Art

Visual Bible: Judas' Kiss

Kyle Strobel — Sat, 15 Oct 2011 09:36:54 -0700

The painting we are looking at this week is by Giotto di Bondone (1266-1337). I was mesmerized by this painting. It is chaotic. It is intense. It is probably a lot like the real event portrayed in the Gospels (see Matthew 26:47-56). When I think of the event, on the other hand, it is often much more calm than this. If you read Matthew's description particularly, there is a sense where there is an initial scene that Jesus dispels rather quickly. In my mind, the action stops when Jesus starts speaking, and the mob just stands there dumbly as he teaches his disciples. But that probably wasn't how it happened. Peter cut off someone's ear for goodness sake.

Bondone's painting reveals the tension I feel in my own reading well. There is something of a painting within a painting here. Immediately, upon looking at it, your eyes are drawn to Jesus and Judas. Their embrace is not one of enemies, but almost of lovers. As their eyes are locked into each others', so are the eyes of the mob locked in on their embrace. The other painting is the larger chaotic struggle, as Peter cuts off someone's ear, and the dark figure on the bottom left grabs John's cloak as he runs away. But your eyes, as much as they try, cannot stop pondering the Jesus/Judas embrace. Is Judas' expression a realization of what he has done? Is Jesus' expression and peace an act of grace or condemnation?

In the painting and the story itself, we are confronted with several dichotomies. You have the kiss from Judas and the calmness of Jesus and the backdrop to this is the chaos surrounding them. You have Jesus' teaching about peace and not using the sword, and you have a mob and Jesus' own disciples walking in the way of the sword. At the center you have deception and treachery, and on the horizon you have the disciple's own rejection of Jesus. Jesus is at the center of that tension, teaching about a kingdom and a way that stands in contrast to the realities of this world.

What do you see?

Visual Bible: Christ on the Cross

Kyle Strobel — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 14:18:24 -0700

Salvador Dali, a surrealist painter from the 20th century, gives us a gripping image of Christ that has at least two different perspectives. Christ is on the cross, kind of, but there are no nails to hold him there. This, of course, begs the question, what does hold Christ to the cross anyway? Love. Furthermore, there is no nail marks either. In fact, Christ looks pretty good. We do not find the crucified Christ, we see the resurrected Christ, gazing down upon the normal and mundane activities of life. Christ has not been raised beyond the cross, but Christ is still the cruciform One who now reigns in power. But this power does not undo the reality of the cross, but it substantializes it in his reign as prophet, priest, and king.

Dali noted that when he painted "his Christ," the painting called the Christ of Saint John of the Cross, that he painted Christ in a triangle, and that this represented, in some way, that Christ was the nucleus that upheld the universe. You can see how the cross makes a triangle shape, with Christ's head in the dead-center of the triangle. This gives the cross an "arrow-like" quality, as if the cross is the needle on a compass pointing due North. If we follow the arrow down it looks like the bottom of the cross is creating an eclipse. There is something there, behind it. If we look closely, as someone encouraged me to do, we can see another shore hidden in the clouds, a shore of a different realm than the day to day reality that our eyes are initially drawn to. It is as if the cross points to a different dimension, a dimension that is further highlighted by the cross' tilting backwards.

Unlike the cross, Jesus doesn't dwell on that other realm, but stares down at the day to day realities of life. Christ hovers above the mundane bearing the reality of the cross that points to a different world and a different order. Christ, it was pointed out to me, is actually shaped like a uterus, depicting the new life that is achieved on the cross - a life that must be born in Christ to trully be reborn and eventually know life in the new world.

What do you see?

Visual Bible: Caravaggio and Thomas and the Risen Christ

Kyle Strobel — Sat, 01 Oct 2011 09:14:59 -0700

We see in John 20:19-29 the reason why many people still know the disciple named Thomas as "Doubting Thomas." Thomas refuses to believe until he sees Jesus with his own eyes and touches his nail and spear wounds. There is much more to say about this passage, but lets turn to Caravaggio's take. Caravaggio's style forces you into the midst of the painting - many times in a way you don't want. Assuming that Thomas took Jesus up on his offer to touch his side and his nail wounds, Caravaggio paints Thomas about an inch deep into Jesus' spear wound. Importantly though, notice that the only movement in the painting is by Jesus. Thomas seems worried, shocked, and a bit overwhelmed (notice his forehead), as are the other disciples. Jesus on the other hand is calm, collected, and is grasping Thomas' hand to guide it into the wound and using his other hand to pull his garment out of the way.

In our discussion, there were a couple of thoughts that came up that I want to highlight here. First, notice the mirroring Caravaggio does with Thomas and Jesus. Thomas grasps his side at the same point as Jesus' wound, and Thomas' tear in his garment is the same size and at the same height as Jesus's wound. Thomas though, like the other two disciples, are worn out, shocked, and incredibly interested in what it taking place (even though he hesitates to want his finger inside of Jesus' wound). There is a parallelism here but also a sharp contrast. Jesus looks young, the disciples look old. Jesus looks fantastic and healthy (despite the wounds) while the disciples look worse for the wear. This is particularly notable in light of the fact that Jesus recently died!

Second, note the balance of the painting. Whenever I think about this wonderful work and recall it in my mind I change it. I always move the other two disciples to the left, creating a bit more of a huddle feel. But that isn't what Caravaggio did. Rather, the other two disciples almost grow out of Thomas. Notice the spacing between Jesus as the disciples at the bottom of the painting. Jesus is on one side and the disciples are on another. This leads me to my thoughts about how we should read this.

My thought is that Caravaggio allowed the broader narrative of John 20 to guide his painting - which would make the other disciples Peter and John. This goes against popular tradition that the disciples are Matthew and John, because those are the two gospel witnesses for this event and because he used the same model for Matthew in a different painting. Possibly. But I think what Caravaggio is trying to do here is to show that Thomas is not distinctively a doubting person in the story, but is one with the rest of the disciples who needed to see to believe. John 20 shows this, and Thomas, in the end, becomes something of a hero figure for his bold proclamation of Jesus' identity. By making the two disciples grow out of Thomas, assuming that they are Peter and John, Caravaggio highlights that the disciples stood together in their doubt. Even having the disciples in the picture at all shows that they need this sign as much as Thomas, and in the narrative itself we see that both Peter and John needed seeing to believe just as much as Thomas did.

Going back to our first point, because he paints the picture in such as way as to invite us in, having Jesus and Thomas opening up to us, we are drawn to Jesus in the midst of our doubt as well. Caravaggio call us in to see, even as in John 20 we are part of the blessed who do not see and yet still believe.

Visual Bible: The Ascension and Durer

Kyle Strobel — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 13:58:50 -0700

I am starting a new blog series using artwork to help us interpret the Bible. In other words, I am using certain artists as fellow interpreters of scripture to help us think through what we may learn from these artists. This series is based on an adult Sunday School series I am teaching with Chris Webb, and I will post each piece of artwork here with some reflections after we talk about them each Sunday. If you want to follow along, you can check out the paintings and the Bible passages we are using here. We are working through Gospel stories backwards as a countdown to Christmas.

This piece is a word-cut by Durer, and was made in the 16th century. We had a great discussion about this in class, and I wanted to highlight some of our thoughts here. First, it should be noted, that this work is tiny. It is, if I recall correctly, 5 x 8 inches, and as a wood cut it would have been carved backwards and in negative (he would have carved out where he wanted the white). It is pretty amazing. There is a lot of detail as well for something that small.

This piece, therefore, is looking at the Ascension. You can read along in Matthew 28:16-20, Luke 24:50-53, and, of course, Acts 1:9-11. Durer provides us with an interesting glimpse into the situation. Your eyes are automatically pulled up to Jesus' feet, almost cartoon-like floating above the rock in the shape of the earth. The cartoonish nature of Jesus and the clouds are partially wood-cut issues and, I like to think, an attempt to portray the supernatural realities at work. The lack of animation in Jesus' body-language and clothes gives this sense as well. The moment captured in this wood cut is the bearfoot Jesus leaving footprints behind on the globe-shaped-rock, imprints of his ministry that will be carried on by bearfoot disciples sent out into the world after him.

One of the dimensions of this wood cut I really like is that we are pulled into the scene to gaze at this incredible sight as well. Unlike the crowds on the right and left which are two-people deep, in front of us is only a single row of disciples who are opening up for us to partake in the moment. There is something of a movement from the left to the right with these three figures in front, giving the feeling that they are in the midst of dropping to their knees at the sight of Jesus' ascension. You get the sense from the body language and expressions of the disciples that this event is totally unexpected - a reality easy for us to forget. There are no indicators of who these disciples are who are gazing up in wonder, only the sense amongst the crowd that this event has ushered in something different and unusual. With the three figures in the front staring up at Jesus one wonders if Durer is hinting towards the transfiguration. Suddenly the cloudy reality of that day is unveiled in its entirely today.

In any case, I like this little wood cut. It has a lot to say in a tiny little space and a very difficult medium by which to communicate subtle truths.

Rethinking Christina Aguilera and the Star Spangled Banner

Manuel Luz — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 21:09:02 -0800

Wow. It seems like everyone these days has an opinion on Christina Aguilera and her now infamous rendition of the National Anthem. Radio talk jocks and internet bloggers, patriots and politicos, grandpas and pre-teens, professional athletes and armchair quarterbacks—there is no lack of spin coming from all directions.

Now, if you're looking for a blog slamming Aguilera for her performance, this ain't it. It is true that I am neither a fan of pop divas (except maybe for Aretha Franklin), nor of the lifestyles they seemingly represent. I do know that Aguilera is an extremely talented vocalist (her performance on Herbie Hancock's album, Possibilities, still knocks my socks off). But if you know me or read my blog, you know that I will occasionally rant against culture but purposefully not rant against people.

Instead, I'd like to offer a Christian response to all of the stuff coming out lately. It is, as they say: IMHO.

One of the main criticisms of Aguilera's performance is her flubbing the words to the Star Spangled Banner. What she did, forgetting a line and garbling another, seems inexcusable. But have you ever tried it? I mean, in front of people? Before a big game? How about before one hundred million people? It is a lot harder than it looks. Personally, I have only performed the National Anthem once, and I made sure I had the words in front of me—just in case. In truth, all of us have felt the nerves of being in public, and erred during speeches or performances some time in our lives. If her only real sin was "getting so lost in the moment" and forgetting a few words, then we really ought to cut her some slack, shouldn't we? That is what grace is all about.

Others criticize her for stylizing the song beyond recognition. She reached for the lows, stretched for the highs, added a few gospel growls, and even threw in a falsetto jump on "freeeeee!" I think I counted eight notes just on the word, "night." Yes, her rendition is overstylized. But here's the thing: She's Christina Aguilera! That's her schtick! If they didn't want that, they shouldn't have booked her. My point here is that—although I too felt that she should have reined it back—she was simply being her flamboyant herself.

So I don't fault her the actual performance. But if anyone should take exception at all, it should be because of this..

The National Anthem means something much greater than the person who sings it. By it's very nature, it has gravitas. Penned during a battle, sung during every Independence Day, Olympic victory, and war, there is almost a sacredness to it. This is why we stand at attention and put our hands over our hearts when it is played. It represents two centuries of freedom, and honors the people who paid a price for it.

It is like leading worship. A worship leader must never draw undue attention to him or herself, for that person is merely the conduit upon which some greater and mysterious Truth is revealed and reverentially recognized. God then becomes the rightful object of our worship. And as the worship leader is simply a representative of our commonality of faith, his or her job is to simply point people to the Throne.

I think this is really the shame of it all. Any person who sings the Star Spangled Banner is simply a representative of our commonality of country. Their rendition of the National Anthem, while reflecting their uniqueness, must never try to supercede that which the song represents.

As a society, we seem to have forgotten this. Through our cultural culpability, we have allowed an entire generation of people to see the National Anthem as simply a showcase for singers. That is, until Christine Aguilera glaringly pointed this out on Super Bowl Sunday. And on this point, we are all to some degree guilty.

As a means of closing out my point, I'd like to leave you with the absolute best rendition of Star Spangled Banner I've ever heard. Watch it all the way to the end. Enjoy.

The Love of Art or the Decay of Culture? GoogleArt

Kyle Strobel — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 12:34:00 -0800

I love museums and I love standing before the beauty of a vibrant canvas. I particularly like art which oozes theology in whatever format the artist has chosen. But before I get off topic, I would like to hear people's thoughts about Google's new project - Google Art.

In short, with Google Art Project you can tour museums most people would never have the chance of visiting. You can get close to the paintings without having to elbow your way through the crowds. You can stand before the Mona Lisa without making the opening-minute-sprint through the Louvre only to exclaim with everyone else, "I thought it would be bigger."

My question for us is this - is it worth it? As I zoom around the Uffizi Gallery in Florence (from my desk chair), I can see things but I am not really able to experience them. I can see Caravaggio's "Sacrifice of Isaac," but I am not really confronted with it. I gaze upon it but I am not left in awe of it. Is this simply a good use of a limited medium, or a misuse of a medium that claims to achieve too much? Have we fallen under T.S. Eliot's indictment that we have:

"Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;

Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word...

Where is the life we have lost in living?

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?"

Is it better to provide these images for all the world to see, or to keep the imaging within personal space?

"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Manuel Luz — Thu, 23 Dec 2010 12:51:27 -0800

One of the best things about Christmas—and this is just my personal opinion—is being able to play the music of Vince Guaraldi. For those who don’t know, Guaraldi is the iconic jazz pianist and composer whose work flavors “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” In fact, the music is so integral to the story that one cannot hear his music without thinking of Snoopy dancing his weird little happy dance.

Over the month of December, I’ve been sneaking in different Guaraldi interpretations into every gig—at a solo piano restaurant gig, the corporate Christmas party I gigged last week with my trio, the recent TV appearance I did with Bob Kilpatrick, and even Christmas Eve services at my church. I love the quirky chord changes and sparse voicings and joyous feel to the music. And I also love how children’s faces light up when I begin the “Linus and Lucy” theme. His music has been covered by several notable artists, including George Winston, David Benoit, and my friend and jazz recording artist, Jim Martinez.

When I was a kid, I didn’t want to be Beethoven. I wanted to be Schroeder.

If you think about it, the use of a jazz trio to soundtrack a children’s Christmas special is peculiar, to say the least. The story of the making of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” is apparently immersed in such anomalous decisions—foregoing a laugh track, using real children to voice the characters, the over-arching theme which rails against the commercialism of Christmas, and especially the climax of the film, which is Linus’ famous soliloquy of the King James version of the Gospel of Luke. But at the same time, one cannot deny that this award-winning special has become a part of the very fabric of our culture every December.

I think this is a good word for those of us who seek to have integrity with our faith and our art. In an era of Frosty and Rudolph and Santa, creator and cartoonist Charles Schulz was unwavering in his insistence that the story of Christmas be told. And he used the small, delightful world of Peanuts to point us back to the mystery and awe that is the Christmas story.

I encourage you to take about five minutes and view this last scene again. And as you do so, be in awe of the Truth that lay in the words of a blanket-dragging, philosophizing, cartoon character. Merry Christmas everyone: A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Exit Through the Gift Shop

Paul Hebblethwaite — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 15:30:37 -0800

Street punk and artist, Banksy's rise to fame continues with the superbly funny documentary, Exit Through the Gift Shop.

Debate continues concerning the authenticity of the documentary and many believe the movie and resulting fame of the artist Mr. Brainwash are an elaborate performance art piece, though by this point we are all wondering if life is anything other than a long performance art piece with an end we all avoid.

The most fascinating component of the film is the progressive transformation of the main character from film taker (not maker) to art star persona Mr. Brainwash. It is a wonderful and playful study on how we as people absorb and create identity; and why your mother warns you to not hang out with certain people.

Art and the 10,000 Hour Rule

Manuel Luz — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 20:11:03 -0800

Best-selling author Malcolm Gladwell wrote a book a few years ago called, Outliers: The Story of Success, which is, in his words, about “men and women who, for one reason or another, are so accomplished and so extraordinary and so outside of ordinary experience that they are as puzzling to the rest of us as a cold day in August.” In the book, he looks at a wide variety of people and occupations, from airline pilots to entrepreneurs to hockey players to software engineers, and identifies and examines the attributes of success. Beyond talent and intelligence and ability, many of the characteristics of success include things largely outside of our control, things like “culture and community and family and generation.”

I was fascinated by one startling point he makes. The uncommonly successful person has spent at least 10,000 hours honing one’s skills. He argues that the 10,000 Hour Rule applies universally—tennis prodigies, chess champions, scientists, classical musicians, and successful business entrepreneurs all share the trait.

Of course, it wasn’t long until I started doing the math of my own life. I started playing the piano when I was almost 5, and worked my way through a half dozen piano teachers until I was 13: ~1400 modest hours. Played clarinet in school bands and was introduced to student conducting, in addition to some amateur songwriting and playing piano and keyboards, so to age 16: ~3,500 hours. Played coffee houses and other gigs, began performing with bands, and learned the craft of studio recording, so to age 21: ~4,900 hours. Given I had a day job as an aerospace engineer, I still played steadily in bands (fusion, rock, church, originals), taught myself to play jazz piano bar, began recording independent projects in a demo studio, took classes and conferences and read books, and I did a whole mess of songwriting, so by age 29: ~9,600 hours. And if I were honest with myself, I still wasn’t all that good of a musician.

So I probably hit the 10,000 Hour Rule around age 30, the same time I entered into full-time vocational ministry. And in retrospect, that was the period of my life when I actually started to get pretty good at what I did. I was recording some of the best music of my life, was leading worship bands at church as well as my own band, was arranging and songwriting and gigging some big gigs. And also—probably not coincidentally—I think that was about the time in my life when I began to understand that I didn’t have to prove anything anymore.

Gladwell cites the Beatles who as a group honed their skill and sound by playing over 1,200 gigs in Hamburg nightclubs between 1960 and 1964. By the time they had been “discovered,” they had amassed over 10,000 hours focusing their talents, honing their skills, characterizing their unique sound, and forging their group identity—and the musical world was never the same.

I think about the many artists I know—musicians, painters, filmmakers, dancers, actors, writers—and the price they must pay in order to be good at what they are passionate about. I think about the aspiring 22 year old songwriter who just released his first CD, the young 24 year old aspiring filmmaker who is wondering whether he should quit his day job, the 30-something worship leader who just wrote his first book, the 18 year old vocalist who is trying to figure out whether to major in music, the 50 year old mom who fell in love with the cello and is seriously taking lessons. And while I believe Gladwell is right in asserting that much of success is beyond our control, one of the things that is in our control is dedication to our craft.

In a celebrity-driven world where auto-tune and Justin Beibers exist, work ethic seems a quaint notion at times. But we do have an obligation to steward that which God gives us. And that includes the talents given to us as artists. In other words: Do The Math.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded, and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” Luke 12:48 NIV

Rethinking "Celebrity"

Manuel Luz — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 10:38:41 -0800

I mentioned in a previous blog about the pursuit of fame and fortune that drove me in my younger days. In what I now refer to as “my rock and roll dream,” the long-term plan was to work as an engineer by day and a musician by night, writing and recording my material while getting exposure and experience in the local club scene. It would only be a matter of time until I would record the killer demo, move down to LA, recruit some monster musicians, and launch my career. From there, it would simply be a short limo trip to fame and fortune.

Of course, that didn’t happen, for a lot of reasons—talent, marketability, maturity, circumstance, and the Small Still Voice that invited me into a better way of life.

I look back at the me who once was, and I see a guy who was driven by internal needs he was not in touch with—affirmation, acceptance, expression, love. So much of what I did then was to gain the favor of people. I wanted people to like me, accept me, approve of me, love me. And I mistakenly thought that fame would bring these things into my life.

I think this is normal, though ultimately unhealthy. I meet young people all the time whose healthy desire to express the arts are aimed squarely at the unhealthy goal of fame and fortune. Often I find myself biting my tongue, wishing that they could understand now what only time and experience can teach them.

For myself, I gradually came to realize that there were really only a handful of people in the entire world for whom their opinion really mattered to me—my parents, my wife, my closest friends. The accolades of everyone else—especially those I didn’t know—could never replace the unconditional love of those who were already in my life, and who already had given me that love. So I was really striving for nothing.

I say this because some of you know that my son has begun a modeling career. He is signed with Wilhelmina Models, and is currently in Singapore modeling for a variety of customers. While his career is still in the fledgling stage, he’s already slated for the cover of Men's Health Magazine (Singapore edition), some runway work for Gucci, and he did a photo shoot with Lea Michele (Rachel on Glee), among other sillier things (auditions for Old Navy, Target, etc.).

The other day, in a moment of introspection, he emailed me this observation: “I’m beginning to realize more and more that modeling, and even ‘celebrity-ism,’ are for those who have no real friends or loved ones.” And while that statement is a little too absolute, I think I understand what he’s trying to say, and beginning to understand. Our motivations for fame and fortune are driven by the deepest of our human needs—to simply be loved without condition.

Of course, as followers of Jesus Christ, we understand that this human need is only truly fulfilled through our relationship with our Triune God. We ultimately desire the affirmation and approval of our Abba Father, the friendship and Lordship of Jesus, and the intimacy of the Holy Spirit. We deeply need to be in community with others and with God. That’s just how God made us.

I’m truly proud of my son. Not just because he is finding success in the things he is striving for, but more so because of the person he is becoming in the process. And I think that’s the point.

[Note: Photo of me with Axl Rose compliments of faceinhole.com.]