My husband and I watched this movie last night on television. It’s an award-winning secular film based on the true story of a group of Catholic monks caught between a military government and extremist guerrillas in Algeria in the late 1990s. There is tremendous pressure on them to leave the country, and they must decide whether they will leave or stay as the situation around them continues to disintegrate.
The film is beautifully made. The cinematography and the portrayal of each character were perfect, in my mind. It was difficult to remember that the actors were actors, and that the film was not a documentary. It remained wholly human and touching, all the way to the end.
As I was watching it, and musing on how attached I was becoming to the monks in the story, I started thinking about how I would (or wouldn’t) place it in the frame of Christian culture. I followed my own train of thought for a few minutes, then turned to my husband, opened my mouth, and heard myself saying, “See? This is a real movie, not a Christian movie, but look at how it’s portraying these monks!” Continue Reading →
This is from St. Gregory the Theologian’s Funeral Oration for St. Basil, whose perspective I shared yesterday. St. Gregory says:
I take it all intelligent men agree that among human advantages, education holds first place. I refer not only to our nobler form of it, which disdains all the ambitious ornaments of rhetoric and attaches itself only to salvation and the beauty of spiritual contemplation, but also that external culture which many Christians by an error of judgment scorn as treacherous and dangerous and as turning away from God.
Hmmm.
I believe it’s safe to say that one ingredient that should not be included in an “Orthodox culture” is judgment. I’m not referring to the type of judgment also called “good sense” or “discernment.” I’m referring to the type which seeks corroboration in all details for its conviction that its own way is bettter than the other person’s way. Continue Reading →
In my on-going quest for Orthodox perspective on culture, I ran across the following excerpt from St. Basil the Great’s “Advice to Young Men on the Right Use of Greek Literature.” This is an Orthodox perspective on the non-Christian “culture” of the time.
“For just as bees know how to extract honey from flowers, which to men are agreeable only for their fragrance and color, even so here also those who look for something more than pleasure and enjoyment in such writers may derive profit for their souls…For the bees do not visit all the flowers without discrimination, nor indeed do they seek to carry away entire those upon which they light, but rather, having taken so much as is adapted to their needs, they let the rest go. So we, if wise, shall take from heathen books whatever befits us and is allied to the truth, and shall pass over the rest. And just as in culling roses we avoid the thorns, from such writings as these we will gather everything useful, and guard against the noxious. So, from the very beginning, we must examine each of their teachings, to harmonize it with our ultimate purpose.”
I must confess something important about my views on Orthodox culture, or indeed on any Christian culture creation.
It’s essential to keep our goals clear. There are some things that we can’t do. In my observation of Christian culture-makers of various denominations, I’ve noticed a viewpoint that shows up in every Christian context I’ve been in (and I’ve been in several). There is an impression, either conscious or unconscious, that it is within our power to change the world. If we just hit the right formula, the right combination of message and medium, we can turn the broader secular culture on its head and drive evil back from all its strong points in the world. Continue Reading →
In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m Orthodox. For the past few days, I’ve been in a conversation with an Orthodox friend about whether there’s any such thing as Orthodox culture in America.
This is a complicated question.
I had one thought about it this afternoon, and here it is, as the beginning of my attempt at answering the question. Continue Reading →
Jonathan’s initial reflections on his subject appeared in a guest post on this blog in September. To read the first post, click here.
As a photographer,painter, and poet who happens to be an Orthodox Christian, I find that my overt attempts at expressing something about my faith tend to be more wooden than if I simply try to let my artwork be a faithful reflection of the beauty I experience in the world. To some extent, I suppose, this is a reflection of my amateur status. I have not yet practiced the technologies of my camera, or brushes, or language well enough for my intent to be expertly woven into my work. It is when I am doing my best to be transparent that I get out of the way enough to let God speak through me.
I have been writing poetry the longest, since I was in middle school. As I have grown older, I am writing less. Not only do I have less time to write, I find that I am not as often inclined to write. I think this might have something to do with having a more-or-less stable and happy life; much of my younger poetry was angst-inspired. I have begun writing again more recently, though it is hard to say if this is because I am feeling more angsty (which might be true) or if I’m finding more depth in feelings as I get older and need an appropriate outlet. I have written a handful of poems since converting to the Orthodox Christian faith eight years ago, but only two of them, Become As A Little Child and Exile, deal at all with issues of faith.
Melinda Johnson, in inviting me to write this post, wondered about Wordsworth’s concept of poetry as “emotion recollected in tranquility,” and whether or not that “tranquility helps or hinders the poet’s…chance at transcendence.” Given my experience of being a more prolific writer during turbulent periods of my life, I have some doubt that tranquility would elicit the same emotion. I concede, however, that the added perspective one might gain by recollecting strong emotion after having achieved some peace might allow the writer to produce a more nuanced and evocative product. And, after all, I’m no Wordsworth.
Much of my photography has been since my conversion. While I do not make particular attempts to photograph Orthodox subjects (except when recording a particular parish event), I do find that the faith-inspired awe I have of nature and the Christian imperative of seeing Christ–and therefore the beauty–in every person permeates my approach to subjects. I am particularly fond of taking portraits and still-life compositions.
My good friend, J. Vincent Scarpace, with whom I was privileged to lead a group of university students in contemplating the idea of transcendence in art, explained to me once why he got started painting fish. He had worked closely with Koi fish and when he went to school was told that he needed to have a subject matter he knew well. I used this insight when I began painting with J. Vincent; though I am not a candle expert, I often find myself staring at the candles lit in prayer during worship.
As I have practiced more painting candles, I try to think about the reasons we Orthodox Christians light candles in prayer and set them in front of icons. I also try to think about what my life looks like, and this swirling darkness, the confusion, disorder and distraction I feel serves as the chaotic background to the candles I paint. My hope is that a person viewing my paintings finds a measure of comfort in the juxtaposition of the candles and the chaos, even if they do not apprehend my particular intent in locating that peace in Christian tradition.
I have had the privilege of sharing my love of art by engaging students in the process of creating art. While J. Vincent did the technical instruction, I took the lead in discussing the idea of art as a means of transcendence with our students. As an Orthodox Christian, transcendence has a very particular meaning for me. I did not foreground my own perspective, but I did get to share a bit about the theology of icons and juxtapose that to other ideas of transcendence. In particular, I was happy that on a field trip to Houston, I got to take my students first to the Houston Byzantine Fresco Chapel and then to the Rothko Chapel. Our conversation about the experience, while somewhat superficial, did suggest that the students came away with an appreciation of the difference between the particular transcendence in the former and the diffuse transcendence of the latter.
I think, finally, that the success of a piece of art, whether poetry, photograph, or painting, depends on an interaction of the art, artist and audience: the rhetorical triangle. The particular genius of Orthodoxy in emphasizing the personal nature of our interaction with God gives a new flavor to art that reveals grace in our experience. Like the reverse perspective in Byzantine iconography, the art is not complete until the audience is participating, until there is someone to receive that grace.
Jonathan Kotinek is a convert to Orthodoxy, father of two, and constantly in awe of his veterinarian wife. An educator, amateur artist, and writer who likes to ponder the intersection of faith, social issues, and education, Jonathan blogs occasionally at http://jkotinek.blogspot.com.
“Beauty will save the world,” wrote Dostoevsky in The Idiot, first published serially in 1868-1869.
Many Orthodox writers and thinkers have since used the phrase. I encountered it about 25 years ago in a book by Paul Evdokimov, and it never left me. At the time, I was just discovering Orthodoxy; but I had been exposed to art for many years and was doing a bit of drawing and painting myself.
After two world wars, numerous ecological disasters, and ugly terrorist acts all over our planet, we may be tempted to despair. But I believe “beauty will save the world.”
To attract your attention, whether on paper, on the little screen or on your monitor, the media focus almost exclusively on ugliness and catastrophes. But beauty will save the world.
Now an official member of the Orthodox Church, I believe in the saving beauty of Christ’s redeeming death and Resurrection.
I also believe that following Christ means participating in His redeeming work, at many levels. I will only speak here about one level. As an Orthodox believer, I feel particularly called to spread beauty in our world. And I strive to do it through my artwork and my writing.
Born from French parents gifted with talents for drawing and painting, I started painting in grade school; I even remember nailing old sheets on a piece of wood to make my own “canvas.” I was not 10 at the time.
A few years later, an art teacher introduced me to the fascinating world of colors, and I attended weekly art classes until university. After some low years in art production, I discovered rock painting. I have now been painting almost exclusively on rocks for 10 years. I paint things I find beautiful and believe will introduce beauty in the life of others. Seeing the joy of my customers when they discover my rocks brings me a lot of hope, as they have a glimpse that everything may not be rotten and in our world.
Beauty will save the world.
I paint birds, flowers, landscapes, etc, memorial rocks for deceased pets, from pictures taken by the pet owner, and icons and Orthodox stain-glass style designs.
Beauty will save the world.
God’s saving Beauty was made visible in the flesh: “The Word was made flesh.” John 1:14. We have access to this multi-faceted beauty in our daily contact with the Word in the Scriptures.
I believe we can find and propagate beauty not only through visual arts, but also through The Word and words. I have loved words since I was about 4, when I started reading by myself. Since then, I have grown into a passionate lover of words and books.
It is not only fascinating to read, but also to share with others the beauty I find in books, whether they are fiction or non-fiction works. I started a book blog a year ago, and it has been a deep experience to interact with others on the beauty and depth of words. I entitled my blog Words And Peace, to convey the idea that you can reach some peaceful depth in yourself through reading and sharing, and of course I could not miss the opportunity of introducing a pun, on War And Peace, as you would all have guessed. My blog’s address is: http://wordsandpeace.wordpress.com. The last Orthodox book I reviewed was:
I write a lot every month through my translation work of articles and books, mostly from English to French, and occasionally from French to English. The world of translation is absolutely fascinating. I deeply believe we still need bridges in our global world. The image of the world as a village is still a myth, not exactly yet part of our daily reality: we still need help communicating with each other on our planet, and that is the beautiful role of translators, among others. The more we understand each other, the easier we will be at peace. I believe part of my mission as an Orthodox believer is to be a “beauty and peace maker,” by helping people understand each other.
I believe I contribute to this bridge building also through my online French classes, geared to students of all levels, from total beginners to Ph. D. students and proficient learners who just want to keep up with their French conversation skills.
Beauty will save the world.
More creatively, I have given lots of conferences focused mainly on monastic spirituality, both for Western and Eastern Christians. Some of these conferences I have published as articles. The most relevant to our topic here is my article on Gregory Palamas. Discovering that few Western Christians knew about him, I tried to write an accessible presentation of his life and works. I initially wrote and published it in French, then in English and Spanish. The English version is available in the Cistercian Studies Quarterly 37:3 (2002): 303-333 .
Who better than Gregory Palamas wrote about the beauty and depth of our faith? I discovered Gregory through the mystery of the Transfiguration back in the late 80s, and since then I have striven to propagate this beauty.
And last but not least, I published a book a few years ago focused on light. Early on, I discovered that as much as Eastern Fathers and Mothers, writers pertaining to the Western Christian tradition focused a lot on the topic of light. I decided then to publish an anthology of short spiritual texts related to the theme of light in Cistercian Fathers and Mothers:
Some of our contemporaries may think beauty, whether in art or in words, is something totally irrelevant to our busy and efficient modern world, where the main goal seems sometimes to make money and buy things. Just as we need our daily bread, I believe that more than ever, we need our daily portion of beauty to survive and thrive.
To paraphrase a passage by Nina Sankovitch in her latest book Tolstoy and The Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading (Harper: 2011), I wish for all of us that beauty may become “an escape, not from, but into living.”
_______________________
Note: I am referring to this passage:
“Cyril Connolly, twentieth-century writer and critic, wrote that ‘words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.’ That was how I wanted to use books: as an escape back to life. I wanted to engulf myself in books and come up whole again.” p.20
Emma Cazabonne is a French tutor, an English-French translator, and a rockpainter. She was born in France and has been living in the US for 10 years. After 20 years as a Trappistine nun, she converted to Orthodoxy. With her husband, a clinical counselor combining Orthodox spiritual elements and psychological principles in his practice, she attends a small ROCOR parish in the Chicagoland.
My mother tells me that one of the real benefits that I offered to a weary parent (I was the last of four children) was that if you put me in a room with a pencil and paper, I could amuse myself for hours and could even be heard laughing at what I had created.
I can appreciate what a boon that must’ve been, even though as an adult, I’ve got some reservations (Um, just how long were we leaving little Gracie in a room by herself? Couldn’t we have spent just a little of that time working on her social skills?).
But I can see that the signs were there that I was going to be one of those oddballs that the world sometimes celebrates and sometimes frets over. I was going to be someone who beheld a wonderful world full of airplanes, bumblebees, ice cream, cuckoo clocks and other delights and then felt an irrepressible urge to capture it, futile though that was. My heart would nearly burst with it: How do you draw sunshine? How do you spell the sound a hummingbird’s wings make? What notes sound like a day in October?
And, more importantly, how did everything fit together — what was the Story? What was the point of Life and what were the rules? As you grow, you get some tantalizing clues, and you get to see other people’s answers on the subject. And you encounter the engine of all our guesswork — our culture — and that can be a wonderful and terrible thing in its storytelling. I had no reason to believe that I had any really vital part of the story to relate, but there’s nothing for it, for the ones whose hearts lead them that way. I wanted to re-tell that Great Narrative, or at least as much of it as my life expressed. I still do.
Great expectations
I wish I could say my creative life as an adult was one big happy story, but it’s been rather bittersweet. At the same time that I converted to Orthodoxy and began one of the best times of my spiritual life, I started a series of frustrating attempts to find the creative outlet that would give me work to do that was close to my heart. I appreciate my years as a graphic artist, and I hope that I’ve helped others tell their stories, but it hasn’t helped me tell mine.
About 15 years ago, I got bitten by the bug to create a comic strip. After a couple lukewarm attempts, I got an idea out of the blue that put me on one of those roller coaster rides that every prospective artist and writer knows too well. Initial interest from a major syndicate made me think I was on my way to a life that seemed like a dream come true. But the syndicate dropped me, and after a year of self-syndicating (for the princely sum of $6 a week), I had to admit defeat. I think I still grieve sometimes for what I thought it would lead to, though I can see a lot of reasons why it might have been better in the long run that I failed.
I could skip this unhappy episode, but I think there’s value in expressing the part of being both creatively-inclined and Orthodox that we like the least– that is to say, the reality of wanting what is difficult (arguably impossible) to acquire. Failure is a distinct possibility and success can be very elusive. Struggling makes for a good narrative if victory is assured, but the Church has known its share of sorrows, and each of us has our own to reflect upon as well. I would’ve liked easy success in both my creative and spiritual labors; instead, I have to deal with reality … and I struggle.
Creativity 2.0
Not that I’ve given up on writing and drawing. Blogging doesn’t pay, of course, but it does allow me to work on some skills with words and images. I get some design assignments from time to time that indulge my sense of whimsy (as with a superhero potato character I’m doing right now for a storage facility) (don’t ask). And all the while, my church life has kept me grounded and helped me to break out of the confines of my five senses, my narrow aesthetics and my enslavement to the realms of imagination.
As for my next trick, who knows? I start to wonder if, as Melinda says, I’ll find that the next project is more of a joint endeavor. It would seem to reflect more about who I am now if it was less of a one-woman show and more of a team effort.
I’m interested in a lot more of our popular culture than I used to be, and I see a lot of opportunity for Orthodoxy to find expression there. Cultural offerings have certainly gotten more vulgar and secular in my lifetime, but suddenly the opportunities to create mini-cultures have exploded. I would like to see a flowering of Orthodox themes in self-publication (as Barbara Shukin did), and also in videocasts, CD recordings, graphic novels, computer games–who can say? Technology is increasing the number of people who get to tell a story, and Orthodox have a voice in the Christian narrative that has been sorely lacking. We’re more earthy, but still attached to the sacred. We’re less sentimental, less rationalistic, more scientific and fully invested in the mystery of the Church. I’d love to hear more stories offered from an Orthodox-informed perspective.
But I haven’t won the lottery this week, so I suppose I can’t be a patron of all the change I’d like to see. I’ll have to dust off whatever skills I have and see where I can start.
Where did I leave those crayons? And does anyone have an extra blue one?
Grace Brooks is a freelance graphic artist and cartoonist living in Phoenix, Arizona, with her gracious husband Greg and a coonhound named Clementine. She has a BA in Fine Arts from UC Irvine, and has been a graphic artist for 28 years. She hosts a blog at www.this-side-of-glory.com
Admittedly, when Melinda first contacted me about writing a piece for her blog, I was a little hesitant. After all, I didn’t major in writing. Rather, I went to school for illustration, to learn to bring stories to life via pictures, not words. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I can do this. While a writing degree may not be in my background, the subject matter of this piece is something I am very familiar with–my artwork.
This summer I was fortunate enough to work with Conciliar Press illustrating a new children’s book, written by Kelly Lardin, being released early next year. The book, entitled Josiah and Julia Go to Church: A Young Child’s Guide to Church Etiquette, is a playful story for children teaching them what they should (and shouldn’t) do in church.
Obviously, with the book being set in a church, I needed to draw a church. Rather than create a fictitious one, a concept that came immediately to mind was to depict the church I grew up in, Christ the Saviour Orthodox Church, where I spent many a childhood day. For a number of the images, I drew from memory, having spent many hours over the course of my life studying every visual detail of the church–the pattern of the floor, the pews, the intricate wood carvings decorating the iconostasis, the decorative and very colorful garments worn by the priest and altar boys, the parishioners, the beautiful icons, the different candles burning, and once they were finished, the very large icons adorning almost every wall in the church. These in particular fascinated me as
a child and continue to do so as an adult, with all the detail and care with which they were painted, as well as how each tells a different story. For someone with a passion for anything visual, the church is a feast for the eyes.
The priest in the story is again my priest from childhood, Fr. Daniel Ressetar. Up until the last couple of years when he retired, Fr. Dan was the priest at Christ the Saviour. That is to say, he “officially” retired; if you go on Sunday, you’re very likely to see him helping out with the current priest, Fr. Stephen. Fr. Dan was then, and continues to be, an influential part of my life. Many times when I go home to visit family, I have some news clipping or other compliments of Fr. Dan, be it an article he thought of interest to me, news about Orthodoxy, Church Bulletins, and occasionally, a book that he thought I might like. He was there for many big events in my life, church-related and non-church related alike–my baptism, first communion (and many communions after that), first confession, high school graduation, the release of my first children’s book and subsequent one, and would have attended the most recent if not for a previous engagement. Including him in the story was my way of paying tribute, of saying thank you, to Fr. Dan for everything he has done and continues to do for me.
Over the course of my life, many people have said, “You have a gift from God,” or “You have been truly blessed with artistic talent.” I am very grateful to have this gift and pray that I am able to continue to utilize my talent for a very long time.
Sheena Hisiro has been drawing since she could hold a pencil. She currently lives in Brooklyn, NY where she is still drawing and loving every minute of it. Sheena is currently illustrating children’s books, designing greeting cards, and drawing cupcakes.
I am delighted to announce that the “Orthodox Writers and Readers” series is expanding to include Orthodox artists, iconographers, and, with a bit of luck, an Orthodox composer I met at church last Sunday! You may also have noticed that the original goal of two guests each month has been expanded to “however many guests we can fit” each month.
I love the series as it is, but I decided that if some is good (and it has been so good!), more is better! The more facets of the gem we consider, the more beauty we permit ourselves to experience. What does writing words have in common with “writing” icons? What does verbal description share with oil painting? What spiritual journey is unique to each kind of art? I want to know!
I hope we can explore every area of the creative life through the eyes of Orthodox Christians who are living it. I suspect each form of art brings its own visions and temptations, and its own gifts.
