When I was a little girl there was no such thing as Tivo. There were no VCR's. If you wanted to watch something on t.v., you had to arrange to be home when it played. And it only played at one time slot. No repeats later in the evening. Some movies, however, did recur on an annual basis; movies like The Wizard of Oz and Peter Pan. I always made sure I was home for those.
The Peter Pan to which I refer was the classic Mary Martin Broadway version. It captivated me. I dreamed of flying away with Peter, and I clapped til my hands hurt to save Tinker Bell. The first time I watched this movie as an adult, I made a shocking discovery. All the trees were made of cardboard...or lumber or something. Flat. Just stage props. When I was a little girl they were real trees.
As children, our imaginations are so healthy and free, we have no trouble filling in missing details. All stage producers had to do was suggest "tree" to me and I gave it three dimensions with swaying branches and whispering leaves. Refrigerator boxes became spaceships. Blankets became forts. There was no place I couldn't go and nothing I couldn't do.
As we grow up, we learn a great deal about the mysteries that perplexed us when we were small. We learn that the sun doesn't go to bed after all. Our earth just turns away from her for a bit. The stars that look like diamonds sparkling in the sky are really nasty balls of flaming gas. And bit by bit, we surrender the magic that was once our constant companion.
We come to believe that truth must be quantifiable and verifiable. "Just the facts, ma'am." We even want our stories (and our faith) tied up in neat little bows with simplistic morals and clearly defined good guys and bad guys. But that is not life. And that is not truth. Life and truth are far more complex, and messy, and rich, and wonderful. But they require a good deal of work.
It is the artist, perhaps more than anyone else, who teaches us to do this. Any interaction with truly great art will require something of the viewer. It is a dialogue, an exchange, a wrestling. Just this past week, I encountered this in several forms.
On Friday night, my family and I went to see "Where the Wild Things Are". It was one of my favorite books as a child and I have passed that love on to my own children. Visually, the film is spectacular. From a storytelling standpoint, some have said it is weak. I concur that there is not a cohesive theme--"A character who wants something and endures conflict to get it."--to borrow from Don Miller. But, there are a number of smaller stories compellingly presented, if one is willing to search for them. Rich truths about friendship and family and choices.
Saturday I attended a teacher workshop at The Frist Center. As Anne Taylor was introducing us to the Thomas Hart Benton illustrations for "Tom Sawyer", she described his style as "reductionist". "He merely hints at an eye or some other feature and expects you to fill in the rest." Having already viewed the exhibit twice and perceived his drawings as quite detailed, I was surprised to hear her say this. But, upon closer inspection, I found she was right.
One of my favorite pieces in the modernist exhibit at the Frist is "Carnival of Autumn" by Marsden Hartley. Though you can certainly pick out trees and clouds and land forms, his work is quite abstract. And yet, when my eyes first fell on it I was overwhelmed with the exuberance and fury of autumn. I could smell the leaves and hear them rustle. Anne shared a comment from one of the critics who viewed it at the first opening in 1909. Here it is in part: "The...hardiness and vigor of representation...sincerity of sentiment and use of color produced a strictly physical sensation. It irritated the retina and exhausted it. After leaving the gallery, Fifth Avenue looked more gray than usual."
I am currently re-reading Homer's Odyssey with my World History Students. It is a book filled with deep truths, but one has to work to get at them. Homer never preaches. He simply tells the story and trusts his reader to imbibe the truths within.
Jesus did the same thing. Why did he respond to questions with questions? Why did he tell stories? Because he knew the truest things in life must be discovered...through wrestling...through blood and sweat and tears. Sometimes the sweat is our own. But every now and again, we get to learn through the blood of Odysseus, or the tears of a boy named Max.
I understand that sometimes we use movies or books to escape. We want something simple. A place to rest. But I encourage you to sometimes choose art that challenges you...art that can take you places you can't get to by yourself. Read Dostoevsky or Chesterton. Listen to Rachmaninoff or Philip Glass. Watch Crash, or Big Fish, or anything by Wes Anderson. Stand in front of art created in the last hundred years. Discover the poetry of Rilke, Berry, or Merton. Bring your dreams and your imagination with you. And wrestle.
"All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors."
~Oscar Wilde
As a Christian and songwriter, this really speaks to me... I've been thinking about how my music and lyrics can present a message to listeners. I'm learning to paint with word pictures. Now, I can also learn to trust the imagination of my listeners. Trust that they can see the big picture if I just "hint at an eye."
This is great. This is so great. This will draw listeners in more fully to what is being said. They become participants in the song. Wow. I'm totally digging this approach. Thank you for teaching me this.
Posted by: mandythompson | 20 October 2009 at 01:16 PM
As a little girl, I had no Barbie Dream House, I had the cardboard flats that six-packs of beer came in, a Sears catalog, a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue. My Barbie had the newest furniture and the nicest stuff every year! And if I got tired of that arrangement, no problem to get a new one!
Translate that into now? I'm working on that one.
Posted by: Faye | 20 October 2009 at 01:20 PM
I couldn't agree with you more, Sheila. What an encouraging post. I have a master's degree in education and a law degree, and there is still so much more I want to learn about literature and art. As a Christian, I think great literature is profoundly important because good reading teaches us analytical skills and better prepares us to understand the Scriptures. Because really, the parables of Jesus are stories that are filled with deep meaning and truth, and so much of the Old Testament is filled with stories about people!
I have a hard time understanding people who only limit themselves to "Christian" art and literature. Now I don't think we should expose ourselves to literary or artistic garbage, but many people who are not Christians can express truths about life. There is truth to be found in books like Middlemarch, The Portrait of a Lady, the Oydssey, the Iliad, etc. (I could go on and on.) As long as we have a strong grounding in our faith, we shouldn't be afraid to read works by people who are don't classically define themselves as Christians.
Posted by: Ali | 20 October 2009 at 03:52 PM