An Artist’s Show and Tell

I live near a little town that recently started a guild of Christian artists. The group includes Christians from many denominations who create art in many ways, from music to writing to visual art. My son and I are both in the group, me as a writer and him as a video game designer. That gives you an idea of the diversity of this group.

We hold monthly meetings, and this month was a show and tell. Fifteen people either performed something or brought art to show. We didn’t sell; we just shared. The night was all about connections and encouragement.

I write books, but I didn’t share. I get to share with the group in a couple months, so for this event I simply wanted to be the audience. My son, however, showed a videogame trailer and a modified demo of his game so people could try it out. He’s working on an exploration/puzzle/farming game. He worked hard to prepare, and he was nervous and excited about the event.

Entangled

As I watched musicians and thespians perform and listened to all the artists give a quick remark on why they create, I felt the most powerful connection to these people. I was so grateful to them, felt so tenderly toward them that I struggled not to cry. Yes, we have creativity in common. But the big connection isn’t about that. It’s about reflecting God’s beauty in a myriad of ways with many gifts. The room practically glowed with that reflection.

Through our talking and sharing I was struck with the powerful thought that the Spirit that lives in me lives in these people, too, so we are all hopelessly entangled together. On this night I felt that entanglement strongly. I don’t know all these people well, but I see us working together now, encouraging one another in this life, and then continuing to be entangled in the next life, not just with artists but with people of all walks who see and reflect the beauty of God in so many other ways.

Peeking in open windows

The event was about sharing at the deepest level. Every person who participated wanted to be seen. They wanted to be understood. They put their hearts on display and then stood back and waited to see if anyone responded. As artists stood near their work, I could see in their eyes the courage, the hope, the fear… It’s no easy thing to wrap your heart in something tangible and hold it out for the world to see. Some off-the-charts bravery happened in that room.

I talked to many of those who shared. A couple were very young, and they were so honest. When I approached, they smiled, not hiding that they wanted me to approve. It wasn’t vanity. I could tell from the words they spoke that they wanted me to connect to the process, to their thoughts and feelings as they created. They had opened a little window to their souls, and they invited me to come in and sit a while.

I was thrilled to come sit a while.

It’s not about art

We weren’t a huge group, so every now and then one of the artists stood at his or her table alone, and my heart ached. Because most of us in the room were artists or love artists, we didn’t let it happen long. Instead we moved from piece to piece, person to person, connecting, encouraging, stepping into those heart windows opened for us. This wasn’t about art. It’s never about art. It’s about the artists and the witnesses to the art, the connections and the lessons and the vulnerability on both sides.

Because yes, to share art makes one vulnerable, but to inhale art is just as vulnerable. When I watch a play or hear music or read a book or gaze at an image, it can change me. It connects me to its creator. That can be good or bad. And with our Christian group, we seek connections with not only the human creators but also with the bigger Creator. And he can change me, too, in huge and unexpected ways. To open my heart to someone’s art is no simple, safe thing. It has consequences.

Accepting a gift

As I walked the room I felt protective of each artist. Each of them had given me a gift, something beautiful and so much bigger than a sound or an image. It was almost a heavy feeling, this vulnerable hope and quest for connection. Would I prove worthy of such a gift? How could I protect the givers?

“I see you,” I wanted to say. “I understand. You cannot know how honored I am to be invited through your windows into your deeper places. I will protect what you’ve given me here.” But instead I smiled and asked questions. And then I wrote these words, because my soul window is usually tied to words in black and white on a page or a screen. I saw you, guitarist and harpist and actors and poets and painters and illustrator and drawers and weavers and videogame designer. Thank you for the gifts. I treasure them.

God is moving

God is moving in the hearts of creators around the globe, and that energy and hope and bravery and passion… God is using it to draw people to himself. As Christian artists we will continue to put ourselves out there, opening windows to our hearts–hopelessly tied to God’s heart–and inviting people to sit a while.

I am thankful for what God is teaching me through the artists in my life. I want to protect them, encourage them, and create with them. I look forward to creating throughout eternity, when time and money and resources and fear of others will never dull our imaginations, when we will reflect God and connect with each other in ways we haven’t even thought of yet.

Until then, simple moments where I play a video game demo with a nervous young man, elicit a smile from a teenager when I ask her to share her drawing process, touch wool felted by a woman who’s all lit up with the joy of creating with God, or look through a comic book designed by a man who puts his teen self in ink on paper–for now these glimpses of eternity will have to do. And I treasure them.