Macaroni Art Nation

“The world is a hellish place, and bad writing is destroying the quality of our suffering.” -Tom Waits

The first Mother’s Day that I was Granny, my grandson, Joe, no doubt with minimal help from his parents, made me a macaroni necklace. I wore it happily until it began to wilt, then wrapped it around my holy water font to be admired each day. When one of the pieces on it cracked, we wrapped it and put it in the cedar chest for safekeeping. While I cannot admire it daily anymore, I am content that this first work of art from one of my favorite people is secure.

When I was in 6th grade, my father was teaching Introduction to Algebra at the high school across the street from the school I attended. Because of the relative starting times, I spent first period in his classroom before crossing the street to begin my school day. One day that fall he showed Donald Duck in Mathemagic Land. I was in awe of this small, thoughtful movie that discussed music, mathematics, the golden mean, architecture, nature, and how God wrote the universe. I asked if I could stay to watch it again, and ended up only going over to my school around lunch break. I was learning relatively little that year anyway, alternating between being bullied and ignored. But spending those four hours with Donald, Pythagoras, and the gang turned me into an evaluator and elevated the art I tried to create.

For those who haven’t seen it, Donald Duck is guided by a spirit though a series of experiences about how math relates to the world. He plays chess, looks at classical works of sculpture and architecture. He observes sea creatures, flowers, and plants to see the golden mean in nature. The film is brilliantly constructed; tightly written; and visually beautiful. I followed up on the movie by reading about music history, architecture, and visual art. Michelangelo and Bach became favorites.  

I had been a musician for several years at that point, playing violin, French horn, and later bassoon. I started writing short fiction and poetry in 3rd grade, all of which is lost to history, praise God. A friend sometimes says that purgatory will consist of reading our high school poetry aloud to Shakespeare and Gerard Manly Hopkins.

What I sought after seeing Mathemagic Land was the ability to discern what was excellent versus what was merely a diversion. It’s fine to have diversions. It is not fine to confuse them with edifying content. What made Shakespeare different than Burn Notice? So many things.

Once a person understands what quality is in a particular medium or genre, life becomes so much more aesthetically interesting. I can enjoy an occasional television show in the same way I can enjoy doggerel. As long as they don’t contain anything profane, an evening’s diversion is fine. It is not fine to pretend that Taylor Swift and Elton John are singers in the same way that Renée Fleming and Jonas Kaufmann are. The beauty of excellence is profound.

The distinction between my admiration of Joe’s macaroni necklace and my reaction to modern art is clear. Artistic expression must be encouraged in the young. We adore what they create because it comes from them. As they grow, we must evaluate what they create so they can understand its quality in relationship to the standards of the medium they are working in. Can someone taping a banana to a wall actually believe they are practicing the same craft as Rembrandt?

We live in a frivolous age. Our art is not serious, in general.  While there remain pockets of excellence, what is created in the quasi-intellectual, well-funded centers is macaroni art for grown-ups. It is not vigorous in its use of artistic tools. It is not serious in its treatment of artistic themes. I would say that it is a cynical cash grab, but I’m not certain that it is even sophisticated enough to be cynical. Those of us with eyes to see and training in this area must begin to teach the young that “art” is not a meaningless word. It has been thrown around – along with “genius” and “awesome” and “love” – until people really don’t understand that these words have actual meaning. Unless one understands those terms and the Divine Mind that underpins them, one cannot really create.

So often adults react to children’s artistic expressions with “that’s nice” and put them on the fridge. But what children want is a full reaction. When my youngest, Herb, would bring me short stories, I read them and talked to him about structure, word selection, length, and everything in the extensive rubric in my head that evaluates writing. I take only partial credit for the amazing writer he has become because of this. Partial credit because no amount of such feedback would have improved my stick figures into art.

Those calling for more arts education in schools somewhat miss the point. Yes, it is important to know the history and standards of the artistic disciplines. But to be educated in the arts requires sustained and individualized feedback and progressive intensity. This can potentially be achieved in the classrooms as we currently conceive them in the USA, but not well. At least I have not seen it done well outside tiny groups of musicians and high school writing workshops. It is best done in homeschooling and guilds that provide an expert working with few students at a time. Individualization is key, since even highly-skilled artists in a field will require time and attention to their feedback.

Few of us like being told that what we have done requires improvement. Yet, that is the life of an artist. If we are not  improving we are regressing. In that way the artistic life mirrors the spiritual life. We are either moving toward God or away from Him. There is no stasis. Initially when Tom edited my dissertation it would irritate me. I didn’t want to hear the fussy little changes he wanted. I didn’t want to word-smith. I didn’t want to discuss comma placement or subordinate clauses. Most especially I did not want to discuss my freewheeling use of second person. I just wanted to analyze data and draw conclusions. That was more fun. But at the end of the day I know that the wordsmithing makes all the difference in the final product. Do I want excellence or ease?  

Well, to be fair, sometimes I want ease. Sometimes I want to sing Aretha rather than Rachmaninov’s Vespers. Sometimes I want to write doggerel and not compare my work to Hopkins. But in general, I remain sane and want to offer only the work to God that is worthy of the day He has given me. Rushing through my chores and prayers will not do. Painting macaroni and pasting it to construction paper won’t either in adulthood. A Catholic artist’s life is by nature a spiritual endeavor. Like the Benedictines who see each small act of their work as prayer, we unite our writing, music, painting, and the rest to Him who gives all things meaning.

Joseph Raphael and Ariana Rose Thérèse are 3, Thérèse Marie is 2, and Victor Michael, Hope Agnes Marie, and Walter Wyatt are all babies. I will love all the macaroni art they can make for Granny. One day soon, though, they will want more than effusive praise, and I pray I am still here to provide it.