Beauty, and the idea that there are “objective” standards of Beauty — however far beyond our ability to imagine, create, notate and understand them in this — is a driving force in my life and my art. I generally use the word “Divine” in place of “objective,” but the meaning is the same to me.

The trick is that I also understand the notion of personal aesthetics as described by Alain de Botton in his book The Architecture of Happiness. I’ve mentioned Botton and his ideas a number of times before, particularly here.

What if there is an objective beauty and personal aesthetics. As I brainstorm in my html editor, I’m wondering if our own subjective, personal ideas of beauty aren’t each part of the larger puzzle. Some of us like Victorian architecture, some Gothic, some the beautiful Japanese structures of the Edo period and still others mid-century modern. Perhaps the Divine, objective aesthetic is some unfathomable but utterly perfect combination of all styles.

This is pure speculation of course, and needs some significant mulling over. Even beginning from the point at which I believe that the Divine aesthetic is beyond our ability to imagine, create, notate and understand, this is a thought that seems worth pursuing.

This entry was inspired by Old World Swine’s two most recent posts, No Talent Required and Objective Beauty, both good reads.

Tim Jones over at Old World Swine responded to a commenter’s comments in his most recent post, The Nekkid Truth, Too. The conversation touched on some thoughts I’ve had in the last couple years, but up to this point had yet to put down. I’m using his entry as inspiration, thus, and putting the keys to the html editor.

Let’s get started with this statement from The Nekkid Truth:

God made us men to be attracted to the female form (I consider it his best work, the pinnacle of physical creation), so that is something to accept and to be grateful for. To acknowledge the attraction and the beauty is no sin, in itself.

The commenter is, through the course of the post, expressing a desire to appreciate masterful works of art which include nudity. However, he struggles with this on account of men’s predilection towards lust, the most common affliction of the fallen male.

The question that burns me personally is how, as a fallen male, do I distinguish admiration from something more perverse? Can I? Is there a black and white line marking the difference between, in Jones’ words, the desire to “possess” a woman and thinking — in overly simplified terms — “She’s gorgeous!” Do men possess the ability to admire without lusting?

As a man and an artist intrinsically interested in all things aesthetic, all ideas and ideals of beauty, this question intrigues me to no end. And I realize, however unfortunate for my own mental well-being, there may not be an end to wrangling with these questions in this mortal life. I struggle interminably with whether or not I can have a pure thought at all, often wondering if everything that goes through my mind related to the female physique isn’t tainted. I constantly reassure myself that this is not the case, but the concern doesn’t go away. Can a man actually think about a woman in a way, however mild, that isn’t perverse? (And I don’t ask this solely in the context of sexuality, although this is the greatest temptation.). Some people may think this last question is a bit off the rocker, but I would counter by suggesting that none of us really know what is Holy well enough to determine what thoughts in our human minds may or may not be completely pure.

Last year my wife and I visited with friends recently returned from a vacation in Singapore. They talked about how it is illegal, against the written law, for men to ogle at women in that country. While he genuinely appreciated the attempt at a modest culture — and thoroughly enjoyed his visit to such a law-abiding society — our friend also understood the problems with trying to legislate such things. He likened what he saw to a police state.

I long to view all of God’s creation with the eye that He intended. Laws, such as those apparently in effect in Singapore, will not change the fallen mind. They will not allow me or anyone else to overcome human tendencies to pervert, basically, everything we think or do. While my attitude may come across as a bit fatalistic, let me assure you that I still strive for and hope to see as much of the glory of God’s creation — including the female form — before I die. This pursuit constantly drives my work in the studio, even if it isn’t obvious in the forms or titles of my sculpture.

Adding: As Jim points out in the first comment, the Titian above is worth some commentary: “The clothed woman is believed to represent earthly vanity and materialistic love, the nude to represent higher, pure love. A casual observer might think it was the other way around.” See a few more details on Wikipedia.

See my other entries dealing with women and beauty via this link.

I’m perusing videos uploaded to YouTube detailing the storm and resulting damage from Friday’s tornado in Atlanta. It’s fascinating to me how websites like Flickr and YouTube allow for such dynamic and more or less real-time citizen journalism. These websites foster an organic creation of a veritable archive, of sorts, recording important, interesting and personal events. The founder and director of ArtsLink lives near downtown Atlanta but, thankfully, was unharmed; the house her and her husband just signed a contract one day before on is just blocks from a badly damaged neighborhood, however.

I’ve mentioned in one or two previous posts — posts probably more than two years old now — my own monumental run-in with tornadoes. Seven of them, in fact, all in one night. I was three years old and distinctly remember huddling in the basement with my mother. My father was galavanting around town with his sister, trying to rouse their aunt who they were worried wouldn’t heard the civil defense sirens. They were trying to do this without getting shot, knowing their aunt kept a .38 in her nightstand.

Even though I ended up with my first Big Wheel from a pile of rubble following the storm that devastated Grand Island, Nebraska in June 1980, I was terrified of tornado sirens for years afterward. I dreamt of the yellow noisemakers bouncing down the basement stairs of my home coming to get me. When the sirens would blair and storms were near, I would race into the house.

Somehow I overcame this phobia around the age of 12 or 13. By then I’d seen two other twisters in my hometown of North Platte, Nebraska, one as a funnel right over my little league game.

I can’t, unfortunately, lay out exactly how these powerful storms, with or without a tornado, went from being so frightful to so captivating for me. I would like to be able to understand how this shift occurred in order to better articulate the fascination I now have for thunderstorms, a fascination that impels me through my artistic processes.

As I’ve said before, I find storms both beautiful and powerful. They are beautiful when viewed from a distance (easily done on the prairies I grew up on); the textures, the forms and the light are stunning. They are powerful when upon you, which goes without saying. This combination awes me, how something so visually wonderful can also be so terrifying. Perhaps the best word to describe such a phenomenon is sublime.

Though I often lament living in Northwest Arkansas on account of it’s trees and hills obscuring the horizon, I still look forward to this stormy time of year. I’ve made note of a few places in town where one can look a ways into the sky and see approaching storms. I migrate to these locations with a camera whenever the forecast for thunderstorms is promising.

From Iconia, guest blogger Michael Dubitzky suggests we should rejoice at the recent theft of more than $160 million in paintings in Switzerland.

From CNN, Spanish Health Ministry bans ultra-thin models from the runway, and begins standardizing dress sizes.

From TechCrunch, it looks to be a promising year for clean energy startups.

I speak regularly of beauty on this blog, more often in the context of the human physique or the built environment than with respect to the fine arts. Why or how it’s ended up this way I can’t exactly say, but I’m taking this opportunity to talk specifically about beauty as it relates to the tactile arts.

From Wikipedia: The image of the young woman is a
symbol of human beauty in the West,
and a dominant theme in western art.
The above painting is “Nymph with morning glory flowers”
by Jules Joseph Lefebvre

Beauty has driven how I think about and create my sculptures (and occasional paintings) since I can remember thinking about and creating art. It influences every one of my artistic decisions. My works represent a process of searching for a Divine beauty, for a more palpable definition of a subjective and somewhat ethereal concept.

beau·ty (byōō’tē)
n. pl. beau·ties
The quality that gives pleasure to the mind or senses and is associated with such properties as harmony of form or color, excellence of artistry, truthfulness, and originality.

I hope the idea of beauty plays into every tactile artist’s work and process, but by no means do I expect every work of art to aspire to be beautiful. Art serves a much broader purpose than just beautification, even if, in my opinion, this is one of the most important aspects of visual art. Many other approaches to a work are equally valid, whether the crafter’s intentions are social, political, personal or relating to the interesting concept of the sublime. And, of course, using these in any combination is also an option.

I don’t know how to approach the subjective nature of beauty in this entry. Suffice it to say that I do believe there are aspects to beauty, artistic and otherwise, that cross cultural, social and personal aesthetics — though I don’t know what these would be off-hand. I suppose one can point to flowers or sunsets or mountains or oceans as universally eliciting a positive emotional response (Although, if I recall correctly, 19th century Europeans didn’t necessarily think of things like mountains and oceans as beautiful, but instead referred to them as sublime.). I personally like to think of beauty in terms of original Creation. What did Adam and Eve and the garden look like before the Fall? How can I emulate or capture a snippet of this ideal?

In asking how I can aspire to a Divine aesthetic I usually end up abstracting both the beautiful and sublime as I find them in nature, particularly — and you’ll already know this of me if you’ve read this blog for the last couple of years — thunderstorms as they occur on the American prairies. I also stick to forms and textures that mimic the natural materials and processes I prefer, generally employing natural visual elements such as wood grain into the finished product.

I’ll continue this train of thought with an article in the near future dealing with Gregory Wolfe’s most recent Image Journal editorial (take note of their new website), which is in defense of beauty.

Chuck Colson references Francis Schaeffer’s Art and the Bible in this article from The Christian Post:

“The neighbors watched the new church building go up in just one month—and what a sight it was! The church was a squat, square building made of unrelieved concrete. On the inside was garish red carpeting. A massive parking lot surrounded the church.

Nothing could possibly have been uglier — and the fact that so many Christians build church structures like this reveals how far Christians have strayed from the place beauty and art are meant to have in our lives.

As the late Francis Schaeffer notes in his book, Art and the Bible, we evangelicals tend to relegate art to the fringes of life. Despite our talk about the lordship of God in every aspect of life, we have narrowed its scope to a very small part of reality. But the arts are also supposed to be under the lordship of Christ, Schaeffer reminds us. Christians ought to use the arts “as things of beauty to the praise of God.”

This is exactly what God commanded regarding the building of His Tabernacle. As Schaeffer says, “God commanded Moses to fashion a tabernacle in a way [that] would involve almost every form of representational art that men have ever known.” In Exodus 25, for example, God instructs Moses to make for the Holy of Holies “two cherubim of gold; of beaten work shalt thou make them.”

In other words, God was commanding that works of art be made: a statuary representation of angels.

Outside the Holy of Holies, lampstands were to be placed—that is, candlesticks of pure gold, decorated with representations of nature: almond blossoms and flowers.

And then we have the descriptions of the priestly garments. Upon their skirts were to be designed pomegranates of blue, purple, and scarlet.

Does God value beauty for beauty’s sake? It seems He does. Consider the two columns Solomon set up before the Temple. He decorated them with a hundred pomegranates fastened upon chains, as God commanded. These two free-standing columns supported no architectural weight and had no engineering significance, Schaeffer writes. “They were there only because God said they should be there as a thing of beauty.”

And this brings us back to those ugly church buildings we often build. No wonder non-Christians often remark on the ugliness of our churches—an ugliness that is off-putting to anyone sensitive to beauty.”

Continue reading via this link.

I don’t feel like I have much to add to this that I haven’t already said on The Aesthetic Elevator. I might suggest, however, that people do have — in most places in America — at least one or two aesthetically pleasing architectural options. These are usually older denominations (Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal and so forth) and older church buildings, although these same denominations do do a much better job with new design, in general, than non-denominational or Baptist congregations. For instance, the Episcopal and Presbyterian churches in my small town occupy very nice structures, even if somewhat basic in the case of the Episcopal church.

By comparison, the non-denominational buildings look more like offices and warehouses than anything else. This, of course, saves money — and possibly makes use of an otherwise uglier vacant structure — , but it does nothing for the aesthetic of the community or to the praise of our worthy God.

This is my third line of thought following up Jack of all arts, crafts, wannabe and Is art defined by communication? It was also prompted by “Mo-Coffee’s” comment on the latter post, in which he paraphrases Tennyson on poetry: “A poem doesn’t ‘mean,’ a poem ‘is.’”

Tennyson’s commentary, it seems to me, more or less represents the idea of art for art’s sake, which Wikipedia defines as “a philosophy that the intrinsic value of art, and the only “true” art, is divorced from any didactic, moral or utilitarian function.” The idea is credited to Theophile Guatier who lived in the mid nineteenth century.

The inclusion of the phrase “the only true art” sends up all kinds of red flags. Perhaps this part of the idea and definition was meant to exclude propaganda in its many forms, but it makes me think of the isolating and — in my opinion — counterproductive and potentially dangerous artist-as-genius mentality (an idea of mine that needs more exploration). That said, let’s look at art for art’s sake as “a philosophy that the intrinsic value of art is divorced from any didactic, moral or utilitarian function.”

Art that “is,” or art for art’s sake, is affirmed by Francis Schaeffer in his little treatise, Art and the Bible, on page 33 of my 1973 edition: “A work of art has value in itself.” He goes on in the same paragraph to point out that “Art is not something we merely analyze or value for its intellectual content. It is something to be enjoyed.” The point is made earlier in the book that certain instructions for for the fabrication of the tabernacle and then the temple were abstract and “for beauty“: Multi-colored pomegranates on garb, chains and pomegranates adorning freestanding pillars and and precious stones for beauty.

What about works of art that are not necessarily “for beauty” — and I say this without desiring, at this point, a discussion on personal aesthetics. What about paintings intended to comment on society, such as Picasso’s Guernica? Do these works also possess innate value though their content is less than pleasant?

But then where do you draw the line between works of art and propaganda, perhaps on the basis of how well-known an artist is? Maybe judging by the quality of the craft?

Agreeing that art bears an intrinsic value — regardless of message, intent or ability to communicate, relevance to a cultural context — lends an incredible amount of validity to modern conceptual or non-representational artwork. If a person agrees with the doctrine of art for art’s sake almost anything can become art. Is this a slippery slope, one that leads to curators fabricating boxes with a set of instructions sent to her by the artist — a box that many people in our culture will, for whatever reason, look at and think “That’s not art?”

I’m going to call this inquisitive ramble part one on art for art’s sake, and hope I can come back to it in the near future.

Over the last four or five years I’ve engaged in a number of discussions online concerning the use of nude models in the art world from a Christian perspective. Commonly, a Victorian (or, as some would suggest, “prudish”) sensibility seems to drive many Protestant’s response to any kind of undraped human body, and many people of faith condemn the use of nudes in the teaching of art.

A number of factors must be considered when approaching this subject, including the place of the human form in Creation, the place of the human form in artistic tradition, how the human form is viewed in present day culture and, as Christians, the human tendency to pervert all good things. I recently, perchance, ran across Gordon College’s policy and reasoning for the use of nudes in their drawing classes; Gordon is a private, faith-based institution. Some key points in their article are excerpted here:

“We have chosen in the Art Department at Gordon College to work respectfully with the human figure attempting to bring honor and glory to God in the process. We base this, in a Christian context, on a time-honored professional practice, holding the belief that the human form is the crowning achievement of God in Creation - worthy of our expert knowledge, and analogous to the scientific knowledge of the human body in medicine and biology. In our tradition as artists it is seen as the linchpin of our practice of visual knowledge. If you can accurately and expressively draw or paint or sculpt the human form you can draw anything.”

“In our teaching, the nude has much more in common with medical knowledge than with popular sexualization of images in advertising and movies. The context of the encounter determines the meaning of the unclothed form. An operating theater in a hospital has a drastically different meaning from that of a strip joint. An art studio with students or artists surrounding a model is akin to the operating theater. Knowledge is being gained and a professional activity is being practiced.”

My own experience drawing with the aid of nude figures at the University of Nebraska followed this same professional decorum. Never was the act of drawing with a live, undraped model sexual or erotic. It was academic and — despite not preferring the teaching style of my professor — key to furthering my own skills. I learned more in my figure drawing class than I could have imagined, and firmly believe the cause of this learning was directly related to the challenges inherent in rendering the human form. Ironically, the two models I drew most while in class went to my church (and happened to be brother and sister).

My brother, who attended a different public university in Nebraska, drew from models not entirely undraped, but in their underwear. My mother relayed to me that he was personally glad for this. I find it interesting, however, that it’s not just Christian schools that hedge against nudity.

In the last year I’ve desired to begin sketching again, in order to further my craft in all respects. Knowing the important part figure drawing played in my artistic development during college, this is where I would like to focus. However, I don’t have access to models at this point (and can’t really afford to pay them anyway) and haven’t begun sketching regularly despite my desire. Another option lies with the variety of books for artists available at major retailers. These feature numerous photographs or drawings of nude models in a variety of poses. I fear, however, this option falls short of the actual experience; the photos are small and detail will certainly be compromised.

Here in America we are a bit prudish at times (I remember when, in college, friends of mine — being female — offered room and board temporarily to a German friend — being male — who had no problems with walking around in the nude after showering, to the girl’s chagrin. All three involved were Christ-followers.). Here in the United States we are required, to a degree, to suffer through overly-sexualized, unrealistically-modified advertising on a ludicrous and unhealthy scale — a fact which distorts our perception of reality and can subsequently wreak havoc in almost all areas of our lives.

Perhaps a renaissance in figure drawing is a good antidote to the absurd culture of beauty marketers and film-makers have cultivated around us. Maybe a resurgence of the nude (”nude” being different than “naked”) in American art could actually serve to refocus our perspective. Maybe if our reaction to the Divinely created human body weren’t so awkward — perhaps most often a mixture of lust and shame — women would not feel pressured into hiding while breast-feeding, a beautifully intimate but non-sexual act. Just maybe the culture would be less prone to sexualizing (read “objectifying”) women and, more and more, men. Perhaps God would be more glorified when people took the time to observe new drawings and paintings depicting the figure, as they contemplate how wonderfully and fearfully made we are.

Perhaps.

Ned Bustard of World’s End Images (with whom I’m not at all familiar) was interviewed by the Christians in the Arts blog, which I only recently found and began to read. A brief portion of the interview was posted today, wherein Bustard is asked “What does beauty offer us?” I found this portion of his response worth reposting:

“But back to the topic—why do I think Beauty is important? I have a Kingdom of God reason and a personal reason. In Square Halo’s book It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God there is a great essay by Adrienne Chaplin on Beauty. She writes: “To seek and pursue redemptive beauty is therefore not merely a luxury pastime but a call to artists to become agents of restoration and reconciliation. Wise and winsome images—whether in paintings, music or sculptures—can serve as beacons of hope and signs of renewal.” I would assert that we need Beauty for restoration and reconciliation–to live out our prayer “…Thy Kingdom come…”. Personally, we need Beauty to know and understand what it means to be fully human and to be fully engaged—right here, right now.”

I know it is a theme now among artists of faith to speak of renewal and reconciliation, although I don’t exactly know where they are coming from personally. What’s most interesting to me in the above statement is that “To seek and pursue redemptive beauty is therefore not merely a luxury pastime . . . ” With this I wholeheartedly agree, whether the artists believes his or her end is reconciliation or something else.

I heard this morning a blurb about a British documentary, a documentary by two British journalists intending to expose the harmful nature of crash-diets. The journalists undertake a five-week experiment, dieting in an entirely unhealthy (and insane) manner, just like a lot of Americans seem to do.

Mary McNamara of the L.A. Times correctly observed that the drama in this particular film will be lost on most Americans. Apparently the British aren’t so inanely infatuated with being super skinny, with turning your own body into something akin to the living dead. The experimental journalists begin as very healthy people, by no means overweight. Of course, it seems as though a lot of Americans who are dieting don’t need to be either. For whatever reason these people have been duped into believing that the most respectable life-goal is to be as skinny as possible; if you can’t count your own ribs, God forbid!

These aren’t new problems though. Beauty varies, sometimes wildly, from culture to culture, and it even morphs over time within the same culture. Humans have historically acted on foolish mores (foot-binding, anyone?) relating to their appearance, and will probably forever do so.

As an artist who is constantly drawn to the ideas of beauty I find myself continually hashing and rehashing where my own perception of human attractiveness originates. Is it social? Is it deductive? Is it Divine? Is it personal? Does it stem from my idea of a healthy physique?

My hope is that my own ideas stem from and strive for a Divine idea of Beauty. My fear is that the driving force is mostly driven by popular social standards, which are generally unhealthy if not plain stupid. In reality, my own ideas are probably a mish-mash of all of those factors, however I still often fear that the social aspect pushes its way into prominence.

How does a person who realizes the unrealistic and silly nature of these social standards keep them from infiltrating his or her own mind?

I’ve learned, particularly since being married, that women can have very different physical features and still be healthy. (Men’s body types are more predictable, which is why shopping for jeans is no big deal to a guy. We can get away without trying them on and they’ll still fit.) Herein lies part of the problem, it seems, for females — who are by nature more attentive to their appearance than men: The culture establishes one penultimate standard for women who possess a wide variety of features.

I often wonder what Adam and Eve looked like, before the Fall. The mother and father of all mankind, they must have possessed all of the best physical characteristics from within the world’s population since them. The thing is, in our petty, self-serving ways we’re not remotely qualified to determine what these “best” attributes are. This reminds me of a quote by author Randy Alcorn: “To see the face of God is to behold beauty, which is the source of all lesser beauty.”