Art has objectives for imagination in reality, tragedy, humor, faith, beauty, and draws on consciousness of what is, perhaps what ought to be. It seems multidimensional in that it tells us about the era in which it was originated, something about the originator (sculptor, musician, writer, or painter). We are permitted to interpret it for ourselves, but need to know what the creator of the art meant to communicate in thought and emotion – so to decide if it was achieved. We seem forced to consider contexts. There is much more here that critics in the various fields can develop in book length on insights and details. Our purpose is to acknowledge here that art is an issue that is important to civilizations and the chronicles of history, and that art often impinges on Christianity, in meaning, opinion, and application.
As neither an artist nor the son of an artist, I am humbled to venture into any critique of a field in which I have little mature instruction. I proceed in wonder, but I find considerable error in art, or mystery that is not admitted. Should a piece of art be reality or what we want it to be? My first interest in art is to follow the perceptions of the artist and weigh that against or with my reality. Does the art express life, or what we wish life to be? If it is to reflect our wishes and imagination, does it fulfill its purpose? If it does, do we know that it does, or are we fed a line, while the artist moves away from responsibility? For example, I have reviewed many paintings of Jesus. They are presumed portraits, not so much of Jesus, as the images of the imaginations of painters. Before they painted, did artists read about him in Scripture, and perhaps, what the fathers said about him? It comes as a shock that he may appear as an Asian, an African, a Caucasian (European), with no sensitivity to his Semitic background. Rembrandt is an exception.
For me, it goes much further than the common responses seem to articulate. I stood gazing at the magnificent Pieta (Pity). There it was, the original, and like those around me, I was silent or whispery, in a kind of reverence, that gave more attention to the artist and to beauty than to Jesus Christ and Mary, imaged before me. There, according to the art and artist, was Jesus Christ swooned in death and limply prostrate on his back across the lap of Mary. Mary is well groomed, and beautiful, even though one can sense the depth of her grief. She was not physically uncomfortable in the rendition, which would likely be incorrect. She may have been able to bear the weight of this beaten body, a corpse of weight greater than hers. Was I supposed to see such things? Besides, the dismissed Mary at the crucifixion did not see Jesus again until the first Easter morn – alive. Did the sculptor miss anything? Did he add? Of a sudden I was struck by the hands and arms of Jesus in the piece. The rendition could not have come from a real concept of the crucified Jesus. The veins were sculpted large. But the blood, according to the reality account, had been drained from his body. He had undergone bloody beating and the blood flowed from the places of the thorns and nails, with the coup de grace – a spear thrust into his side, perhaps puncturing his bladder. The veins emptied and collapsed. His blood had been shed. The Pieta has his veins at full strength; they even seemed larger than would have been normally seen in full life. I may have to see the sculpture again, to verify all my present surmising in what I believe I saw. The Pieta, at this point in my understanding, does not serve me as I believe Michelangelo, perhaps also God, would have me to be served through a truth of art. I learn more of the artist than the pity. Mary wasn’t present when the flood of his blood was shed.
I would give much to stand before the Pieta, accompanied by Jesus and Michaelangelo, as art critics for me relative to the magnificent sculpture. Should it have meaning to me, in the light of the Scripture? Should I look over any error? Does it reflect truth? Does the sculpture do what language has done, lost something of truth to the opinion of the author of the piece, even when the author is empathetic to whatever the truth of the event might have been? At times like these I turn to Scripture. There I find several persons (Apostles) reflecting upon the same person and his meaning about himself and the context of mankind. In the writing of each there is something of the writer, and something of God’s interpretation. Does the Pieta inform me about life other than death and Mary’s infinite sorrow? Wait ‘til morning. *Mark W. Lee, Sr. — 2016, 2020