Art Galleries and their religious value. It's not as pretentious as it sounds, promise...

It's been a while since I've written anything, for various reasons. I was vaguely thinking of publishing something on some thoughts that I've had on why I feel that Modern Orthodoxy cannot really be considered an actual religious movement but rather a certain individual spirit which cannot build a community on its own, but I'll save the fun stuff for another time when I've been able to write down my ideas properly.

So instead I'll turn to another hobby of mine, visiting art galleries. I have just been on a trip with a friend to Spain and I have a few preliminary remarks. Firstly, I realised how interesting it is to visually experience the circumstances in which people have lived. Toledo, for example, with its winding,hilly streets and striking views helped me imagine what it might have been like to be a Jew there in the 13th and 14th centuries; what it must have been like to live in the shadow of several very imposing churches knowing that cordial relations were never guaranteed. Barcelona too, with its shadowy narrow streets in the medieval quarter retains its intensity when you eventually manage to escape the hub of irritating tourists such as yourself. Gerona, home of the Ramban, Rabbeinu Yonah and the Ran with its tranquillity, panoramic views and orange trees. Makes you wonder how peaceful times might have affected attitudes towards all sorts of things and understand why there are so many poems praising Spain and its beauty.

But as we came to Madrid, there was one thing on the agenda: Art galleries. So on Tuesday, I spent a day visiting the Museo del Prado and the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum. 
From a very young age, I have always loved art galleries. Reading that line I would say to myself: This guy needs to get over himself. Reading it a second time I would say: This guy needs to get over himself. And yes, reactions are usually fairly similar:  "Art galleries? Ooh, cultured." "you're so cultured (sarcasm)" " pretentious (insert four letter word of choice)" "What do you see in it?" even, occasionally "teach me how to appreciate culture" " I bet you love classical music as well". “Posh boy”. Needless to say, it’s not something I usually do with friends. So for the first time, leaving my friend in the hotel, I decided to think about what it was that had always struck me about them.

.

Usually on areas of 'culture' there are two very polarised schools of thought. There are the ‘scientists’, or the peasants as I call them, who simply cannot for the life of them understand why anyone would waste their time on these things beyond wanting to look cultured. With their steely reductionist tendencies I am reliably informed that I could save the money and look at the pictures online. 

Yes, when you visit a European city you must see the sites. Why? Well, because they are there and famous and you can say you've seen them before heading to the nearest pool/beach.

 And then there are the good old fashioned snobs who simply dismiss this incredulity with a casual "you wouldn't understand". Or, “philistines”. Now normally, I happily associate with the latter group and allow the scientists to feel satisfied that my lack of functionality represents a fundamental character flaw. But this time I decided to think of a response to ‘what I see in it’ and give it some sort of definition. This was partly triggered by a plaque dedicated by the owner of what had previously been a private collection saying how art “moved people and brought them together”. I immediately visualised that sentence being read by a certain friend of mine (you know who you are) and couldn't help grinning. But then I thought about actually trying to define the visual process slightly beyond the mere realm of feeling in words. I realise that I am treading a fine line here between actively appearing to be a massive ‘get over yourself’ but I will give it a go:

The thing about Art is that, at least in theory, it combines two profound realms of human experience: nature and human creativity. One of the main reasons so many seeking spiritual experiences go out into the woods and into far-off countryside is that the natural world is striking for its beauty. Nature, in its wildest form, is quite mesmerising. It is hard to accurately capture this in a word but perhaps it is  simplicity. No cars, work, agendas, corruption, fakery, deception, interviews or CVs. Whilst trying not to sound too much like a 19^th Century Idealist, I find it interesting that trips to the countryside or the Heath can make problems from the ‘big city’ appear illusionary. Especially in London. Everything seems fast, hurried and suited. A lifestyle, which to quote Dire Straits, runs on 'heavy heavy fuel'.

A painting has the ability to capture the sensation associated with nature in that it reduces life to its fundamental and simple elements. Ok I'm going to do this and accept the consequences: 

The Haywain, by John Constable, to be found in the National Gallery, London. (Up the stairs straight ahead as you enter, first room, on your left ;-) ). I am no expert in anything artistic and have never studied it formally. I have no idea about technique beyond what I can immediately see. But I think this is a fairly good example of what I'm talking about. The calmness and quiet serenity of nature is portrayed. Tranquility, calm and yes, good old nostalgia. But it freezes it. Because a painting, like any art form, is not simply a reproduction of something (“Why can’t they just take a bloody picture, didn’t they have cameras back then?”) but it also is the investment of the artist's mind and thoughts into the work. The different elements, the little dog, old cottage etc. combine to create an experience and communicate it with the viewer. 
A bit like a piece of music, it stirs in different ways: 
It can be the romantic tranquillity favoured by landscape artists, the tragedy of war, psychological insights into personalities through their facial expressions, or simply depictions of honour, majesty or pain. A good example of this was one of Goya's paintings that I saw the other day:

 

Either way, the viewer is moved because through this medium basic, deeply-felt messages which they can relate to are communicated. Because it is frozen, moreover, it doesn’t just leave and lie forgotten. It stays and is transfixing, allowing the viewer to briefly transport themselves into the scene and reminding them of things that may be self-evident but are rarely thought about. Enchanted and stirred, the individual sometimes remembers long-forgotten parts of themselves that have been lost along the way. 

 Or alternatively, it can do none of the above. A bit like music, it just depends on the individual. To many, the above description may be wishy-washy nonsense. Fair enough. This isn't a question of teaching someone to 'be cultured'. Once it becomes a box ticking exercise, like most box-ticking exercises, any quality it may have contained becomes lost. 

But this leads me to a larger point which I have encountered in religious life. What I find interesting is that 'The Arts' are rarely seen to have intrinsic value in the ‘frum’ world. Yes, if you are talented, design a sefer Torah, use it to beautify a shul or something similar. But its value is instrumental, not intrinsic or substantive. The ability of an art form to stir the soul and provide access to a relationship with G-d is rarely mentioned, acknowledged, or probably thought about.

I understand that for many people this whole concept appears bizarre and irrelevant to religious life but for others it could perhaps enable them to view themselves and the lives they lead as being of profound spiritual worth. The suppression, ignorance or patronising dismissal of a whole vista of human experience can create a perception within the hearts and minds of those who do relate to it of a rather bland, conformist religiosity which ignores the individual spirit as a conduit of G-dliness. That is a great shame.  

Incidentally, the 'intrinsic' approach is epitomised by R. S. R Hirsch and whilst I generally try to avoid broad generalisations, with even a casual perusal of his writings this becomes self-evident. See his eulogy for the German poet Schiller translated by Marc Shapiro: http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/745805.