Make the Form Conform

By David Clayton

First published on New Liturgical Movement

www.newliturgicalmovement.org
August 2009

Every time I paint I have to ask myself two questions: what will I paint? And how will I paint it? The answers
to these questions govern the content and the form, respectively, of my finished painting and in turn their
conformity to what is good, true and beautiful.

Most discussions of Christian art that I read focus on the significance of the content. This is appropriate, of
course, but in focusing on content, one must not forget that form is a vital component. I must seek to ensure
that the form conforms, so to speak, to these transcendentals. This is not only the responsibility of the artist.
Patrons must be aware of this too. When as I am selecting art done by other artists, no matter what the
purpose, I must have some criteria to guide me, so that what I pick is good and appropriate to the purpose.

My approach is first to disregard personal taste. Rather than ask, do I like it? I ask first, is this true? If the
content and form in combination seem to be conveying a message that is contravention of truth, then I will
reject it. I must acknowledge the possibility that my judgment as to what is beautiful is flawed, so regardless
of how attractive I might find the painting, I try to judge first based upon truth. I know that beauty and truth
cannot be in opposition, so if reason tells me that something does not conform to truth, then I will disregard
my sense of its beauty, which is more intuitive and less easy to rationalize, in this case. However, personal
taste should not be ignored altogether. Once I have done my best to make a judgment in regard to truth, then
I ask myself the question, do I like it? (or if it is to be seen others, will it be liked?)

It is easier to see how one can relate truth to content. If what is shown is contrary to the message of the
gospels, for example, then it is false 1 . But what is truth in relation to form? This is a more difficult question to
answer.

Perhaps the most important factor that governs my ability to do this is an understanding of the nature of the
human person and his relationship with God and the rest of creation.

All of creation is made by God so that we might know Him through it. Therefore an image of any aspect of
creation must do this also – so a landscape, for example, must portray the beauty of the scenery depicted in
such a way that the image draws the person who sees it to God, its Creator. Mankind has a privileged place in
the hierarchy of Creation and so when painting the human figure, there is a special responsibility of the artist
to reflect the truth and beauty of the human person. Because the human figure consists of a profound unity
of body and soul, the artist must reveal both. So the figure must have a recognizable human body, but in
addition must be portrayed as a thinking feeling person. When we meet someone in the flesh, we know the
spiritual aspects of a person most obviously through observation of their actions and words over a period of
time. The artist who paints (or sculpts) is forced to create a snapshot, frozen in time. Nevertheless he must
somehow reveal the spiritual through the material. To this end, the good Christian artist will introduce
controlled deviations from a strict photographic representation. This partial abstraction when done well
reveals more, not less, of the reality of what is portrayed.

1 It should be noted that this does not rule out the possibility of the portrayal of the imagination provided that it
directs the imagination of the viewer to something that is true, as in good children’s’ stories (and their illustrations) for
example.

© David Clayton 2009

To abstract means literally to draw out and so in this context the artist is drawing out the truth. It is this
process of partial abstraction that gives an artist or artists work its characteristic style. When that style reveals
truth the product is a beautiful idealization. When it hides truth, as much modern art does, the result is an
ugly distortion. The work of the Christian artist, in the context of figurative art, must always contain this
balance of naturalism and idealization. To do so in accordance with the teachings of the Church requires the
artist to be theologian, philosopher, liturgist and craftsman all rolled into one. Fortunately, the Church offers
guidance here in the form of tradition.

The identifiable traditions of authentically Catholic art are distinguishable from one another stylistically
because they seek to reveal different aspects of humanity in relation to God and creation. Those who have
read John Paul II’s Theology of the Body will be aware that there are different stages of human existence. First,
there is man before the Fall, called Original Man, when Adam and Eve were ‘naked without shame’ and
enjoyed innocence that comes from dependence upon God. Second there is Historical Man, mankind after
the Fall, experiencing the fear and resentment that results from a dislocation in the relationships with each
other and with God. Though not as good as man ought to be, Historical man is still good and has the
potential for sanctity. As historical men and women, we are all too familiar with this aspect of the human
condition. Third there is Eschatological Man: in this stage we fulfill our human purpose, partaking of the
divine nature in heaven in communion with the Trinity in a perfect exchange of love and in perfect and
perpetual bliss.

The iconographic tradition 2 reveals Eschatological Man. Drawing on biblical episodes such as the
Transfiguration, the style shows for example the divine light shining from the saints and eliminates the
illusion of space to show that the heavenly dimension is outside time and space.

2 This includes all the local variations that are consistent with the iconographic prototype, for example, the
Romanesque in the West.

© David Clayton 2009

The baroque reveals Historical Man. In contrast with the iconographic style, the baroque sets out to create an
illusion of space using devices such as perspective, and shows deep cast shadow from external light sources.
Shadow represents presence of evil and suffering, which is contrasted with brightly lit areas representing the
Light that overcomes the darkness.

© David Clayton 2009

The gothic is the third Catholic figurative tradition that is cited in his book, The Spirit of the Liturgy, by Pope
Benedict XVI as an authentic Catholic liturgical tradition. This appears to oscillate between the styles of
Eschatological and Historical Man. Like the spires of the gothic churches, they reach up to heaven, but they
are firmly planted on earth. It might be argued that this reflects the fact that although we can never fully make
that transformation to Eschatological Man in this world, there is nevertheless a continuum between the two
states along which we can make progress through the transforming process of participation in the
sacramental life of the Church. The late-gothic artist Fra Angelico, for example, used elements of both the
visual vocabulary of the increased naturalism that was developing around him, such as perspective and
shadow and the iconographic prototype of light and ‘flatness’. His selection depended upon the theological
point he wanted to communicate.

I am not aware of a tradition that has a distinctive form that has emerged from a focus on the theology of
Original Man, although Fra Angelico’s late gothic/early Renaissance form could be the appropriate form.
Certainly, if I were set the task, this would be my starting point. This is just early speculation based upon
passages written by the Church Fathers that I have read, which describe the appearance of Original Man as a
slightly more naturalistic Eschatological Man, clothed in splendor.

When I paint I aim to let tradition guide me in my work as far as possible. If I want to paint the human
figure, the first question I should ask myself is, ‘What form of man?’ If I decide that I will to portray
Eschatological Man, then rather than trying to develop my own individual style, the sensible thing is to go to
the iconographic tradition and let the principles of that tradition guide my hand. This will not lead to pastiche,
for every truly living tradition is defined by principles, rather than strict rules, which are reapplied in every
age. So, for example, someone who knows icons can recognize within that tradition geographical variations
and place it to with, perhaps, 50 years. Only if I am seeking to communicate something previously
uncommunicated should I look to create something original; and then I should do as artists did in the past
and seek out the guidance of the theologians, philosophers and liturgists of the Church.

Does this rule out any new forms? Hasn’t it all been done already? This will be clear as time progresses. But it
is conceivable to me that discussion on how to create the image of Original Man could create something that
previously unimagined in art. Certainly in his Letter to Artists, John Paul II called on artists to find new ways to
represent human sexuality as gift. Maybe this will be the art of the next age? But if it is to be so, it will be a
dialogue between the artists and the theologians, philosophers and liturgists of the Church that will shape the
new form, just as similar dialogues shaped the established ones; and what will drive the development of new
forms will be the need of the Church to articulate something new, or in a new way – not the whim of an artist
who wants to stand out from the crowd.

The principles of being open to new forms, with the impetus for change coming from the Church rather than
the artist; and the need for a balance of naturalism and idealism were expressed with great clarity Pope Pius
XII in Mediator Dei, writing in 1947: ‘Recent works of art which lend themselves to the materials of modern
composition, should not be universally despised and rejected through prejudice. Modern art should be given
free scope in the due and reverent service of the church and the sacred rites, provided that they preserve the
correct balance between styles tending neither to extreme realism or to excessive “symbolism” and that the
needs of the Christian community are taken into consideration rather than the particular taste or talent of the
individual artist.’ 3

I have only discussed liturgical form so far, which would placed inside the church, but what I say applies just
as much to art that is not intended to be seen in a church, or even to devotional art. This is because all good
art should be rooted in the liturgy. It is the cult that is the foundation of Catholic culture. So even if the
content is not obviously religious, such as with a landscape, the form can be liturgical and so the art then
becomes a profane signpost, as it were, to the sacred liturgy. The baroque of the 17th century, for example,

3 Mediator Dei, 195

© David Clayton 2009

began is a liturgical art form intended for church, but it came to dominate the whole culture of the period so
that all art, architecture and music was in conformity with it. Pius XII put it as follows: ‘The fine arts are really
in conformity with religion when “as noblest handmaids they are at the service of divine worship”.’ 4

And non-figurative art? Much abstract art produced since the turn of the 20th century is based upon a secular
understanding of the human person that is in opposition to the Catholic teaching. So, for example, some
abstract expressionists sought to portray human emotion without any reference to the body of the human
person. This is, in effect, an abstraction that goes beyond the bounds of truth. It seeks to remove the soul
from the body altogether reflecting the error of dualism. For the Christian, emotion, though an aspect of the
soul is revealed through the body. So we cannot portray human emotion fully in art without the portrayal of a
body.

That is not to say that there is no legitimate Catholic form of non-figurative, ‘abstract’ art. As discussed
briefly in my last article for the New Liturgical Movement, the traditional quadrivium, which are the ‘four ways’
that were the higher part of the seven liberal arts, sought to represent the divine order mathematically. The
fact that mathematics can be conceived in the abstract and represented visually, allows for a patterned,
geometric art form that is conformity with truth.

The Cosmati pavements of the 13th century are examples of this art form.

4 Ibid, 196, quoting Pius XI, Constitution Divini cultus.

© David Clayton 2009

The mathematical description of the divine order also allows for the structuring and organization of time and
space, and the design of just about anything, that is the culture in the fullest sense of the word – the family,
society, business, education – to be ordered liturgically by conformity to the cosmic order that points to the
mind of the Creator. Sacred geometry and its applications will be discussed first in the next series of articles.

David Clayton is Artist-in-Residence at Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, Merrimack, NH, www.thomasmorecollege.edu;
and on the board of the Foundation for Sacred Arts, www.thesacredarts.org

© David Clayton 2009