Artists often live a solitary life. We struggle with loneliness. We struggle with being misunderstood. We struggle with rejection. So on this journey, who do we turn to? Who are our allies?

We’ve discussed the dangers or "enemies," as I’ve termed them, of art as set out by David Taylor in the Transforming Culture symposium. (You can find it here and here.) David talked not only about the dangers but also about the 3 qualities of a healthy, artistic life. Allies, in other words (or, to be more specific, in my words). (Note: David’s words are in italics. The rest are my thoughts.)

1. A healthy, artistic life is relationally ordered. Relationships exist between pastors and artists, theologians and practitioners, old and near generations. I think there’s sometimes a fear in this. There’s fear because we’ve so often been misunderstood. Pastors don’t understand what we’re doing, and if they don’t condemn us in specific, they may condemn us generally. There’s fear because sometimes we’re asked to water things down in these relationships. But here’s the thing, these relationships have the potential for beauty, strength, and a furthering of art in general. When I toured an exhibit of early Christian art, I discovered the close relationship between the artists and the theologians. (You can read my article about the exhibit here.) The art was grounded in the creeds and in relationship with the developing theology, and the art informed the theology of the people. Remember how we talked about our spiritual formation making us better artists? Honestly, I think this is the hardest of the three David talked about. It forces us to act in gentleness when we’d rather say something to the effect, "Hey, idiot, don’t you get it?" It forces us to forgive when someone says something hurtful about our art or something like, "What’s the point?" Here’s something I’m realizing about myself: I talk about the bubble Christians tend to live in. We hang out with other Christians more than unbelievers. We have our own T-shirts and publishing houses and record labels (some of this for good reason, but perhaps some for bad reason). But to be quite honest, don’t I have the tendency to do the same thing with other artists? Don’t I prefer being with other writers and artists who get me to having to be around the philistines who say stupid things? I need to get out of this place. Part of my dream for Intersection is that it can be a place where artists can stretch and grow each other. That it can be a place where artists will go to improve their craft. But part of my dream is that it will connect artists with missionaries and pastors, because aren’t we all interested in living missionally? So our allies: the pastors and theologians, the people of other generations. In other words, all people who will challenge us in different ways and force us to look outside of ourselves.
2. A healthy, artistic life is contextually ordered. Painting a mural for the sanctuary may look different than painting a canvas for an art exhibit at the Guggenheim. Composing a song for the church choir may sound different than composing a tract for an R&B album. Writing a skit for a Sunday morning service may be different than writing the script for a Broadway play. It took me a while to be okay with this. I’m not saying that these never cross, that you never have R&B in church (which would be ironic since part of R&B’s foundations are in gospel music). I’m saying that to everything thing (turn, turn, turn), there is a season. I’m saying that there’s a place for challenging believers and being in the marketplace. I have these quotes around this lovely statement in my notes, and I’m not sure to whom I should attribute it: "A work is artistically excellent if it accomplishes the work for which it was created." I think this is why it’s sometimes okay to have the Christian publishing houses and record labels. Yes, we hope that it bleeds over into the rest of the world, but some are called to shepherd and challenge the people of God (see Athol Dickson’s comments on Mike Duran’s post about the Christy Awards). Of course, we can’t use this as an excuse to be exclusive one way or the other. What I’m saying is that maybe some artists are called to minister primarily to Christians and some are called to minister primarily to non-Christians. (Another example: Peter was called to minister primarily to the Jews, although he often ministered to Gentiles. Paul was called to minister primarily to the Gentiles, although he often ministered to Jews.) So our allies: those who hold us accountable to ministering within the context to which we’ve been called, those in our ministry.
3. A healthy, artistic life is organically-rhythmed. I love this statement. This is my favorite. David used the terms "festal muchness" and "cleansing simplicity." Aren’t those beautiful? It reminds me of Babette’s Feast. It reminds me of the fasting of Lent and the celebration of Easter. It reminds me of my love of food and my need for cleansing. It reminds me of liturgy. "Living only one or the other will tire us out either through too much or too little," David said. What does this look like personally, in my writing? Do I literally fast from my writing at times? Some have. I’m not sure that’s applicable to me at this time. So what does it mean? The statement is beautiful and lovely, and I’m still trying to figure it out. I think it means for me that there are times to lavish on myself all the pleasures of being in an artistic community: symposiums (like the Transforming Culture symposium) and conferences and chats with the Misfits and evenings with the Rockwall Christian Writers Group. And these things improve my art and my spiritual formation in leaps and bounds, but I won’t be a good writer if I’m only in these feasts. There are times when I have to be serving others (such as the homeless, the parentless, the hurting). There are times when I have to be alone. So our allies: church liturgy, the poor, other artists, solitude.

These, David said, are the qualities of an artist living within the protective family of Jesus, the transcultural and transtemporal family of Jesus. Sometimes we don’t think of this family as being protective. It’ll take work, both on the part of the artist and the pastor and every single believer. It’ll require education and deliberation. It’ll require that we go slowly. But living within this family is good for the artist.

I’ll leave you with David’s last words at this session: "Fail grandly, fail humbly, and fail within the family of God."