IT'S OFTEN SAID that the purpose of art is beauty. Those of us who are repulsed by the ugliness of much art in recent decades are likely to agree; others may also agree, but would likely assert that beauty is not subject to debate:
“what's beautiful to me may not be beautiful to you.”
Unfortunately there is a confusion in language: it appears that the vocabulary of the judgement of art has greatly diminished over the past century. One of the distinctive attributes of Modernism is a simplified vocabulary. According to
Robert L. Ramsay,
We are well aware that modern poets like Auden chose words for their denotation rather than for their connotation. They dislike all words with overtones, and prefer the flat music of the tuning fork to the reverberations of the organ. The bees in their poetical hive are always lean and hungry, stripped for action as they issue forth to their daily task, never loaded with spoil and crusted with wax and honey as they stagger home weary at evening, as Milton and the Victorian poets liked them best.
Our culture loves the new, and has no problem coming up with new definitions for old words, but this means that old meanings are sometimes lost, ignored, or subverted. New words are often coined, but these usually correspond to new technology. Also, since serious writing is becoming more modeled on informal speech, rare but precise words may be ignored, while the meaning of common words become broadened. These trends can weaken language, leading to a kind of illiteracy where people are incapable of comprehending the writing of previous ages. (Some would say that this actually is the purpose of the new language: see the appendix on
Newspeak in the novel
1984).
I think that the word
beauty is not used properly, that it has an expanded definition that goes beyond what our ancestors would have used, and that it has expanded so much that it lacks precision and therefore is less useful. If artists say that we cannot even use the word, then I'd say the word is in trouble. A reason for this is perhaps due to the loss of other words that explain things related to beauty, while not meaning quite the same thing as beauty.
I would not agree that beauty is
the purpose of art: portraying beauty is a high and noble purpose, but it certainly can't be art's
only purpose. Artists and patrons from before the 20
th century would likely have agreed that there is more than beauty that is important: even though beauty is important. A work of art could express beauty, but it could also be comic, tragic, terrifying, or sublime.
For example, this painting,
Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer, [Wanderer (or Hiker) Above the Sea of Fog], by
Caspar David Friedrich, does not necessarily attempt to show only beauty, despite it being well-composed and well-executed. Rather, the artist likely wanted to express
the sublime in this painting. This is not merely a pretty or beautiful landscape; the figure is standing in what appears to be a dangerous place.
The word ‘sublime’ is rarely used today, and when it
is used, it seems to have little meaning other than
“I like it a lot, in a pretentious sort of way” But this was not always the case: in the past, this word was used to describe a sense of awe, grandeur, or greatness, something that is lofty to an extreme degree, so much so that it dwarfs the human person in insignificance. Something that is not beautiful may be sublime; and something that is sublime might also be terrifying.
It is said that nowadays we find mountain ranges beautiful whereas in the past they were considered terrifying. It is said that young English aristocracy, when the fashion of going on the Grand Tour of Europe was first started, would often close the shades in their carriages while traveling in the Italian mountains because they were frightened by the view. It is said that due to the
Romantic Movement in the 19
th century, including paintings like the one above, we no longer find mountains objects of terror, but rather objects of beauty. But I find this explanation dissatisfying, because it fails to describe the mountains as they are in themselves, nor does it explain human nature in a clear way. This causes the word ‘beautiful’ to lose meaning and to be reduced to mere subjectivity.
A view from the top of Hughes Mountain, in the Saint Francois range of the Ozark mountains, in Washington County, Missouri. Due to my limitations as a photographer, I have difficulty showing the sublimity I experienced at this spot; after all, painting is a higher art than photography, the painter being freer to compose his subject fittingly.
Something that can inspire terror in some people or evoke beauty in others would be best called sublime, and that is what the
Romantics intended. I can hardly believe that they thought that their landscapes would be terrifying to one generation and beautiful to the next due to societal evolution. These Romantics did not merely portray beauty or the mood of terror, but rather they had an understanding of the sublime, which could contain both at the same time and more. Undoubtably a flat-lander will be terrified when first traveling in mountains — no matter how many paintings or photographs he'd seen of them. Likewise, an experienced mountaineer may appreciate mountain vistas more, but would still be terrified if he lost his footing on the edge of precipice. We could instead accurately use the word
sublime to describe the mountains: this would would apply to both the beginning traveler as well as the experienced mountain climber. Please note that the painting above does not show the man's face, so we are unable to easily discern if he is feeling joy or terror: but undoubtably the artist shows the man contemplating the
sublime.
[Catholic philosophy often offers threefold explanations, which include objective, subjective, and relative factors. When we imagine a person standing on the edge of a high cliff, we can use the word sublime largely objectively, since we can safely predict the range of subjective human responses to the objective situation. We can also predict how circumstances could alter those responses; for example, being on the edge of a cliff during a storm at night, versus a calm day. Unfortunately, during the Enlightenment and afterwards, intellectuals often focused on one factor at the expense of the others, which leads to our current confusion. Rationalists emphasize objectivity, Existentialists emphasize subjectivity, while Socialists emphasize relative factors. Few today outside of the Church unify these factors into a coherent whole.]
We unfortunately have nearly lost a good and useful word, which is much applicable to the arts. The sublime is often portrayed well in cinema: imagine a giant robot rising from the ground, or the vast array of an army preparing to attack: these may or may not be beautiful or terrifying scenes, but they are certainly sublime ones. But sublimity is not often found in the other arts, and certainly not in rhetoric or serious writing. However, sublimity can be used to good effect in church architecture, to invoke a sense of awe and loftiness.
Our current renewal of liturgical art emphasizes beauty by focusing on the revival of the Baroque style. This follows the classical principles of beauty, based on proportion, symmetry, harmony, and clarity of form. This emphasis on objective beauty is absolutely necessary. Liturgical artists can add to this to incorporate other aesthetics such as sublimity. Comedy and ugliness together were used to good effect in the Gothic churches, symbolizing sin and folly, particularly with the gargoyles and grotesques. Terror and horror could be found in paintings, such as the
Dance of Death, and in depictions of demons pulling wicked rulers, clerics, and laymen into the maw of Hell. Including other aesthetics must be done very carefully, as artistic experimentation of recent decades has often proved disastrous or at least unedifying. But certainly the sublime, an integral part of Gothic cathedrals, is easily incorporated into the Baroque revival style.
