Over the course of the next two centuries, a rebellious persona became associated with artists, as they became increasingly involved with those who believed that organized religion was primarily a tool with which the powerful coerced the powerless to submit in mindless obedience. Barzun goes on to suggest that the French Revolution added to the artists’ sense of themselves as the true priests and prophets. He notes, “Artists could no longer think of themselves as entertainers or craftsmen serving the leisured. They were now the interpreters of life.”25 Art and religion, once inextricably bound to one another, had become mutually antagonistic. Art itself, rather than any particular art work, became—depending on one’s perspective—either the very embodiment of spiritual sensibility or an idol.
By the latter part of the twentieth century, the notion of art as idol seemed so self-evident to many Protestants in the United States that making church buildings harmonious and gracious was frequently considered completely unimportant. Any old cinder-block building was good enough, the simpler the better, as long as it could hold all the worshippers. And among certain segments of Christian society, some kinds of art—especially rock-and-roll music, dancing, and movies—were seen as agents of the Devil.
This demonization of the arts continues. In recent years, it is often couched as controversy over works that seem, at least to some, to be sacrilegious, obscene, or anti-American. Such controversies often also involve concern that the works, or the institutions that exhibit them, are supported through public funds. Examples include the 1989 exhibition of Mapple-thorpe’s photographs at the Corcoran Gallery of Art, which was partially funded through the National Endowment for the Arts; the NEA grant given to Andres Serrano in 1988, the year that he created his notorious photograph, Piss Christ; Chris Ofili’s painting The Holy Virgin Mary, exhibited at the Brooklyn Museum in 1999; and, more recently, David Wojnarowicz’s video, A Fire in My Belly, which was removed from an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery in February, 2011.
Often, the people who object to these artworks identify themselves as Christian, and the nature of their objection is the perception that the works are, in one way or another, offensive to Christian sensibilities. While each of these works is admittedly disturbing, all of them have artistic merit, and all are more complex than the simplistic interpretation offered by their critics. Indeed, at least some of the works condemned as sacrilegious grow out of the sincere, if questioning, faith of the artists who make them. Following such events, the non-Christian art world remains confirmed in its dismissal of Christianity as antithetical to the arts. When Christians demonize the arts by refusing to engage difficult works in a spirit of inquiry, they tell artists that they, along with their efforts, are not welcome in the church.
Trivializing Art: Art as Play
It is both curious and telling that, by and large, when people in the church talk about making art, they tend to use words like play, self-expression, creativity, fun, or release. All of these are, of course, important factors in healthy development and living a rich, full life. In suggesting that seeing art as play trivializes art, I do not want in turn to trivialize the importance of play as a restorative, healing, explorative, expansive, imaginative activity. However, professional artists tend to feel discounted when church members make no distinction between art as recreation and art as vocation.
Michael Sullivan’s Windows into the Soul: Art as Spiritual Expression, carefully makes this distinction, unlike many other similar books. Even so, this volume is representative of a popular genre which invites Christians to explore various art media as a way to reconnect with the childhood creativity they let go of in the process of growing up. Sullivan, a pastor, recounts his own discovery that working with clay helps him deal with the unexpected death of a young parishioner:
I knew that signs, symbols, and metaphors of art could free the soul. Art helped me to explore places within that I had never imagined or acknowledged—creative places where the person in me burst out in new songs with words and phrases only I knew but with melodies that others seemed to understand. Being creative with art allowed me to let go of inhibitions and embrace a radical love of God’s creation and my place in it as a beloved creature.26
Sullivan goes on to say that his intention is not to teach people to become world-class artists, but rather to connect more deeply with God.
Elsewhere, however, such distinctions are often blurred or, more commonly, simply ignored, implying that the kind of insights gained from long hours of practice in the studio are equally available to everyone in brief, free-form sessions. For instance, a practice called InterPlay was developed in 1989 by Cynthia Winton-Henry and Phil Porter. Incorporating elements of dance, drama, storytelling, and music, InterPlay is a way for people to use non-discursive means for communication and self-expression. The InterPlay web site proclaims,
InterPlay is a global social movement dedicated to ease, connection, human sustainability and play. Unlock the wisdom of your body!
InterPlay integrates body, mind, heart and spirit. . . . InterPlay is devoted to fun. It teaches the language and ethic of play in a deep and powerful way. If you are convinced that seriousness is the path to inner wisdom, then you might want to look elsewhere. If you would like to become a “recovering serious person,” then InterPlay might be for you.27
InterPlay is intended for secular as well as religious groups, but it has a great appeal among many people who are affiliated with churches or other religious bodies. Under a heading noting “InterPlay with people where they worship helps spirituality become a whole body experience,” their website lists hospice and chaplaincy organizations as well as several churches as places to connect with the wider movement.
The leaders of InterPlay make no claim that what they do is art, and those who participate in its events and ongoing activities report the deep healing and spiritual growth that such participation promotes. However, by combining the experience and practices of various artistic disciplines with the notion of fun and play that is embedded in their very name, the notion that art and fun are somehow synonymous moves even more deeply into the collective understanding, both within and outside the church.
While understanding art as play, as self-expression, as community building, or even as therapy is not incorrect, such notions address only part of what art is for those whose primary vocational identity is artist. When artists talk about making art, they tend to call it work. Of course, artists do sometimes say that they are going to “go play in the studio,” but often when they say that, they mean that they are going to experiment with something new, do something light or inconsequential, or make something outside of their normal production. Attention to an ongoing project, however, is almost invariably considered work.
It is not accidental that a painting or sculpture is called a work of art; or that a musical composition is often given a number preceded by the word opus, the Latin word for work. For the serious practitioner, for the person whose primary vocational identity is that of artist, time spent in the studio is unequivocally work.
While such linguistic distinction may seem to be, itself, trivial, it leads churches (as well as society at large) to devalue what artists do and know. Unlike most other vocations, the arts can be practiced as a hobby, a spare-time activity done for relaxation and pleasure. Lawyers, doctors, or truck-drivers might pick up a guitar and strum for an hour or two in the evening as a way to unwind; a social worker, file clerk, or auto mechanic might throw paint onto canvas as a way to process a particularly stressful afternoon; a nurse, plumber, or CEO might join a local theater club as a way to make friends. For people who derive their primary vocational identity in non-art ways, their engagement with the arts, even as practitioners, often is not essentially