In Part 1
and Part 2, artist and poet Nathan Bennett Adams shared about his
passion for language and art and how creating art can help us learn about who
God is. Today, we finish the conversation looking at how art can be used to
start theological conversations and how aspiring artists can hone their skills.
Olivia: What
are some ways that artistic expression can be used to reach others with the
good news of the Gospel?
Nathan: I
kind of echoed this already, the fact that we as imperfect people, creatures,
humans cannot replicate something perfectly is a good philosophical discussion.
It’s a good theological reminder. So then, if you have that dilemma, then what
do you do? If a chef—and this is something I’ve studied too—uses this language:
“It is perfect,” and I think theologically, you’re like, “Mmm, nothing’s
perfect other than Christ.” And it’s like, okay, good, and yet they’re trying
to say something accurately, maybe they’re using a little bit of hyperbole. So
then philosophically it does create a good discussion of: what are they saying?
They executed something really freaking well. That’s what they’ve said.
This is
something that a couple of poets have said and then a couple of theologians
have said referring to the poet or the artist. Dorothy Sayers said something
like this—that when a poet or artist approaches the page that’s blank, he or
she takes on a moment of God. And it’s like—pause, I’m not saying you
are God, so just don’t mishear what I’m saying. There’s something that isn’t
there yet, and then you have a chance to bring something in. So then I’m just
like, “That’s the imago Dei! That’s the imago Dei!” And then that
is something that we can kind of get, with how creation was, right? So ex
nihilo, out of nothing came something. That is so sick!
And I think
that is what I would offer to answer that question: that there is—I guess you
could almost say apologetically, but sometimes when people think of apologetics
you think of like the big debate on the corner of a street. I am noticing
that’s not really happening anymore; it does happen, but I’m thinking the small
places. It’s usually at a dinner table. It’s usually at a coffee shop when
you’re with a coworker. It’s sometimes when someone buys a piece of yours that
you don’t know anything about, and then they ask you a question. They say, “Why
do you do what you do, Nate? Why do you draw?” There’s a moment.
I can at least drop a nugget and just let it be. I don’t need to give them the
full spiel—it’s honestly just being sensitive to the Spirit, right? Like really
pray over—and I think this is something that we should do—but pray over “What
does need to be said right now?” I mean, if we’re supposed to lean on the
Spirit when we pray, Paul says, then I’m like, dang, we need to be doing that
when we open our mouths too, right.
So yeah, that
there’s a start and an end to a piece, there’s forethought, there’s
intentionality. That’s why I think postmodern art is a complete sham. Maybe
not, I shouldn’t say all that, ‘cause there’s stuff that I see that’s
really pretty. There’s stuff that I’m like, “That is very pretty.” And Anna and
I have this talk all the time, ‘cause there’s times where I go to an art
gallery—and this is something that Schaeffer talks about, but most philosophers
talk about this too: that art, if you pay attention to the art world, predates
philosophy. So philosophers respond to the artists. ‘Cause the artists, let’s
just say, are dealing with the ideas now, so then they start putting it
out, then the philosophers talk about what’s going on.
So I am
noticing, ‘cause I consider myself like a Renaissance Man who’s definitely a
philosopher in mind, that I go to some of these galleries, and I see most
work is abstract, predominantly abstract. And then what’s also kinda becoming
annoying, which a lot of people are starting to have this discussion (and I say
“a lot of people”—I’m bumping into podcasts or YouTube where they’re starting
to have this discussion) of like, “We want meaning.” So when the artist
starts saying that there is no meaning. What happens? This is what’s so
funny: apologetically or metaphorically in writing a poem or an essay, people
get this intuitively. You walk into a museum, you go to a spot, you see
something, and it’s like “Untitled; this has no meaning”? They’re like, “What
the heck is that?!” People kinda get frustrated. They’re like, “Why did he do
that?” or “What does that mean?” They’re looking for someone in the
museum, like, “Hey, can you please describe this to me?”
And I go,
“That’s a metaphor for the philosophy of language!” That we desire and crave
meaning and order. And, and, I would argue, we want objective truth. We
desire it. We want something to stand and refer to the rest of the world. But
if we have no ground—everyone knows what no ground looks like: it looks like
people running to safe ground. We know this in earthquakes. We know this
in sinking sand. Your first inclination is to move, get out of
this junk. And then it’s like, “Oh, gravel,” all of a sudden you’re kinda
slipping on a walk, slipping, slipping, slipping, you want to go to what? A
bigger rock! It’s so intuitive. And I’m like, this is philosophically so
sick—and theologically too.
Yeah, that
there is objective truth to reality. There is something good about the
relationship between an artist and the audience, and I think what I am noticing
in conversations that I have the opportunity to have is that people are ripe
for meaning and they want meaning. They want order. And I think when you have a
piece that doesn’t have meaning it gets really loud. Just like when you watch a
movie, and all of a sudden it just ends, you’re like, “What was that?!” And
everybody’s like *gasp*. And then what do people mostly say? “I wanna talk to
the artist.” “I wanna talk to the director, the screenwriter. Why the heck did
you make that decision? Please tell me there’s some reason you did that,
right?” You want it.
So yeah, I
think that’s a big piece to your question. We crave order and meaning. And
we’re participants in it. I think that’s something that’s really loud about the
Christian heritage is that we’re not pragmatically brought into the story of
Yahweh to just conveyor-belt, like do-your-part-and-carry-on, but we’re participants.
And that is freaking awesome. That gets me boosted. That
is a declaring; that’s a very loving, beautiful, kind God that He would invite
us in. Get outta here, man! So I’m getting hyped on a whole bunch of things
right now. But, yeah, the good news is that when you look at that blank page,
you want to create, and I think apologetically or philosophically you can have
a question of like, “Why do you desire to create at all?” That’s a fun thing.
Olivia: What
advice do you have for budding artists out there?
Nate: Yeah,
this is another one I get. This is good, but I would almost go back to what I
said in my first class. One thing I shared at that, is I said from the very
beginning, “Humans are not perfect.” Or maybe I phrased it as a question: “Is
the human perfect?” There’s a whole bunch of kids and adults; it’s like we all
need to hear this. “No.” “Can we produce perfection?” “No.” “K, good. So we’ve
agreed upon some really big premises that are gonna springboard us throughout
the rest of this class.” And I think that’s honestly what I would share. That,
and then the next step is probably the pragmatic, “Yeah, Nate, you just told me
something I already know.” Right, so then, it’s the next thought of now you can
do something with this *laugh* revolutionary knowledge, that you are acting
more human when you acknowledge that. And when you go to be an artist, when you
go to art, draw, create, that gives you a giant ability to deep-breath and
relax.
And then if I’m
talking to a believer, I think you have a moment where you’re dealing with
worship, like leaning in towards Yahweh. You’re not worshiping the thing of the
final result. You’re heading into that it’s beyond just creating to create. And
then for the nonbeliever who’s interested in being an artist… yeah, I think
you’re interacting with a lot of presuppositions, and I think a lot of them are
really really true. And it’s like, ask those questions of, “Why create at all?
Why is there aesthetics?” It’s not an accident that almost all philosophers
were pondering or baffled by aesthetics. Regardless of whether they didn’t land
theistically on something, they at least pondered that this is extremely
powerful. “And all humans like this? Huh, that’s really weird…”
And I also
would say—and everyone says this, and I have to remind myself of this too—but
practice. Practice, practice. We all know this, but I think there’s something
with art specifically that I think it’s hard for people to grasp practicing.
“What does it mean to practice as an artist? That’s weird. It’s not a scale at
a piano, or it’s not a violin and I know how to practice hitting my finger to
that spot and then practicing my vibrato. Do I just keep drawing the same thing
over and over again? That’s kinda boring.” And I’m like, “You’re right. That
does feel boring. That does sound boring.” But as an athlete, one thing that I
would contribute to this discussion is that an athlete still practices passes,
he still practices a layup, like the most simple, “duh” thing about the sport.
And they do dribbling drills. Are you for real? How to dribble the ball up and
down the court, like the most primitive thing of basketball, right? Or soccer
drills!
If you’re not
an athlete, it’s sometimes a hard metaphor to grasp, ‘cause like, “I never did
that.” So then as a pianist, you understood scales helped. Why? The flexibility
of your fingers, the fluidity of the rhythm within your fingers, the touch of
the keys—I used to play piano, so I’m talking a little bit from experience. So
then, carry a sketchbook. Draw whatever. Draw whatever. And then one
thing I’d specifically say is—“Whatever, Nate? Oh my gosh, that’s too big, I
don’t even know what to do with that! My parents tell me that all the time.”
Then grab something that’s in your house, and put it in front of you, and draw it.
Grab a thing of scissors. Put it in front of you and draw scissors. If that’s
not beautiful—and I think that’s something I bumped into earlier, you wanted to
draw something beautiful, you wanted to draw something pretty, there’s
something 100% admirable about that, so like, hold to that, but think of it as
a separate thing that you wanna practice. This is your practice lane; these are
your dribbling practices. ‘Cause it helps your eyes. It helps your
eyes-to-your-hand relationship.
And when I
research some of the high-end artists out there, whether comic books,
illustrators for like The New Yorker to L.A. Times to a game, like
a board game, those kind of illustrators too, they all talk about what I’m
talking about right now. So I’m like, if the pros are saying this, then
I should pay attention: still draw things that are right in front of you;
finish, don’t finish, but you have to put in the line work. You have to put in
the practice.
And I guess the
last thing I would say is worry about your style later. I have to tell myself
that, “Your style will come later.” So a lot of people just say, “Draw what you
like, and if you like anime, draw anime.” But don’t forget to draw something
that’s in front of you. ‘Cause I think a lot of the times when I hear about
people who only draw anime, but they can’t draw a glass that’s in front of
them, then I notice. I’m like, “You’re missing really big things that are gonna
help you out when you draw an anime figure or background. ‘Cause then you’re
dealing with color; you’re dealing with shape; you’re dealing with lights;
you’re dealing with volumes.” When you have an image in front of you, you can’t
argue with it. It’s like, here it is. “Oh wow, my line was really off here. Why
was it off?” You can look at it.
So. Practice.
Enjoy it. It’s not like, “Do what makes you happy.” I kinda hate that mantra
that’s happening in today’s world. I’m like, “That’s not a complete thought!
You can’t do that!” *laugh* Yeah, but just draw whatever’s in front of you, and
carry a sketchbook. I think a sketchbook is helpful, ‘cause then if you don’t
like something and it’s garbage, just turn the page! But draw it in the
sketchbook, ‘cause then it’s there. And that’s something I would finally end
with saying—an imperfect line is more true; it’s just more true to reality. So
I think I’m offering something philosophical there, but throw away a pencil,
and just do something with a pen for a long time. And then if you wanna do
graphite—‘cause there are plenty of graphite artists that are like *whew*, it’s
stunning what they can do—but a pen, like hitting a piano key, it’s a
commitment. And if you hit it, you know you did it right or not.
I hope
you’ve enjoyed “listening in” to this conversation and have found points to
ponder whether it be God’s creativity, His invitation to us to participate in
that creativity, the vastness of who God is, how we can look at art, language,
food, nature, sport—anything in life—and learn about God from it, and so much
more. If you’d like to follow Nate on his artistic journey, you can find him on
Instagram @nathan.b.adams. He also accepts commission requests! Until next
time, enjoy pondering the depths of our creative God!
