Art as Fullness: How Can We Collaborate Well?
Pt. 3 in my "Art as" Series
In Pt. 2 I argued that art keeps hope alive by giving it direction. But what’s the destination?
“Someday, I would like to go home. The exact location of this place, I don't know, but someday I would like to go.” - Henry Rollins
Beauty is our heart’s home. In Beauty we experience the fullness of life, the epitome of what we were made for: peace, joy, and abundance. Nothing inspires this feeling like great art. Art is our window into Beauty; it invites us to glimpse briefly into the everlasting and find our hearts warmed by the hearth of “a world elsewhere.” The arts expand across a wide range of mediums and styles: from visual to performing, classical to modern, realist to abstract. But how can these all be about Beauty? How can they all relate to one thing when they don’t even seem to relate to one another? The answer is simple: Beauty isn’t a dot, it’s a circle.
This image is based on Abraham Kuyper’s model for meaning, in which the absolute is the central point (the transcendent), and the relative is contained in the surrounding circle (human expression). Beauty is to art as the sun is to its rays: Beauty the center, source, and food; the diverging arts manifestations of—and tributes to—its limitless glory. True Beauty may be unknowable to us in full, but it can be known in part, at different levels and from different vantages. All people have aesthetic judgement, but not in the same way. To get a fuller picture of Beauty, therefore, we need one another.
In the story of Oholiab and Bezalel, two artists are elected to build the Tabernacle, a dwelling place for the Most High. Three observations from the story show us that making great art requires divine inspiration, the willingness to work, and generous support from the public. We collaborate well when we decenter ourselves in favor of something greater than us all.
Divine Inspiration
Bezalel was a designer “filled with the Spirit,” given the wisdom and understanding to work in crafts of all sorts. Talent is inherently spiritual, a mysterious gift we can’t control. However schools try to teach it, parents try to bequeath it, or dreamers try to catch it, ultimately it comes down to being chosen. The Muses were believed by the Greeks to be divine sources of knowledge, a metaphor we still use today for artistic inspiration. Quentin Tarantino believes in God because he can’t explain why scripts just “come to him.” R&B Singer Brandy draws her intricate riffs from the “Most High.” Emmy-winning actress Jean Smart confesses to land a comedic line, she “has to hear it.” This spiritual dialogue is the heart of innovation, the source of that je-nais-sais-quoi that separates visionaries from the hoi polloi. But won’t this idea produce narcissism in artists? Isn’t divine connection the reason artists become obsessive about their art and abusive toward their collaborators?
The Willingness to Work
Oholiab and Bezalel gathered with all other artists “willing to do the work.” An artist’s vision requires incredible discipline, time, and commitment to bring to life. The creative process can be brutal — Beyoncé comments that people hate rehearsal because of how it humbles them. The artist must center his upward calling over his other desires. Moreover, the work can't be done alone. While Bezalel was supremely gifted, God still appointed Oholiab to assist him. Bezalel’s vision still had blind spots. Abusive outbursts are the product of impatience and the unwillingness to work with others. Creative relationships thrive when artists are willing to sharpen and be sharpened by one another. Some of the best art has come out of creative relationships: Lennon & McCartney, Rodgers & Hammerstein, Big Boi & André 3000. Their special chemistry produced works of enduring quality.
But to create these enduring beauties takes more than willing workers — it also takes a willing market. Creative innovation is regularly stifled by a market unwilling to support the work required to produce lasting quality. In the end, it’s Beauty that is lost. How can writers script a brilliant season in ten weeks? How can actors rehearse a memorable play in two? How can a band lay down a track to stand the test of time when quality studios are disappearing?
Generous Public Support
The people gave Oholiab and Bezalel “more than enough to do the work.” Morning after morning everyone “who was willing and whose heart moved them” freely offered their possessions. It was a project they believed in. People often say to me, “I wish I could live out my passion like you” (to which I reply, “Me too!”). What they don’t realize is that they have just as much agency to create as the artist. Artists have skills but lack materials; non-artists have materials but lack skills: art requires both. When consumers take creative risks in how they spend their money, time, and attention, they move the market toward innovation (and when they don’t...well, how long does it take you to find something good to watch these days? Lo barato sale caro). Sounds risky. What if it doesn’t pay off? But what if it does?
They built it “and the glory of the Lord filled the Tabernacle.” When the work was complete, something incredible happened. The sapphires burned brighter, the acacia wood grew more solid, the purple yarn more luxurious, as the people bore witness to Beauty’s glory and grace descending upon their work to inhabit it. No one seemed concerned with themselves or their own contributions being recognized. Their individual efforts dimmed in the light of their togetherness. Time, money, and attention are not the only currencies in life: love stands above them all. And for their love—to the divine, and to one another—the fullness of Beauty had come to greet them. And it felt like home.
Pair this with my thesis for the series in The Triangular Door, in which I revive the ancient case for Beauty to be just as necessary to society as Truth and Goodness. Then catch up with Part 1: Art as Form, about art’s purpose, and Part 2: Art as Pleasure, about pleasure’s meaning.