Themes of Art: The More Meaningful

I went to the Cincinnati art museum today, together with Jon and Abigail and a couple of their friends. I like looking at art, like relating, interacting – even in a museum. The architecture of a museum hardly invites to the natural encounter with the art on display, since it is an artificial setting. A museum is built to expose paintings and sculptures. The artwork is taken out of its origin, setting, and hung on a wall in a room.

            I looked at local art, and found the themes rather bleak. I walked by stillebens, and was not interested. Ok, fruit is fruit. Yes, I know the moments of truth, of aletheia, but the theme as such seemed superfluous to me today.

            Some portraits captured me, because the person in the picture expressed something I could not quite grasp. But it is a person. A person is always interesting. I stopped by a landscape painting of a wild river pouring into the sea. I went close, not because the picture spoke to me, but I am always curious to see what technique the artist has used to create the image, so I go close and stare at colours, textures, brush strokes.

            There were sections of religious art, buddhas, bodhisattvas, saints in the Buddhist tradition. But they are only people, I thought, and was quite critical. I hurried by the Hindu section without pausing. Idolatry. Yes, I was rather strict today. I came into the section for Islamic art, and relaxed. It is mostly decorative, with tile work and non-religious depictions, apart from calligraphy with Quranic sayings.

Francesco Botticini (1446-1497) Italy Madonna and Child

            It was not until I came upstairs and was met with Catholic Christian images, an elaborate altar piece with several stories from the Bible, that I settled, and found the theme to be satisfying. I also stared at the utter beauty of Mary. Baby Jesus was mostly a plump naked boy with cute curls, and I was not so enamoured with the depiction of Him. I know he once was a child, but the admiration from Mary lingered in my soul. It is the way it is: the believer will by necessity adore and admire Jesus. He is our hope, our life, our wisdom, and in Him are all the treasure of wisdom apparent. To me, Mary was a symbol of all who believe, and Jesus is God, no matter how the artists wanted to portray Him. Isaiah testifies about Him:

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”(Isaiah 9:6)