ON RELIGIOUS ART
IVAN MEŠTROVIĆ
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Journal of Croatian Studies, XXIV,
1983, – Annual Review of the Croatian Academy of America, Inc. New York, N.Y.,
Electronic edition by Studia Croatica, by permission. All rights
reserved by the Croatian Academy of America.
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On April 11, 1954 Ivan
Meštrović was awarded the "Christian Culture Award" given
annually by the Assumption College, Windsor, Ontario, Canada. This is his
address of acceptance.[1]
When Rev. Father Murphy wrote me a
short time ago informing me that the Christian Culture Award Committee had
decided to bestow upon me the 1954 Christian Culture Award and asked if I would
accept, I replied that I would consider it a great honor which I would accept
with great satisfaction. At the same time I asked Father Murphy for a little
favor: while I was glad to be personally present for the Award ceremonies, I
wanted him to have someone read for me these few words of acceptance. He
graciously consented but must have wondered, as I am sure many of you present
are wondering, why I chose not to read my own address. The reason is this: my
medium of expression is the plastic form; and I discover that even in my native
tongue the spoken word has not been the most effective way of expressing what I
think and feel. Besides my English is still far too clumsy for such a solemn
occasion as this.
Since this Award has been granted
to me principally for my religious works, may I be allowed to confine my
remarks to this field. Even in my first creative days I was aware of the fact
that sculpture is a way of expressing one's feelings or the feelings of the
national and ideological group to which the artist belongs. However, I must
admit that in my youthful day passion for creating, I had no time nor desire to
subject these feelings to a closer scrutiny and analysis. I selected for my
works the themes from life as I saw it or as I imagined it to be. But I soon
came to the realization that a wide gap existed between my views and the views
of the ideological group to which I thought I belonged.
Moreover, I noted a wide
divergence of views among those supposed companions of mine. This prompted in
me another thought. Was it possible to accomplish anything significant and
lasting in the field of creative art if one's feelings and basic convictions
are chaotic, if they are not anchored in some unifying idea that transcends
time and outlives both us and our epoch? I may say here parenthetically that
many modern artists seem to fail to realize that the expression of one's own
subject and ephemeral feelings without some deeper philosophy of life cannot
result in anything enduring. Their works seem to be the products of a state of
mind that can be described as follows: "I want to create something different
myself but am uncertain as to what self is ... "
Going back to my story, I
discovered very early in my development that I could not subscribe to the
slogan "L'art pour rare' (Art for Art's Sake), the view which was then almost
universally held, that art should serve beauty and aesthetic pleasure only. I
asked myself: What constitutes beauty? Is every aspect of life beautiful? Is
everything beautiful that has been created in visual art and poetry? For
instance, is everything beautiful in Dante's Inferno or Michelangelo's Last
Judgment? Obviously not, if by beauty we mean that which is pleasing to the eye
and delightful to the mind. What then is beauty? Is it not the same as
goodness, as the Greeks thought? Or, should not the order be reversed so that
the good embraces the beautiful, i.e. that the beautiful is only that which is
good, or more precisely, that which aims at the greatest common good?
The artistically effective then is
not the same as the beautiful. Besides the forms and lines which give joy and
delight to the eye and the mind, there are those which are not pleasing. The
latter are needed to make the former stand out. Discords are there to throw
harmony into focus.
Such questions have tormented my
mind, as they probably have many of my contemporaries in the beginning of our
century. In vain did I search for answers to these problems in the books of
professional aestheticians and philosophers. Despite their best intentions, I
could clearly see that they themselves had no solutions.
Meanwhile some momentuous events
were taking place in the world and I took an active part in them. Before and
during the first World War, I had thrown in my lot with one side of the
conflict, in the conviction that it fought for human ideals, a more humane
social order, equality, justice, and freedom for all men and all nations. But
my experience during that war led me to the realization that this was not the
case even for the side with which I was associated. For there was cruelty and false
propaganda on both sides. I realized that evil cannot be combated with another
evil, and that harmony cannot be established by sowing discord and preaching
hatred. War, no matter who wages it, is a common evil which reduces man to the
status of half-animal and destroys all human values, both material and
spiritual.
Perplexed and confused, I retired
to a small neutral country to try to find, at least, a solution to my personal
spiritual problem.
With me I took the book which in
my childhood I had read without a great deal of understanding; only the memory
of its poetic beauty had still lingered in my mind. But now I understood it: I
knew then that this book contained not only unmatched beauty but also the
profoundest wisdom. The book was the New Testament.
Inspired by the great drama of the
Son of God becoming flesh, I started to work on the themes taken from the life
of Jesus of Nazareth. It was then that I carved in wood the scene of
Crucifixion. Many people did not like it because it was not-aesthetically
pleasing. They found the Crucified Christ too emaciated and disfigured. But the
Crucifixion scene was not meant to represent the historical Jesus nor His
supreme sacrifice. It was intended to depict the crucifixion of His idea, the
perversion and disfiguration of the teachings for which He came into this world
and for which He died on the Cross.
There are more and more people
today who have come to the conviction that one of the main causes of the tragic
events of the recent past as well as those which loom on the horizon, is the
fact that modern man has all but forgotten the great teachings of the Sermon on
the Mount. The blame for this rests not only on our contemporary despotism,
but, unfortunately, on a long list of talented men of science and art who have
not foreseen the corroding complications and destructive consequences of their
doctrines. This atmosphere of unbelief, this tragic state of man cut off from
the very axis which holds and moves everything, has had repercussions on all
domains of human activity, including that of art, which in the most significant
periods of civilization worked hand in hand with religion — an ennobling and
spiritualizing factor in human life.
Christian civilization, in our
days, finds itself locked in a mortal struggle with the forces of secularism in
varying forms and degrees. Many people fail to realize that Christianity, by
waging the fight for its principles, defends also the foundation of the
democratic way of life; for the concept of the dignity of each man and the
equality of all men stands and falls with the Christian view that man is
created in the image of God. Thus the Church is in the front lines of the
battle against the onslaughts on human freedom.
A moment ago, I mentioned my wood
carving of the scene of the Crucifixion. The piece of wood on which I carved
the Crucifixion has an interesting story which I would like to share with you.
I was in Geneva, Switzerland, when I was seized by the desire to carve the
Crucifixion. Every available oak had been bought by the factory which
manufactured rifle buts, presumably for both warring sides. I had a hard time
to acquire from the factory a few boards for relief. I was unable to get the
whole piece of the trunk because they had all been sawed up. Finally, I discovered
one trunk that had not been sawed off: It was withered and had stood with its
roots in the soil and was not considered good for rifles because it was assumed
that the wood was probably decayed. When I started to work on it, I discovered
that it was solid and whole. The lumberman told me that it had been imported. I
was surprised to learn that it had come from Croatia, my native country.
That same piece of wood was later
returned to Croatia, transformed into the Crucifixion scene. Today it stands there,
in a small Chapel, in the country where the Catholic Church is being crucified
daily. The head of that suffering Church is Cardinal Stepinac, my compatriot,
my dear friend, of whom I and all Croats are proud. I am sure that our feelings
are shared not only by all the Catholics throughout the world but also by all
men of goodwill everywhere who cherish freedom of spirit.
In vain do the Godless and
restless men, who are today making weapons in the hope of enslaving the world,
think that the trunk of the Christian tree is withered. It will outlive and
outlast the forces of evil in my native land and throughout the whole world. He
who has conquered death will conquer the destruction of His teaching.
I have now finished saying all
that I wished to say. If nothing else, I have probably proven the statement
made at the beginning: that words are not my best medium of expression. It
remains only to express my deep gratitude for the high honour you have bestowed
on me. It has been a great privilege to be here with so many distinguished
people and high Church dignitaries, with whom I share the same ideals. Thank
you once more for thinking so highly of my modest artistic efforts as to
consider them a contribution to Christian Culture, which I would define with St.
Paul as consisting of three things: Faith, Love, and Hope. Faith in God, love
of our fellowmen, and the hope in the final victory of good over evil.
[1] Published
in Croatia Press, vol. 8, no. 137, May 1954, p. 3-7 under the title
"Message of Ivan Meštrović, Christian Culture Winner 1954."