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!
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