There’s an inevitable conversation to be had whenever art, literature, music, and other creative pursuits are brought up. To what end? What purpose do they serve? Sure, a few people make good money pursuing such things, but for most they are distractions from productivity or more realistic career paths. If they do not provide tangible benefits or consistent financial gain for those who pursue them, are the arts worthwhile?
If one wishes to practice art, writing, or music as a hobby in their spare time, so be it, but they do not contribute to the material benefit of society at large. The arts bear no burdens for social or political development, no obligations for financial gain and public policy. Why pursue art if there is no consistent material benefit?
Another question: Who wants to live in a world that doesn’t appreciate or conserve beauty?
Let’s back up and explore what is meant by ‘beauty’ and ‘art.’ The study of beauty, specifically in visual form, is called aesthetics, while the counterpart for written works would be poetics. For brevity’s sake, I will simply refer to creative endeavors as ‘the arts’ throughout this piece. Beauty is an intrinsic feature of the created order which can and ought to be admired by observers.
It is a fact of reality and things which are beautiful are beautiful in themselves and not simply from the perspective of the witness. The old adage that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” finds only limited value when actually speaking of beauty. Preferences may exist, but beauty itself is an objective feature of the world and when one speaks of something as being beautiful, they are appreciating it in proper form.
In one of his greatest works, The Abolition of Man, C.S. Lewis references a story involving the poet Samuel Coleridge at a waterfall:
You remember that there were two tourists present: that one called [the waterfall] ‘sublime’ and the other ‘pretty’; and that Coleridge mentally endorsed the first judgement and rejected the second with disgust. (2)
The tourist who called the waterfall ‘sublime’ was giving an appropriate level of reverence to a place of true beauty and majesty, whereas the second tourist is only correct in labeling it ‘pretty’ in an imagined black and white scale of ‘yes’ or ‘no’. No such black and white scale exists, however, and to label something truly worthy of recognition as ‘sublime’ as merely ‘pretty’ is a disservice and a failure to apply proper appreciation. To label the waterfall ‘sublime’ is to recognize the true and intrinsic merits of the waterfall. It deserves such a label because it is sublime. The first tourist spoke something innately true about the waterfall.
To dismiss both tourists as making value statements contingent on their own feelings leads us to dismiss all that is beautiful and good within our use of language and thought. If a man says to a woman that she is radiant like a sunrise, we should then recognize that the statement is useless and has nothing to do with the woman, or the sunrise, but instead has to do with the feelings welling up inside the man’s heart. The external figure being referenced is of little consequence when the important factors of judgement are internal.
If I were to be conditioned to associate the taste of chocolate with getting sick, then such a judgement would be equally reasonable as one who associates it with joy or pleasure. Instead, we ought to understand that the former association is not in line with reality. C.S. Lewis references his own dislike of being around small children, but that he recognizes that this is a defect and not a preference of equal value to one who enjoys such company.
Like the waterfall, there is an intrinsic value to the fellowship of small children, whether we understand this as an evolutionary biological drive to continue the species and look after our young, or as a sacred duty to procreate and pass one’s heritage on to the next generation. One who dislikes children does so in defiance of the natural order, denying the proper valuation of younger persons and our natural instinct to care for them. The tourist who described the waterfall as ‘pretty’ was denying the waterfall its proper valuation.
As C.S. Lewis puts it, there is “a quality which demands a certain response from us whether we make it or not.” (19). Beauty is such a feature of reality. It demands to be recognized as such, as an awe-inspiring sight that humbles us or else wells up strong emotions of joy, courage, or motivation. To recognize beauty is to see the world as it is, as a reflection of the beauty of its very design. Beauty points us upward, to deeper consideration of what lies beyond our senses and our reason.
The arts must therefore be understood as reflections of the beauty we see around us. Just as a waterfall, a mountain, or a forest each reflect some deeper beauty in the world, so too do the arts, either as reflections of those very subjects or as a grasping toward the highest beauty. When the true poet sits down to do his or her work, the goal is not to rhyme words meaninglessly but to speak of something that manifests itself in our hearts. A former instructor of mine once said that the purpose of poetry is “to move the soul.”
The arts seek to explore and bring to mind those things which are in themselves so beautiful or meaningful that they must be expressed through beautiful means. It is here we see a firm line drawn in the sand between ‘art’ and ‘entertainment’. That is a conversation for another post, however, but it is important to note that there is nothing wrong with entertainment as long as we recognize it is of a lower order. While it may still grasp at beauty, it does so secondarily.
The question we return to is what makes the arts valuable if they provide little, or at least inconsistent, material benefit? In a culture and society which prioritizes practicality and career-prospects, we have little patience for the pursuit of the true, the good, and the beautiful. The arts may not be the clearest pathway leading to monetary success, unless you wish to launder money through modern art, but they are made free by that fact. The arts, the humanities, are free from the burden of outcome, of practicality. They speak of the world, not to the world. The arts are those subjects and practices we pursue out of love and passion, not with financial gain at the forefront of our minds. They are things to be enjoyed in themselves rather than based on what they may provide.
One can imagine fewer things more practically useless than standing in the Louvre and admiring da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. What that person takes away from those moments is not to be measured in finances, credit scores, assets, or physical health. Rather, they step away having taken a moment to admire a work of beauty that grasps toward something even more beautiful. Our imaginations were not given to us to be squandered over an obsession with pragmatism, but to seek truth through the beautiful and to uncover the mysteries of our world and lives. We do not gain much from pondering our existence or appreciating good literature, but we are enriched by it nonetheless.
There is an inherent value to life and there are intrinsic meanings in this world. They are not imposed by us out of preference or simple enjoyment, but rather are discovered by us in the authentic search for truth. The philosopher Iain Thomson describes this in the 2010 documentary Being in the World:
Life is made most meaningful when you respond to meanings that are independent of you. This is a point that goes back to Kierkegaard [who] said that if you think all meaning comes from you then you can just take it back. You’re a king without a castle. You’re a sovereign of a land of nothing.
When we pursue the arts, either as creators or appreciators, we are recognizing the meanings and beauty naturally occurring in the word around us. Participation in the beautiful is a natural feature of a life lived authentically, not in servitude to mere practicality, but with eyes set to the horizon of what is greater. While all life must be bound by pragmatism to a degree—and there’s nothing wrong with that—we were not made to take a walk during the sunrise without feeling awe. Even the Lord rested on the seventh day, admiring and appreciating the beauty of creation. We were not made to ignore the stars.