Mormon Art and the Impulse to Teach
By Scot Denhalter on Sep 11, 2006
In my last article “Bad Stories,” I commented on the relative value of dark as opposed to lighter themes or subjects in Mormon narrative art forms. Reader comments generated a tangential and tantalizingly brief discussion of the problem of didacticism: making a story’s central theme explicit rather than implicit. I’d like to reopen that discussion and center it on two of Eric Samuelsen’s plays: Miasma which is playing at the Rose Wagner Center in Salt Lake for the next fourteen days; and, Gadianton which won the Association for Mormon Letters’ 1997 Award for Drama. (The full script of Gadianton can be found in issue #119 of Sunstone [April 2001]. You can also access it, along with an essay about the writing and history of the play, here.)
Both Miasma and Gadianton are plays with a clearly political or social theme. Taken together, they are an excellent platform from which to launch a discussion of the problem of didacticism in Mormon art. Being both politically liberal works, I think they will lead us beyond the usual complaints about the Mormon obligation to teach through obviously moral or religious tales. D. Michael Martindale starts this discussion with his review of Gadianton for the Association for Mormon Letters. You will also find a link to an interview with Eric Samuelsen in our sideblog “Of Good Report.”
I don’t know how many readers we have who are local to the Wasatch Front, but I would ask as many of you who can to see this play and participate in a communal review of the work here on September 25th (the day after the play closes).
Eric Samuelsen is one of the most talented Mormon playwrights working today. He possesses the rare gift of an ear for authentic dialogue and the common Mormon burden of the impulse to teach. In each play, he has made certain creative and technical decisions to advance a central message. Is this the advancement of moral truth at the expense of artistic truth or are they the same thing?
Actually, Scot, Harold Pinter, the playwright, addressed just this question in his Nobel speech. It was published in PMLA’s most recent issue (just got it Friday). His idea is that, in art, truth is ellusive, but in politics it is not.He makes a strong case for good and evil (casting America as one of the main perpetrators of the latter for the last half century - and accusing Britain of being America’s lapdog), but he never shows how he thinks art and politics can work together: political truth dwelling with artistic truth.
So, the question is certainly open.
Comment # 1 by Stephen Carter | Sep 11, 2006 | Reply
Bernard Shaw was a fan of Didacticism. Strangely, it comes through rather clearly in “Pygmalion” without being obtrusive–not sure why. Perhaps it’s because the material is drawn from so obvious a social dilemma that one cannot escape its moral implications. They (the moral implications) seem to come through “above board” so to speak , or , shall we say, almost inspite of the narrative as a sort of supra-narrative–and that without breaking the fiction.
Is it possible that the “truth” of Shaw’s work is grounded by an obvious “social ethics” (for lack of a better way of putting it) rather than an arbitrary morality which is fashioned according to the artist’s own fancy? If so, rather than the artist talking (or shouting as the case may be) straight to the viewer with the intent of winning her over to his ideology, what we get is a depiction of characters duking it out in a context which is already agreed upon by the artist and the viewer.
Of course, the “agreement” between artist and viewer has only to do with the idea that such a context exists–not with the moral “whys and wherefores”. i.e., there are both class and gender distinctions in late victorian society. Agreed. Now let’s see what happens when two freely willed characters enter the scene from opposite sides of those distinctions. Stuff happens. Ultimately, the viewer is left to decide what the moral “whys and wherefores” are in the work.
Arthur Henry King taught (in so many words) that art can never really have a full flowering when it is guided by morality because morality has a way of being tyrannical–it becomes a wash. But (!) when both art and morality are grounded by religion then a balance is struck between the two as religious abstraction finds expression in art while serving as a qualifier to morality. (I’ve put a lot of words in AHK’s mouth. I hope he’s not spinning in his grave)
Perhaps this is where Shaw succeded with his “didacticism.” Though a “social ethics” is not on the same level of abstraction as religion, it served to bridle the didactic element much in the same way as proposed by AHK.
Comment # 2 by Jack | Sep 12, 2006 | Reply
I should add that AHK didn’t love Shaw…
Comment # 3 by Jack | Sep 12, 2006 | Reply
Scot,
I’m still trying to digest Miasma (perhaps that was a poor choice of words). I would second your recommendation to see this play while it is running, and I hope we do have a discussion around it.
I found Samuelsen’s combination of dialogue between the characters interspersed with the actors narrating to the audience both fascinating and a bit disconcerting. To some extent, the narration seemed to be hammering the points into the audience with a hammer. On the other hand, Samuelsen covered so much in those 85 minutes that I don’t think he could have done so without the use of that narrative. So, I guess I am mixed - yes, there is an impulse to teach, but this play in particular has so many things going on that the audience is placed in a position to take what they can from it.
What is Miasma about? The more I think about it, the more my head hurts! It’s about family dynamics, personal ambition, business ethics, personal drive, maturity, exploitation of relationships/others/animals/environment, sexuality, immigration, and I am sure there are more.
At the beginning of the play, I was somewhat ambivalent - wondering if 85 minutes in an intimate theatre talking about the beef industry was really what I wanted to experience. But the actors and the dialogue soon sucked me in, and I actually quite enjoyed it. More importantly, it has stuck with me - it isn’t a night out at the theatre to escape. In the end, I see the family dynamics and personal relationships as the central theme, at least for me. It was fascinating to observe the characters display varying levels of sacrifice, of compromise, and of personal integrity, and all of them navigate their course with respect to one another.
Comment # 4 by RorySwensen | Sep 13, 2006 | Reply
Jack,
You mentioned that brother Arthur Henry King believed that “when both art and morality are grounded by religion then a balance is struck between the two as religious abstraction finds expression in art while serving as a qualifier to morality.” I am not sure I understand this. Can you give me an example of what he means by this? Does he give an example of what he means? How is he proposing that art and morality be grounded in religion?
Comment # 5 by Scot Denhalter | Sep 13, 2006 | Reply
Scot,
As I said before, I’m probably putting a lot of words into AHK’s mouth. I should have qualified my comment by saying that he believed the “best” art to be grounded by religion–or, if not grounded by it, then at least a reflection of it.
I wish I had his book of essay’s in front of me so I could quote from it directly. But, alas, it’s packed away in a box somewhere probably collecting mildew as we speak.
To the best of my recollection, it seems that AHK held to the notion that as religion is rooted in rites and rituals–a way of living that is founded upon something deeper or more abstract than a moral code–that it (religion) is able to qualify or “check” morality as it is a code of conduct which emerges from religion by viewing said religion in a conceptual sense. Or in other words, morality tends to be a hardened code of “acceptable” conduct which arises out of the softer soil of religious persuasion. It is a zealous (balanced or over) catylization of religious fluidity into something that one can actually get his/her hands on. As such, morality can never serve as a *complete* guide to “right” and “wrong” because it is too coarse a standard by which the more tenuous factors of righteousness and “un” must be measured. Only religion–and I think Arthur would say “pure” religion–can bridle such abstract “why’s” and “wherefore’s” of belief and conduct.
Now with respect to art–Art, as it is able to express the abstract, becomes a powerful means by which religion may be expressed–a more powerful means than morality–as it is able to convey the more fluid elements of religion. In fact, it is my understanding that AHK believed art to be even more powerful than religion in terms of expressing the abstract. A good example of this might be the redemptive aspects of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” (which Arthur adored, by the way).
If, however, those redemptive aspects of King Lear were guided by morality, i.e., the culturally acceptable “rights” and “wrongs,” then what we would have is a flat depiction of morality by innocuous caricatures rather than a flowering of the wonderful complexity that exists in relations between free willed human beings.
Thus what we have at the bottom of it all this is religion (pure reilgion) drawing morality back into itself thus enabling art to bridle morality in the abstract.
Comment # 6 by Jack | Sep 14, 2006 | Reply
Jack,
I am very intrigued by your comments. I think my initial confusion was over semantics, but after reading your second post and re-reading your first post, I think I have a better understanding of your explanation of AHK’s theory. I have not read his literary criticism, but your comments have inspried me to do so.
Comment # 7 by Scot Denhalter | Sep 15, 2006 | Reply
Scot,
I even confuse myself sometimes with the way I word things. ;>)
Arthur’s collected essays are in a book titled “Arm the Children” (a horrible title if you ask me)–not sure if it’still in print. I don’t agree with all of his ideas, but overall I found it an excellent read.
Comment # 8 by Jack | Sep 15, 2006 | Reply