John Paul II 'Letter to the Artists'

Czeslaw Milosz

Czeslaw Milosz at his home in Cracow, 2001

The letter of John Paul II to artists is an unexpected, delightful and miraculous event. At the very end of the century of horrifying wars and crimes, and at the same time of consecutive revolutions in the art bewitched with the unending quest for the new, a wise and calm voice reverberates, reminding us all of what has always been the objective and vocation of art.

One has to ask this question though, to what extent does this message take to our skin? Perhaps we are so demoralized, that the words that are to recover our sense of community with the artists of the past epochs pass through without convincing us? It is true though that our efforts to defend ourselves by referring to theological illiteracy would be futile. The language of John Paul II is ours, apparently deriving from his thoughts as a poet, and reaches us not only where he refers to Norwid and Dostoyevsky. It is difficult to find a better definition of the tasks of the art: 'Every genuine artistic intuition', writes the Holy Father, 'goes beyond what the senses perceive and, pervading reality, strives to interpret its hidden mystery. It springs from the depths of the human soul, where the desire to impose a meaning to one's own life joins with the fleeting vision of beauty and of the mysterious unity of things. All artists are aware of the gap which lies between the work of their hands, however successful it may be, and the dazzling perfection of the beauty glimpsed in a moment of creative passion: all they can express by painting, sculpting, and creating, is nothing but a glimmer of that splendour, which flared for a few moments before the eyes of their spirit'.

What are then the possible reasons of artists' resistance in face of so clearly named aspirations of them all?

Milosz's pen, Cracow 2011

I think there is a main one. Here is a letter speaking of a beautiful land, such as it appeared to Jahveh's eyes: 'And God saw all that he had made, and it was very good'. It does not mention, however, the devil, while the artists of the ending century had constantly to deal with him, also within themselves, with whispers of demonic art. Their fascination with evil and suffering went as far as accepting them, under the influence of natural sciences, as the law of the land, the true face of the Spirit of Earth. The devilish grimace has become a feature of outstanding works of art and many of our contemporaries attempt to find signs of possession, calling for an exorcist. What is more, this grimace has permeated to the very artistic form and even found theoreticians claiming that the old harmonious art is no longer possible and that the new beauty may only be attained by combining elements that are ugly, clashing, in conflict. Mockery, irony and sarcasm appear to be the indispensable seasoning of art to such an extent that without them it appears to be as tasteless as a meal without salt. Meanwhile, this seasoning proves profound changes in our perception of the world. It is in a way a fear of being suspected of a naive praise of existence ('[God] saw all that he had made, and it was very good'), a safeguarding against a social reprimand using faces and winks. For the knowledge of the power of evil has already become a social knowledge, and it counteracts the blessed vision of a new Fra Angelico.

The candidly Christian art confirming with its entire nature the dogmas of the Church is a rare phenomenon these days. Nonetheless, the statement as contained in one the Pope's letters remains in force: 'Art however, if it is authentic, though not necessarily, expresses itself only in forms typically religious, it keeps a bind of inner relativity to the world of faith, so that even in circumstances of a deep split between culture and the Church, it is art which remains a kind of a pier leading to a religious experience.'

'A deep split between culture and the Church' is a fact today though, and the reasons lie first and foremost in a difficulty of reconciling the images of evil and suffering with the image of a personalized God, who has not died as Nietzsche wanted, enshrouded in fog, or concealed. The mystery of life has been increasingly becoming the mystery of pain. The profound dualism of Christianity (as by the full acceptance of life, the Earth is to it 'a vale of tears') is much closer to the artists than a song of praise, in the same manner as it was closer to the philosopher of artists, Schopenhauer. Therefore, for a century now, the artists have got their lead in expressing their liking for the non-theistic religion of compassion, i.e. Buddhism.

'Beauty will save the world', Dostoyevski believed. Taking into consideration the ubiquity of meanness and cruelty, the constant defeat of the good, and the ever prevailing evil, there should be no beauty. It even presents a challenge and is something like an offence to the suffering. And still, beauty exists; it does so concurrently, nearby, and even in tight connection with the sights of unhindered violence, as if it all was a proof of impartiality of God, who pours the same rain on the just and on the unjust. And because the papal letter says about beauty, its praise of the created is understandable, even though they be unspeakably painful.

What does the devilish grimace of the 20th century's art prove? This may be risked presumably, that paradoxically, it means a victory of morality over aesthetics. Different types of despair happen to form a bill of indictment, to eventually provoke the answer of the Accused, who remains silent, while his mocker and rival keep on flooding with his brilliant and intelligent speech. It convinces the artists, that the consent to the world is a betrayal, and that there was a time to chase after the beauty, but it is too late for thisnow.

The papal letter does not exclude the non-Christian artists, but it is mainly addressed to the Christians, and on its basis a conclusion may be drawn that only the latter are able to conquer the existential despair arising from the tempting whispers of Evil. It is their faith that can make it happen. These are the words of the letter: 'The eternal alliance between the Gospel and the art, irrespective of its functional aspects, is connected to the call to get, with means of creative intuition, to the core of the Incarnated God's mystery, and at the same time of the mystery of the human being. Every human being remains unknown to himself in a way. Jesus Christ reveals not only God, but also fully reveals a human being to the human being itself. In Jesus Christ God reconciled the world with itself.'

But we, i.e. the artists, asking for a gift of faith, feel this grimace, this mask ingrown into our face. How to get rid of it? Contemplation of the mystery of man brings us to a conclusion, against which we are defending with all our strength: that the Prince of This World wins, because he has an ally in the 'I' of every one of us. Didn't Martin Luther recognize the devil to be the master of all our deeds and reflexes, finding help only in grace? And didn't the tricks of the sciences occupied with human confirm the belief of a dark area inside every one of us? So trained, we all resemble this painter, who decided to depict a bright, marvellous visage, and with each stroke of the brush he sees the visage changing gradually into an unintended caricature, a satire on existence.

As we read the papal letter our hearts tell us that each word of it is true, although it is a truth in the scale of millennia, not of one brief moment in the history. We would like the 21st century already to bring the confirmation of its truth in the form of bright and pure works, giving evidence that the diseases affecting several generations have finally been overcome. And maybe then, all that seems impossible to us will prove possible.

Pope John Paul II - Letter to Artists

To all who are passionately dedicated to the search for new 'epiphanies' of beauty so that through their creative work as artists they may offer these as gifts to the world.