There is nothing more treasured among the remnants of any culture in history than its art.
We
value art as among the most valuable of any culture's legacy. You could actually hold something in one hand that
is literally priceless. If you were handed
something like that what would you think about?
Unfortunately
along with that high valuation comes the inevitable association with
compressing great wealth into small packages. This leaves us with
a tendency to think of great art more on the lines of something
absolutely untouchable that only the elite get to see– like a pile of
diamonds– rather than with something crucial to every human life– like
clean water. (If you don't believe me just try to kiss the Mona
Lisa and look where you end up by the end of the day!) As an artist
who believes that the real value of art lies in the intimate theatre of
one single soul's relationship with the work; and one who thoroughly delights in
people touching my art, I find this extremely sad.
And so
great art is largely displayed according to the values of security
against theft and destruction instead of those of meeting the needs of
people who crave its deeply powerful energies. Perhaps this is
inevitable in a capitalist society, but does that mean that capitalism
must ignore the spiritual power of art? How wonderful it would be
if that power could be unleashed and utilized for the purposes of
solving real contemporary problems.
For
our culture, which associates art more with luxury shopping than war or
medicine, it is hard for us to sense the true power of art and therefor
to imagine how it could transform society.
Israeli soldier in Gaza
I envision art's power being used for healing, for intance in the situation of a community crisis.
still from Mirabai's Mountain
Emergency Art Response-
Imagine
a certain town struggling in the aftermath of a horrifying terrorist
attack. The community is suffering a horrendous loss.
Perpetrators are in jail, the wounded are in care, the casualties have
been mourned and buried. Counselors and clergy people have set up
free services for anyone who needs them. Victim’s families have
been comforted and coddled and fed and have told their stories and
shown photos of their loved ones to the world’s media. Now they
are left to put their lives back together, angry, empty, wounded and
doubting a humanity that has hurt them but that they must still live
with now that the interpersonal bonds that bind humanity together have
been shattered.
I envision another wave of assistance after
such a crisis: the provision of art specifically geared to heal those
shattered relational bonds. This would consist of perhaps several
levels of Arts Medicine that could be set up in communities most
directly hit by a crisis. (I am ignoring for the moment the whole
community of sympathisers around the world, who through their own
empathy, have also been wounded.) Unlike the stage given to art
in our normal experience in which art is a commodity to be purchased
and the artist is a kind of cult star, this situation would require
that the nature of art be adjusted in presentation so that, for example:
• focus is on the participant’s process rather than the artist’s performance • there is no solid beginning or end- one can come and go as they please • applause is not appropriate (could be substituted by the “silent applause” of waving the hands.) • artworks would be headlined rather than artists. Artists would be identified but only as secondary to the art.
The Emergency Art Response might consist of any of a number of levels of service to the victimized community.
We are united by grief.
Art is the opposite of violence.
Art
builds up, synthesizes and strengthens relationships. When we
have an international crisis or a flood has wiped out a town, we tend
not to send in the clowns– or the poets for that matter.
But
even among aspects of positive, constructive responses we tend to
apply, there is another crucial quality that continually serves to
raise good art above so much of human discourse. Art is
fundamentally different from these other valuable tools in that by
definition good art is never forced or insisted upon or even
pitched. Art is offered, as a gift. The only way that
art can be used as a weapon is if it wielded overhand. It is like
an ear, in that the ear is useless to cause injury but crucial
for healing.
This is why I believe art could be so
effectively utilized for addressing critical human
problems. I don't believe art has to be relegated to the
“...and Entertainment” section of the newspaper. I see no reason it
shouldn't be on the front page, as in “History Forgets Franco's Reign
of Terror after 50 years but Remembers Picasso's Guernica
Forever”. One of the places where I believe art can be
immediately utilized in this way is with healing. Even very
well-intentioned attempts to help wounded people- from homeless people
to starving war refugees– often can come across as unwelcome to the
victims, with tragic results. There is another way.
"Word
Made Flesh Made Word" 1:20, 2005
Healing
art can be introduced to suffering people not as medicine (“line up for
shots”) but as an invitation to relax (“come sit down with your friends
and see a movie”). Like the beautiful door of a great cathedral it can be admired and contemplated on its own, or,
if the viewer wishes, it can be opened to reveal a new world of
possibilities beyond.
Every time there is a tragedy in the news I think of this.
people of every age. We
all suffer. We cannot choose whether to suffer, but we can choose
to whether to suffer alone or to suffer together.
Art
is a messenger of hope. But true hope is only available only on the far
side of grief. Art ushers us gently into the presence of that which
can release the pain within us. Rather than attempt to leap impossibly
into hope, art helps us honor our grief with an immensity that can only
come of compassion--suffering with, which implies "you are not alone".
Its transformative power comes not so much from what happens onstage
through its subject matter, but through our awareness of who else
witnesses life's drama offstage, in the theatre seats beside us. Our
natural desire to commune with each other– to come together into
community--can overcome any mere act of destruction.
