Richard Norman on Whether Atheists Can Appreciate Religious Art

The philosopher Richard Norman, author of the book On Humanism, has kindly allowed me to post a very interesting passage on the topic of whether non-religious people can appreciate religious art (this is the topic that has attracted most comments on my blog so far - taking off from my post of Nov.16th 2006 'Can Atheists and Agnostics Really Appreciate Religious Art?'. Norman's discussion overlaps in interesting ways with the discussion so far). Quoted below is the extract from a forthcoming article by Richard Norman in the journal Ratio. Norman is responding to the ideas of the theist philosopher John Haldane:

"Haldane does however pose a genuine problem for the atheist when he turns to the specific case of religious art, and I want to consider this in more detail. He argues that any serious work of art is ‘a presentation of the reality and values in which the work seeks to participate’, and that in evaluating the work ‘we are judging the credibility of what it proclaims’ (pp.171-2). It would seem to follow that if a work presents religious beliefs and values, the atheist is bound to reject those beliefs and values and is therefore committed to judging the work less highly. And this appears to exclude the atheist from fully appreciating and valuing religious works of art. One of Haldane’s examples is Piero della Francesca’s painting The Resurrection in Borgo San Sepolcro. The atheist might try to take refuge in praise of the formal qualities of the work, but as Haldane rightly says, its form and content are inseparable. The arrangement of the figures, with the sleeping soldiers in their poses of disarray ‘contrasting with the simple sweeping contour of Christ’, who divides the background landscape between the deadness of winter and the new life of spring - all of this serves to point up the content of the painting, and the painting seems to be inescapably religious (pp.168-9. I agree with Haldane that, like all Piero della Francesca’s work, it is one of the supreme achievements of art. But, as an atheist, can I consistently say this?

 

Haldane’s argument could be set out formally as follows.

 

(1) ‘A serious favourable appreciation of the aesthetic value of a work of art carries an implication of the acceptance of its content as constituting a consideration in favour of what is presented.’ (p.172)

 

(2) Atheists are precluded from accepting the content of a work of religious art as constituting a consideration in favour of what is presented.

 

(3) Therefore atheists are, to that extent, precluded from favourably appreciating the aesthetic value of religious art.

 

I accept premise (1). It is contentious, and I am not going to open up the matters for contention, but I agree that at least the finest works of art convey truths about our world and our experience, that they provide support for the truths which they convey, and that their doing so is an important part of their value. My quarrel is not with this, but with premise (2). The assumption here is that the truth presented by a religious work of art must itself be a religious truth. That is what I want to question. Of course Piero’s painting is a depiction of the resurrection, but it does not give us any reason for believing the claim that Jesus rose from the dead. How could it do so? (It’s not as though it were photographic evidence or anything of that sort.) The truths which it conveys are human truths, truths which help us in the understanding of our human condition. Like any great work of art, it conveys such truths by drawing on our own experience and helping us to see a significance in that experience. It says something about the ability of human beings to rise above suffering. And that is specifically a truth about human beings, because the features of the work which convey it are the recognisable human characteristics of the figure rising from the tomb. Typically of Piero, there is a deeply enigmatic quality in the figure, but also a profound stillness, a nobility and a serenity which speaks of suffering overcome through contemplation and understanding. The qualities apparent in the risen Jesus are similar to those of the figures in the right-hand side of Piero’s The Flagellation, another meditation on suffering and the human response to suffering.

 

The truths conveyed by The Resurrection are also to be found in the figures of the sleeping soldiers at the base of the tomb. Again the truths are conveyed in the significance of the poses and expressions of the human figures. They say something about the propensity of human beings to miss the miracles that are going on in the world around us - in this case, to be oblivious to the transformation and renewal of human life, and to the corresponding transformation and renewal of the natural world, as represented by the change from the bare trees on the left of the picture to the new growth on the right. In these ways, then, the content of the picture provides ‘considerations in favour of what is presented’, and these considerations are as accessible for the atheist as for the theist. The general point is that the truths conveyed by great religious works of art are human truths. And that is because religious iconography is powerful and compelling when it draws on shared human experience and works to enhance our understanding of that experience."

Richard Norman.

Comments

[Richard]

Thank you for pointing this out to me Nigel. One point that is worth mentioning is the number of religious artists who have wrestled with the question of whether their art would lead people into salvation or into further error; both Chaucer and Tolstoy spring to mind in this case. I doubt that any form of art is likely to be devoid of alternative meanings or ambiguities and that does certain present atheists with a means of appreciating religious art for purely naturalistic reasons (and which may lead to a fuller and more rounded appreciation than a believer would have).

Nonetheless, it seems to me that a difficulty remains with what ambiguities will seem to arise from some works; I mentioned the legions of the medieval Madonna before, but I might also cite George Herbert's poetry, which always struck me as being especially hostile to anyone who didn't share his religious views, even while one can appreciate his technical accomplishments. Easy to admire, impossible to like.

[Diane Widler Wenzel]

Picasso had a deep and meaningful appreciation of religious African masks and sculpture. He did not share their culture or didn't need an understanding of their religion to feel their religious sincerity. He paid them the ultimate heart felt compliment. He incorporated African Masks in his own work impacting the history of European art.

[Dan Mitchell]

There is at least one point of confusion in this piece on the question of whether one must share the spiritual viewpoint of the artist in order to "appreciate" the artist's work.

At various points I see reference to "appreciate" ("... whether athiests can appreciate religious art"), and "fully appreciating." An implied "appreciating the same way" is also present.

The first usage (seen in the title of the post) seems nonsensical to me, and perhaps out of sync with the rest of the material here. Who is to say whether another can (in a binary sense) appreciate something or not? If you say I don't appeciate something, and I believe I do, who is right? This argumentative path is probably not worth travelling, and it is probably only implied by a bit of imprecision in the title of the post.

And what does "fully appreciate" actually mean? Is there some measurable standard of appreciation that is full and appreciation that is less than full? If I believe that I fully appreciate something (not that I'd be so foolish ;-), what happens if someone else claims to appreciate it more?

Finally, isn't this really about appreciating differently? My background is primarily in music. Do I appreciate, say, vocal music less that someone who is a trained singer? What about someone who is more familiar with the text of a song than I? Or, having a background in music theory and composition, can I claim to appreciate a song more that someone who merely sings it?

[Ophelia Benson]

I had another look at the Piero painting after reading Richard Norman's post. It's quite an enthraller - in somewhat the same way as 'Las Meninas', and maybe, it suddenly occurs to me, partly for the same reason - Jesus fixes us with his cold straight gaze in just the way Velasquez does in Las Meninas. We feel seen: pinned: examined: weighed in the balance and found - we know not what.

I've always loved the sleeping soldiers - for just the reasons that Norman cites. One does so identify. Of course that would be me, slouched and snoring away while miracles happen all around. We're all the soldiers, crumpled, shapeless, all anyhow, of the earth earthy, while Jesus is almost rectangular in his uprightness and straight-aheadness and his chilly stare.

I can appreciate it (I think) despite being an atheist in the same way I can appreciate the presence of the ghost in Hamlet despite not being a ghostist. They work almost like thought experiments, such works; we have to (and we do, at least we can) think our way into them. It has to do with imagination. The Romantics would probably have thoght it was downright heresy to think imagination has no power to help atheists appreciate religious art.

[tim cawkwell]

I can better think in terms of specific works rather than philosophically (or theologically even) about this:
- we can appreciate Greek tragedy from a distance of 2500 years, but we cannot appreciate it like the Greeks did.
-maybe we appreciate Oedipus Tyrannos better than they did (thanks to Freud), but I doubt if we can appreciate Iphigeneia in Aulis (all that child sacrifice) as well as them.
-I can make a case for Hamlet being a play about the loss of the certainties of medieval Christianity (and ghosts) and their replacement not by the certainties of atheism but by doubt as a determinant of the human condition. But that is not the chief reason for Hamlet's fame as a play, and perhaps atheists would be indifferent to this dimension.
- As a believer (theist if you like) I may appreciate the tragic world view of Luis Bunuel, that godless film-maker, but I cannot quite get the hang of his ridicule of the world.
- ergo, there is a dimension to Piero's Resurrection (and to Bach's St Matthew Passion) that is particularly resonant only for believers in the Crucifixion and Resurrection, while acknowledging that atheists could respond deeply to them in certain ways.