The first seminar session I went to was led by Andy Whitman, who is, among other things, a reviewer for Paste Magazine.
The title of Andy's talk was "Beyond the Aesthetic Grid: How to Engage Your Heart Without Turning Off Your Brain." He began by talking about Francis Shaeffer, who emphasized the value of art in his writings and created a grid for analyzing art.
The implication is that music that fits into the top right quadrant is to be desired, while music in the bottom left is to be avoided and music in the other two treated with caution. Some problems that Whitman identified with the grid include:
- It proposed that music can be "safe," when good music is rarely safe.
- The message of a song is rarely either good or bad.
- The problem of subjectivity: What is "good" art or a "good" message?
Whitman then proposed a new paradigm that he called "Signs of Life," which is characterized by:
- A commitment to the quality of artistry over the quantity of hype.
- Commiment to substance over image and depth over trendiness.
- Commitment to songcraft over style, meaning that there are no "holy" genres.
- Music that is transformation, that changes us.
Whitman's main point was that a model for discerning music must leave space for joy and emotional experience, which is difficult in an analytical grid. This did come with a warning that we shouldn't idolize emotional experience to the point that we enshrine the music of our youth, like Baby Boomers tend to do with the art of the 60s and 70s.
Whitman concluded with a list of guidelines for approaching art:
- Art is a sovereign sphere. (Been hanging around with neo-Calvinists, Andy? :)
- Art doesn't have to agree with a Christian worldview to be good.
- Christians should keep their convictions when doing work.
- Good art doesn't have to be beautiful (ex. Apocalypse Now).
- There are no exact criteria for judging good art, but there are criteria.
- Good art can be representative, abstract and symbolic.
- We must distinguish between sacred and secular art.
- Enjoy art without guilt as a gift from God.
As you can imagine, I and others took issue with that second to last one. Whitman wanted to justify it by the fact that, even though some of the praise music used in his church is sub-par art, God still works through it to affect his heart. Yes, but...I don't think the ability of the Almighty to work through poorly done art justifies the creation or selection of it in the first place and I don't think we ought to be using different quality criteria for the church than we do for our own CD collections. If there's any value or truth in this guideline, it's for those who cringe at some of their church's music but can't, for whatever reason, play a role in its creation and selection. If worship is central to the life of the Christian community--and I believe it is--shouldn't we desire to offer the best that we, as a broken community, can manage?
As with Turner, this one point didn't detract from what was otherwise a very interesting and well-done presentation. According to David Dark in a later session, there was apparently a gem in the Q&A time that I missed: that art is people. A human being is never entirely objectionable; to believe otherwise is dangerous. If art represents people who are inevitably a mixture of good and bad by virtue of being fallen creatures made in the image of the Creator, a work of art that represents people's ideas and opinions and stories cannot be called wholly objectionable. An interesting thought...more in the next post on Dark's session.
Hi, Kirstin. Thanks for your comments. It was great to see you and Rob at the conference (yes, the doc I promised you will be there, but I'm currently facing some impending deadlines, and I probably can't get to it for another week or so).
Just to clarify that second-to-last point above, I'm not defending bad art, including bad art that passes as worship music. There is plenty of it out there. But I do apply slightly different criteria in evaluating, for lack of a better term, worship music vs. (and I hate this term) "secular" music.
Worship music is successful to the extent that it enables me to worship God. That is its primary goal. And I have encountered some worship music that is quite effective from the standpoint of that primary goal which would be viewed as marginally acceptable from an aesthetic standpoint. We sing a chorus at my church which states, "I'm desperate for you/I'm lost without you." It undoes me every time, not because it's wonderfully poetic, but simply because it's true.
The same sentiments, if taken out of context and applied to, oh, a romantic song, would probably strike me as melodramatic mush. But for some reason they work quite well in the context of worship.
It may just be me. I will confess that there is contemporary worship music out there that makes me cringe (one particularly egregious example states, "We want to awe you," which initially makes me want to go "awwww," and then quickly makes me want to bludgeon my head against a nearby pew). And I have an abiding love of the classic hymns, which are usually considered classic for good reasons. But I do tend to approach worship music in a different way. I hope that makes sense.
Again, thanks for your comments. It was a wonderful conference.
Thanks for commenting and clarifying, Andy. I understand your distinction and I'm glad you are able to make it to the benefit of your worship experience. Perhaps I'm too demanding, but I can't avoid being mentally critical of much contemporary worship music. It takes me out of the moment, sometimes because of personal preference, but other times because either the lyrical or the musical quality is poor. And this is where Rick Warren would wag his purpose-driven finger at me and say, "Worship isn't about you; it's about God."
Anyway, I imagine this will be an ongoing debate in many faith communities. For myself, I'll continue to pursue worship experiences that draw on ancient traditions and global cultures, as this is where I feel most at home and least cynical. Our contemporary North American church culture at the moment unfortunately strikes me as generally malnourished and desperate, but there are plenty of reasons for hope.