Is “Originality” Overrated?

“Creativity and originality certainly have their place in the art world,…but it is only a part”

David Bjorgen, Wikimedia Commons

The division between sacred art and and secular art is centuries old. It began largely as a matter of patronage.

The popular idea of the artist creating works of art based on his own whims or private inspiration is a relatively recent one. We see art fairs, big and small, from local craft fairs to national or even international exhibitions, full of the artist displaying works that are based on the artist’s personal vision or perhaps what the artist thinks the public will buy.

But for most of the history of art, the artist created a work of art in response to a commission. In the western world that commission usually came from the Church. For over a thousand years the Church was the largest patron of the arts. During this time, quality was prized over the ambiguous idea of “originality.”

If an artist was approached with a commission of, for example, the Baptism of Jesus, the composition of the image was set by tradition, a tradition that can be traced back to the iconographic form of the early centuries of the undivided Church. It was expected that the final work would more or less follow that tradition. In the middle of the painting is the Jordan river in which Jesus stands. On one side is John, pouring water over the head of Christ. Opposite John on the other riverbank were ministering angels. The particular gifts of the artist were expressed in the details, the rendering of the figures, the way the garments draped across those figures, and the addition or subtraction of various elements.

But the overriding guide was service to the faithful. When a churchgoer looked at the image in the context of its setting, in this case probably the church’s baptistry, they would have no doubt as to what they were looking at, the Baptism of Jesus.

Turnabuoni, 1490

The Transfiguration is another example. The composition was set, a glorified Jesus is flanked by Moses and Elijah, while below Peter James and John look on in wonder or are overwhelmed by the spectacle. The genius of the artist was in the specific placement of the figures in relation to each other, how they were rendered, and how the light fell on the glorified as well as the mundane.

Transfiguration, Raphael, 1520

But the Reformation changed this symbiotic relationship between the Church and the artist. In the Protestant lands, commissions for altar pieces and panel paintings of saints and their lives dried up. Artists were forced to look elsewhere for commissions. This began with portraits of wealthy nobles and merchants. As time passed, and public tastes changed, artists found work in genre paintings of everyday life and landscapes.

As Church patronage became scarce, more artists competed for fewer commissions, academies took over the role of training artists, and the public hunger for the new and the different grew.

Which brings us to our modern era in which, for the secular world at least, originality rules the day. This would explain the urinals, rumpled beds, and bananas that pass for great works of art.

But sacred art, by which I mean specifically liturgical art meant to adorn our churches, still serves the same purpose it always did, to turn our hearts and minds to things of God. Liturgical art must follow the traditions of centuries in order to engage the faithful in their participation of the sacraments.

Originality is not the driving force in sacred art. Unfortunately too few artists or the clergy or the wealthy donors, understand this.

I once found myself in the office of a new church. The permanent church was under construction and the office was located in a temporary building. An office staff member was showing me, with obvious pride, one of the stations of the cross that they had commissioned. I could not tell by looking at the piece which station was represented. All I remember now thinking back on it was an image of silhouetted hands raised in the air holding modern guns.

This is a tremendous disservice to the parish. The artist had substituted his or her own ideas for the traditions of the Church and the result was incomprehensible. It is true that the Church does not have an official “style” and the stations of the cross represent perhaps a greater opportunity for the artist to express their creativity. But one should be able to look at a station and recognize it as Christ Before Pilate, or Christ Falling Beneath the Cross, or Christ Crucified, etc.. To stand before a station and wonder “what am I looking at?” is a tragedy.

This is common in music ministry as well. Most egregiously I have encountered arrangements of the Gloria or the Lamb of God that deviate from the words of the liturgy or inappropriate hymns and instruments all for the sake of the minister expressing themselves artistically.

During the Gothic revival of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the stained glass studios of Germany and England understood this. Figures and compositions were reused countless times to produce art that was immediately understood by the onlooker. It was the quality of the execution that the studios worked so hard to achieve.

Creativity and originality certainly have their place in the art world, that is part of the gift of artistic talent, but it is only a part. The secular world of high priced, “celebrity” artists seems to have elevated originality over quality. But sacred art should be just the opposite. Quality and the talent of the artist in execution, should be prized over an “original” composition that confuses the faithful.

The gift of artistic talent, like all God-given gifts, is given to us, not necessarily to display our originality, but to serve our brothers and sisters in bringing them back to God.

Pax vobiscum