aestheticism

Powers of Ten

"As a single proton fills our screen, we reach the edge of present understanding..." Written and directed by the dynamic duo, Ray Eames and her husband, Charles, for IBM in 1968. Not altogether unlike Hubble 3D, which I saw at IMAX recently. A humbling reminder that my theological grid is perhaps too small. http://www.powersof10.com/

"You bring light in..."

Classic Underworld and this morning's hymn.

Senseless Beauty

I've posted this elsewhere not too long ago, but I've been feeling a bit down and felt like reflecting on a thing of beauty.  I am moved, in part, by this project's sheer impracticality.  Would that I were there to have seen it in person.  Wonder for wonder's sake.  Info on The Sultan's Elephant can be found here.

"I have the strangest feeling today, something in between grief and joy, sad that I will never see that beautiful Little Giant or that gargantuan Elephant and happy that I had the privilege to meet them. Thank you for reminding me how to be a child and for realising that cynicism is not a way of life"                                        - The Londoner 

Mechanized Meditations

It is sometimes difficult for me to articulate why a work of art may move me the way that it does.  It's not uncommon for me to stand transfixed before a work of art, having lost any sense of time, while someone stands idly by, waiting for me to get over it.  Caving to social propriety, I'll pull myself out of the way apologizing and say, "It took me somewhere."  

Of course, different works may interest us for different reasons, but when I consider the pieces I find most compelling, they tend to evoke in me a profound sense of longing or reminiscence - even a sense of grief - for something I have no awareness of ever having known.  It can be at once strange yet familiar, like a passing scent that suddenly overwhelms with emotion, although you can't remember why, or like a vague recollection of a dream you'd forgotten long ago.  Occasionally, a work of art will leave me overwhelmed by a sense of loss over something I have no language for, but can only intuit.  It is a sadness, yes, but in the sweetest sense; it is a sadness with a tenuous hope that will forever be just out of reach.  Within my present framework, I categorize these experiences somewhere within the spheres of the mystical and spiritual.  I find them to be other and transcendent.

I was reminded recently of experiences C.S. Lewis was said to have had as a student of ancient mythology many years before his religious conversion.  In one instance, while reading Saga of King Olaf, Lewis read the passage, "I heard a voice that cried, 'Balder the beautiful is dead, is dead....'"  Describing his response, Lewis wrote, "Instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of the northern sky.  I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described..."  In another, while reading Siegfried and the Twilight of the Gods, Lewis wrote that he was engulfed in "a vision of huge, clear spaces hanging above the Atlantic...and with that plunge back into my own past there arose at once, almost like heartbreak, the memory of Joy itself...at once I knew (with fatal knowledge) that to 'have it again' was the supreme and only important object of desire."

The ambiguity of what I'm attempting to reflect upon here gives me pause.  I would be remiss in appropriating Lewis's experiences of what he would come to call "Joy" as my own.  I simply cannot know that what he experienced with mythology, is what I sometimes experience with art.  Still, I do think I discern some similarities, and I find it interesting to consider the possibility that Lewis may have been attempting to describe a similar phenomenon.  

But what of all this?  I don't know.  I suppose I'm just reflecting on the seemingly indescribable place a work of art can take me to sometimes.  I apologize to anyone who actually read this; I am beginning to suspect this post was a heap of nonsensical drivel.  For what it's worth, there is a video compilation of works by swiss sound artist Zimoun above.  Perhaps it will take you somewhere.

  

Theology After Google

The person that has unequivocally influenced me most during my seminary career has been Barry Taylor.  He recently shared his thoughts on Theology After Google at Claremont School of Theology.  I missed the conference due to finals, so I was thrilled to learn his talk was online...

  

More information can be found here.

End of An Era

Two of my favorite artists are exhibiting in New York in the next few months.  Tragically, I'm going to miss Mark Ryden's "The Gay 90's - Olde Tyme Art Show," April 29th - June 5th at the Paul Kasmin Gallery. Mark Ryden, "Incarnation" 2009 oil on panel, 72 x 48 inches

I will, however, be in town to catch Damien Hirst's "End of an Era" show at the Gagosian, showing through March 6th.  I'm finding the namesake piece, which features a decapitated "golden calf" to be particularly interesting.

  Damien Hirst, "End of an Era" 2009 Bull's head, gold, gold-plated steel, glass and formaldehyde solution with a Carrara marble plinth. 84 x 67 5/16 x  38 5/16 inches 

Hoping Against Hope

 

I haven't seen this film since it screened at the now defunct ResFest some years ago.  It's as meaningful for me as ever, albeit in a different way.  Directed by Michael Dudok de Wit.  Info can be found here. 

Cosmic Conundrums

Damien Hirst, A Thousand Years 1990 
Steel, glass, maggots, MDF, insect-o-cutor, cow’s head, sugar, water. 
213 x 427 x 213 cm.

“A Thousand Years, one of Hirst’s most provocative and engaging works, contains an actual lifecycle.  Maggots hatch inside a white minimal box, turn into flies, then feed on a bloody, severed cow’s head on the floor of a claustrophobic glass vitrine.  Above, hatched flies buzz around in the closed space.  Many meet a violent end in an insect-o-cutor; others survive to continue the cycle.” - Gagosian Gallery 

"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher. "Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless." Ecclesiastes 1:2

A Thousand Years by British artist Damien Hirst illumines and embodies Ecclesiastes for me.  So much so, that I find it difficult to consider one piece without the other.  Within the cold glass walls of the vitrine I am confronted with a sterile, macabre, matter-of-fact analogue to our own cosmic conundrum.  Much like Ecclesiastes, Hirst presents us with a dynamic existentialist text wherein the inhabitants of a closed system with limited options engage in an absurd and repetitive struggle to become.  The inescapable cycle of meaninglessness within this enclosed system frustrates my desire for easy answers.  Still, as with the book of Ecclesiastes, I am compelled to keep looking and I am humbled by the thought that our hope lies not in the possibility that we might break out, but rather that something from the outside might break in.

No Love Lost

The Wallace Collection will be hosting an exhibition of new works by one of my favorite artists, Damien Hirst.  "No Love Lost" will show 10/14/09 thru 1/24/10, and feature 25 of the artist's recent "Blue Paintings."  It's worth noting that Mr. Hirst actually painted this series himself, rather than employing a team of assistants as he is wont to do.  Like the recent Banksy show, this too is across the pond.  More info here.

Tutorial to the Tenth Dimension

A quick tutorial to understanding ten dimensions produced in conjunction with Rob Bryanton's new book, Imagining the Tenth Dimension.  For a visual learner such as myself, illustrations like this often help me conceptualize ideas in a way that simply reading about them do not.  Anyway, additional videos and info can be found here.

A Crucifix for the 21st Century

On Friday, Porterhouse Fine Art Editions will release a limited edition vinyl figurine of Mark Ryden’s, “YHWH” from the “Bunnies and Bees” exhibition from 2000.  What I love about Ryden, is that he engages theological concepts from various religious traditions, be they Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, what have you, from the “outside,” in.  That is to say, the artist claims no formal or institutional religious affiliation, yet his work belies a theological sophistication that, to my eye, offers wonder over disdain, curiosity over critique – not that critique isn’t welcomed.  Actually, I would argue that it is Ryden’s theology from the “outside” that provides a fresh lens for those of us on the “inside” who sometimes find it difficult to see the forest for the trees.

What strikes me about this piece in particular, is Ryden’s grasp of Apophatic theology.  Strains of Aphopatic theology within the Christian tradition can be traced as far back as Augustine.  This approach, known as “the negative way” or “Via Negativa,” holds that the Divine is ineffable and our experience of God can only be recognized or remembered, rather than accurately described.  What’s more, the imperfection of language and our finite ability to grasp the eternal necessitates that any attempt at describing God will ultimately prove flawed and incomplete.  To that end, practitioners would not make propositional statements about the nature of God or what God is, but rather, what God is not. 

Also worthy of noting is that in the Jewish tradition, “YHWH” is the ineffable and unutterable name of God.  In fact, for reasons of reverence, its utterance is absolutely forbidden in many Orthodox Jewish communities, even in prayer. 

So here I sit at my computer, looking an artist’s attempt to capture the uncapturable, in a painting named after the unnamable, and consider purchasing a $180.00 vinyl toy depicting that which cannot fully be known.  I look at the little girl’s bare feet, conveying the holiness of her Audience, her bent elbows and open skyward palms symbolizing reverence and worship.  I look at the unblinking maternal gazes of the tripartite ineffable, and I consider the omniscience and benevolence of an eternal First Cause.  I’ve never been one to collect religious brick-a-brack but, as I consider these things and find myself moved to tears, I realize “YHWH” is probably a good place to start.

Of Heaven and Hell...

Civilization by Marco Brambilla from CRUSH on Vimeo.

"Civilization depicts a journey from hell to heaven interpreted through modern film language using computer-enhanced found footage. This epic video mural contains over 300 individual channels of looped video blended into a multi-layered seamless tableau of interconnecting images that illustrate a contemporary, satirical take on the concepts of Heaven and Hell."

I think this piece speaks for itself so I haven't anything to add beyond sharing it.  Obviously, I think it's amazing.  It was commissioned for permanent exhibition in the elevators of The Standard Hotel, New York.  View it fullscreen or find a higher res version on the artist's website...  

http://marcobrambilla.com/civilization.html

I Shop Therefore I Am

Barbara Kruger, Untitled (I shop therefore I am) 1987

 

Initially, I had intended this blog to function as an inspiration dump.  A space where I could drop off ideas and inclinations, conceptual bookmarks if you will, of things occupying my mind at any given moment.  Having rarely been one to journal, I thought a blog might inspire me to commit my thoughts to a medium I could return to in hopes of tracking sparks over time.  Surveying the posts so far, now ten in, I couldn't help but notice two recurring themes.  One being my silly machinations on the afterlife, the other is my uneasiness with consumerism in our post- or hyper-modern world.  

As I've mentioned before, I have some issues I'm trying to work through in regard to being a responsible person of faith in a world that has, for all practical purposes, become a corporatocracy.  Perhaps I wouldn't be so bothered if I didn't discern such an incongruous duality regarding consumerism within myself.  You see, the one thing I feel confident saying I do really, really well, is consume.  My addictions include clothing, books, art, furniture, bicycles... I won't go on.  It suffices to say that my dependancies are legion.   What's bothering me at the moment, is the suspicion that, beyond a genuine aesthetic appreciation for these objects, there may be a fundamental dependency on the act of consumption itself.  As one who often feels like an artist without a medium, I'm considering the possibility that the act of consumption may be serving as a surrogate for creative production.  

On some level, I suppose the act of consumption could be understood to be a creative endeavor, if only in the broadest curatorial sense.  There is a certain dialogical aesthetic exchange that occurs with an object, say a coat, that I might consider for purchase. There's an initial critical assessment of stylistic relevance, usually informed by my subcultural affiliations and understanding of the current fashion scene.  Then, and perhaps more importantly, there is a fantasy or imaginative component wherein I consider how said coat compliments or affirms a deeply personal and often subconscious narrative I have about myself, which exists only in the realm of ideals.  I'll provide an example.  Again, this is fantasy mind you...

Once again, I'll have to finish this post later.  The sandman beckons.

A Science of Spirituality

My friend Scott turned me on to this five-part NPR series on the scientific study of spiritual experience.   Topics include, "The God Chemical," "The Biology of Belief," and "Near-Death Experiences."  I'm far too sleepy to add my 2 cents, other than to say that I sometimes find myself of two minds about this sort of thing.  It's not that I'm concerned that such inquiry will ultimately prove or disprove the existence of a Sentient First Cause, or anything.  Besides, the inquiring mind and "academic acumen" that I am still paying Fuller Seminary for, dictates that I see how far the rabbit hole goes.  It's just that I can't help but wonder if peeking behind the wizard's curtain all the time kills my buzz.  I mean, if my brain releases more endorphins during fervent prayer, which creates feelings of calm and, consequently, an illusion of peace... do I really want to know the mechanics of that phenomenon?  Sometimes I miss magical thinking.  Anyway, the red pill can be found here...
http://www.npr.org/news/specials/2009/brain/

Hope Springs...

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;

Man never is, but always to be blest:

The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,

Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

-Alexander Pope

An Essay on Man, Epistle 1, 1733

Or, put another way, this video pretty much embodies my eschatological imaginations.  Who's in?

Garden of Earthly Delights

I imagine the afterlife to be a Holy, yet vaguely bacchanalian, Hieronymus Bosh painting meets Coachella meets Busby Berkely water musical, where we know each other's names, and there's a reasonable amount of choreographed swimming and splashing about.

Life Inc.

Not unrelated to the Adbusters Hipster post, I'm looking forward to Douglas Rushkoff's latest offering.  I've been pondering for sometime now how capitalism has affected our understanding of what it means to be human.  I anticipate Life Inc. may provide additional pieces to the puzzle.  How am I, as a spiritual being, to navigate the contours of our present day corporatocracy, wherein the primary measure of my value is my FICO score and my ability to spend?  Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like consumerism is undermining our humanity and our ability to be humane?