Appropriate wonder

Waugh

2006-11-27T07:23:00.000-05:00

"Come."

2006-07-18T09:54:00.000-04:00

When I was in Rome last month I paid my customary visit to Caravaggio's masterpieces. My father and I went to pay homage together, starting at Santa Maria del Popolo and working our way down to San Luigi dei Francesi. We ended with the "Calling of Saint Matthew," one of the most phenomenal paintings in Rome. The painting is by now long familiar, and it is always a temptation when revisiting a familiar work to imagine that it is known, that it has no more secrets to reveal. Such was my attitude on this viewing. I surveyed the various areas, naming them mentally and reviewing the details which I have noticed previously or others have pointed out. But my eyes kept coming back to Christ. He stands in the darkest part of the painting, with the light behind him, and yet his face glows as if lit from within. This I had noted many times, but now I was awed and attracted by his presence, not by the artistic techniques used to represent him. I stopped analysing the use of light and shadow to attract the eye to Christ, but rather saw him, finally, as a man. There is something about the fall of the hand, the tilt of the head, which is at once commanding and gentle and magnetic. This was the most striking thing: his call could not be denied, even though it was never forced. The Gospels recount men leaving everything--work, family, home--immediately to follow him. It is a little hard to imagine. A man walks by and says, "Come with me" and you go without asking where or who he is or why he can't wait until you've said goodbye. This man is present in Caravaggio's painting. His gesture is not elaborate, nor his carriage dictatorial, and yet his quiet presence compels. He must be followed. The picture is so tense with the necessity of that call that you find yourself holding your breath, waiting, as it were, for Matthew's response to that insistant hand and face. Here is represented the reality of the person of Christ. It was not possible to be ambivalent about him; a position is necessary. And in some way, each of us is faced with that question through this picture. In some way, we too are called on to make a choice in the face of Christ's call.
I have been accustomed to think Caravaggio rather less than a painter like Fra Angelico. My reasoning has always been that Caravaggio does not move me to pray as Fra Angelico does. Now I wonder. No, the painting did not move me to the kind of prayer that the sanctified Fra Angelico inspires. Rather, it reiterated the initial Christian choice in a real and demanding way. "Come with me." The choice must be made to go or to stay. There is nothing in between.

http://faculty.evansville.edu/rl29/art105/img/caravaggio_stmatthew.jpg

Glorious satire

2006-06-28T17:36:00.000-04:00

Don Quixote is one of the funniest books I have ever read. I always imagined it to be a sort of romance or glorified legend; I was completely unprepared to find it satirical. Perhaps the joke is especially funny to me since I grew up with a steady diet of fantasy, myth, and legend. I haven't read all the chivalric literature Don Quixote is endlessly talking about but I know the style and Cervantes brilliantly imitates it. He writes with the proper grandiloquence, but brings to the foreground the absurdity which almost all legends tremble on the brink of. An example is in order.

"It seems to me," said Sancho, "that the knights who did things like that were provoked and had a reason for their follies and penances. But what reason has your worship for going mad? What lady has scorned you, or what evidence have you found that the lady Dulcinea del Toboso has done anything she shouldn't with Moor or Christian?"
"That is the point," replied Don Quixote, "and in that lies the beauty of my plan. A knight errant who turns mad for a reason deserves neither merit nor thanks. The thing is to do it without cause; and then my lady can guess what I would do in the wet if I do all this in the dry."

God be praised for allowing the absurd. Risibility is indeed a precious gift.

2006-06-15T14:16:00.000-04:00

Oscar Wilde is one of those people that is always being discussed. He was such an outrageous personality that it is next to impossible for anyone to come in contact with him and his work without commenting upon it. Recently there has been much conversation generated over his decadent life versus his moralizing tone. Which is the real Wilde? We shall never be able to definitively settle this or any of the other questions about Wilde.

Today I came upon an interesting article in Logos. While discussing Wilde's connection to Catholicism, the author looked briefly at the poem "Salome." In this work, Wilde draws a vivid and brilliantly decadent picture of Herod and Salome. It is richly sensuous and gorgeous. And into this speaks the voice of John the Baptist in condemnation. This voice and this presence is not dismissed by Wilde. He does not include John in order to mock or belittle him. Here is an extraordinary trend in Wilde's work: he creates a perfect decadent world and then purposefully disturbs it with a moralizing presence. Whatever is said in the endless conversations on the topic, it is advantageous to observe that Wilde takes this presence seriously--as should those who wish to understand him.

Art Work

2006-06-05T09:54:00.000-04:00

Last Friday my highschoolers performed Le Bourgois Gentilhomme to thunderous applause. It probably helped that the audience was almost exclusively composed of their parents and siblings, but they did give an excellent performance and I am very proud of them.

Being my first paid directing job, my work with the highschoolers naturally prompted some reflections on what it means to make one's art one's work. I originally took the job because I thought it would provide valuable experience and because it was a paid position. I had only a little interest in the play, no real desire to work with highschoolers, and I live 45 minutes away from the school. A few years ago I think I would probably considered this mercenary and false to my Art. Now I'm grateful for the opportunity. Idealism in art is so narrowing.
What I found most surprising about the experience was realizing that it is in fact a job and that this is a good thing. Of course I love it but it is also a job. I think this is a crucial realization when working in the arts because although you must have a love to start, this isn't always enough to carry it through. There are always days when you just don't feel like it. And if the basis for your art and work is only emotional, then when you don't feel like it, you can't continue. But if your basis is discipline and you approach it as job, then even when you don't feel like it, you must continue. There were certainly days when I didn't want to drive 45 minutes or I didn't want to try once more to communicate the meaning of a scene. But I had to because it was my job and that carried me through. Every day I had to show up and do my work well no matter what I felt like and that is truly a valuable experience which has changed the way I approach and understand my work.

Vocation

2006-03-06T11:33:00.000-05:00

Art is making intelligible . . . We speak often in aesthetics about making reality intelligible, about perceiving some interior truth and expressing it. I had a curious thought about directing yesterday. It seems to me that the point of directing (or at least as I understand it) is to make a play intelligible. It almost makes the director like an interpreter and the creativity comes into play not through creating something new per se so much as discovering the best way of expressing something to a particular audience. It is perhaps a step removed from making reality intelligible--that is the goal of the playwright--but it is making the intelligibility intelligible through making is visual, spacial, and temporal. I think a few years ago this would have seemed degrading or non-artistic to me. But now it seems the way to fulfillment and satisfaction. There are few things so glorious to me as making concrete the concepts of a play, focusing the energy of actors, coordinating the visual and auditory elements--all to the end of making intelligible the interior truth and structure of the play. I have struggled for so long with the inability to express and articulate why I think some works of art are brilliant and have recently felt that I can do no better than to indicate, to point and affirm. In a way, directing is a response to this problem. Through my interpretation I can show in a physical, temporal way at least a part of the beauty and truth inherent to the work.

Only connect . . .

2006-02-27T15:29:00.000-05:00

Lately I have been reading Howard's End in my spare moments. I haven't finished it yet and so can't make any sort of general comment or judgement, but I have been forcibly struck by the main character Margaret. She has this desire to really connect with other people--to know them and understand and sympathize with them. It is a conscious goal for her which she always has in the front of her mind: to connect with other people, and also to forge a connection between the poetry of life and the prose. In the end, her desire is wholeness, both of the individual and in community.
I am greatly inspired by this. It is so easy to isolate oneself out of fear--fear of all sorts. It is a much harder thing to seek communication, seek understanding, seek interaction. It requires openness to the other and, in the end, love. This brings the possibility of pain but also enables communion. We have such a need for each other; such a desire for interaction and communication. I must make a greater effort to connect with those around me--with my friends, with those I work with, with those who unexpectedly cross my path.

Manifesting landscapes

2006-02-02T11:50:00.000-05:00

"The purpose of art is to make the intelligibility of things manifest." Hardly an intelligible statement on casual consideration. It is a wonderful notion, however, because it focuses the artist on expressing something in the real world in a way which reveals a truth about it. He shows it in a new way. This is not a push for novelty, but for insight.
There is a Cezanne exhibit currently at the National Gallery which I am anxious to go through. Cezanne's painting compels me because he responds to this understanding of art. His landscapes are entrancing because of the energy, tension, and motion which he imparts. A view of a mountain or a lake seen through trees becomes, in his hands, full of movement and strength as if the ground itself were living, the air breathing, the light dancing. And exposure to his vision enables the viewer to see this subtle energy in the world for himself.

Action in community

2006-01-03T14:17:00.000-05:00

I had the recent blessing and opportunity of doing rather than talking. I have spent a substantial portion of my life so far thinking about art and talking about what it must be or do. I have developed lots of theories and argued about the ideal way of proceeding. But this fall I was able to do and it has left me bored of incessant talk and theory. It was also an extraordinary lesson as it taught me that theory must be applicable. It is all very well to idealize about the best way of doing something, but it can happen that in actually carrying out the supposed ideal one begins to ask, "Is this even desirable?" I experienced this while directing for the first time. I had idealized about the director as supreme artist with all others involved as lesser artists or craftsmen. They were subordinated to the overarching vision of the director who gave their efforts meaning and synthesis. In this way, the drama or film was still the work of one artist: the director. I had argued this as a viable theory of art, but fortunately, never quite worked out how that would effect the way I might live or direct. As it was, I found my experience as a director completely negated this view of art and revealed it to be sterile and fearful. My overwhelming delight in directing turned out to not to be imposing my vision upon the actors, but rather, those moments in rehearsal when my conception of the whole and the actor's conviction about a character would combine and give rise to something greater than either of us could have devised on our own. I was humbled and inspired by this creative communion between the actors and myself which produced a much greater production than would have resulted from my vision alone. For me, the most beautiful aspect of this creative union was the trust that it required. I had to allow the actors a chance to develop in ways I had not foreseen; and they had to rely my intuition. The result was a shift in my conception of the dramatic ideal. No longer do I think it is conformity to my conceptions, but rather a human relationship united by hard work, dependent on mutual trust.

Considering magic

2005-08-12T10:03:00.000-04:00

I have been a bit preoccupied with magic this week: I read the sixth Harry Potter and have been plotting out the magical geography for a story of my own. I have always objected to Rowling's scientific approach to magic, but in this last book I became more consciously aware of how, in a sense, the magical element just pushes the stakes higher and adds an escapist element. In other words, breaking an arm or receiving a severe laceration is not a serious problem if dealt with properly and quickly. They can be repaired overnight it seems. This means that injury must escalate rapidly to be really damaging. And very quickly we arrive at the unforgivable curses--most of which are such not because they kill, but because of the manner of agony in which the victim dies. This is something I approve of more than the silly and juvenile aspects of Rowling's magical scheme. The hex that makes toenails grow at an alarming rate, for example. This is in fact what I am trying to present in my current project: the danger and unpredictability of magic. The idea is that magic is a force that is never entirely dominated, even by very powerful people. I think this is crucial to emphasis in fantasy, as it reflects the reality of the demonic counterpart in reality. We can manipulate or command to a certain degree, but in the end, we are not in control the way we think we are. Consider, as an example, Dr. Faustus.

Comprehending honesty

2005-07-16T15:16:00.000-04:00

I've been struggling for years with different art theory problems. And the latest, which I intend to use for my undergraduate thesis this fall, is certainly no easier. (The problem is basically that I believe art must have the potential to be understood and I am investigating what creates this potential.) I have already come across some wonderful things as I begin my research and I am sure there is much more ahead. My latest discovery was an interview with Andrei Tarkovsky, my film-director hero. He spoke at some length of the responses he received after his semi-autobiographical film The Mirror. Many of the people who wrote to him were amazed because they felt the film expressed their life. Tarkovsky, who made the film with very little thought to its audience, but more to recreate certain episodes in his memory, was also amazed. So he spent some time analyzing why people had responded so strongly. His conclusion is fantastic: "If someone expresses his true feelings in a work of art, they cannot remain secrets to others. If the director or the author is lying, makes things up artificially, his work becomes entirely...contrived. Such work does not move anyone. So a mutual understanding between the author and the audience, without which work of art does not exist, is possible only when the creator is being honest." I am so impressed. Honesty is indeed a necessarily quality which I was forgetting or obscuring. And we do recognize it. Even when we can't understand it well enough to name or articulate, we know when it is or isn't there. And when it is, I believe we also find that comprehension is possible, though not necessarily easy or immediate.

Communication

2005-07-08T12:18:00.000-04:00

The problem of communication is always exacerbated by travel. I have spent a number of years struggling with the difficulties of expression in my own beloved English, but the problems posed by diverse language and culture are something else altogether.
Last week I had a wonderful experience with twelve or fifteen musicians in Milan. We had a beautiful dinner together, lasting some three hours, and afterward played music. They played without false modesty or self consciousness, using a variety of styles and instruments. At the end of the night, one of the vocalists sang "Summertime," accompanied by jazz guitar. She spoke hardly a word of English, but she understood jazz and sang so well I forgot I was even in Italy until a slight mispronounciation shattered the universe. I have always felt jazz rhythm somewhat inituitively and have wondered if that is because I am fluent in American culture, the historical origin of jazz. But this Milanese vocalist is certainly not knowledgeable, on an intuitive level, of American musical culture, yet she sang Gershwin with sensitivity and comprehension. It was a beautiful moment in which I felt more was shared and understood than had been in any conversation during the two weeks I was in Italy. There is something fantastically basic and elemental in jazz, perhaps in all music, that transcends cultures and languages. It bridges the distance between cultures and enables a conversation which could never be expressed in words.

expressed in exaltation

2005-06-11T12:27:00.000-04:00

A common understanding or definition of beauty seems difficult to achieve, if even possible. I, typically, have tended toward the transendentals and defined beauty through reference to the true. This could be formulated as: beauty depends not so much on what we might call "pretty" as on what is true, or "conformity to reality." However, I still hesitate with this theory because sometimes what is true is also harsh or apparently ugly. So is the recognition of beauty something which is learned? Is it an intellectual acknowledgement that this thing is true and thus must also be beautiful? This is not our experience. Our experience of beauty is of something unavoidable, we do not choose it, but are overwhelmed by it. It is an immediate and sometimes physical experience, present upon interaction with the thing. Mark Rothko, a Russian abstract artist, devised an impressive synthesis of these two lines of thought. He calls the experience of beauty "a reaction to rightness . . . whose recognition produces an exaltation." Can there be a better description for that fantastic moment in which beauty is faced?

Profound humility

2005-04-26T18:19:00.000-04:00

I was first introduced to Eliot by my father, and so was determined to appreciate him and have found, upon further reading and reflection, that he is well worth the effort. True love, however, must to be a somewhat critical thing, not blind devotion. And so I hope my love for Eliot is not such that I am insensible to his failings.

Lately, I have grown increasingly of the opinion that Eliot's great artistic failing is his great (and admirable) desire to say something real and important. I find this temptation very strong in my own literary attempts and so can sympathize. The desire to be profound, to share wisdom, to provide illumination is almost overwhelming for those who feel they possess such knowledge. It is probably also an indication of vanity or pride which artistically manifests itself as being didactic or preachy. The "Wasteland" seems particularly tremendous because here, he witholds the moralizing voice. Yet, the poem is still instructive and profound. On the opposite side is perhaps "The Family Reunion," an early play. I find this work a dramatic failure because the characters never seem to be speaking to one another. There is a lot of profound talk going on, but rather little human communication.

I have spent some time considering these flaws, hoping to learn from them, primarily because I recognize my own inclination in this direction. An answer, or at least a fuller understanding has come from an unexpected side. Flannery O'Conner has much to teach those who would be profound. In all of her writings, fiction, criticism, and personal papers, she points to and lives out her solution. Humility. Humility is the answer. She made no pretenses to great knowledge, education, understanding, or wisdom. Yet she was fantastically well-read, informed on many topics, and full of insight, practical truth and wisdom. She is able to express this in her stories because she doesn't try to, she lives it. Her secret is in the way she approaches the story. She does not see it as a vehicle for philosophy, on opportunity for her to "say" something. Rather, she says over and over again in her letters, all I know how to do is tell stories. And so, she focuses on telling the story well and went through constant revisions to perfect the craft. A writer, particularly one of fiction, does well to decide and keep clear what they are after: is it philosophy or literature? While still a great admirer and lover of Eliot's work, I must confess that I find it most impressive when he puts literature above philosophy.

"What branches grow out of this stony rubbish?"

2005-03-16T22:16:00.000-05:00

Re-reading T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land I have been very impressed by the hopefulness implicit in the over-arching idea--namely that of a waste land. Eliot seemed to relate it to two different concepts within the poem: to the Biblical wilderness and the arid plain of the Grail legends. In both of these, the waste land is caused by sin, but is understood as a good suffering--for purgation. This idea of suffering is also consciously present in the poem, most beautifully in the references to Dante's Purgatorio and the character of Arnaut Daniel. Daniel embraces his pain, understanding the good to which it will lead. (I. e., Heaven) This is one hopeful thing: suffering is not evil. But also the two supplementary ideas of waste lands are not complete if understood as desolation alone. They are passages: they come from something and lead to something. They result from sin and lead to grace. The Israelites are led from the wilderness into the Promised Land. The Fisher King is healed by the Christ-figure, and the land is restored to fruitfulness. Given these prototypes, I cannot help but consider Eliot's modern waste land also as a passage. It has not come from nowhere, nor should we consider movement out of it impossible. If it was not possible, there would be no point in attempting to "set my lands in order." Yet Eliot urges this. When the life is amended the land will be restored.

Enthusiasm and awe

2005-03-07T20:34:00.000-05:00

I was introduced to the work of Andre Kertesz a few days ago. There was a very fine exhibit at the National Gallery of Art and being interested in photography, I decided to go. I was greatly impressed. Kertesz has an extraordinary eye for pictoral composition. All of the pictures were in black and white and were shot with sensitivity and taste. I appreciated his awareness of line and shadow particularly. But perhaps far surpassing all of these qualities was the enthusiasm and joy which pervaded much of his work—especially his early years. He seemed overwhelmed by delight and wonder at the world around him and expressed what he saw with energy. This was the most enjoyable aspect for me. To experience so strongly an artist’s awe and his desire to express the awesome is a truly beautiful thing.

To begin

2005-03-03T13:11:00.000-05:00

"When faced with the sacredness of life and of the human person, and before the marvels of the universe, wonder is the only appropriate attitude." (JPII, Letter to Artists)

Wonder is a constant goal. It is the one of the deepest responses to beauty and is, in fact, the evidence that beauty can change us. By embracing an attitude of wonder, we make ourselves vulnerable; it is by no means a safe position. It is so much more dangerous than boredom or ennui because it admits that what you stand in front of is much greater than you or your comprehension. And if you admit so much, where will it stop? For the recognition of something greater than yourself which you cannot grasp completely is the beginning of consciousness of God. Wonder is the end of all art but the beginning of all philosophy.

Wonder is both the place we should seek and the place we must start from. It is the only appropriate attitude.