Life Imitates Art

"Art imitates Life; Life imitates Art."



Reflecting on the bittersweetness of creation and art in our fallen world, I was reminded of these two pictures. To me, they illustrate an intriguing interplay between art and life whereby great art begets great creators.

Case in point: Italian children building a sand-castle draw forth from their imagination majestic spires and arches, mental outlines of columns reaching to the heavens, buttresses and pinnacles. When they create, the masterpieces embedded in their memories lend their poetic power to their clever hands. Walking down the streets of Florence, they see Beauty on display, celebrated, revered, perhaps sometimes worshipped. Yet, as Christians in America, I fear we've lost this sense of the aesthetic nature of existence and creation. I wonder if the recent trend to expose our young children to classical music and paintings by the masters is not that far off base.

As I've struggled to unleash that stubborn novel residing in self-imposed exile in the dank and crumbling castle of my brain, I have thought, "If only I expose myself to enough great literature, pershaps some of that greatness will teach my hands how to write, train my brain how to tease out stunning metaphors, give insight to my floundering imagination. Then, maybe then, something decent will be written from these humble fingers.

But, then again, there is this decimating paradox. Surrounded by greatness, I aspire to greatness; yet, I know full well that I will fall short. I don't even begin to try. And nothing gets written. Again.

I've resigned myself to the fact that I may never weave a storied tapestry this side of Heaven. I hold out hope that there will be a demand for storytellers in Paradise and that pershaps then, without sin to encumber--no laziness, no distractions, no pride--something of worth will be added to the community of the Blessed. Until then, I rejoice. After all, today has work enough of its own, and that work frequently is more than bittersweet.