Art of Art's Sake: Chariots of Fire

The most heart-felt moment of Chariots of Fire is the voice-over in the final race. 

The character Eric Liddell, in his typical kindly and upfront way, wishes all the other runners well. (The character of Liddell in the movie accords with reports of his character in various biographies.) 

The race then begins. Liddell's sister is watching. In the movie, she is concerned that his passion for racing is distracting him from God (in real life, she was quite supportive of his racing). The finale offers an opportunity for Liddell to express/explain the connection between his racing and his honest passion for God and Christianity. It is a connection echoed by Sister Peters and Tolkien and C.S. Lewis:

"God made me for a purpose--but he also made me fast." 

The statement as spoken by the actor, Ian Charleson, is not a boast but a joyous thankful embracing of his individual self and individual talents. 

As C.S. Lewis stated in The Screwtape Letters, "[God] would rather [a] man thought himself a great architect or a great poet and then forgot about it, than that he should spend much time and pains trying to think himself a bad one."

Art for Art's Sake: Perfect Scene in The Silmarillion

One of the most remarkable aspects of Tolkien's Middle Earth theology is the preservation of the agency of the individual. Even the Maiar, those beings below Iluvatar who reside on the edges of Middle Earth, are separate sentient beings who must make their own choices. Their lack of knowledge; their idiosyncratic interests; even their preferences re: friendship are not perceived as sins or mistakes or failings. 

In fact, reading (or listening to Andy Serkis read) The Silmarillion brings home how often humans do unfortunately interpret "righteousness" as seamlessness or sameness. 

In contrast, everybody in Tolkien's universe has a unique and personal set of interests and hobbies and loves and wants. 

Consequently, one of the greatest scenes in the book occurs after Morgoth (Melkor) has stolen the Silmarils with the help of the ever-hungry Ungoliant. The Maiar Yavanna then commends the elf Feanor for creating jewels that could restore or replace the Silmarils. The Maiar ask for the jewels.

There was a long silence, but Feanor answered no word. Then Tulkas cried, "Speak, O Noldo, yea or nay! But who shall deny Yavanna? And does not the light of the Silmarils come from her work in the beginning?"

But Aule the Maker said, "Be not hasty! We ask a greater thing than thou knowest. Let him have peace for awhile." 

Love of one's creation is a state of mind deserving of respect. 

Over and over through The Silmarillion, Tolkien praises the desire to make stuff. Even when it goes wrong, the desire to build and fashion and write and produce is never in itself condemned. 

The view here agrees with both Tolkien and Lewis's attitudes toward art. They believed that God was the ultimate creator and when we try to create we are attempting to emulate God. Creation, even imperfect creation, is always the opposite of destruction and negation. It always bears about it the imprint of heavenly favor.

A glorious view of life and deity! 

Art for Art's Sake: Sister Boniface

I have mentioned elsewhere that in my younger days, I had a somewhat low opinion of "art for art's sake" since it seemed mostly an excuse for people to write whatever they wanted and then expect other people to admire it. "Art," I tell my students, "is about an audience." People CAN write whatever they want--and I've come to believe that there is, in fact, an audience out there for everyone and everything--but art is more than a diary entry.

However, in the last few years, people who love LESSONS and LECTURES and POLEMICS and LABELS seem to be taking over all areas of life, not just politics and certain types of religion. Consequently, I think that art for its own sake--for the sake of composition and narration and show-don't-tell and sound and characters and plot and setting and tropes--should be praised and promoted. 

One of my favorite defenses of art for art's sake comes from Sister Boniface, Season 1. In defense of Operation Q2, an invented show obviously based on The Avengers with Diana Rigg and Patrick Macnee, Sister Peters passionately proclaims the following:

Operation QT isn't blasphemy. It brings millions of people so much joy. There's nothing unholy about that. Every week, the heroes in the story fight evil and win...God gives his blessing to these good people in the practice of their art.

I love what Sister Peters proclaims, not only because it is a defense of art for art's sake but because of what she is defending: a kind of kitschy, schlocky television show. It's a great defense of art AND of "just because others don't like it doesn't mean I shouldn't!" 

Art for Art's Sake: In Defense

The irony here is that twenty or so years ago, if anyone had asked me about "art for art's sake," I would have rolled my eyes and scoffed. The concept--like so many concepts in the humanities--has a history of turning into metaphysical excuse-making. Within this mindset, the artist wasn't merely a creator but a figure of worship. The artist needed to be supported for the sake of improving the human race.

Even with artists who didn't go the philosophical route, "art for art's sake" was being used as a rather childish way to thumb one's nose at the audience. "So everybody hates it?! So I've offended everybody?! Who cares? It's ART!" 

However, the cultural ship has tipped so much away from art for art's sake, I feel that it needs to be defended. 

At my local library, I've been asked a few times to recommend manga titles since I take out so many of them (and interlibrary loan manga as well). I'm hesitant (though I always recommend a few), and the reason is that I go to fiction for story, NOTHING ELSE. 

I don't go for sermons. I don't go for lectures. I don't go for after-school-specials.

So, for instance, the manga My Brother's Husband is a decent 2-volume series. However, I consider that it pales in comparison to What Did You Eat Yesterday? The former is a decent after-school-special about a Canadian who visits his (dead) husband's Japanese brother. The latter is a series of vignettes about two gay men living outside Tokyo and their interactions with friends and family and neighbors and co-workers--alongside cooking scenarios!

Again, the first is okay. But it isn't what I want from fiction. I can get lectures and commentary and lessons and sermons elsewhere, sometimes better, sometimes worse. 

From fiction, I want story. I want art. 

Consequently, one of the few writing choices that will send me away from a series is not politics. It is the betrayal of a character, a situation where an author establishes a character's motivations and personality and then, for the sake of a sequel or for the sake of a lesson or simply to force an ending to work, completely betrays what was established. 

Yeah, that's just ...

Bad art.