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.

It’s still storm season, although the more severe (read “interesting, beautiful, thrilling, where-I-wanna-be”) thunderstorms are up north this time of year in my native Nebraska. I’ve taken a number of photographs this Spring of cloud forms as they pass by, and am also mulling over a couple of new thoughts with respect to their influence in my artwork.

My first observation is pretty simple. It is a comparison between my material of choice, clay, and the material of the storms and clouds I so often choose to represent. The finished ceramic product is very hard, more or less a rock. Clouds possess a volumetric and spatial presence, but are “wispy” as my wife suggested yesterday. They are atmospheric, per se, as opposed to solid. Regardless of this stark contrast, wet clay may be the best material (that I can think of) for molding the nebulous nature of thunderstorms. Stone and wood are harder to cajole into such organic forms, and with clay an artist can model almost as quickly as a summer tempest pops up through the heat and humidity.

Observation number two. I’ve focused, with good reason, on the dramatic forms and colors of the storm clouds themselves. Recently more of my attention is being drawn to the space in between the bottom of the thunderstorm, with a commonly flat appearance, and the horizon. The characteristics of this defined space are a new fascination for me. It’s an enormous space, hard to discern when you’re in the midst of the squall. The colors contained in this environment seem to penetrate the air; they take on a tactile quality. The observed “room” is huge, the size of a city, but only able to be comprehended from a significant distance — to the point the powerful storm becomes an icon instead of a threat.

I don’t know where these new thoughts will lead, but I’m eager to find out. I’ve begun with some sketches to further this novel surveillance and hope I can act on them in the next few months.

After my last clarifying post, I hesitate to use the phrase “Abstract Answer” in my title. But since this is continuing the same series I’m going to roll with it for now. I may change all of the titles, if I decide how, for this series in the future.

From the discourse between Tim Jones and myself this week, “I think the problem is not that the abstractionists think too highly of decorative art, but that they think of it not near highly enough.” Interestingly enough, I was having very similar thoughts in relationship to our banter.

What is decorative art?
In one of the later comments from this week, the Old World Swine author gives the basis for his understanding of decoration:

“decor… 1897, from Fr. décor, from L. decor “beauty, elegance,” from decere (see decorate).”

Above from the Online Etymology Dictionary, etymonline.com

In my post in this series titled Baseline banter I charted out how some different tactile arts fall along the lines of the art vs. craft debate. Wikipedia — and yes, I still respect this resource even though they didn’t get it right with the abstract vs. non-representational understanding — describes decorative art almost exactly like my graph defines the crafts. This was a bit of a surprise to me at first glance, but after a few seconds it seemed reasonable.

Jones now firmly believes that all non-representational artwork should be classified as decorative art. The following points examine this idea.

Labeling
There is a problem, off-hand, with labeling non-representational artists’ work as decorative. It implies, whether intended or not, that they are not as serious as other artists. This is a complex issue I probably don’t have the time or room to get into fully, but it’s there. It harkens back to the eternally elusive definition of art itself. For instance, where does one, along the above graph, begin referring to something as a craft instead of as an art? Do the arts/crafts in the middle of the chart get called both? Are all of them both to a certain degree so that it doesn’t matter what we call them?

In truth each of the above contains both art and craft, and the more I think about these things the less I care about what things are called, despite my keen and continuing interest in this conversation. Some people create beautiful and meaningful paintings, some create beautiful and functional furniture. My hope is that each of these craftsman thoroughly enjoy what they are presently involved with.

I may be a bit of an oddball anyway. I enjoy designing and building furniture or sketching floor plans as much as I enjoy attempting to be a part of the gallery art world. Hence, this blog aims to examine this same range of tactility.

Intention
This may be a trickier point still, and one that hits a little closer to home for me. Jones says the following in a comment on Aesthetic Escalator: (more…)

Mission trips.

They seem to become more and more popular every year, although no one really knows how many Americans take part on an annual basis. The more popular they become, the more churches and other religious institutions such as private universities organize and send teams abroad, making any kind of calculation of participants more and more difficult.

My day job is in missions mobilization, as I’ve made note of in the past. I do marketing and graphic design for a very small organization called Mission Data International (M-DAT). We’re known for the mission trip search engine ShortTermMissions.com, thus short-term mission trips are in my mind on a regular basis. I read articles about them from time to time and look at statistics from our website weekly. I’m by no means an expert on the subject, but I’m certainly more immersed in the “field” than most.

M-DAT has a policy (I’m not sure if it’s written or implied) suggesting employees serve on a short-term trip every three years. My wife and I have yet to do this, basically on account of our complicated support situation. We talk about it though, and occasionally we come across opportunities that interest us.

A few things from this Spring have me thinking still more about mission trips, and I thought I’d take some time to sort through my thoughts in a brief post.

What is a mission trip?
The phrase “mission trips” bothers me. It is applied much too broadly in modern Christendom, doing a disservice to all of us in the faith. More basically, the word missions is used in the same way, being thrown around in a manner such that it more or less loses any specific meaning. It’s very popular to say that “Everyone’s a missionary.” I used to, in my infancy so-to-speak, be of this mind. (more…)

Been out of town the past ten plus days, hence the lack of new material here. Attended my brother’s wedding and sister’s graduation. Here are a couple of photos representative of the trip:

We drive home tomorrow and I’m glad there’s nothing travel-related on the schedule at this point until December. It’s been a very busy Spring.

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.

A brief conversation with a good friend last night brought to mind a topic my wife and I happen upon with some regularity: The sedentary nature of so many of our modern workplaces — namely sitting at a desk in front of a computer for most if not all of the workday — is detrimental to our health, both mentally and physically.

I knew going into my current job I would be challenged by the amount of non-mobile hours; I knew it was a desk job. Nonetheless, I counted the cause worthy of the challenge and have found myself behind a desk for the better part of the last three years or so. I continue to like many aspects of the work and don’t regret my decision, and it hasn’t been as restless an experience as I feared. This, however, depends largely on my day to day schedule. The types of activities I find myself engaged in more or less determine whether or not a day feels productive or drags on and on and on.

Days when I’m in the office by myself are almost guaranteed to be long and feel unproductive. As an extrovert, I most certainly get my energy from being around other people. Eight hours alone in an office — even with NPR in the background — isn’t something I look forward to. My aforementioned friend was surprised to find himself in a similar situation after his company moved into a new building last year. The new structure is basically filled with cubicles. By contrast, his old workspace was intentionally communal, he told me, with desks out in the open and facing each other. He misses the personal contact which fostered, between he and his fellow graphic designers, a creative dialogue that spurred them on in their work. The move to cubicles was not advantageous for the company.

My own office space also lacks windows. There is a reason, believe it or not, people in the movies and comic strips covet corner offices with broad banks of windows. First off, we need sunlight to survive, let alone thrive and achieve peak production (which is what our CEOs are all about, right?). When I stand up to stretch, which isn’t often enough, I gravitate towards the vacant rooms with windows. One of these, the one with the best view of the western sky, is now rented unfortunately. It’s beyond me as to why office spaces are built without windows, or at the very least employ some way to get natural light into interior rooms.

All of this to say that eight-hour-a-day desk jobs seem inherently incompatible with the way humans were designed to operate and thrive. The ramifications of such idle careers are obvious: Obesity and other physical problems related to inactivity, eye strain and resulting headaches from computer monitors, and a recent article I came across suggested evidence that linked hemorrhoids to inactive lifestyles.

Any ideas on how to restructure the business world to allow for a more natural, if you will, corporate culture?

This is slightly outside the scope of this blog, but I found it humorous enough to post. Global warming is a loaded topic I purposefully avoid, although once or twice I have given my opinion on the matter. If it weren’t for my interest and thoughts published here from time to time dealing with sustainable living I wouldn’t be bothering, but . . .

My blogging friend Tim Jones over at Old World Swine alerted me to an amusing NPR spot via this entry. The NPR story is called The Mystery of Global Warming’s Missing Heat. The story begins with this paragraph:

Some 3,000 scientific robots that are plying the ocean have sent home a puzzling message. These diving instruments suggest that the oceans have not warmed up at all over the past four or five years. That could mean global warming has taken a breather. Or it could mean scientists aren’t quite understanding what their robots are telling them.

Even before Tim pointed it out in his post, my mind arrived at the same conclusion: “Or it could mean there is no such thing as global warming.” NPR, which I listen to almost daily — and enjoy listening too — is unashamed about its biases. I’ve learned to digest their stories with this in mind, though it’s sad that an investigative journalistic organization such as public radio doesn’t even seem to attempt a more balanced kind of reporting.

In other global warming related news, the Southern Baptist Convention recently launched a website dedicated to care of creation, The Southern Baptist Environment and Climate Initiative. Read their positions here. The following explains my own viewpoint on global warming and care of the environment, taken from a comment I made on Think Christian’s report of the SBC’s new policy:

My problem with global warming is that the data they draw from is very limited — esp. if you’re of the mind that the earth has been around for millions or billions of years. So temperatures have gone up a fraction of a degree in the last 150 years (basically during the history of meteorological science); they may go down a fraction of a degree over the next hundred years.

That said, I personally believe every believer should do their best to steward the earth God gave us. The word “sustainable” has significantly clearer implications IMO and is less politically loaded than “environmental,” so this is the term I default to. Regardless of any global warming, we who are charged with stewarding this planet ought to do our best. Our best does not include stripping it of its resources (unsustainable vs sustainable), living wastefully and frivolously by producing and mass-consuming disposable products (and my definition here is broad) etc etc.

Lastly in this rambling post, I will dare to broach the topic of Intelligent Design. Actually, I’m going to mention a new Ben Stein documentary that broaches ID. The film is called Expelled: No intelligence allowed. I was privileged enough to see a screening of this film while in Nashville last week. The premise, as laid out in the trailer, is that academic and scientific freedoms are being squashed by the old guard in order to protect their own personal convictions. I mention this because the same thing seems to happen in discussions about global warming. Those who, in our frightened (read “tolerant”) and politically correct society, dare to suggest that global warming has yet to be established are lampooned or just ignored.

I mentioned this same documentary in a previous post which I lived to regret; I got into a somewhat protracted conversation with a scientist who took issue with my personal belief in Creation as well as Ben Stein’s movie. The conversation was civil but completely off topic, and thus I wish at this point I would have let the second commenter’s comment hang (or used a different example in my post to begin with). At one point this person used the term “mockumentary” to describe Expelled. Just to clarify, the film is nothing of the sort if the commenter was at all using the word denotatively. Look for Expelled in theaters April 18th.

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.

Makoto Fujimura posted this week from a speech he gave. The post included a story about a Fred Danback, who sacrificed his seniority at his factory job after constantly bringing up how the plant was destroying the livelihood of local fisherman. He was demoted to janitor, which gained him significant access to all parts of the manufacturing facility. The notes and maps he made while cleaning were used in court. Fujimura closes this story with the following observations:

1) We need to be willing to be demoted
2) We need to remember our first love
3) We need to take notes

a) Become a custodian

To hold the “keys” of culture we may have to endure demotions.

By being demoted, we may gain a humble authority (keys) to unlock doors of cultural “factories”.

In September I mentioned, briefly, a verse in Romans that comes back to my mind with some regularity, reminding us that the Potter (God) has the right to make vessels for both noble and ignoble uses. Humans, in our selfish, narcissistic ways, generally insist on pursuing nobility rather than humility. We want to be famous (which is something I personally don’t understand). We want the paparazzi, the wealth, the name recognition, so we flock to American Idol tryouts and make fools of ourselves hoping for more than fifteen minutes of fame.

A successful and joyful life — and I think much of my own generation is coming to realize this — does not require an ascent of the corporate ladder. It seems as though people my age are rediscovering the importance of family and life’s simple pleasures, if you’ll allow me to use a cliche. I hope we’re further realizing the importance of individual responsibility, and of how you can’t legislate change in people’s hearts or minds.

I think that’s all I can pull together in response to Fujimura’s post. Unfortunately I’ve been ill for more than a week and my head isn’t too clear at this point, so I may amend these thoughts in the future. Regardless they impressed upon me enough to relay them on The Aesthetic Elevator.