From the Editor's Desk
by Kimberly Vrudny
Back in the office today after attending the Art and Christianity Enquiry (ACE) conference in London, my mind returns time and again to a work attendees saw at St. Paul’s Cathedral. ACE, a British organization devoted to the study and promotion of Christianity and the arts, hosts a biannual international conference on selected themes alternately in the UK or Europe, then North America. This year’s conference, on “the city,” will be reviewed in an upcoming issue of ARTS. Let me disclose, however, that on the first night, the conference planners took us to St. Paul’s Cathedral to view an altarpiece they commissioned from renowned video artists, Bill Viola and Kira Perov. Installed in the Dean’s aisle, the piece treats the issue of martyrdom.
Back in the office today after attending the Art and Christianity Enquiry (ACE) conference in London, my mind returns time and again to a work attendees saw at St. Paul’s Cathedral. ACE, a British organization devoted to the study and promotion of Christianity and the arts, hosts a biannual international conference on selected themes alternately in the UK or Europe, then North America. This year’s conference, on “the city,” will be reviewed in an upcoming issue of ARTS. Let me disclose, however, that on the first night, the conference planners took us to St. Paul’s Cathedral to view an altarpiece they commissioned from renowned video artists, Bill Viola and Kira Perov. Installed in the Dean’s aisle, the piece treats the issue of martyrdom.
Bill Viola (with Kira Perov, producer)
Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire, Water), 2014
Color High-Definition video polyptych on four vertical plasma displays
55” x 133” x 4” (140 x 338 x 10 cm)
Duration: 7:15 minutes
St. Paul’s Cathedral, London
Although the work received mixed reviews from the group assembled there, some noting its “slick” production and others its aestheticization of violence, critiques I do not dispute, I found Viola’s scenes of martyrdom to be both profoundly unsettling and profoundly moving. Known for depicting most often images of “everyman,” so to speak, Viola and Perov, in these panels, depict representative even if ambiguous figures. Perhaps a male is martryed for his allegiance to Allah; a professional woman for her pursuit of a career; an African male for his pigmentation (or is it for his orientation?); a Jew, perhaps, for his rejection of Christ. The panels elicit memories of Abu Ghraib, witch trials, lynchings, waterboardings, and gas chambers (“shower” rooms), even as viewers identify the elements: earth, air, fire, water.
One senses the wickedness of any system that allows these deaths to occur—but our martyrs, like Christ, are expected to bear their torture passively, even gladly. Indeed, installed just feet from the cross, the viewer is reminded of another torture of a Jewish son, whose death, thoroughly depoliticized, is now glorified. Instead of humanity’s collusion against a charismatic teacher protesting the behavior of a wicked empire by speaking of another kingdom, the crucifixion too often is understood as the intentional means by which God effects the salvation of humankind. Jesus’ death is interpreted to be necessary for the redemption of the world, the means by which the sins of humanity are forgiven—an interpretation implicating God in torture. So the logic goes that, if God desired Jesus’ death and used it for a higher purpose, so, too, might God desire the suffering of these sons and daughers, whose agonies might be for their own good. Their suffering may test their faith or it may secure their salvation. The conversation shifts to how those who are tortured handle the trauma or the divine favor they will win, effectively usurping interrogation of the morality of the institution behind the torture. In this way, the work is prophetic. Viola and Perov offer a damning critique of Christianity, the source of the oppression in these panels—whose theology too often justifies the persecution of Africans, Muslims, women, GLBT persons, Jews, and more. Blood has been shed repeatedly through the ages at the hands of the Church, just as these panels play out this wicked drama over and over again on an endless digital loop.
The installation offers a timely commentary on the perverse logic of martyrdom, and thus draws the viewer’s attention to a topic both ancient and new. The commission raises themes to which we at ARTS will return in every issue. As will be our pattern, this issue balances traditional scholarship with prophetic attention to justice in face of the world’s need. After announcing Frank Burch Brown’s appointment as visiting professor of art and religion at the Center for the Arts, Religion, and Education in Berkeley, and later catching up with that Center’s work, along with the work of the Henry Luce III Center for the Arts and Religion at Wesley (and thereby continuing this journal’s dedication to tracking developments in the emerging field of theology and the arts), we open with an excellent piece that demonstrates interdisciplinary scholarship at its best. Andrea M. Sheaffer, who is trained in both biblical criticism and art history, examines the story of David as an archetype after which, she argues, the story of Judith is crafted. Next, Ginger Geyer, with her typical humor and grace, takes readers into the mind of a modern-day sculptor experiencing a paradoxical arts residency in Rome. Dean Seal highlights his ministry through Spirit in the House, Inc., and its Forgiveness 360 project, where the meaning of forgiveness is explored through drama and storytelling. In a similar vein, for his second “in the gallery” contribution, John Shorb interviews installation artist Mandy Cano Villalobos, whose work is calling attention to the murders that are occurring in Juarez, Mexico. We are also lifting up newly released books in the field of theology, religion, and the arts—and with his notes, book review editor Mark McInroy rounds out the issue.
With this issue, we conclude the celebration of our twenty-fifth year. Indeed, your response throughout this year of transition, evident in a dramatic uptick in subscriptions, has been inspiring. If you appreciate what we are trying to do, please share word of ARTS with your colleagues and with your faith communities—for we rely on your support now as much as ever.
One senses the wickedness of any system that allows these deaths to occur—but our martyrs, like Christ, are expected to bear their torture passively, even gladly. Indeed, installed just feet from the cross, the viewer is reminded of another torture of a Jewish son, whose death, thoroughly depoliticized, is now glorified. Instead of humanity’s collusion against a charismatic teacher protesting the behavior of a wicked empire by speaking of another kingdom, the crucifixion too often is understood as the intentional means by which God effects the salvation of humankind. Jesus’ death is interpreted to be necessary for the redemption of the world, the means by which the sins of humanity are forgiven—an interpretation implicating God in torture. So the logic goes that, if God desired Jesus’ death and used it for a higher purpose, so, too, might God desire the suffering of these sons and daughers, whose agonies might be for their own good. Their suffering may test their faith or it may secure their salvation. The conversation shifts to how those who are tortured handle the trauma or the divine favor they will win, effectively usurping interrogation of the morality of the institution behind the torture. In this way, the work is prophetic. Viola and Perov offer a damning critique of Christianity, the source of the oppression in these panels—whose theology too often justifies the persecution of Africans, Muslims, women, GLBT persons, Jews, and more. Blood has been shed repeatedly through the ages at the hands of the Church, just as these panels play out this wicked drama over and over again on an endless digital loop.
The installation offers a timely commentary on the perverse logic of martyrdom, and thus draws the viewer’s attention to a topic both ancient and new. The commission raises themes to which we at ARTS will return in every issue. As will be our pattern, this issue balances traditional scholarship with prophetic attention to justice in face of the world’s need. After announcing Frank Burch Brown’s appointment as visiting professor of art and religion at the Center for the Arts, Religion, and Education in Berkeley, and later catching up with that Center’s work, along with the work of the Henry Luce III Center for the Arts and Religion at Wesley (and thereby continuing this journal’s dedication to tracking developments in the emerging field of theology and the arts), we open with an excellent piece that demonstrates interdisciplinary scholarship at its best. Andrea M. Sheaffer, who is trained in both biblical criticism and art history, examines the story of David as an archetype after which, she argues, the story of Judith is crafted. Next, Ginger Geyer, with her typical humor and grace, takes readers into the mind of a modern-day sculptor experiencing a paradoxical arts residency in Rome. Dean Seal highlights his ministry through Spirit in the House, Inc., and its Forgiveness 360 project, where the meaning of forgiveness is explored through drama and storytelling. In a similar vein, for his second “in the gallery” contribution, John Shorb interviews installation artist Mandy Cano Villalobos, whose work is calling attention to the murders that are occurring in Juarez, Mexico. We are also lifting up newly released books in the field of theology, religion, and the arts—and with his notes, book review editor Mark McInroy rounds out the issue.
With this issue, we conclude the celebration of our twenty-fifth year. Indeed, your response throughout this year of transition, evident in a dramatic uptick in subscriptions, has been inspiring. If you appreciate what we are trying to do, please share word of ARTS with your colleagues and with your faith communities—for we rely on your support now as much as ever.
