The Fine Art of Definition
Or, Why Do We Disagree So Much About Beauty?
My three-year-old son once asked me: “what is a flower?” I proceeded to give an explanation which detailed the nature of plants and photosynthesis and pollination. When finished, my son looked at me and said: “Okay, but what is it?” My child sought an answer that rose above a merely physical explanation; he desired to understand the flower on a level beyond his ability to pick one and put it in a vase for his mother. This kind of understanding lies at the heart of the question: “what is art?” Defining art is not as simple as creating categorical divisions, discussing methodologies, or praising the skills of an artist. It is a question that goes to the core of humanity, for “only rational beings have aesthetic interests” which are as equally “engaged by beauty as . . . by moral judgement and scientific belief” (Scruton, 37).
Aesthetics, then, finds its home in the same primitive foundation as truth and goodness. Kant followed this division with his three Critiques, with the Critique of Judgement setting the stage for his analysis of art and beauty. Kant strove to understand the transcendental aspect of beauty, rather than explain why a particular painting is “good” (Kant, 5). But to engage with the philosophical question is to also engage with the practical aspect as well. Thus, asking about the beauty of a work of art will eventually arrive at judgments regarding the work’s truth and goodness. If art always touches on the three transcendentals, what should be called art? A working definition might look like this: Art is an imaginative expression, born out of the mind and values of the artist, which contributes to the formation of those who experience the work. This definition serves as a general guideline and is intentionally open enough to allow for a conversation regarding the two categories of art discussed below: applied arts and fine arts.
Applied arts are works which are crafted with artistic expression while primarily serving a useful purpose (Clarke, 13). By contrast, fine arts do not begin with a function in mind, but rather are created for their own sake or the pleasure of someone (99). These definitions help to illustrate the essential difference between the two categories, but they simultaneously obscure the overlaps in a single work of art. For a work of art to be considered in the fine arts category, there are some accepted guidelines that build off the aforementioned definitions.
First, the work must speak to the beholder. This is not a slip into relativism, but rather a recognition that the “language of art exerts its claims, and does not offer itself freely and indeterminately for interpretation according to one’s mood, but speaks to us in a significant and definite way” (Gadamer, 47). The beauty of the natural world could exist devoid of all rational beings on the planet, never speaking to anyone (besides God Himself, of course). But every work of fine art is created by someone, usually for someone else, and as someone always observes it. To be a work of art is to be made by human hands, as opposed to something occurring naturally, and thus to be a part of the human experience.
Second, art is to be delightful (Ryken, 125). This is not to be confused with the idea, “if I don’t like it, it’s not really art.” Delight means “to charm” as much as it means “to please.” So, art, when it does not please outright, may still charm the artistic observer until an appreciation grows. It is easy enough to think of examples wherein the first time a work of art was encountered, it had no effect (or worse, a negative effect). But after a while, the same phrase seems to come forth: “it grew on me.” Yet, the emergence of this trite phrase does not mean that fine art equals appreciation one’s of Brussels sprouts or of keeping a cat in the barn. One may learn to swallow certain foods for which no natural taste occurs or tolerate animals that might otherwise be repulsive. When an artwork “grows on you” it is because the work has charmed you into appreciation. The artist has actively worked on your imagination, though they are most likely absent, and the audience has incorporated that work into their own experience. Through art, delight brings man closer to nature, for “the most reasonable . . . enjoyment of Nature is that which satisfies our universal aptitude for delight” which is affected through the artist and the mood created by the art at hand (Wagner, 217-218). Wagner’s operas broke from the standard mode of musical arrangement to create a particular mood (Shaw, 6). At first discordant, the tonal shifts and changes “grow on you” until the audience is enraptured by the interplay of sights and sounds on the stage. Such an effect is pleasing for the artist and gives delight to the audience.
Third, works of art are to be useful (Ryken, 125). At once, this point seems to contradict the previous point; beauty for beauty’s sake does not need a declared use any more than the hummingbird outside the window needs to defend its existence. The fine arts are ones that “refine our sense of character and conduct, of justice and sympathy, greatly heightening our self-knowledge, self-control, precision of action, and considerateness, and making us intolerant of baseness, cruelty, injustice, and intellectual superficiality or vulgarity” (Shaw, 31). Because of this, the fine arts act as a catalyst for what will become action in the audience. The fine arts set the stage for phronesis, that moral knowledge which cannot be learned in any traditional sense but must always be embodied (Gadamer, 327). Since phronesis and techne stand in opposition, for techne can be taught and subsequently forgotten, the fine arts serve to inculcate unconsciously the proper formation which leads to action. The question seems to be whether the actions suggested by art are to be good actions or bad ones. This leads to the final qualification of fine art.
Fourth, art must point toward truth claims. This is something unavoidable but must be understood rightly. For a work of art to possess morals does not mean it communicates my morals (Gadamer, 53). Every work is by its nature a call to the audience; it is “a question, an address to the responsive heart, an appeal to affections and to minds” (Hegel, 78). Not every work of art will persuade every audience, but the opportunity exists for this formation to occur. This is what Plato feared when he banished Homer from his ideal community (cf. Republic, 397e-398b). This is why Aristotle defines comedy and tragedy as, respectively, representing man as worse or better than he is in reality (cf. Poetics 1448a). This is vital to understanding the fine arts, for in their embodied message, they “judge their audience” (Ryken, 270). The reason that the Greeks viewed art with an air of danger, why the new and unconventional appears like fresh Philistine attack, is because the truly sacred thing about art is that it reveals what kind of person the viewer has the potential to be, whether for good or ill. The fine arts do not simply give pleasure or prove useful; they unmask the inner soul of the individual in a way that is unique. Thus, art is a way of understanding where one stands in relation to this world, which is why the Christian has good reason to consider God’s Word on the matter.
The Bible does not distinguish fine arts from applied arts, but the concept already is present in the Old Testament. God specifically enables Bezalel, from the tribe of Judah, with artistic capabilities (Exod. 31:2-5). This passage is helpful in two regards. First, it denotes the role God plays in artistic gifting. Second, it reminds us that God “is no artistic relativist: he has highly demanding standards for what the end product should be” (Benson, 27). What’s more, these standards are not merely utilitarian. Though Bezalel’s work served some architectural purposes, the priestly garments of Aaron were “for glory and for beauty” (Exod. 28:2, NASB). The artistic purposes of God fall into both fine and applied arts because all art is ultimately for His glory. This is worked out in other practical ways throughout Scripture.
One of the easiest ways to detect this is found in the literary stylings of the Word of God. For instance, the Psalms imitate Ancient Near Eastern poetic forms at times, while the Prophets often use imaginative language to create word pictures of striking beauty and terror (cf. Psalm 109 and Isaiah 8). Jesus’s parables reveal a tradition of storytelling prevalent throughout Israel under Roman occupation, and Paul’s references to Greek poetry highlight the exchange of ideas through works of literature during this period (cf. Luke 15:11-32 and Acts 17:28). And even though much of this artistic interaction stems from pagans, just as the roots of art and culture began only after expulsion from God’s community (cf. Gen. 4:16-22), God never appears to hold these expressions in low esteem. For in truth, God is the giver of beauty, as Ezekiel explains to the Israelites: “Then your fame went forth among the nations on account of your beauty, for it was perfect because of My splendor which I bestowed on you” (16:14, NASB). God’s Word testifies at every juncture that beauty is a key component of God’s created order.
More than just visually present in the world, beauty is embedded in God’s Word. The very language of the Bible speaks to this artistic eye through which God conceives this world. For instance, the oft cited passage found in Ephesians shows the way in which art seems to permeate the Biblical idea of creation: “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus” (2:10, NASB). Paul’s use of the word ποίημα, from whence the modern English “poem” derives, creates in his readers a sense that there is something beautiful and intentional about life (which is a sense that the formal “workmanship” many not convey). But Paul is not invoking artistic value arbitrarily; Paul is building off language found in Genesis as well. When creating humanity, God proclaims that man will be made כִּדְמוּתֵ֑נוּ, “according to Our likeness” (1:26, NASB). The Hebrew root, דְּמוּת suggests “a model or image,” and finds its Greek parallel in καθʼ ὁμοίωσιν (LXX). Here, the root word ὁμοίωσις reminds the reader that God is the εἰκών, and that man is the image of that greater Image. It is here that God declares His creation “very good” for in This ideas all come back to the idea that God is in fact an artist, and that as His representatives in the universe, humanity is called to a beautiful way of living that employs both the applied and fine arts to the glory of our Maker. The language of Scripture overlaps with the language of art in defining art and delineating art’s purpose.
But if the purpose of art if to glorify God, what of those who make art despite Him? Can a pagan make “true” or “good” art? Here, the transcendentals help provide a way forward that recognizes the beautiful in God’s world, without falling into the trap of shadow boxing. For if art is always a formative experience, then truth, goodness, and beauty become inextricable from the work itself. Some artists might easily intend to cultivate vices instead of virtue and may be doing so without realizing they have exchanged virtue for vice. Consider the role of sculptures, film, and music in today’s culture, which is constantly pushing modern values which have begun to call good things that were once believed to be wicked. Not in terms of tone or brushstroke (though Jackson Pollack was certainly thought of in that way), but in terms of tangible actions that reveal man to be such an inferior image of his Creator that the beauty sometimes seems to have left the world. But this is to fail to recognize that the fine arts challenge “us to find meaning in its object, to make critical comparisons, and to examine our own lives and emotions in the light of what we find” (Scruton, 197). But what boundaries can be erected to keep fine art in and bad art out if this ideal is the end of beauty?
There are two ways to view the need for labels. If art is indeed bad, setting the stage for a corrupted phronesis, it need not be excluded from fine art for it still serves to challenge individuals with a will of their own, and the challenge can be won. Since the values of the artist are not inherently those of the audience, the result of formation in such a case can be acceptance or repudiation. This same perspective holds for good art, as those outside the Christian faith may find objectionable the values of the Bible, and as free individuals they may repudiate them despite those values’ intrinsic beauty. The very nature of truth, beauty, and goodness must allow for the presence of ideals which contradict the status quo, though it does not mean the new ideals are the right ones.
Are there, then, any forms of art which might be excluded? The best guideline I know to give is simply this: any artwork which is out of touch with the human experience is best left alone. This is about as easy to nail down as Jell-O, and perhaps it is the test of time which will bear out which art forms make the final cut. But it must be stated this way. Walker Percy might have said it best:
My theory is that the purpose of art is to transmit universal truths of a sort, but of a particular sort, that in art, whether it’s poetry, fiction or painting, you are telling the reader or listener or viewer something he already knows but which he doesn’t quite know that he knows, so that in the action of communication he experiences a recognition, a feeling that he has been there before, a shock of recognition. And so, what the artist does, or tries to do, is simply to validate the human experience and to tell people the deep human truths which they already unconsciously know. (23-24)
Any attempt to define art must bring the definer to this precise spot; they must choose which side of the line whereon they will find rest.
Bibliography
Benson, Bruce Ellis. Liturgy as a Way of Life: Embodying the Arts in Christian Worship. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2013.
Clarke, Michael. The Concise Dictionary of Art Terms. 2nd Ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2010.
Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. Trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014.
Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. Introductory Lectures on Aesthetics. Trans. Bernard Bosanquet. Ed. Michael Inwood. London: Penguin Books, 1993.
Kant, Immanuel. The Critique of Judgement. Trans. Nicholas Walker. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2008.
Percy, Walker. Conversations with Walker Percy. Edited by Lewis A. Lawson and Victor A. Kramer. Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1985.
Ryken, Leland. The Liberated Imagination: Thinking Christianly about the Arts. Eugene, Or.: Wipf & Stock, 2005.
Scruton, Roger. Beauty. New York: Oxford UP, 2009.
Shaw, Bernard. Sanity of Art. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2013.
Wagner, Richard. Opera and Drama. Trans. William Ashton Ellis. Lincoln: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1995.