spinoff

On the seventh day of Christmas millinerd gave to me,
A blog when I wanted a Wii.

(Feed subscribers, be not confused; that last post was supposed to be on the spinoff blog). Both millinerd and the newby are looking forward to a productive 2008. Happy New Year to all!

International Treasure

"The best one can say for this franchise," writes Matt Seitz reviewing National Treasure: Book of Secrets, "is that almost every character is educated and proud of it." But I'm feeling a bit more generous (if not as incisive). The series also encapsulates contemporary squabbles about the nature of Christian faith.

In the first film, John Voigt says the treasure isn't real. It's just a myth to keep the British occupied with endless searching. Cage responds in his Cagey way, "I refuse to believe that." Later he adds, "I just want to know it's not just something in my head or in my heart," and hence continues the pursuit.

Bad as Cage's "acting" can be, he captures in those few lines what it means to be a Christian. Either what we're after is real or it isn't. It's either Voigt or Cage. To call that a choice between the modern and the postmodern fabulously misses the point. To think one can navigate a place between Voigt and Cage on matters essential is enough to inspire yet another thesis (2.75).

Merry Christmas millinerd readers!

The first is the vision of the three Magi, the deep significance of which Rowan Williams would understand better, and Emergent would stop confusing with matters essential, if they would just read my stuff. I'm almost certain they won't.

The second is a picture from flickr, which can now be properly interpreted not as reckless parenting, but homage to Rogier van der Weyden.

update: While too late for Tony, that's much better, Archbishop.

If we get one more call from the sartorialist for a photoshoot... Doesn't he know we're busy?

abstraction

Terry Teachout has an interesting video clip at the horizon where he explains the meaning of modernity: There isn't one. People would enjoy modern art more if they were willing to relax before beauty sans explanation. We need, therefore, to let it be. It's a thesis long under attack, hence I'm glad to see it defended. Mullarkey suggested as much when she offered, in a recent review, that a given artist was to be commended, for "she understood that art fulfills its purposes on the aesthetic plane alone."

I would not want to dispute this, but it seems (at first) to conflict with Jeremy Begbie's remarks (via leithart), that at least Kandinsky didn't see that way. Kandinsky's abstractions did have a point: "so that their physicality and particularity can be transcended." Read Kandinsky's Concerning the Spiritual in Art and you'll almost certainly agree. Where Kandinsky went wrong, however, was his lack of specificity regarding the transcendent, a mistake Begbie (in his famous correction of Tillich) has long avoided.

Taking Teachout's cue of relating abstract art to music, now consider Begbie's recent remarks on music, and apply them (as I'm about to do) to abstract art.

The most basic response of the Christian toward [abstract art] will be gratitude. This does not mean giving unqualified thanks for every bit of [abstract art] we [see], but it will mean being thankful for the very possibility of [abstract art]. It will mean regularly allowing a piece of [abstract art] to stop us in our tracks and make us grateful that there is a world where [abstraction] can occur, that there is a reality we call 'matter' that oscillates and resonates, that there is [paint], that there is rhythm built into the fabric of reality, that there is the miracle of the human body, which can receive and process sequences of [color]. For from all this and through all this, the marvel of [abstract art] is born. None of it had to come into being. But it has, for the glory of God and for our flourishing. Gaining a Christian mind on [abstraction] means learning the glad habit of thanksgiving.

So it is with abstraction, but don't expect to see that on the next gallery label.

When Augustine discusses the redemptive possibilities of music in De Trinitate he doesn't point to "Christian lyrics." Instead, he points to the fact of music itself. "The very consonance of the octave, the musical expression of the ratio 1:2, conveys even to human ears the meaning of the mystery of redemption." So it is with abstract art (at least the best of it). And so, one can agree with Teachout and Mullarkey on the pleasures of l'art pour l'art, while also insisting that it does signify much, much more.

Devout Dalí

The Spiritual of Salvador Dalí begins this week in an intimate, hospitable venue. Because people have difficulty believing this kind of twentieth century art existed, you might consider heading to SoHo to stick a finger in the side wound yourself. Here's my take (with a little Warhol thrown in).

5 points on architecture

1. The Gates of Paradise at the Met, according to Maureen Mullarkey, have become "doors to nowhere."

Severed from their purposes as sacred architecture, Ghiberti's panels are on tour as capital assets, pay-per-view spectacles in a techno-secular world.

If you haven't yet become acquainted with one of our finest writers on art (perhaps because she's an artist) you can keep up here. Mullarkey was well ahead of the New Republic's general diagnosis on contemporary art: that it's now money. When The New Republic and Crisis agree, someone's onto something.

2. The frequent Seinfeld shot of Tom's Restaurant, to my knowledge, never panned back to show the Cathedral that looms over it just a few blocks away. Sadly however, Ralph Adams Cram's greatest ambition has become, due to a 2001 fire, his ugliest church. I shant soon forget what it was like to walk the largest Cathedral expanse in the world through a 10x10 foot gopher tunnel. I could tell you a lot of stories about St. John the Divine (as could many others), but I'll leave it to a photographic essay. Use the "slideshow" feature. You too might be surprised to learn what the Cathedral is "in service to." Speaking of which, since when did St. Paul's Chapel become a permanent memorial?

3. How do you end a Gothic Revival? According to Michael J. Lewis (in his phenomenal book on the subject), you do so by abandoning Puginian principle, applying Gothic to commercial structures like the early 20th century's Woolworth Building in New York.

The identification of Gothic architecture with Christianity, so assiduously and lovingly championed by Pugin, had dissolved, leaving only a residue of vapid spiritual associations which lingered in such names as "Cathedral of Commerce" or the "Cathedral of Learning."

Enter modernity.

4. Then there's postmodern (now post-postmodern) architecture. How to explain? Try watching this constellation of starchitects gathered to give envious homage to Peter Eisenman. Then sit down with Philip Bess' essay on Eisenman. Or try the reverse. First read Nathan Glazer's straightforward statement that

Architecture in recent years has turned away from the pragmatic social and behavioral sciences to the wilder reaches of critical theory because its early efforts to design better housing turned into a failure.

Then watch the video and hear someone discuss about how architecture is now "beyond building."

5. Perhaps one of the reason tourists are generally despised is because their wide-eyed wonder is something locals have usually lost. Princeton historical society tours (I just took one) help in the recovery of such wonder. What a town. The Tour de Princeton is growing (more to come). The town in a word? Revival. Not only a Revival School, but Dutch Revival, Tudor Revival, Romanesque Revival, Greek Revival, Gothic Revival, and yes, Renaissance Sculptural Revival. To my embarrassment, I've never actually looked at this gorgeous thing at the convergence of 206 and Nassau. MacMonnies toiled in the fields of figural sculpture until a bird flew in. Fly away now, birdie.

Finally, do send your best photos to our North American Churches flickr group. It's growing every day.

Speaking of National Geographic, is the NY Times Judas debunking a surprise? Television is about ratings, not scholarship. That goes for the Discovery Channel genre as much as Spike. Judas the good guy got viewers, no matter what scholars say now. But, you say, wasn't Judas a book as well as a T.V. special? Yes, but publishing, increasingly, apes T.V.

Someone at National Geographic will perhaps get promoted for the well timed delay of this unraveling, not fired. Real scholarship, comparatively speaking, is boring and slow and rarely makes for good television; but it does put one in better touch with reality, just like the actual Gospels put one better in touch with God.

Advent #5

It's our fifth advent here at millinerd.com, and adventine customs are piling up like unread issues of National Geographic. Tradition compels me to link to ol' St. Nick's site, also to the music recommendations to which I would now, if you can stand the quirk, add Sufjan . And, if you can stand some geek (in the best sense of the word), consider Rick Steves' compilation of top traditions from that continent that just can't shake the faith.

This year's advent addition, however, is different. John Walford, professor of art history at Wheaton College, has long been in the habit of encouraging artists of faith (who, if you're up on my current article in First Things, are not allowed to exist). Lately Walford has been putting his money where his mouth is, not just encouraging artists, but being one himself. He had a show this fall in Italy, and pictures such as the one above and this one are currently decorating churches in anticipation of Christmas which, of course, is not yet here, and won't be for some time (at which point there will be twelve days of it).