Art With Teeth

By its very nature and definition, the Divine is beyond human experience and comprehension. Thus one of the main purposes of any spiritual practice — whether communal worship or private meditation, whether ecstatic celebration or penitence and fasting — is to expand our vision beyond ourselves and our own limited spheres of understanding and experience. The same is true when we study the wisdom of ancient spiritual masters, or search the natural world for markings of a divine hand. We are plagued with questions and doubts, and we are hungry for answers. It is revelation that we are seeking: the unveiling of truth as-yet-unseen, and reality beyond the tiny scope of our own vision.

History has shown that art can be the bearer of soaring spiritual truth and profound revelation, but at least within my own Christian tradition, much of what passes for “spiritual art” these days is really neither art nor spiritual.

From Pleasing Authorities to Pursuing an Inner Vision

Recently, several unrelated conversations have touched on the personal transition from pleasing an authority figure to pursuing one’s own inner vision. It can be scary for young artists to step out from under a teacher’s protective guidance, trusting their own inner vision and direction above all else — and yet it is also the only way to make truly authentic work.

When I entered grad school, I was 23 years old and firmly rooted in a desire to please the authority figures. I viewed my professors as absolute masters who would impart their wisdom to me, and I came prepared to soak up as much of that wisdom as possible. I assumed that, as in college, my own academic and artistic success would hinge on my ability to discern what my professors wanted and to perform accordingly. I was meek and deferential and eager to please, willing at any moment to adjust my process or change my plans at the suggestion of the professors.

I got eaten alive in my first review.

Seeing Visions

I have a lot to say about the human body — especially the female body. My own cultural, religious and artistic traditions have simultaneously appropriated women’s bodies, and also treated those same bodies with suspicion and contempt. As an undergraduate at a conservative Christian school, my BA thesis was almost banned from being exhibited on campus due to nudity. Later, my professors accused me of making objects that catered to the male gaze. The “object” in question was a self-portrait.

Yet for me, working from models proved to be an incredibly creative and life-giving process — not only a rich source for art-making, but a place of healing from a lot of cultural baggage surrounding the female body. This post will be the first in a series exploring some of my thoughts about working with the human figure.