ILLUSTRATION & DESIGN
Aesthetics come from Eden – an artist’s perspective
(or: Reconfirming beauty as a God-given gift) - Tinus de Bruyn
Why do we like birdsong? Why do women like flowers? Why do men like beautiful women? No, it is not just some learned behaviour, or some western cultural phenomenon, as the twentieth century art critics would have it. Instead, the desire for beauty is as universal as song, dance and picture making. Aesthetics are part of our make-up, and even in this commercial age, it finds a market. The fashionable trend to deny the existence of a universal principle of aesthetics not only flies in the face of modern culture, but has also became an excuse for immorality and a way to deny God...
The mathematical structure of aesthetics:
Phi and fractals: The old Greeks didn’t know much about God, but they understood about beauty (1). Through them, the mathematics of aesthetics remained preserved for us. The “Golden Rule,” those special proportions of phi that are associated with beauty, forms an obvious link between beauty and reason. This same underlying mathematical structure is also present in the Marquardt beauty mask (2).
A second form of maths, fractals, is also prevalent in living organisms. Fractals exist everywhere in nature. Fractals enable organisms to grow hugely complex structures, such as networks of veins or branches, achieving maximum complexity, from the simplest of formulas (3). Because fractals also appear in inorganic structures, such as of galaxies, crystals and erosion dynamics, evolutionists have tried their utmost to turn it into a driver for evolution. But such a supposition misses the mark, for the very fact that fractals imply an underlying mathematical dynamic, defines them as proof for design. Having maths as the underlying structure of the universe, implies that it is conceptual first, and physics second. Whether it be the simple mechanisms of fractals or the rigid intricacy of phi, an underlying mathematics pose a serious problem for chance evolution.
Phi determines the overall proportions of a man (i.e.: the length of his arms in relation to his body, the length of his body in relation to his head), but man is also a collection of fractals (i.e.: a body with five “extensions”, four of which again has five “extensions” each). Someone had to do that maths to make it so!
Intuitive grasp:
What makes it even more remarkable is the fact that our grasp of this mathematical reality is intuitive. We know it without knowing how or why. Aesthetics is an intuitive knowledge - so much so that it is often the most “unscientific” and “un-mathematical” of people who have the best grasp of it! Children have as much access to it as grown-ups. What we have in beauty is the same kind of universally intuitive knowledge as we find in morality (4). Maths effectively undermines the modernist’s argument against the universality of aesthetics.
Artists have long recognised the fact that there are various underlying rules of aesthetics. These rules function in a similar way to the laws of nature or morality, for adhering to these rules usually produce the best results. The rules of aesthetics may be more flexible than the laws of morality or nature, but that is not to negate their value. The artist is not so much free to ignore the rules as free to choose which to use. Modern artists often prefer to use a minimum of aesthetic, limiting themselves to only one or two possible rules. This impoverished aesthetic is a favourite vehicle for delivering a deeply pessimistic report on modern culture. Rather than ignoring the rules, these artists are choosing which they will focus on, but the principles of composition, contrast, variety, harmony, form, shape, rhythm, focus, and direction remain as valid as before.
Idealism:
Morbidity aside, mathematics is our key to understanding the idealism of aesthetics. The old masters knew about this, and in their obsession with sensual beauty, became masters at idealising the human body. Renaissance artists relied on the same mathematical principles as the Greeks, for like the Greeks, they were creating images of gods. “Truth” or “ideal” in these terms meant a strict adherence to the mathematical structure and other artistic principles.
Modern artists and philosophers, in spite of their vehement opposition to the idea of a universal principle of aesthetics, continue to seek out the prettiest women to marry. In their confusion, they have given up on the concept of aesthetics, even though they still adhere to it, when it suits them. The result of this schizophrenic fragmentation of reason is that modern society has abandoned the pursuit of idealism. Not only in the visual, but also in the vigorous, the moral and heroic sense, we have rejected idealism.
It is in part a rebellion against the stagnant Romanticism and Neo-Romanticism of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These romanticists have indeed succeeded in making idealism into something burlesque and distasteful. From the nude portrait of “Marie-Louise O'Murphy” of François Boucher (1703-1770, Wallraf-Richartz-Museum) to the later “Turkish Bath” of Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1862, Louvre), idealism became associated with the decadent, the sentimental and the pornographic. In a more austere mood, fleshly idealism also propped up political agendas, as in Caspar David Friedrich’s “Death of Marat’ (1793), or the heroic realism of more recent communist posters. The pretentions of such a politicized and pornographic idealism fail to impress the more sincere viewer.
In reaction, late nineteenth and early twentieth century artists sought a more mature honesty. We can see a parallel between the works of twentieth century impressionists/expressionists, and the seventeenth century Flemish school. The works of Peter Breugel the Elder (“The Wedding,” 1568, Museum of Art History, Vienna) or Frans Hals (“Gypsey Girl,”1628-1630, Louvre) conveys this same delightful honesty. This parallel goes back as far as medieval art, in contrast with the great, idealistic movements of the renaissance and romanticism. But in contrast to these earlier masters, the works of twentieth century artists like Paul Cézanne, Vincent Van Gogh and Paul Gauguin also resounded with new spiritual pangs; a despairing tension that the earlier works lacked. We see a clear, Hegelian angst in Paul Gauguin’s “Self Portrait with the Yellow Christ” (1889-1890, Musée d' orsay, Paris), in the self portraits of Van Gogh, or even his “Cafe Terrace at Night,” 1888, Rijksmuseum Kröller-Müller). Twentieth century artists were feeling the insecurity of the new anti-God worldview of scientific naturalism. This angst would get worse as the rejection of God progressed.
Rejecting truth:
The philosophical climate was swinging away from monotheism, towards atheism. With God fading from the picture, aesthetics became trivialised and truth became the next victim. Darwin’s theory of evolution gave scientific credence to a whole paradigm shift, becoming the excuse for not only rejecting aesthetic and morality, but truth as well. Wittingly or unwittingly, many of the great intellectuals of the day, like Russell, Nietzsche, Wellhauzen, Wittgenstein, Dewey and Wells, all worked towards this shift. By rejecting the unified Biblical worldview of the Reformation, they created a fragmentary and “pluralized” truth, and once so trivialized, that truth was destined to deteriorate into madness and mysticism (5).
Artists in denial:
Early twentieth century art was the art of “isms.” Like the rapidly changing fashions of the time, the “isms” quickly became an obsession with change. Each change represented a mind-shift, a transition between virtue and burlesque, structure and abandon, dignifying clothing and banal nudity, or reason and madness. Starting out as a rebellion against the fleshly idealism of the romanticists, it finally rejected truth itself. In his philosophies, modern man had found an excuse to reject the unified truth and God of the Reformation, and in its place arose the personalized, unreasonable “truth” of Post-modernism.
Ironically, the one essential ingredient that prevails in all modern art is denial, for not one of these artists ever abandoned the classical aesthetics, as they claimed to do. Instead, what they embraced was an undernourished aesthetic, which combined a minimum of beauty with a maximum of despair. In this sense, art became a vehicle of despair, a purveyor of unreason and an excuse for immorality.
At the forefront of this shift was the anti-art of the Dadaists, the surreal madness of Dali, the “conceptualism” of Duchamp, the “shamanic mysticism” of Joseph Beuys and the eventual “Bad Art” of Georg Baselitz. The elements of high art were still very much in use; whether in form, rhythm, colour, contrast, focus or pattern. Without these elements, the artist would no longer have any language left to convey meaning. At the same time, the shockingly pessimistic picture they painted could only exist in the bleakest of aesthetics.
To further emphasize this pessimistic angst, artist again resorted to the very same exploitive devices as their romanticist predecessors, shocking their audiences with the sexually exploitative, blasphemous or grotesquely deformed (like Dali’s paintings of his wife, Gala, or “The temptation of St Anthony, 1946, Musee d'Art Moderne, Brussels). These “shock tactics” were supposed to add credence to the underlying message, supposing that anyone who painted something so despicable had to have a very good reason. But reason had been replaced with unreason, and the shock elements had become the only actual contents of the works. “Serious art” became a slavish reflection of the pessimistic ideas of the philosophers. Depravity had become the only viable “aesthetic,” and anything positive was considered naive, banal and ridiculous.
Ironically, artists could only uphold this worldview in denial of their own self. The underlying truth of aesthetics, of their own liking for pretty women, of flowers and birdsong, did not go away. They had to repress it, seeking instead to paint the colours of midnight, the moral abandon of the nightclubs and the despair of narcissism.
In principle, the artist’s “angst” was nothing short of a wilful rebellion against God, a phony social preference, blatantly in conflict with the self. Most of these artists came from relatively wealthy countries, where they had much more to be thankful for than the Africans, Chinese and Indians of their time. They did not suffer a heavy yoke of bad politics and bad religion that these peoples did, but instead intoxicated themselves with cigarettes, drugs and liquor, artificially forcing themselves into a state of despair.
Today, this same self-contradicting principle continues to rule the world of art. We should not be surprised that Lucien Freud (grandson of Sigmund Freud) paints in the style of the old school, producing works of a high technical calibre, with an excellent sense of aesthetics, and yet humiliates his subjects by painting them in the most exploitive and degrading manner. He takes advantage of the ugliness of his subjects, and not only his subjects, but the viewer also, who is caught between morbid curiosity and empathic disgust. In this appeal, he is admitting the existence of morality, but in exploiting it, denying its validity, thus exposing his own contradiction. He proclaims hopelessness with great energy, dedication, and excellent artisanship, thus proving himself a lair. This kind of self-denial is quite common amongst modern artists. We find the same hard-working and dedicated pessimism in the earlier works of Picasso (Les Demoiselles d'Avignon ,1907, The Museum of Modern Art, New York) and the later works of William Kentridge (South African artists) and Francis Bacon. Who could paint a more brilliant line than Egon Schiele? Yet, the artist uses his excellent aesthetic skills to spit on his subjects. It is a sad testimony to what high art has become.
Where should Christian art go?
Where to? Is there room for such a thing as a Christian art? Both Francis Schaeffer (6) and Hans Rookmaker (7) agree that there should be, but not the “l’art pour l’art” (art for art’s sake) of the world. The Christian worldview is a unified worldview, in which everyone should strive towards a holistic harmony. This leaves no room for a separation of morality, truth and art. The Christian art can only exist in an acknowledgment of the underlying truth of the universe, of its mathematical unity and reasonable structure. In this sense, Christian art is essentially anti-angst and anti self-contradiction. It is always reasonable and essentially hopeful. At least in this very general sense, all Christian art is inevitably evangelistic.
This doesn’t mean that artistic mysticism should be swept aside, for a holistic worldview also includes emotions. As always, imagination and emotion should determine the purpose of a work. The goal of Christian art is not to limit oneself to a stunted realism, or corny positivism, which would only succeed in putting the audience off. True sincerity and maturity goes well beyond simple obedience to rules. As always, truly sincere art is by far the most appealing, and that means art that deals honestly and openly with its own weaknesses. “Soul searching” not only matures the artist, but also makes great art.
There is such an art, and it is available to us even from secular sources. We find moments of this in some of the greatest films of our day; like Edward Zwick’s “Blood Diamond,” Paul Weiland’s “Rosanna’s Grave” and in expressly Christian movies like Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” or Michael Apted’s “Amazing Grace.”
In Christian art, there is no need for a “happy ending,” or a pretty heroine. In fact, Christian artists should use such idealism carefully, for it might easily detract from a correct Christian worldview. According to the Bible, a correct Christian worldview begins and ends with man and God in Eden (idealism). Yet the Bible also shows us that everything in between is quite ugly. In this sense, Christian art should remain realistically balanced, holding true to God’s worldview. An irrational leap into idealism, or an equally irrational cynicism, has no place in it. As fantastical as its expressions may be, Christian art should never be in conflict with its own worldview. Such a conflict would indicate an immaturity on the part of the artist, for it would oppose the Christian worldview, to which the artist subscribes.
At the same time, the correct Christian worldview leaves much room for idealism in the portrayal of Edenic realities, and as much room for pessimism in portraying the post-fall realities. An artist never has to be in conflict with reality, nor is he tied down in legalism. But the artist remains an integrated human being, with social and moral obligations to observe, bearing in mind the effect his/her art has on the broad viewer public. The artist cannot excuse himself from the final effects of the artwork. If a work is not fit for children, it remains the artist’s plight to protect them. As artists, we should manage this social responsibility in a way that heighten our sensitivity, rather than dull our consciences.
The Muse:
The Christian artist should create from the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, much as the Biblical poets did. Our capacity to love, nourish, empathise and bless should be at the heart of our artistic expression. We should be more aware of the spirit of the work, than its technical and intellectual contents, for even the most beautiful work can sometimes contain a false spirit, and the most “Christian” work can be completely void of spiritual content. We should be aware of the godly element in aesthetics, just as we find it in reason and morality.
All art is a form of worship, just as all aesthetics has been designed to glorify God. Whether it is a love poem, a religious song or an adventure story, all art sings in worship to Someone or something.
Worldview:
Without a proper understanding of the perfection of Eden, and the history of sin, there is no way a Christian artists can make sense of the world around him. The conflict of aesthetic idealism and natural truth cannot be resolved otherwise. As Henry Morris said (8), “the first cause of beauty values must be aesthetic.”
So, why do women like flowers, why do men like pretty women and why does everybody like birdsong? Because God made them, and God is beautiful. Whoever denies beauty denies God.
An excellent defence for the universality of morality can be found in C.S. Lewis’s: “Mere Christianity,” Chapter 1-5 (Book One), 1990 Great Britain
Francis Schaeffer: “Escape from Reason,” 2006, England
Francis Schaeffer: “Art and the Bible,” 2006, England
H.R. Rookmaker: “Modern Art and the Death of a Culture,” (1970)
Henry Morris: “Many Infallible Proofs,” 2005, USA, p 112.