Sacred Discipline

I'm getting closer to achieving in part -- at least -- a closer idea of what it means to combine the essence of the sacred with the discipline of art. I can feel the shift happening in my mind and in how I view objects and colors. In church, we paint non-representational paintings that don't have strong compositions at all. They're painted in 30-40 minutes, and it's obvious. Sometimes one of us breaks through with a truly affecting painting, but usually not. I'm on the search for consistency in truly prophetic, truly good art -- not just one side of the spectrum with a few hits in the middle.

An example of an intensely prophetic painting would be of me looking at a tree and wanting to paint it. A completely prophetic standpoint of painting that tree would be to paint the pure essence of the tree. So the end artwork would have colors and forms that - to me - define what "tree" is to me spiritually. Perhaps "tree" would symbolize stability and growth, then I would paint using bluish-greys and stark red-oranges with lines that flowed upwards. It wouldn't look like a tree at all, but to me it would demonstrate the essence.

Now, if I wanted to simply paint a tree, then I would. It would end up looking exactly like the physical tree: brown, green, limbs, bark, grass.

The problem with both ends of the spectrum is that they're undefinable to the person. If I saw the prophetic painting, it might speak to me, but it wouldn't speak "tree" unless God willed it. If I saw the disciplined painting of the tree, I would immediately register what it was, but it wouldn't hold any deeper significance that affects my behavior.

What would it look like to combine these two intensities? I am constantly in pursuit of the center of the spectrum...which may lie on a completely different level. God likes to make it that way sometimes.

So how does one combine these two? The prophetic/sacred and the discipline of art and drawing?

I don't know exactly. But I'm on the way there, it feels. My creative mind is growing and stretching and cooling and heating all at once; it's like a shift in seasons but with more intensity. I feel the way I felt when I was very young and the first cool autumn day made my blood race and all I did was run as fast as I could around the playground during recess. I never grew tired, I never stopped running. Artistically, I can run for miles and miles and still be grinning.

For now, I'm getting closer to feeling around and understanding the shape and scale of the spectrum I'm standing in. I pray that Christ is seen in my artwork, above all. Whether it's sloppy paint or a beautifully rendered portrait, it's nothing if He isn't looking through it.

Verticality

I realized how drawn I am towards vertical compositions and forms. Anything tall and slender and stretching, I am immediately inspired. I've always loved tall trees, or tall things in general. I like seeing slender trees stretching branches as far as they will go upward. Mountains bursting through clouds and soaring higher and higher always make me want to first climb, and then paint them. In my figure drawing class, my favorite poses are ones with the back stretched as far as it can go up. There's something refreshing about a stretch in a form; whether it's a human figure or a tree pushing with the wind.

Perhaps I am so drawn to these forms because of their symbolic meaning. Stretching forth denotes a push of one's all. If I were to hold my arms up to the sky and stand on my tip-toes, I would be worshiping my Father in heaven. I would be praying something like "not my will but Yours be done". A stretch -- a movement entirely devoted to God. There's nothing in a vertical stretch that should denote anything half-hearted.

Maybe that's why I love vertical forms.