Continuum

Regularly has the question been put to me in some form either open ended or directly, “What is the purpose of art?” Since the Reformation, art has been looked at as a means to an end: to tell stories to the illiterate or illustrate a truth better said then seen. There are those who believe it to be merely propaganda: a means to proselytize or spread the gospel message. And then there’s the “secular” world who considers art sometimes as a means of provocation, sometimes as escape, and always a vehicle for self-expression.

But consider the purpose of food and drink. They certainly exist as fuel for the body—sustenance necessary to maintain our bodily routine and perpetuate our daily labors, but is this the sum total even the greater portion? The psalmist tells us “Taste and know that the Lord is good.” The implication is that the smorgasbord of flavor in food has a role in reminding us of God’s goodness and His superabundant blessing and bounty. Then there is the Eucharist where bread and wine together tell us about the being and promise of Christ: also implied is the superabundant blessing and His life sustaining quality. One could go further to the agricultural portion of food; the rain that falls on everyone’s crops is what some might call “common grace”; the tilling of the earth, the sowing and harvesting is reminiscent of man’s first call to stretch out the Garden of God across the whole world; and what of the many parables which Christ analogically connects to food and the agrarian life? To regard, then, only the caloric portion of food and drink is to flatten out its rich potential.

Imagine if in describing something as commonplace as food how severe the risk of fixing its purpose; what risk then exists when demanding “purposiveness” of something as grand as beauty and art? The word is reductionistic, and this is to be avoided. One should not deny that art has purpose, nor be surprised that it can serve many purposes at once, but should not demand that all art fit or embrace a single intent. To do so limits the possibilities of how God (not man) tends to work by repurposing things, yet the common fear is that it will be misappropriated. Where does their distrust lie? Not then in the artist.

This year for Christmas, the Continuum and its artists gave gift boxes to young artists, twelve to eighteen years old that demonstrate a passion and persistence in art of some kind. This year’s recipients, Cassie Cole (painter), Alex Porter (painter) and Hannah Tyson (illustrator and story teller) each received gift boxes in order to encourage them to continue and inspire them beyond what they’ve already accomplished.

The contents of each gift box included not supplies, but books, movies and music to inspire their future and broaden their perspective of what is possible in artistic media. I for one drew incessantly growing up, worked in pastels and charcoal and painted only to later find that poetry was my forte. Exposure is the key word in describing these gifts—exposure to good, creative and broadly categorized arts so that each might understand that imagination is what truly defines the artist; this so that they might not lose interest but engage the artistic endeavor as a lifelong pursuit.

The inspiration, too, will come from seeing art that is not widely taught in school. The greats are truly great and though Caravaggio and Turner have in some way marked my own maturation and my sense of aesthetic, there is art happening today that will and should inform their own. It does not assume what is happening today is superior but nonetheless required to a complete education—extending the artistic tradition. These artists deal in subject, media and concepts that push boundaries; not for the sake of doing so, but in interesting ways demonstrating that beauty can be found in all things, even thrown ink and water, as is the case with photographer Shinichi Maruyama.

It is the Continuum’s hope that these gift boxes will bring encouragement to these young artists. Too often, the world about them—parents, teachers, ministers, peers and the endless influence of media—suggest that art is superfluous; that art is decoration and decadent, and certainly, it is not as essential as science and engineering or business administration or preaching in contribution and should therefore be simply a hobby if there happens to be enough time. There aren’t many voices suggesting otherwise, but the Continuum understands the value of mentorship—the older embracing the younger to impart passion along with knowledge and skill, and wishes to use these gift boxes to establish that type of relationship, and to impart the immeasurable value of things like Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue.

Each box was uniquely assembled. The contents from one to the next nevertheless are consistent enough that an example of one gives a good picture of them all. Inside a wooden plein air painter’s box with trays and compartments for their own supplies are the Nihonga painter Makoto Fujimura’s New York Works, photographer Shinichi Maruyama’s Kusho, poet laureates Kay Ryan’s Elephant Rocks and Richard Wilbur’s Things of this World, jazz artist Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue and director Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke. Lastly and significantly, each box receives a personal letter to the artist.

We wish to broaden this project to include other young artists and are already considering ways to improve it possibly even by means of a young artist night where each artist is able to display and talk about their work at a Continuum event. We in the Continuum know that it will be young artists like these that will define culture in the years to come; we want to play a role in shaping it through them and others like them. We wish Cassie, Alex and Hannah good luck as they continue to engage their imagination and creative talents.

Many people believe portraits are an extravagance, and that the needs of the poor are so great that a portrait isn’t worth giving; why not give them something practical? These same people though might call it a tragedy when someone loses all their family photos in a fire or flood. It is a tragedy to be bereft of memories, to never have an image that captures the transience of childhood and when finally as all families must at some point be pulled asunder lack those precious memories caught together.

As a new father I am amazed at how quickly a child changes. Every month my wife asks for new photos to capture our growing boy: his changing physique, plumping jowls, and many firsts. It would sicken me if in twenty years I did not remember his small hands wrapped around my index finger, his toothless smiling face or cherub-like countenance. Images create a deluge of memories—a thousand words that if not forgotten risk going unsaid. Seeing the artwork in an old favorite childhood story creates a rush of powerful emotions and recollections. The same is true while flipping through a photo album. They are not forgotten or completely invisible but are made visible again only through the silver halide and golden smiles of collected portraits and pictures.

Before Help-Portrait I couldn’t imagine how many families have never had a portrait together: something as simple as a picture! Yet over and over I heard mothers and fathers say, “This is the first portrait we’ve ever had all together.” I was told, out of 613 students who attend Oakhaven only 18 purchased school pictures this last year. May be the kids rejoiced at this; I absolutely hated school pictures: the braces, the wiry hair and acne, but that is exactly what their parents want to remember; because those are the children they love and adore freckles and all. When the flood is everyday, I guess we no longer consider it a tragedy. But it is a tragedy, and it is the tragedy that Help-Portrait’s founder Jeremy Cowart, 20 Memphians and thousands world wide sought to relieve this holiday season.

Locally, the event happened over two days and at two locations: Porter-Leath Head Start on the 11^th of December and Oakhaven Elementary on the 12^th. Professionals, hobbyists and plain enthusiastic people took time off work and away from family during a busy time of year to bring smiles to 247 people’s faces. Granted, some of these smiles didn’t come in front of the camera. One woman ashamed of her missing tooth refused to offer any glimpse of joy until she received the portrait of her with her two children; at which point missing tooth or not she beamed with irrepressible excitement.

Both days, I broke a sweat trying to elicit smiles from small children; I buffooned—checking my dignity at the door—to help create precious memories. Both days I left fatigued but filled with pleasure; their smiles and the radiant pride of parents were genuinely infectious. I might say they were the most memorable days this year except that my first child was born just ten weeks before, and though it would be criminal and unrealistic for me to say it for a few moments afterward I sure thought it!

The photographers get nothing: not even a mention in this article. The pictures they took will not appear publicly or privately in portfolios. No business cards were passed out to families; no sponsorships were sold. Plain and simple the photogs were there to give both a picture and an experience: the value of a smile captured once for a photo and repeated time and time again each time it is seen. For two days in December these photographers and everyone who helped were genuine heroes, as genuine as National Guardsman packing sandbags to protect homes and memories. The photographers get nothing except the memory of so many smiling faces.

The irrelevance of art in the contemporary ethos happened perchance by accident, alas it is so. Reason, science and religion cannot find a place for it except as superfluous, and by them it has been classified into the genera obsolescence. Yet the concept of beauty (a very classical pursuit of art) has been forever linked with truth and goodness throughout the philosophical heritage of every civilization; it is, itself, a transcendental that as humans we are eager to define, quantify and grasp at, but in our modern age, we know it less well then the ancients we have supposedly surpassed in every human faculty. Where as once, it was known as universal, it is now considered subjective; where as once it was considered both inspired and imbued with power to, itself, inspire, it is now a plaything, a fancy, a leisure—ignored. Art once depicting the most powerful symbols of a culture is now produced irreverently hiding behind its every sparse line an increasingly sparse and vapid message. It has fallen from its lofty place beside the other transcendentals; like others, though, who scale towering heights, they (each tied together) succeed or fall as one. So it is that these three (Truth, Goodness and Beauty) have all become whimsical fancies, and have lost the potency to carry any lasting messages; by Fact they are slain, sterile though it is, humane perhaps, they headless bow to the every compounding, shifting, competing fact. Fallen. First beauty, then truth and goodness. All fallen; the loss of beauty a mortal wound that cannot be borne.