7- 22 -24<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have received many responses to last week\u2019s blog essay that addressed the old saying that a picture is worth a thousand words. I have always been sensitive about the proposition because I can make quick sketches, but (as regular readers here know too well) I tend to be prolix. Talkative-by-keypad. (My excuse is that I seldom have the time to write shorter\u2026)<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The blog inspired many readers to declare themselves in the camp of either representational art (paintings and sculpture) or writing (prose and poetry) as the higher mode of expression.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It is an open question \u2013 ultimately a question that is neither silly nor intractable, but, rather, impossible definitively to answer. It clearly is subjective, but it stimulates worthwhile thoughts. Which \u201cspeaks\u201d to you more, pictures or words? Art or story? Visuals or concepts? Which mode leads to fulfillment as a creator or an appreciator?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2026all those reflections and discussions are collateral to composers, performers, or lovers of music<\/em> joining the debate!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have a friend in Ireland whom technically \u2013 no, literally \u2013 I have not yet met; but we have many mutual friends including my daughter Emily, and through his paintings I feel I know better than I do many lifelong friends. Fergus Ryan is an artist who works in some ancient traditions, both in media and themes. His images are ultra-realistic, and so are his subjects\u2026 until they both frequently invoke golden moods and motifs, whether in subjects\u2019 eyes \u2013 which seldom meet the viewers\u2019 \u2013 or what is seen through the mists over seas and fields.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fergus\u2019s work has been compared, favorably, with that of Andrew Wyeth. Many of his subjects could be relatives of Helga; and many of his landscapes could be those of Winslow Homer or (to me) scenes reminiscent of Edward Hopper. His media are egg tempera (ancient of days) and oil; and his surfaces include silk besides traditional canvas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fergus is a Christian whose beliefs do not directly inspire individual works but in a much larger sense inform his work, his love of the natural world and its inhabitants: human and otherwise. Embracing this larger appreciation of God\u2019s world led him recently to share an affinity with another great artist, Michelangelo:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNeither painting nor sculpture will be able any longer to calm my soul, now turned toward that Divine Love that opened His arms on the cross to take us in\u201d (from The Voyage of My Life<\/em>, 1555).<\/p>\n\n\n\n This was the man (I mean Michelangelo Buonarroti, not Fergus Ryan), a contemporary of Leonardo and Raphael, who sculpted the Pieta<\/em> when barely into his twenties; later David <\/em>and Moses<\/em>; and painted the Sistine Chapel; who made holy figures and holy things relatable to humanity\u2026 who yet declared sublimation to the overwhelming message of the Cross. The \u201cagony and the ecstasy\u201d? To Michelangelo the simple and profound were one: the power and the glory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To my theme here, however, about words, art, creativity: when Fergus shared the quotation by Michelangelo, a self-important skeptic \u2013 I should say an aggressive denier of God and anything faintly Biblical or religious \u2013 peppered him with allegations of Biblical forgeries and historical hoaxes. No proof, just ad hoc<\/em> claims that only the stupidcould be seduced by \u201cobvious nonsense.\u201d Fergus, God (or Whoever) bless him, patiently debated the delusional correspondent online. Finally, to visit one bit of ignorance that was thrown at Fergus is one that skeptics, atheists, blasphemers often bray: that the creative genius of a Michelangelo, or the music of a Bach, or the kindness of a mother\u2019s smile\u2026 have nothing to do with the Divine Spark. Individuals create, compose, and love on their own, these people say: a God has nothing to do with it. Let us say that you adore the Pieta<\/em> of Michelangelo; or have been moved by the Magnificat<\/em> by Bach; or have been reduced to tears by \u201cHow Do I Love Thee\u201d by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Which choice would make them more special<\/em> to you? \u2013 if you could only have experienced them once in your life\u2026 and then you retained their memories; embraced the special ways they touched you; and you sought to recapture the meanings and emotions forever after? No right or wrong answers? In either case, cherish the expressions of creativity… in others, and in yourself. May I suggest that God graces all His children with creative talents. But it is no less a Gift of God to have the taste, curiosity, and sensitivity to hold such things dear. That<\/em> may be the answer: to let Him work through us and in us. Outward and inward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Catch the Divine Spark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n + + +<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Bible talks about \u201citching ears\u201d \u2013 people who seek out the arguments they need to feed their prejudices. To quickly, and seriously, switch to the principal crisis in the lives of such people: Scripture lists many sins, and the Lord holds out mercy and forgiveness for them all\u2026 except one: Blaspheming the Holy Spirit<\/em>. Willfully ignoring the Truth; ascribing God\u2019s miracles to luck or (worse) one\u2019s self; beholding the things of God but denying the Power thereof\u2026 these are things, to me, that might be called blaspheming the Holy Spirit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know whether to have contempt or pity for people who harbor such bankruptcies of emotion. Knowing that God is in the midst of tender creativity is so<\/em> much more profound than any notion of human origination! Don\u2019t you agree?
Well. If you do \u2013 or if not \u2013 I will get off my soapbox and return to living-room discussions and debates. I ask (as my title says) a Question with No Right Answer. But it is fun, and worthwhile, to think about. It is, perhaps, about the nub of Creativity, and what is special to humankind when we create and perceive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Or\u2026 to see, hear, and read them over and over? Whenever you wanted? To dial-up the moods; to feed impulses; to memorize every one of their details? Would \u201cfamiliarity breed contempt\u201d?<\/p>\n\n\n\n