The Role of the artist, Part 3
"Writing? It's something to do. Occasionally, it's a bit more than that."
Dear fellow Misfits,
I have been diving into novel-writing lately and I find myself consistently wondering what I’m doing. In an effort to explore all of this, I’m returning to the Role of the Artist series. I write it all here in the hopes that this means something to you too and, as always, I love your comments.
Fellow writer Heather Caliri wrote me this a few weeks ago, “Sometimes I forget that being obedient to the work also involves being kind to myself, that the work is not somehow more important than I am.”
Thank you, Heather. This is a good word and reminds us that all this talk of art and the work has to be put into context. The time away from the work is also part of the work. Suffering can be part of the work but healing is also part of the work.
On that note, take care of yourselves. Go outside every morning and sit in the sun. If there is no sun, sit in front of a SAD lamp. You might need it as winter comes.
Eat well. Move your body. Get some rest. And come back to the work when you’re ready.
Christiana
The Role of the Artist
I recently read a conversation with author Madjuri Vijay in which the interviewer reminded Vijay about something she’d said in the past about art. Vijay’s response was this:
I’m mortified to have ever said something so pompous, so let me replace it with something equally pompous but, I hope, less trite.
Vijay then goes on to say that she finds it strange when authors are quick to talk about the “purpose of their work.” She says that art in its “purest state” is not meant to serve an agenda and when it is “strong-armed into serving any or all of these,” the work is “necessarily mutilated.”
She continues:
Far more honest to my mind is Zadie Smith’s sheepish admission: Writing? It’s something to do. For me, it’s something to do, but, occasionally, it’s a bit more than that…On the very best days, writing is, simply, itself: self-contained, guileless, full of play. And for that reason, it is sublime.
I found Vijay’s self-awareness hilarious and refreshing. I love it when artists attempt to talk about what they do and even more when they struggle with what they mean or laugh at their own past words.
I don’t mean that I take delight in their fumbling. What I mean is that listening to an artist struggle with what her art means is indication that art doesn’t mean just one thing. It is mysterious and nebulous and frustrating and “self-contained, guileless, full of play.”
I also want to highlight something else. Vijay says that art, in its “purest state” should not serve an agenda. Leaving aside that I don’t believe that there is some “pure state” of art (unless you’re Plato, I guess)—I want to say a few things about this, from my perspective:
I don’t know Vijay but I doubt she’s saying there is no purpose in art at all. I think what she might be saying is that art shouldn’t be forced into teaching a lesson or offering a certain message. When you fiercely attach a purpose to art (like taking a political or cultural or social stance), the work itself can be diminished.
Hoo boy, Christian artists have long struggled with this. We really want there to be purpose in our art. We really struggle to not have an agenda. We really want to be didactic. And that is because, at our best, Christians artists long to offer meaning and purpose to the world through our art.
Of course we do! We have this beautiful story of Jesus burrowed inside of us and we see that the world is not right and we want to make sure that everyone who reads our work has heard that story fully. We want to show God’s light. We want to express the realities of good and evil. We want everyone to hear this story. And that is a good thing!
But here is the tension: The result of strong-arming a message can lead to bad art, which can distort the message anyway. If you don’t believe me, take it from Dorothy Sayers.1 She has no qualms about expressing her views of bad Christian art:
A bad play is a bad play, and though, like some bad statuary and abominable stained glass, it may assist the prayers of the faithful, it will do nothing to convince the world at large that the Christian religion is worthy of intelligent consideration. And I am not altogether sure even about the faithful: does bad art really do for them anything that good art would not do better?2
For Sayers, bad art is worse than a bad message. And, more than that, bad art can actually distort religion, even for the faithful.
This is a deep tension and one reason why it can be so hard to be an artist who is a Christian. Christians are usually aware that what we create should mean more than our ability to make it so. And that also puts pressure on us to be faithful to God and to the work.
So, what does it mean to create good art as a Christian? Well, there are certainly a lot of opinions on this but here is what I think (at least it’s what I think today…ask me tomorrow for another answer):
First, take a deep breath. We don’t create art in a vacuum. We don’t render pure, illuminated, unbiased creations out of the ether. We create from within ourselves, with all our messiness and glory, with all our unconscious biases, experiences, and limits. We create from who we are (and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise). Purpose, meaning, and agenda comes from that whether we think it does or not. There is no unbiased creation.
But also when we create, we pull from this mysterious well. Call it the Muse or the Spirit or whatever you want but it’s almost always more than we think it is.
If we believe in the story of Jesus, and it is married to every part of us then it will reveal itself even if we don’t try. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t let ourselves speak about this beautiful story if we believe it. But it does mean that we don’t have to try to so hard to make our art mean something. Sometimes just witnessing to your experience, with all it’s pain and glory, is creating for God.
Sometimes, just crafting a really good story is the best thing we can do. The world needs good stories!
Personally, I think Dorothy Sayers can be a little snobby and hard on bad art. But she has a point. Laura K. Simmons suggests what Sayers might mean more fully:
It is God’s job to inhabit an inspired work of art, not the artist’s job to force some spiritual connection with the audience…Sayers draws a distinction between art used by the artist to evangelize and art used by God to shape a person.
If we offer up our work then God is the one in charge of what happens after it leaves us. Personally, I find that a huge relief!
As for art with a message, there is room for disagreement on this. If you don’t know what I mean, look no further than J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. These friends had enormous influence on each other but they were also deeply divided about their work.
Tolkien believed that Lewis was too didactic in his writing, particularly in Chronicles of Narnia. You can see this so clearly in their different approaches to story and fantasy. Tolkien, a devout Catholic, built epic mythical worlds in Lord of the Rings without talking about God at all. Lewis built a fantasy world that had an allegorical Jesus very clearly in the form of Aslan.
While Lewis was more popular in his time and Tolkien’s influence continues to grow, both are still beloved.
What are your thoughts on this?
A few of my own things:
Mystics and Misfits: Meeting God Through St. Francis and Other Unlikely Saints
Awakened By Death: Life-Giving Lessons from the Mystics
Sayers had a delightfully argumentative friendship with C.S. Lewis. I love this quote by Sayers in regards to C.S. Lewis’s view of women: “I do admit that he is apt to write shocking nonsense about women and marriage. (That, however, is not because he is a bad theologian but because he is a rather frightened bachelor.)” Ha! From Sayers, Dorothy L. The Letters of Dorothy L. Sayers, Volumes 1–4. Ed. Barbara Reynolds. Cambridge: Dorothy L. Sayers Society, 1995–2002.
Creed Without Chaos, Laura K. Simmons, pg 133