conviction (listen to
Blood on the Tracks or
Blonde on Blonde). He makes you feel something. I listened to Anna Nalick's song "Breathe" literally 50 times in a row, and I could write a post on the deeper meaning of the song. In the case of Making of the Band, the girls had pipes, but there wasn't anything that made me want to live, be, feel, or understand differently. When I hear Matt Singleton talk about hip-hop, I'm hearing a soul that has been challenged by art (for evidence, check
this out). Again, the specifics of this are infinitely and eternally open to debate. What moves you and lifts you up is indefinable on global context (maybe), but you get what I'm talking about.
Which brings me to the topic of the Church. Where have all the artists gone? I realize in my last few posts that I've probably been a little bit dogmatic about the Church. I've probably done some finger pointing and wagging, and for that I apologize. I dont' want to leave out names like Dave Crowder, Rob Bell, Erwin McManus, Donald Miller, Kyle Lake, and a whole host of names that I don't yet know but hope to someday stumble upon. But the fact remains, statistically speaking, the Church has largely failed to capture the imagination of the public at large. Could this be due in part to the failure of the Body to produce something so large and beautiful that it has to be wrestled to the ground in sweat and tears, only to be left with a sore hip and a tearful admission that it's bigger than I am.
The saddest part about all of this is that the first glimpse of God we get is of a creative being who is moved by the splendor of His own creation. Isaiah was brought to his knees by the revelation of God. Ezekiel fell to the ground at the mystery of the vision of God. John the Revelator finds himself time and again conveying images of creation caught up in worship at the splendor of its King.
I don't often enough recognize my own failure to be moved by the Artist. So I ask again, where are the artists in the Church? More pointedly, I ask myself, where is the artist in me? Where am I playing my part in channeling the Creator so people will see and be moved, taste and see that He is good. When I listen to Klove, I'm bothered by what's passed off as art. I don't deny that I'm a music snob, not easily impressed. But it burns me to hear another Christian band that sounds just like a cheap knock off of something in the mainstream culture. I honestly think Crowder can be counted among the handful of Christian musical artists. I would put U2 in the same category (digression: I think that U2 has had as much influence in
popular music today as anyone in history. The only possible exception I can think of is the Beatles. Possibly.). I think that's why I'm increasingly having to admit my fondness of such Christian hate gatherers as Eminem. While decidedly not Christan, his passion is absolutely contagious. He makes me remember that I'm a being capable of feeling and passion and intensity.
In large part, I guess, this is an indictment of myself. I have failed to capture the essence of creativity that's in me. I had a chance today to write something for use in our weekend services. It may have been the most authentic worship I've offered in a long long time. I just don't do it enough. Those expressions get pushed to the back burner in favor of systems and structures. I don't have any problem with the systems and structures. None at all. Honestly. The fault lies within me.
I am the one created in the image of God, and all that I do should bear that likeness. Art isn't confined to painting or singing or dancing. Life is art, because in every moment there is potential to lift and be lifted. To move and be moved. To create and be created again.
For the Church to be what it was intended to be, its life giving Spirit demands that we return to the artistic. God Himself requires that we settle for nothing less than honest expression, in whatever form it takes - from a Bible study class to a poem to an elders meeting - of the biggness of our God.
The Church is waiting for her artists to arise. Let us all come awake.
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