Let’s wander off the beaten path a little bit today, shall we?  I want to talk about art.  Everyone likes art, right?  But what is art? I think that’s a really great question that can lead us to some wonderful places of discovery.  So here goes, I begin with a quote . . .

The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing.  These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers.  For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have not visited.

 –From C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

      One of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life was in the famed Art Institute of Chicago as I was on my way to the museum’s exit.  I had just left a room filled with some of the most “modern” of all modern art when I saw a small piece of paper that had been taped to the wall by an earlier patron of the Institute.  The paper was next to a large air conditioning vent, and I suppose was representative of the sentiments of a great many people who passed by.  It read:

“Air Conditioning Vent”

circa 1990

Artist Unknown

     I couldn’t control my laughter, for after seeing so many “pieces of art” that seemed to be no more than spilled paint, clay blobs, and broken furniture, I too had grown a bit cynical.  I remember staring at a piece by Marcel Duchamp—the seat of an old chair suspended from the ceiling—and wondering, “Is this really art?”

     I suspect that the genius of artists such as Duchamp lies in understanding that we must ask that question.  What is it about Pollock’s scribbles that are more impressive than the work of two-year-olds the world over?  What do people see in Picasso’s mixed up jigsaws?  Why does Dali’s sculpted and painted personal dementia move me so? Why do millions wait in line for hours to catch a glimpse of the Mona Lisa or the Venus de Milo, only to walk away a bit disappointed, wondering, “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

     The big deal, I suppose, is hidden in the prehistoric origins of art, when art was not about being pretty or making statements, but the function of a people reaching beyond themselves to the Obvious, the Ineffable, the Always Mysterious.  When our ancestors crawled into the darkness of caves to splatter the walls with child-like renderings of animals and people, or fashioned for themselves images of wood or stone, they were attempting to climb what Montaigne called “the infinite heights of the divine knowledge.”  In short, art began as a pursuit of the Divine.

     It truth, it has remained so throughout the millennia.  Although our media has expanded to include writing, music, drama, architecture, and so much more, the human race finds itself today still engaged in a great search for the elusive eternal verities and invisible Divine qualities of truth, justice, love, peace, joy, and beauty among others.  Art then, is our tool in this hunt for the magical White Stag of Beauty, and if we could only catch it, the rewards would be beyond description.

     But can we truly catch it?  Or can we only pursue it?  Does anyone remember those Magic-Eye posters?  I have never been able to see the hidden images because anytime I begin to get close my eyes try to focus on what I think might be the picture and, just like that, it’s gone.  People tell me the secret is not to try.  There is a similar phenomenon going on in the pursuit of beauty through art.  The stone-agers of the ancient world may have come closest to beauty, not in trying to be beautiful, but in trying to connect with the One from whom beauty is derived.

     The art they created is not at all impressive or pretty.  If fact, if a small child walked up to you with the Venus of Willendorf you would likely smile, pat them on the head, and say condescendingly, “well now, that’s good for your age.”  But remember, these artists were not trying to be impressive; they were searching for God.  And even though they may not have been very close to finding Him, at least they knew what they were looking for.

     A far cry from the humble cave art of prehistory is the sophisticated classicism of Greece.  Most connoisseurs of fine art consider the “Age of Pericles” (450-400 BC), the pinnacle of the Classical period of Greek art, the most beautiful art ever produced in the history of the world.  The grandeur and colossal scale of the architecture would have intimidated the greatest of kings.  The idealized sculptures of gods and goddesses whose muscular bodies were depicted performing great feats while their faces exuded deep calm and control, were often made on a superhuman scale and beautifully painted to appear life-like.  Truly, the skill exhibited in such masterpieces has never been surpassed in over 2000 years of trying.  Consequently, Athens, has been universally hailed as the “high-city” of art for the achievements made by its artists during the “Age of Pericles.”  However, I believe humanity has never been further from true beauty than it was during that time.

     The high-classicism of Greek art was a demonstration of the absolute best that human beings could accomplish.  The popular philosophy of the day was “man is the measure of all things.”  Therefore, the Greek artist never ceased to look inward in his search for beauty.  To him, the search was not the nomadic hunt of his Paleolithic ancestors, but a focused excavation of the beauty of the human spirit.  He believed not in Montaigne’s “infinite heights” but in Democritus’ depths.  As a result, there were limits to what the artist found.  Eventually, the well simply ran dry.

     The art of this time proved that humanity could not be the source of true beauty, but only a well that has been fortunate enough to collect a few drops from some far greater Fountain.  Greece then, has become our tutor.  And we should learn from the brevity of the classical period.  In a mere fifty years, the well was dry, but we were still thirsty.  The anti-classical response of Hellenistic, Roman, and even modern art demonstrates that although some tremendous discoveries were made in Athens, the search for beauty did not end there.

     The search continues today.  And if we really hope to capture Beauty, we will take lessons from every artistic age and movement history offers us.  We’ll pay attention to the awe-inspiring pyramids of Giza, the dancing frescos of the Minoans, the humble carvings of prehistoric tribesmen, and the emotive sculpture of Hellenistic Greece.  We’ll also note the similar feelings of awe and joy and pain generated by the snowy peaks of the Himalayas, the rollicking ditties of spring time birds, and the unceasing sobs of a broken man who has fallen victim to failed love.  We will even listen to the laughter of cynics affixing sarcastic signs to air-conditioner vents in our museums, and then we’ll be getting close.  Above all, we must look beyond ourselves in order to capture the prize.

     Socrates and Plato, who lived in the shadow of the great “high city” itself, wondered whether ideals such as beauty were grand because the gods favored them or if the gods favored them because they were grand.  This wondering signifies a great triumph for art as the human pursuit of Beauty.  Their great discovery was not in answering that question, but in posing it.  For they realized that beauty, whether an attribute of deity or an ideal by which deity was governed, was indeed divine in nature and, therefore, left us out of the discussion.