ART: MAKOTO FUJIMURA

“Splendor for
Kayama.” Mineral pigment on paper. The Dillon
Gallery. Makoto Fujimura is a Japanese-American artist
and a follower of Christ, which, considering that
less than 3% of Japanese are Christians,
places him in an unusual category. Fujimura
studied traditional Japanese art at the Tokyo
National University of Fine Arts and Music and graduated with a B.A. from Bucknell University.
Most recently, Fujimura has been
commissioned to create the illuminated
manuscript for the 400th anniversary of the
King James Bible, which is his most historic
work and is in all likelihood how he will be remembered. Fujimura’s methods reflect his fascination with
the universality of grace, overcoming simplistic
cultural dichotomies, drawing from both sides of
the globe. Stewart Lundy: What aesthetic elements or
themes—if any—do you consider uniquely
Christian? Makoto Fujimura: I suppose only ones that have the experiential knowledge of God’s grace
in salvation can be thankful for that, and let
their art speak of that thankfulness. We see
works like “Amazing Grace” as an example of
such a uniquely Christian work. But, when we
speak of “uniquely Christian,” that assumes we know for sure who belongs in the Christian
category and who does not. Jesus’ parable on
the wheat and tares from Matthew 13 makes it
clear that we do not know for sure. Only God
knows our eternal destiny. So what is “uniquely
Christian” may not be something we have the discernment for. All human beings are created to be creative,
and yet we twist the good gifts of God and turn
them into idols, to worship ourselves. So the
question is, what art truly glorifies God. But
then even if there is to be such an art—pure art
that glorifies God—the uses of such an art may turn into idolatrous error, such as Moses’
bronze snake (a uniquely Christological art
indeed) being used in King Hezekiah’s time as
an object of idol worship. So this is a hard
question to answer. In some sense, though, I believe, because of
common grace, that all art is uniquely Christian,
in that we cannot have art apart from the
conviction of material reality and the reality of
communication. Art is at least spiritually neutral
to have the potential of being used, or misused (I also argue in my recent book Refractions that the main function of the arts is not to be “used”
at all, but that’s for another conversation). But
material reality has significance, and potency,
because of the Gospel of incarnation, the fact
that God became a man. God pours his Spirit in
all people: from our cave days to our fog of post-modern time, art is full of signifiers that
point to the reality of God. How and where are those uniquely Christian
elements poorly (or well) represented within
the Christian community? We have this “us” versus “them” mentality, and
create unnecessary divides—a “culture war”
mentality. Art is a gift, a gift that continues to
bless, and a gift we continue to twist into idols. All art (I mean that in an Aristotelian sense of
art as “our capacity to make”) can be enjoyed,
critiqued, and even “untwisted” for the glory of
God. I believe this is our universal calling,
whether Christian or not. What would you say to Christians who are
enamored of things ‘Eastern’? East/West distinction is also a categorization
that is very difficult to define. The Bible is an
“Eastern” book. The Bible is much more
culturally “Eastern” than “Western,” if by
“Western” we mean post-Enlightenment
rationalism. Certainly, the Old Testament Hebrew culture was far more eastern than what
we consider to be western. The Last Supper
makes more sense in a Japanese context (that
eating and drinking wine can bond a community
together) than American. Early theologians like
Augustine and Origen were influenced by African and Egyptian culture, which is more
East than West, and certainly medieval art and
theology has much to do with Eastern
influence, while “Western” theology grew out of
them. I know what you are asking pertains to
our fascination with Japanimation, Eastern New Age mysticism, etc., but I would be careful not
to fall into unhelpful distinctions. I think though there is spiritual danger in
paganism, and as Origen stated (and recently
quoted by Pope Benedict) paganism is defined
by “lacking feeling and reason, they are
transformed into stones and wood.” In other
words, paganism flattens our perception, makes all experience virtual, dumbing down our
senses. Paganism, as in the Matrix movies, is virtual, manageable, flat reality, whereas the red
pill takes you down into the harsh reality of pain
and suffering. Christianity opens our perception
and our understanding of reality.
Sensationalism of contemporary art to easy
sentiments of animations (excepting, of course, some recent noble efforts like Ratatouille or Up) give up too much of our humanity, and can be
dehumanized. It is the “stone and woods” of our
times. I can sympathize with seeking what art really
is, regardless of the particular “unique”
religious elements. You claim that art is a
gift, and you quote Lewis Hyde claiming that art is a gift only so long as it remains in
“motion.” These terms remind me of the Parable of the Talents. As you say, art is not
to be “used” or “misused”—is this because
it is not part of a market economy, but is
rather part of a gift economy? How is
artwork as a gift different from other forms
of gifts? You are right on here. Art as a gift captures
both her power and her limitations. Most of the
misuse can come from the market economy
side. Art is a gift that keeps generatively giving,
and in some ways is not complete until others
benefit from it. How can a particular work of art be
“untwisted” for the glory of God? What is an
example of “bad” art? Or is the term “bad”
art a bad way of phrasing it, since all art, if
actually art, is good art? Hezekiah’s snake is a good example (see II
Kings 18:4). By having the right understanding
of our trust of God, which Isaiah the prophet
proclaimed to Hezekiah, and only by
surrendering to trust God did Hezekiah begin to
see the proper perspective to untwist the misuse of Mose’s snake. Only when the King trusted God did he see the
need to reform worship and correct the misuse
of the object which Moses created to heal
people under God’s guidance. Proper worship
is central to our understanding of reality, the
arts, and it affects everyone, Christians and non-Christians. Culture is affected by how we
worship God (Bill Dyrness makes this point in
many of his books). Thomas Merton says that Zen is “an
ontological awareness of pure being.” He
claims that there is a Zen “core” to all
religions. You seem to be in a unique
position to speak of this. You said before
that “Christianity opens our perception and our understanding of reality.” How does this
opening of perception differ from other
approaches such as Zen? Yes, a wonderful quote. Thomas Merton was
singularly able to assimilate Zen thinking into
the gospel, and not lose anything in the process
—a very rare synthesis. While he is correct in
noting that Zen is “an ontological awareness of
pure being,” the object of faith is clearly needed for the direction of that awareness to grow
towards. We are blind unless the Spirit opens
our hearts. The Spirit also gives discernment,
which is key to me. Zen does not assume the
depravity of our hearts as a reality, but
considers all suffering and depravity as a temporal illusion. Christianity is after the
narrow gate of focus to see reality as it truly is. [page] (CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1) The example you give of Hezekiah’s snake
reminds me of a possible distinction
between an icon and an idol. Does art serve
as an icon? Is “good” art purely a matter of
interpretation—such as Hezekiah’s snake,
which only became bad when it was misinterpreted? While the serpent was seen
as a manifestation of God’s power and not
worshiped as God, it was good. Is art
“untwisted” or is it oneself that is
“untwisted”? Yes, that’s a wonderful way to look at the
potential of art. Although Icon writing is specific
for the purpose of worship, there’s much
overlap. Take for instance the work of Kazimir
Malevich, considered the father of modern
abstraction. He was painting abstract, white images partly because creating Icons was
forbidden in the Stalin/Lenin era in Russia. In
this case, he positioned abstraction as a way to
convey transcendence when Christianity was
banned. Contemporary artist Damien Hirst consciously, I
think, has this icon/idol relationship in all of his
works. He is a very smart artist who sees art
serving an iconic function in society, and he is
able to manipulate both his art and the
marketplace to toy with this powerful role that art plays (and make lots of money in the
process!). What needs to be “untwisted” is both how the
work is perceived, and the context in which the
work functions to signify its meaning. A
buddhistic statue is somewhat neutralized in a
gallery setting, rather than used as an object of
worship, for instance. Andy Warhol’s images would blend in within kitschy, 10-cent stores,
but is revered in a museum. (Rightly so, as that
is exactly how he intended them to be read). You speak of “proper worship”—how is the
propriety of our worship determined? And,
to apply it to art, how is the revelation of
something holy evaluated in art? By “proper worship,” I mean a distinctively
Christological way of looking at God, the world
and ourselves that is driven by understanding
and experiencing God’s grace. I am not merely
speaking of liturgical elements, denominations,
or traditions. If you follow Tim Keller’s reasoning in Prodigal God, you see that Christ saw the world in grace-filled and extravagantly
compassionate ways. So that means that the enemy of expression is
not just waywardness of culture but also
legalism of culture, and this often starts at the
church. For Christ, we are (and the universe as
it pertains to us) the object of affection, his
masterpieces. So we need to bring people in to see that we are far more beautiful and
transcendent to God as the best of the arts do
are to us. But the arts train us, make our hearts
and mind more aware, of things excellent and
beautiful. Are there any extrabiblical “eastern” works
which seem to show a particular affinity
towards Christianity? Conversely, are there
any that are particularly anti-Christian?
Asking what is anti-Christian, of course,
asks what you consider to be essentially Christian. What makes Christianity stand out
to you as the Way? Do you think others of
other religions are saved? Yes, my whole journey has been discovering,
discerning these matters. Tohaku Hasegawa’s
masterpiece Shorinzu Byobu is a great example of that particular affinity. Any art that
dehumanizes, and celebrates waywardness—
like some of Jeff Koons’ works—can be
considered “anti-Christian,” but again, we need
to be aware that grace has the power to
overrule any of our judgments. Jesus is the Way, and He is the “Way, Truth
and the Life.” It’s not religion that saves us (any
religion) but Jesus. Your methods employ “Western” and
“Eastern” elements. You seem to want to
avoid uncareful distinctions, but I was
wondering about your thoughts regarding
Christianity and the resistance to it in Japan.
I have been wondering if there is an essential conflict between Japanese culture
and Christianity since reading Shusako
Endo’s book about the persecution of
Japanese Christians, Silence. If there is, how is Japanese culture peculiarly
“twisted”? Actually, Endo’s work twists the reality of
Japanese culture, which has a greater affinity to
Christian truths than any other cultures I know.
He was extremely cynical—being in a country
of marginalization and persecution can do that
to you. The resistance is there precisely because the core of culture is manifested to
align itself to Biblical notions of grace and
beauty. Does Christianity—the rigidity of the cross,
the disrespectful manner of death, the
cowardice of Peter—present a peculiar
problem to Japanese art? Does fluidity, in
contrast to rigidity, present a special
problem? Does the starkness of two intersecting lines present an aesthetic
difficulty? Interesting question. I think the Cross offends
all, not just the Japanese, but I see what you
mean, and it has been said that Japanese do
not respond well to confrontational,
disrespectful presentation. But deep beneath,
they are just as interested in sensationalism, blood, and disregard of conventionality as any
other culture. The aesthetic potential is
enormous, though, as the whole language of
culture is layered and nuanced; such a view
can help tremendously to unlock the beauty of
the gospel to the rest of the world. You say that Japanese culture has a “greater
affinity to Christian truths than any other
cultures” you know of. Could you
elaborate? Would you say that Japanese
culture shows more affinity than Western
culture, which at least considers itself to be the most Christian? What about Shinto and
ancestor worship—are these idols just more
obvious than idols in western civilization? Christianity, and the culture in which Jesus was
birthed, is more Eastern than Western—
especially of the rationalism, individualism sort.
And we have many hidden idols more powerful
and dangerous—power, fame, etc.—than many
of the idols of the East. Certainly, Jesus is the only true avenue to God, but the way cultures
understand that principle may vary. If you look
at my essay “A beer toast at Sato Museum” in Refractions, I elaborate more. While “proper worship” is not legalism or
any particular form of liturgy or
denomination, what place does orthodoxy
play in salvation—or art? What do you
consider to be orthodox? What do you
consider to be heretical? Orthodoxy, to me, is Jesus and him alone. But
we need to not only invite Jesus into our hearts
as a Savior, but continue to invite Jesus into
our lives as the creator and sustainer of the
universe. Every heresy comes in a form of
legalism, though sometimes it is disguised as “free for all” tolerance, and grace as
universalism. What is the “beauty of the gospel”? How can
a work of art especially convey this? The beauty of the gospel is in the foundational
reality of God’s created universe, and there are
deep mysteries there for the arts to probe. It’s
not something you can grasp, but only
intuitively recognize and point to. I would not
say, though, that grace is non-rational. Rather, I believe Jacques Maritain was right in noting
that the intuitive core is at the heart of all
knowledge. Grace is knowable, but in a most
profound supra-rational way. I think an effort to
define beauty will ultimately fail, but we can
speak of beauty, and point to the source of beauty. This article also appeared on: Drunken Koudou