LIFE'S LIKE THAT?
Dear Network
This is the true story that the world's
best kleinhuisie magazine rejected when I submitted it many years ago for their
'Life's Like That’ feature:
When my daughter Eva was four years old, we
spent the school holidays with friends in Cape Town. She was very intrigued
with the fact that Cape schools had not yet closed, whereas Transvaal schools
had. After thinking about it for a day or two, she said:
“Mommy, we don’t have
school, and they do…”
“Yes,” I said.
“And some places have night
when we have day…”
“Yes,” I said.
“And some places have summer
when we have winter, hey, Mom?”
“Yes,” I said.
“But we’re right, aren’t
we?” she concluded.
I still think it's very
funny, poignant and true. It illustrates our inclination for intolerance, our
incapacity for allowing what Rick Andrews calls a wider truth, some
greater whole (second M2M, p.18 )
…which reminds me of something I read
today:
Pollaiuolo (1431-1498) was one of the first serious students of human anatomy.
In 1465 he drew figures that seem somewhat stiff and frozen, even though he
portrayed them in violent action. He showed all the muscle groups
at maximum tension. http://www.clevelandart.org/exhibcef/battle/html/2403706.html (the link takes you to an image) Decades later Leonardo da Vinci observed
the wider truth: only the muscle groups actually involved in any action are
tense, while others relax and let go.
There must be a parable here… about the
stiff and frozen church? To refer to Rick Andrews’ talk again: locked in the
doctrinal Puritanism of the churches, Christian artists need to be released
for the fight, to be able to get their hinds dirty and make a difference.
When I read the above to Izak, he felt I
needed to explain what I mean about Christian artists getting their hands dirty.
'Should Christian artists now be free to paint porn?' he asked. No, that is not
it. I can best illustrate what I mean by relating what happened to me.
I painted a picture of a beautiful forest
glade. In the middle was a lovely young woman in a full-length, elaborate gown,
facing a tall, naked, handsome young man. They were holding hands and gazing at
each other in complete adoration. Huddled here and there, in foetal positions
with their backs to the couple, were rather ugly nude women.
A church elder happened to see the
painting. Soon afterwards I was called in by my pastor (oh, dreaded
headmaster's office!) and reprimanded. He had not seen the painting, but
assured me that it was offensive (downright sinful!) to have a clothed woman
and a naked man in a painting, and I did not make another for many years.
As I was trying to think of what I meant
when I said that the 'Doctrinal Puritans' should relax and let artists go, I
wondered what would have happened if the elder and pastor had relaxed and just looked
at my painting, without fear and prejudice. For the first time ever, I
then relaxed and really looked at it (at my memory of it. It does not
physically exist any more). And an interpretation occurred to me:
Christ so loved the church that he gave
himself for her. He became naked and vulnerable so that she could be clothed,
so that He could present her to Himself without spot or wrinkle. The sad, ugly,
nude women are those who have still to accept the bridegroom’s gift and become
part of the Bride by re-birth (hence their foetal positions).
I still carry around residual hurt and
anger and a sense of worthlessness as an artist, which I cannot seem to
eradicate (I have probably got some serious forgiving to do before I can be set
free). I have been listening to the words of healing and freedom spoken through
Craig Bartholomew and others, but I am still grieving for my unpainted
paintings, for the years the locusts have eaten - and feeling guilty about
being so self-important!
Yet - I am listening, and I sense the
prison doors opening. Thank God for the Network!
Erna Buber-deVilliers
Many to Many Issue 3 February 1993