Domestic Shrines
By Scot Denhalter on Dec 4, 2006
While serving a mission in Peru a couple of years before its first stakes were formed, my companions and I routinely requested of our baptismal candidates that they remove Catholic images from their homes. In doing this, we believed we were following a mission directive. I can’t now remember ever hearing such a directive delivered officially, but it was commonly held by the missionaries to be necessary for theological rectitude.
Crosses and crucifixes were to us symbols of the Great Apostasy and not of the true Church of Christ. At the very least, the cross seemed little more that a morbid reminder of Christ’s death instead of a celebration of his atoning gift. “If Christ had been shot with a gun,” we would ask, “would you hang an image of a gun on your wall?” We may have been lacking in the subtleties of theological argument, but this protestation came from a visceral response to the lifeless, ruined body of Jesus depicted by the crucifix. Without any real depth of understanding, the principle of Eros within us – born of a well-fed, well-heeled, optimistic, Anglo-Saxon triumphalism – stirred in revulsion at the quiescence of the grave.
Even portraits of Christ aroused our suspicion. Though accustomed to seeing Heinrich Hofmann paintings adorn the walls of our wards, we did not for the most part come from homes that displayed pictures of Jesus, the prophet Joseph Smith or the extant president of the church, David O. McKay. That sea change had yet to wait upon the discovery of Mormon culture as marketplace. Thus, we were all of us ill prepared to react any moderation to something as mysterious as the Sacred Heart of Jesus. We imagined our nascent converts being at one time habituated to kneeling before these portraits praying to the Son as if he were the Father. Removing the pictures was a preemptive strike against our converts’ potential for slipping back into less-than-doctrinal habits.
Most disturbing to us were the images of such saints so common to Peru as San Martin de Porres or Santa Rosa de Lima. They felt pagan and idolatrous, rooted deeply in a dark and chthonic past long predating the Spanish conquest. We entertained horrified visions of the newly converted falling back into old patterns of behavior during times of trial and not just praying to the saint for his or her intercession with God (which would be bad enough), but perhaps even venerating the image itself as if some beatified ghost actually dwelled within.
The dismantling of these domestic shrines was sometimes emotionally difficult for our converts. These objects had often rooted themselves into their hearts and souls through associations with memory, family history, and culture. We missionaries had cynically assumed these objects were no more that public displays of personal piety – a compliance with social convention. We had no way of understanding the psycho-emotive power these images could exercise, and our converts probably didn’t understand it themselves. So eventually, they acquiesced and the offending items were taken away: the candles, the cards, the images, the herbs – given to others or thrown away. It was an act of purification.
I recently strolled among the booths assembled for a convention of the LDS Booksellers’ Association. Mormon taste for devotional art has certainly grown since my time in South America.
Statues and paintings of Christ abounded. There was a pencil drawing of Jesus tickling a child lying in his lap. Jesus is laughing and his long hair hangs down in his face. It might strike some as inappropriately jocular. It simply struck me as irredeemably sentimental. I was revolted by Liz Lemon Swindle’s portrait of our Lord dressed in a natty, eggshell robe, sporting a close-cropped, Miami Vice beard and surfer-dude hair cut, and posed as if for a GQ cover shot. Nowhere did I witness anything close to the mystical power of the Sacred Heart from whose fifth sacred wound flows the water that cleanses us and the blood that redeems us.
Statues and portraits of Joseph Smith were also displayed in abundance as were paintings and statues of our “blessed, honored” pioneers portraying a variety of events in Mormon history. There were reproductions of a painting that depicted all 15 presidents of the church defying the space-time continuum and posing together in the celestial room of the Salt Lake temple. There were photographs of various temples and photographs of church leaders (past and present). Unless someone were to see the face of Jesus in the stucco of the Ogden temple or Gordon B. Hinckley were to get a rat, a cat, and a dog to eat from the same dish, I couldn’t picture the members lighting candles before any of those snapshots.
I doubt that owning and displaying these pieces of devotional art in Mormon homes is anything more than a public demonstration of personal piety – a compliance with social convention. Perhaps I am being too cynical about this, but I honestly cannot imagine the art for sale on the shelves at Deseret Book today contributing in any meaningful way to one’s spiritual life. There is a lack of archetypal depth to the work I am seeing. This is not to say that it is not emotive, but only that the emotion it engenders is maudlin and shallow.
Perhaps I am also enforcing the present upon the future. One can only wonder at how many generations it will take before such pieces of devotional art might through associations with memory, family history, and culture come to own their owners.
Even with the collective weight of such influences, however, there is still the risk of these items taking on the magical importance of votive art instead of an archetypal meaning: “This is the CTR ring your great-grandfather was wearing when he was in that grease fire at the stake camp in ’07. He received first and second degree burns over every part of his body except on the finger where he wore this ring. You take in now. It’s yours. Wear it and always choose the right and you will be protected from harm.”
As long as the artistic gesture within our devotional art is studied and posed, it will only be clever. Until these gestures come from the soul and not from an eye for the marketplace where the inspiring is set aside for the trite but inoffensive, Mormon devotional art will remain mute to us and our domestic shrines trivial.
A few years ago, before I went on a mission, I worked for Living Scriptures. I was a telemarketer and was paid largely off commission. (Where we got the phone lists of only members is an interesting question now that I think about it.) One day I was on the phone with a woman that was being charged a good 40% more per video that I was able to give with the deal I was peddling. I offered her the deal and switched her over.
She bought the videos for her children and was pleased that we provided tools for her to teach her children the gospel.
My compensation for the sale was quite substantial, being that it was a deal for almost all the videos that Jared Brown produced.
Soon after my shift was over I was called a manager’s office (not my shift supervisor) and reprimanded for the sale. I was told that it was completely inappropriate to switch this woman over to the better deal because the company was now going to lose money.
If only the woman knew the true purpose of the videos.
Therein lies the problem (and the irony). The gospel, at least as I understand, is not sold for profit. Meaningful artistic work then, is often motivated not for money but spiritual devotion.
How, then, can the folks who take advantage of the Mormon Marketplace impart anything spiritually meaningful while they peddle Christ’s image (through music, books, paintings, talks, sculptures, etc) for profit.
I cannot help but think anytime the motivation behind such art is not truly devotional (like much of the “catholic” art work) rather money, it cannot provide any meaningful religious experience.
Shortly after my experience at living scriptures, I quit. Now that I have kids I have also refused to buy any of those videos for them. Being somewhat existential I cannot not in good faith pay for my children’s salvation.
Comment # 1 by Jared | Dec 4, 2006 | Reply
Scot said: “As long as the artistic gesture within our devotional art is studied and posed, it will only be clever. Until these gestures come from the soul and not from an eye for the marketplace where the inspiring is set aside for the trite but inoffensive, Mormon devotional art will remain mute to us…”
Take out the words “our devotional” in the first phrase, and “Mormon devotional” in the final phrase and the statement rings just as true for non-devotional and/or non-Mormon forms of art.
Profit motive (or commercial value) and “good art” need not be mutually exclusive, but the latter (”good art”) is compromised in proportion to the importance and consideration placed on the former (”commercial value”) during produciton.
The Mormon “Art” you describe above has always struck me as the lighter-than-air equivalent of a Thomas Kincaid painting. (Apologies to any owners or fans of Kincaid.)
I grew up in a home where such religious kitsch was rarely on display. Today, nothing in my home (except for many of the titles in my bookshelves) would reveal our religious affiliation. But the homes of many families in our Southern California ward are filled with such Mormonabilia: framed copies of the Proc on the Family, pictures of Christ, a picture of the local temple, Joseph Smith, wood cuts that says “Families Are Forever,” the Footsteps poem, and so forth. (And I agree with Scot that this seems to be a growing market– the “art” section of our local DB seems to grow every time I return to the store.)
In any case, I wonder about the reasons some Mormons display such art… is it, like Scot says, “a public demonstration of personal piety – a compliance with social convention.” How many would say they display such works for its aesthetic value? How many would say they display it because it brings a special “spirit” in the home? How many view such work as “wall garments,” a kind of “talisman for the home” to ward off evil? And how long before displaying such stuff on the wall becomes so commonplace that it becomes a sort of mandatory, abeit unofficial, “rule” or “marker” of the true Mormon, like not drinking Coke?
To me, the motivation to display such “art” is motivated as much by the need to project “identity” as any of the above reasons. Is hanging a picture of Joseph Smith so different from a sports or film enthusiast hanging a picture of Michael Jordan or the Godfather movie poster? When we put something on our wall we are saying, “This is me… this is how I define ‘ME’.” I happen to like and value sports, film, and Mormonism, but none are so much a part of me that I’d choose to project that part of me on my walls. I liked Goth music in high school, but I didn’t wear the Goth uniform.
So what do my walls say about me? Right now, they say I’m either going for a minimalist look or I’ve got no money… I’d say it is the former with a straight face, but my pose breaks down when I try to explain my minimalist car…
Comment # 2 by Matt Thurston | Dec 6, 2006 | Reply
It was not my intent to decry the money-changers in our culture. I accept without complaint the reality that an artist needs to eat. The nature of a free market allows that the worth of something is whatever people are willing to pay for it. I believe there are spiritual consequences connected with this amoral economic model, but the responsibility falls on both the buyer and the seller.
I am more concerned here with the depth of our devotional art. Joseph Campbell reflects in his Power of Myth that in mythic terms the first part of any journey of initiation must deal with the death of the old self and the resurrection of the new. Campbell says that the hero or heroic figure, “moves not into outer space but into inward space, to the place from which all being comes, into the consciousness that is the source of all things, the kingdom of heaven within. The images are outward, but their reflection is inward.”
The act of worship is an apprehension of something greater than ourselves. The journey of initiation in which each of us is the hero or heroine begins when we apprehend that “something” to be within us. Devotional art can guide us toward that apprehension and through its inherent paradox. When the artist depicts a religious subject that moves us deeply, he or she is not just aping some convention that makes us feel warm and squishy. The artist is taping into the numinous within him or her and within us. Somehow some invisible part of us is struck by the resonance of recognition. There are those who argue that this experience is ineffable. I don’t know. Whether or not it can be described in natural language, the experience cannot be denied. Maybe this is what Joseph Fielding Smith is talking about when he contrasts “testimony” with “witness.”
I don’t propose that Catholic devotional art is deeper than Mormon devotional art for theological reasons. I don’t propose that it is deeper because their bears a greater purity of intent while ours is the product of money changers. It is probably deeper than ours because theirs is sustained by two millennia of history and culture. Catholic devotional art is also comfortable with the esoteric and the mystical. Mormons were comfortable with this once, but no longer. Given a few centuries and a diminution in the embarrassment we feel over our esoteric roots, Mormon devotional art should come into its own.
Comment # 3 by Scot Denhalter | Dec 6, 2006 | Reply
Several points in this tread intersect with things in the interview with Richard Dutcher that’s in the coming issue of Sunstone magazine (now in the mail)—in particular Scot’s comments on the cross as an uncomforatable symbol for Mormons and the discussion of the current state of LDS devotional art. Here’s a link. Hope you’ll enjoy!
Dan
Comment # 4 by Dan | Dec 7, 2006 | Reply
Something in Scot’s comment #3 reminds me of the discussion in Potok’s My Name is Asher Lev, in which Lev is under fire for his painting “Brooklyn Crucifixion.” In that painting, Lev, a Hasidic Jew, uses the Christian symbol of the crucifixion to convey something important about his mother’s life, who is also Hasidic. His justification for stepping out of the bounds of the Jewish tradition is something along the lines of there not being any symbols within Judaism that could do the job of conveying what he wanted to say in this case about what his mother was going through, hence his need to borrow.
Scot’s comment about why it’s possible that there’s better, deeper devotional art in Catholicism than in Mormonism (longer history, more comfort with the esoteric and the mystical) seems on target to me. But the Asher Lev example also brings to my mind the idea that traditions each only have a certain number of symbolic resources to draw upon. Both Catholics and Mormons are Chrisitans. When artists from those traditions choose to depict the crucifixion, is their work be considered Catholic or Mormon devotional art, or is it simply Christian devotional art? What qualifies a piece of art as something associated or fitting within a particular tradition? (Echoes of the Mormon films discussion, I know! Sorry.)
In the Asher Lev example, it seems to me that Lev’s painting is still Jewish art because the painting’s setting is of a Crown Heights (Hasidic neighborhood in Brooklyn) apartment and it contains Hasidic imagery. Like Scot suggests, Mormonism isn’t likely old or unique enough to have the symbolic repertoire to draw from for many, many things. But I’m guessing LDS artists could do something similar to what Lev did—take things from the more universal religious lexicon and employ them in unique Mormon settings and situations, in combination with our core sensibilities.
I just posted an interview with Richard Dutcher that discusses his attempt to reappropriate the cross as a Mormon symbol in States of Grace. In this, I think he performed a move much like Lev’s. The interview also briefly mentions his powerful use of the Book of Mormon story of the people of Ammon burying their weapons in the earth in relation to a gang member trying to put his violence behind him and become a new person. These, to me, are examples of LDS art doing what it has the potential to do.
Can anyone think of other examples of LDS art that draws either from deeper wells in other traditions and/or from its own resources to convey important ideas and emotions?
Comment # 5 by Dan | Dec 7, 2006 | Reply
While driving in my car last week, I heard a piece of an interview on NPR - a discussion was about how certain physical gestures of the human form as depicted in art elicit a visceral from the subconscious. It made me think of the gesture so common to portrayals of Jesus: a raised right hand facing forward with the first and second fingers and the thumb extended upward and the ring and small fingers curled downward. I wondered if that gesture is intentionally symbolic or simply one of those that automatically connects with the subconscious mind.
It is interesting to contemplate the possibility that something static, representative and perceived by the eye can dredge up something from within the psyche of the viewer. I think the same can be said of small objects such as statues and medallions that are perceived as much by touch as by sight. I purchased a replica of one of Joseph Smith’s seer stones some time ago. It is a flat, rounded piece of soapstone that has been etched and drilled with a symmetrical arrangement of circular holes. It sits on my desk at home, but I often find myself picking it up, hefting it, rubbing it with my thumb, or just staring at it. I don’t see visions, but it leads me to ponder such thoughts as attach themselves to an object once thought to deliver visions.
Devotional art is like this stone: an object of meditation. It seems to me that Mormon artists have not yet stumbled upon this realization and are still striving to for “pretty” and “well-crafted.” But, this simple stone – with it’s weight, it’s shape, it’s crude arrangement of mystical circles, it’s scalloped edge, it’s cold, smooth touch – beckons me to pick it up and once I have, it draws my thoughts elsewhere.
Comment # 6 by Scot Denhalter | Dec 7, 2006 | Reply
While in Alaska I got to know an artist whose work really intrigued me. So I spent more money than I should have on buying her stuff. One of the things I bought from her was a series of paintings she called portraits. Very dark, brooding things.
She attached little pieces of tin with writing on them to tell the story of each portrait. I hate those things. The portraits themselves are evocative because they can act as metaphors on so many different levels. They can speak to different parts of me. Parts i haven’t ever been able to name (like that purple organ with all the little tubes and flippy things). But when I read the little captions, suddenly the paintings’ interpretations are severely restricted.
This is the reason why most church art doesn’t do it for me. it insists on telling you what’s going on. NOt in words so much as hitting you over the head with the obvious.
Comment # 7 by Stephen Carter | Dec 12, 2006 | Reply
I share many of the sentiments expressed here about LDS art and find the whole discussion fascinating (wish I’d seen it when it was still fresh but just discovered the blog). However, I’d like to put a plug in for one place where I found a great deal of LDS art which crossed the boundary from “pretty” and “well-crafted” to something deeper. And of all places, it comes from an official church institution (gasp!). The Museum of Church History and Art and the International Art Competition they hold I believe every 3 years. Yes, there is a healthy dollop of the standard Mormon kitsch in there, but I have to say that walking through the exhibit for the Sixth competition several years ago (the online presentation of the artworks is well done, but it really didn’t capture the live feel of these works) I was thoroughly impressed by the range and depth of the artwork I saw. Pieces that broke standard Mormon molds and borrowed liberally from other artistic traditions, blending the artists’ own LDS values in the process.
Don’t want to go too far, peeking over it again, I wish there were more from non-American LDS artists (they are a sizeable contingent, but I don’t think anywhere near the majority), and the standard art Mormon molds are liberally represented, but there is much there that is groundbreaking. Even among the American artists, a great deal of artwork in a wide variety of media (they accept almost any type in the competition) takes new directions from the existing molds and is thus evolving in ways I find positive to create a more diverse LDS artistic tradition.
The one thing I do find sad though is that this great treasure trove of artworks now exists (the Museum does in fact purchase many of the pieces at market value and acquires the usage rights), but it seems very sparsely used in official church publications and venues. This in my view offers a great opportunity to bring new forms of artistic expression to the church as a whole and enrich our developing culture. Sure it would cost a bit more than filling every meetinghouse with the same six paintings, but why not spread this treasure trove of wealth and make things a bit less cookie cutter? Likewise in Temples, the Ensign, manuals, Sunday School lesson art, etc.? In the process, new generations of artistic talent would be inspired and grow up, further diversifying and enriching the church as a whole. LDS artwork from Brazil, India, Ghana, Switzerland and other countries might come to be as well known churchwide as pieces from Utah. An explosion of artistic talent might allow us to start putting more of that pioneer individualism into our houses of worship as well — even if we don’t individually participate in building the chapel anymore (my mother still did that as recently as the 50s in Europe), we might particpate in larger numbers in decorating the Stake Center or the Temple, and perhaps even in designing it.
Thoughts on what I hope might be…
Comment # 8 by Non-Arab Arab | Jan 12, 2007 | Reply
Thanks for the heads up on the lds.org link to the Museum of Church History and Art. I enjoyed a few of the virtual tours available there. I am not a dabbler in the visual arts, so I am easily seduced by craftsmanship - thinking that anything I can’t do must be art (which would end up being almost everything). I do have to remind myself sometimes that although craftsmanship is impressive, Art is something more than just craftsmanship. I sound like an art snob when I say this, but I assure you I don’t have the knowledge of art history that would qualify to be a snob. I just know that Art is more than pretty and it is something more than well-wrought.
There are a few things in these exhibits I would like to see in person. Perhaps there would be more if the Museum were two different buildings with two different missions. I think the Art would improve by separating it from Church History. I also agree with you that a greater number of foreign pieces would be a real shot in the arm.
I appreciate your comments on this thread. Glad to have you here. Hope you stick around.
Comment # 9 by Scot Denhalter | Jan 17, 2007 | Reply
People need to be compensated for their time. That is why I will buy God’s Army again and again for friends. I understand the need for a filmmaker to feed his family too.
The Living Scriptures is a different case. Their movies are great but they do have sinister sales techniques and are motivated a lot on the financial gains. How did they get all those list of only lds church members? By taking them off of phone list sent out by stakes and wards that specifically state “for church use only”
At the Sacramento Temple open house they hung out with all the protestors down at the end of the road and made us believe their was a new lds bookstore down the road and if we went there, we would get a free DVD. It turned out being a booth for the Living Scriptures.
Lately they have past out a free DVD of Spencer W. Kimball if you bought the one on Joseph Smith, just to find out that the case with the Kimball DVD had a phone number so you had to call to get your free DVD. What they were doing was taking business away from the bookstores that sold the Joseph Smith DVD. That’s evil and those people should repent.
But let’s keep Dutcher and the Living Scriptures separate, Dutcher doesn’t rip his supporters off.
Comment # 10 by Brian Terrill | Apr 14, 2007 | Reply