By Mark W. Fowler, J.D., M.D

St. Paul said: “Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about those things” (Philippians 4:8, New International Version).

Paul may well have been thinking of art when he gave that admonition to the Philippians. Art is meant to inspire us, to lift us out of our day-to-day existence, and to reflect on themes of great meaning or great beauty. It requires that we step out of ourselves and look beyond our limited horizon. There are great questions in our lives to be addressed. Why are we here? What is great and graceful and beautiful?

Art makes us confront those questions.

Lamentably, the present state of art — particularly painting, but also sculpture, movies, television, and music — takes us no further than our basest instincts. Music, especially rock and roll in its most extreme forms — hip-hop, heavy metal, and pop — has become banal. It’s suffused with images of scantily clad women gyrating so suggestively and so prevalently that it fails to titillate anymore. We are satiated with it. Music is far removed from its early days when doo-wop and rockabilly arrived. The beat and sound rhythm alone were refreshing. Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly — who are tame now in comparison — managed to stir the blood of teenagers and the ire of parents back in the day. Their lyrics and performances were more suggestive than explicit. Doo-wop, with its harmonies performed a cappella, required thought and effort to execute. Notwithstanding its melancholy lyrics, “I Wonder Why,” by Dion and the Belmonts, engaged us with rhythm and vocalization. It was fun. It was primal. It made us dance. It lightened the burden of existence. If you look at video of the performance, you will see a happy crowd, smiling and clapping to the beat. The performers as well as the audience were enjoying themselves.

The era of modern art as manifested in the painting of Jackson Pollock, Picasso, and others has done for painting what grunge rock has done for music. Even allowing for taste, most modern paintings are uninspiring, unimaginative, and crass. They tend to be random splashes of color and shapes of which we say or at least privately think “A third grader could do that” with disappointing accuracy. It is said that the murder and dismemberment of the “Black Dahlia,” a minor Hollywood actress, was inspired by avant-garde artist Man Ray. So much for the leavening of avant-garde art.

One of the benefits of the Internet is the ability to see things not otherwise available. The reader is encouraged to view three paintings. One is from the Baroque period, one from the Renaissance period, and one from the Modern period.

The first painting is “Quince, Cabbage, Melon and Cucumber” by Juan Sanchez de Cotan, which is on display at the San Diego Museum of Art. It is a simple yet breathtaking painting of the four named items. The quince and cabbage are suspended on strings, consistent with the period practice to reduce spoilage. The melon and cucumber are placed on a table, each positioned somewhat closer to the view than the last. This piece seldom fails to catch the attention of viewers at the museum because of its evocative beauty. The detail is exquisite down to the seeds of the melon and knife marks where it was sliced open. It is simple, elegant, noble, and lovely. As Theodore Dalrymple pointed out, the beauty of this picture suggests that the artist most certainly believed in God. Sanchez de Cotan did believe in God, and his picture reflects his wonderment at the glory of creation. The colors, the detail, the interplay of light, space, and position invite the reader to appreciate these common things in a new light — as part of the intrinsic beauty of creation. It is clear that he loved his work and sought to use his gifts to glorify God. At the end of his life, de Cotan stopped painting and became a Carthusian monk. He left behind a moving legacy of exquisite painting.

The second painting is “The Woman caught in Adultery” by Lorenzo Lotto. This painting hangs in the Louvre. This is a Renaissance-era piece inspired by the biblical story. The artist in this painting covers the story in detail. There is an oval of light that encompasses Christ and the woman. Their interaction is central to the story. The Pharisees just happened to be a handy vehicle. She can be seen bowing her head, a tear falling from one eye. She is ashamed, repentant. Christ is calm, serenely regarding the woman in her sorrow while confronting the zealous hyper-religiosity of the men who condemn her. His response vindicates the woman and puts the condemning men in their place.

But there is more in the picture.

Some men can be seen to posture as though they were counting her sins. Others gaze upon her as though viewing goods at the market, overlooking her humanity. Some have a prurient look. Others are angry. The face of the soldier who prods her back with a club is obscured by the woman’s head, reminding us that mob violence is facilitated by the anonymity of crowds. The picture completely captures the lesson. God entreats us to abandon our sin, to be reconciled to Him and each other. Christ desires the salvation of the foulest sinner and rejects misguided religious zealotry. The look on Christ’s face is one of serenity as if to say to the Pharisees, “You have it wrong. I came not to judge but to save.” But the painting also judges the men for their mistreatment of this woman. Christ’s look is the look of one who speaks with authority. Like de Cotan, Lotto also joined a religious order at the end of his life.

The last painting is by Agnes Martin, named “Islands I-XII.” It was displayed, when I saw it, at the Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art. Recognizing that the appreciation of all art is subjective, there are objective criteria by which art can be judged. The sidewalk caricaturist’s work seldom winds up in a gallery of any prominence, nor do the scribblings of a third grader.

The work consists of 12 large white panels, placed in sequence so that the work may be viewed “as a whole.” The panels occupy a large room by themselves. When I viewed the work, a plaque suggested subtle variations in each piece created by graphite lines or blue tints that were difficult to see.

And that is it.

Reviews of the work by one writer who asked, “What do you do if you don’t want to be limited to words, images, communication anymore?” suggested “obfuscation on a grand existential scale.” And that is a perfect description. If one is not limited by words, images, or communication, one is stuck in nothingness, contemplating one’s own navel. I could not help but feel as though this were an inside joke played on the public by artists who secretly watch on closed-circuit TV visitors befuddled by the meaning of 12 large white panels with virtually nothing on them. Martin is described as a minimalist but considered herself an abstract expressionist. Much of her work is similar — faint paintings with subtle geometric designs. They neither illuminate nor inspire, at least not to anyone who thinks about the work.

She received awards and has been displayed in many museums. No doubt indicative of the fact that she appeals to someone, or that someone wishes to be seen as profound by viewing the work. But, alas, the emperor has no clothes. Consider two points: First, a picture that suggests “obfuscation on a grand scale” devoid of images and communication is simply bland paint with some scribbling. Perhaps above the level of a third grader, but nowhere near the talent and discipline required from Lotto or de Cotan. Ms. Martin flirted with Zen Buddhism, and perhaps these works suggest a higher level of consciousness. Second, if art is supposed to communicate, and you have abandoned images and communication, you are left with a funhouse mirror — an image that means whatever the viewer wants it to mean.

And this is the problem with modern art. It lacks discipline and substance. Objectively considered, it is often nothing more than mindless scribbling. Without meaningful form, structure, or coherence, much of modern art and sculpture is the fevered imagining of someone with attention deficit disorder. Popular music has drifted off in the same direction. A three-minute song will seldom consist of more than an erotic beat and a jumble of meaningless words. Lately it is accompanied by vulgar displays of partially clad women thrashing around.

Reexamine the first two pictures. Examine each of the men’s faces in the Lotto work. Each has a different message. See the raw emotion of the woman, the bowed head, the tear, the look of repentance. Look at Christ’s face. He is neither angry nor flustered. He is unafraid of the challenge presented by the Pharisees. You can see He is the ultimate authority on the morality of this question. As simple as the de Cotan piece is, there is nevertheless a breathtaking quality to the detail and the interplay of light and darkness. Consider the judgment and effort it takes to have the fruit arc in two directions — one toward the viewer and the other from high to low. A technique that catches the eye. The attention to detail in the leaves of the cabbage and the cut marks on the melon were essential to portraying them realistically. This level of detail requires discipline.

There was a time when art, language, sculpture, and music were celebrated as the highest forms of human endeavor. These forms, financed often by the Church, or written to expound on the human condition, such as can be seen in Shakespeare, were informative and inspirational. The influence of Christianity and a desire to inquire about right living in the pre-Christian era have been replaced by Philistinism. We are left with a narcissistic form of art appealing to our basest instincts, reveling in squalor and the banal. Having lost sight of and the desire for an appreciation of those things that are true, noble, admirable, and excellent, we wallow in the muddy detritus of what passes for modern art, whether it be television or sculpture. One longs for the day when excellence will again be venerated.