Babette's Feast & The Charisma of Artistry

In a previous post on Babette's Feast, I discuss infinite grace. 

This post looks at artistry. 

One of the most fascinating and charming parts of Babette's Feast is the "behind the scenes" scenes. We see Babette return with all her supplies. We see the feast itself. Best of all, we see Babette preparing the feast. 

The entire celebration is a testament to her artistry, from the linens to the various types of drink to the food itself. She presents a marvel, a piece of glory that delivers her abilities through work. She isn't merely trying to make other people feel better--to honor the women who took her in--she is making/creating/performing her very best to produce food that looks good and tastes better. 

Her efforts take concentration, delicacy, discipline, and a fierce attention to detail. A similar attitude appears in Coffee Ikaga Deshou. Aoyama exhibits care and precision in his craft (brewing coffee). It is a discipline, not an act of self-indulgence. In fact, one of his suppliers, a woman who owns a coffee shop and teaches classes, becomes exasperated when her students care more about "Instagrammable" pictures than the coffee--except Genkin, of course, whom audiences met in the first episode. In her job, Genkin's attention and care regarding the letters she sends earn her temporary censure but long-term support. She brings a similar mindset to the coffee-making class.

Television and movies often link food to the joy and gravitas of self-discipline. Other arts, unfortunately, are sometimes treated as solely "artistic," exuding, supposedly, a kind of "standing in a meadow, feeling deeply" vibe. But in fact, the craft of a poem, story, novel, or play matters. Joy and self-discipline are linked.  

Aoyama learns this from his master, a man who insists that he use respectful language (English viewers may miss Aoyama's initial lack of respect). 

Babette already knew it. Her meal is a masterpiece. And its artistry is acknowledged by the sister who mastered the art of singing--and gave it up. Babette quotes Achille Papin, who trained singers, "Through all the world, there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist. Give me leave to do my utmost." 

Not "give me leave to stir up people" or "express myself" or "get others' notice" or "preach proper dogmas" or "break lots of barriers as I show off my deep nature."  

What Babette and Aoyama are practicing is not that self-conscious.

Do my utmost. Excel. Create. Make this thing/this particular thing very, very good. 

It's art with a hard core at the center. And Filippa shows that she has never abandoned that understanding. 

The making of a thing for its own sake does matter.