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Artist Statement

Jesus Trees
or The Gospel According to Landscape

My artwork seeks to express the basic Gospel message of Christianity in an accessible, non-traditional way. Subject matter such as mine can be approached in many different ways, including preaching and teaching. My intentions, however, are more subtle and open-ended. I want to inspire personal reflection-to invite thought and discussion in a comfortable environment, stimulating the visual sense as a gateway to the spiritual sense. To do this I try to establish a unique relationship between the viewer and the artwork-I engage them initially on a visual level by establishing an intimate visual encounter with a painting that draws the viewer into the space of the painting. This then serves as a starting point for intellectual, emotional, or spiritual responses that might happen on a personal level as the viewer thinks about the title (often based on a passage of scripture) in relation to the painted forms they see. This deeper personal engagement can continue in the viewer's mind long after having looked at the artwork. In doing this I hope to bring the Gospel message-that Jesus died in our place to bring forgiveness and reconciliation with a loving God-to a new place of understanding by means of a meaningful, engaging, visual experience.

It is important to me that these responses emanate from the viewer's visual engagement with my artwork. Though one might see desire of the artist to persuade the viewer in my art making, unlike propaganda or even a tract, the message is not so overt as to overpower the visual image. In that sense the experience is visual before being textual; the artwork establishes a strong image and a spiritual sense before directing attention to the explicit message of Jesus. The watercolor medium, the landscape genre, and the pictorial language of my painting style are all ways that I draw the viewer in visually to give a voice to the message of Jesus.

Watercolor as a medium has often been regarded as the medium of a hobbyist, a medium for making studies and sketches, even a medium for book illustration-all traditionally accessible and approachable uses. At the same time, watercolor requires a trained, skilled hand and lots of planning and patience to keep the paint from turning into a soggy, brown mess. The genre of watercolor has a less "heavy" or serious nature than oil painting. This allows for a more intimate engagement with the viewer, who can easily approach a watercolor, and not feel overwhelmed by a huge canvas, ornate frame or altarpiece. The physicality of the medium also contributes to the artwork's approachability-the paint itself is not thick or opaque; instead, the luminosity and texture of the paper underneath the transparent paint attract the eye.

My decision to deal with Christian subject matter in the genre of landscape, rather than with traditional figurative paintings, creates a metaphorical visual language in order to speak to a larger, more diverse audience. The presence of the figure in spiritual art is powerful-sometimes too powerful. It can read allegorically, symbolically, or be understood to represent a scriptural character, thus forcing the spiritual meaning into the context of biblical narratives. While such works can inspire and make sense to believers, they can also distance if not alienate people who don't believe or are unfamiliar with the Bible. I've chosen to avoid the use of the figure and direct depiction of religious images, and to work exclusively in landscape, using it as a metaphor to depict spiritual concepts.

Viewers are familiar with the landscape-they are familiar with the genre, and most likely regularly see some form of nature as they go about their daily routine. My choice to provide the viewer with something so familiar and accessible can help communicate spiritual themes in a fresh way. Most viewers have seen image after image of robed biblical figures in traditional paintings, and they may not as readily relate to something that they have little chance to encounter in life. But viewers might walk outside and see forms in the trees or the sky that echo visual motifs in my paintings, such as the glowing clouds in Invitation or the twisting and sometimes cross-shaped branches in the triptych piece or in Redemption in Sight. And as they consciously or unconsciously remember the forms they saw in my paintings tied to the message of bent and trapped humanity and salvation through Jesus, they receive the opportunity to reflect on the message in a new way.

My painting style tends to personify the landscape. All the elements of the picture feel whimsical, alive, and full of movement. Old Testament prophets and poets wrote of such animation in creation. In proclaiming their coming salvation, Isaiah declared to the Jews, "You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." (Isaiah 55:12) The book of Psalms holds many songs reflecting on creation's voice of worship. Jesus himself, when rebuked for allowing people to proclaim him as Messiah, replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." (Luke 19:40). These ideas emerged in my paintings as I began to enjoy my work more and loosen my style, resulting in landscapes with "dancing" trees and resounding sunbeams that work together to evoke a sense of spirituality. In creating this spiritual quality with visual harmony in my paintings, I hope to direct attention to God's approachable nature and unfathomable love as proclaimed in scripture and embodied in his Son, Jesus. To do this, I use titles that point to this explicit subject matter, often referring to a specific passage from the Bible.

This is where the second level of meaning in my art takes place. As I said before, it is important to me that the viewer's first level of engagement in my work is visual. But once drawn in, a second level of meaning in my art happens when the viewer reads the title and has to reconcile the fact that the artwork somehow deals with Christianity. The viewer must connect the title with the image they see before them, which on the surface has no direct illustrative relationship to it.

In all of this I hope to create artworks in which visual metaphors offer my audience a new way of thinking about-and looking at-the Gospel message. A visual metaphor does not directly illustrate an idea, but rather makes meaning by connotation, creating images that can be seen to parallel the message of salvation through Jesus, for a new understanding of that message. My paintings simply want to say, "Hey, come look at Jesus this way."
For example, my gnarly, twisted tree depictions in the three-paneled series, when paired with their titles and biblical citations, can suggest the idea of humanity fallen from God, especially in the first painting, Where I Found Myself.. Yet the trees themselves are not "sinful," and shouldn't be understood as a literal representation of fallen humanity. However, the visual depiction of confusion and entanglement, combined with other elements, such as a dark cloud hiding the sunlight, can suggest the idea, and present it in a way that text alone can't communicate.

After engaging the viewer on a visual level, then encouraging thought on a more intellectual level, my artwork invites further varied responses on a more personal level of meaning. The viewer can decide to simply enjoy the landscape at face value. They can debate or wrestle with the message or its presentation. Or, if curious, he or she can go and explore any cited (or un-cited) biblical passages, do some searching, and engage with the art and its meaning on a more personal level. Any of these responses can happen immediately, as the viewer looks at the painting and is provided with a Bible in the gallery. However, it's closer to my intent that as the viewer returns to everyday life, what they have seen and reflected on will remain with them as they experience nature again or think about Christianity-two subjects now tied to each other by my artwork.

My visual metaphor differs from artworks that make their meaning through symbolism. My work is not symbolic in this sense. The landscape elements in my paintings are not specific visual representations of spiritual concepts. The presence of the sun in my landscapes shouldn't read as a code for God, and trees, although often figurative as a result of my style, don't directly stand for people.

Traditional religious painting has often employed symbolism as a tool. For example, in Vermeer's paintings of everyday objects, all the elements directly stood for a spiritual idea. This isn't what I'm doing. I'm opening the door for a wider interpretation in order to speak to a more diverse audience, while still holding the explicit subject matter of relationship with God through Jesus.
I choose to express myself through visual metaphor rather than symbolism because I find it subtle and personal-a visual language unique to me, yet one that is open to a more subjective interpretation and understanding. I've often planned my paintings with specific metaphors in mind, but allow for viewers to wrestle with the interpretation themselves. Viewers can have different visual interpretations of the same image, and even the same message. For example, the painting Lover Knocking on the Ancient Doors, suggests a door or a passageway in the intimate sense of space portrayed: perhaps a personal door to invite Jesus into as the Revelation reference in the title conveys, or perhaps a crossover from darkness to light as the tones in the painting might hint at. The visual metaphor, while open to individual understanding and interpretation, lets the authority of the spiritual truth rest with the Biblical references.

Can artwork still express a subject matter as specific as the Gospel of Christ without using overt iconography? Art historian Salley Promey, after examining American religious visual culture, affirms that it can; that content, style, use, and context strongly indicate the cultural presence of religion in artwork. In America, where separation of church and state eliminated the institutional expression of religion, the landscape became the language of Christian spirituality (Promey, 2-3). Nineteenth Century American painters such as George Inness depicted specific biblical subject matter, such as Valley of the Shadow of Death, yet also painted landscapes without specific Christian subject matter, such as Peace and Plenty, which were considered equally religious. The development of romanticism along with increased Protestant proclamation of the biblical concept that anyone can worship God anywhere without the mediator of the church developed the understanding of the landscape as a religious subject (Koerner, 97). My paintings better fit into the context of Romanticism and modern American landscape painting, which was intimately connected to Christian spirituality and the idea that God has revealed himself to humanity through nature, an idea that echoes from the Bible. "For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities-his eternal power and divine nature-have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." (Romans 1:20)

My use of metaphor in a language unique to myself with its subtle nature and its encouragement of unbound personal interpretation relates to two spiritual landscape painters: American 20th Century watercolorist Charles Burchfield and German Romantic Caspar David Friedrich. Burchfield invented visual conventions in his style of abstract mark-making to express moods or surpassing and indescribable ideas relating to nature in his landscapes. He didn't try to represent a particular subject in his landscapes, but rather sought to evoke a mood or emotion based on his conception of the subject. These moods often had a fantastical or a spiritual feel to them, as Burchfield's style intensified natural occurrences, often showing multiple activities simultaneously, or as he invented visual conventions such as the repetition of linear forms to express movement or even sound, such as in Autumnal Fantasy. These conventions had obscure meanings, and remained a personal sign of the artist-never a specific code (Baigell, 170). The viewer could read their own meaning into the specific style of brushstrokes or the abstracted forms, subjectively feeling the mood that Burchfield sought to convey.

Caspar David Friedrich was also a painter who, while deeply committed to making art with Christian spirituality embedded in its meaning, believed in the need for the artist to create a more personal language rather than rely on conventional symbolism. Friedrich talked about the artist's need to create a "manner," or a personal painting language (in the mark-making and picture construction) to re-express what the soul has understood-a spiritual eye guiding his formal eye (Hoffman, 22). He said, "The painter should not paint merely what he sees in front of him but also what he sees within him. If he sees nothing within himself, however, then he should refrain from painting what he sees in him." (Hoffman, 26). As I paint, I make meaning by using my personal style to visually express the spiritual truths I know and experience.

The subject matter I'm dealing with-the Gospel message-is ultimately personal and intimate; the God my artwork centers around is an approachable being. Intimacy with a now-approachable God is what Christ's death and resurrection brought about, and that's the idea that my paintings echo visually, specifically in the sense of space they create. For comparison and contrast we can look again at my favorite two spiritual landscape painters. Caspar David Friedrich, though painting landscapes on relatively small canvasses, painted wide, open panoramas, which made the viewer feel small-and awestruck-in relation to what they saw. Charles Burchfield, on the other hand, though his paintings were often larger in size than Friedrich's, portrayed a more intimate sense of space, putting the viewer up close to the experience.

Decisions of whether or not to include figures in the paintings also contribute to the sense of intimacy and the viewer's ability to draw near to and identify with the painting. In many of Friedrich's paintings, a figure appears in the landscape, a sort of pilgrim, struggling up a mountain to the cross, or wandering through the woods. Looking at the figure, the viewer is forced into the role of spectator, detached from the spiritual experience, observing the scene from a distance. In Burchfield's paintings, and in my own, the absence of the figure increases the level of intimacy. The visions of the artist become the visions of the viewer, who essentially becomes the "pilgrim" when looking straight into the scene as if he or she is participating in it. And when the viewer connects the spiritual idea to the visual image in front of them, they are confronted personally with the inherent meaning, and are left to decide for themselves what to do with it.

I'll return once again to the example of intimacy in the three-paneled series to discuss the intimate sense of space in my work. In the painting Where I found Myself, the viewer feels almost trapped among the twisted branches, as if they'd like to crawl through them, but can't. This helps tie image to the idea of being trapped in a lifestyle of rebellion from God. The third painting Entrance Beyond the Curtain offers a "walking space" out of the mass of trees, perhaps even inviting the viewer to draw near and encounter the water or sky beyond. This visual sense of clearing and a passageway connects to the cited biblical passage describing the entrance beyond the temple curtain into the holy of holies by the work of Jesus.

My intentions behind my work and my approach to my subject matter differ from traditional religious painting in Christendom in terms of viewer relationship to the work and in terms of what I'm trying to express. For example, unlike Duccio's Maestà, a narrative and iconic altarpiece in the Siena Cathedral, I'm not creating an object of devotion; my paintings are not part of a worship ritual. They are not framed elaborately on an altar, nor are they housed in a church as an inherent part of the context.
Neither am I depicting a narrative of Biblical events like the many panels in the Maestà, meant to inspire instruction or contemplation. My paintings don't seek to tell a story in a sequence, but rather, point to that same central story through a more universal visual system-the language of landscape. Instead of confronting the viewer with a series of events where they play the separated role of spectator, I'm inviting the viewer into an intimate, approachable visual setting where he or she can think about the meaning of a spiritual concept while looking at it expressed visually. I don't assume that the viewer fully knows the story of Christ or is familiar at all with the Bible. However, I do depend on the viewer's ability recognize that this artwork deals with Christian and biblical ideas (when they read the title and any other textual information I may provide), and that they have the ability to seek and find out more about the meaning if they so desire. That's why a Bible placed in the gallery accompanies my paintings. I don't intend for only Christians to appreciate my work; non-believers are perhaps the main audience because of the context my work is shown in.

My work also differs from many traditional Christian religious paintings in the overall message it seeks to convey. Much of Western religious painting sought to affirm the power of the Catholic Church by visually overwhelming the viewer and employing iconography that drew attention to the church's authority. Returning to the example of Duccio's iconic altarpiece in the Siena Cathedral, a pilgrim would have been awestruck by the bright hues and glistening gold in the candlelight of a dark, spacious cathedral. This grand painting displayed Siena's wealth with expensive ultramarine pigment, lavish gold inlay, and intricate garment ornamentation. Its depiction of Mary holding the Christ child flanked by specific Sienese saints drew attention to the city, which worshipped Mary as its patron saint. My artwork, however, is not about glorifying an institutionalized church or heroes of the faith often incorrectly regarded as intermediaries.

Unlike religious icons or objects of devotion, the directness of my paintings suggests no intermediary church, priest, or person standing between humanity and God besides Christ himself. I focus solely on the individual's relationship with God through visual metaphors that hint at a spiritual encounter that could be experienced by anyone who has ever seen a tree or a sunset-or heard the message of Christ. Jesus often talked about hearing the Word and responding to it: "He who has hears let him hear," echoes throughout the Gospel accounts. He was all about opening up people's eyes, both literally and spiritually. Perhaps my work is also about opening up eyes-engaging people on a visual level, and prompting individual thought on a deeper level. I could say, "He who has eyes, let him see!"

Works Cited:

1. Hofmann, Werner. Caspar David Friedrich. New York: Thames & Hudson Inc., 2000.

2. Koerner, Joseph Leo. Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape. London: Reaktion Books, 1990.

3. Burchfield's Seasons. New York: Kennedy Galleries, Inc., 1982.

4. Baigell, Matthew. Charles Burchfield. New York: Watson-Guptill Publications, 1976.

5. Morgan, David. Promey, Sally M. Exhibiting the visual culture of
American religions. Valparaiso: Valparaiso University, 2000.

5. The Bible. New International Version. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing
House, 1986.

1. Hofmann, Werner. Caspar David Friedrich. New York: Thames & Hudson Inc., 2000.
Discusses Friedrich's "spiritual eye" that guided his formal eye, examines different senses of pictoral space in Friedrich's work, composes a collection of works from his lifetime. One chapter focuses on three of his most important works: the Tetchen Altar, The Monk by the Sea, and The Abbey in the Oak Wood.

2. Koerner, Joseph Leo. Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape. London: Reaktion Books, 1990.
Talks about Friedrich's new approach to religious art-through landscape, coming out of a history of iconographic altarpieces, and leading into a new genre of secular landscape. Includes discussion of allegory vs. symbolism, the use of figures in the landscapes, and how this new movement was encouraged by Protestantism's belief that anyone can approach God without the church as a mediator.

3. Homer, William Innes and Lloyd Goodrich. Albert Pinkham Ryder Painter of Dreams. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1989.
Traces the development of Ryder's paintings in light of his fantastical, dreamer-like way of thinking. Discusses his skillfulness in form and color to create moody paintings. A good visual reference for moonlit scenes.

4. Burchfield's Seasons. New York: Kennedy Galleries, Inc., 1982
A collection of images from an exhibition, with notes about the history of some of his works. This has been a useful visual reference.

5. Baigell, Matthew. Charles Burchfield. New York : Watson-Guptill Publications, 1976.
Focuses on the development of and changes in his style throughout his career, dealing mostly with his moody landscapes. A good discussion of artistic techniques and visual characteristics of Burchfield's work.

5. Weekly, Nancy. Charles E. Burchfield : the Sacred Woods. Buffalo, N.Y. : Albany : Burchfield Art Center ; State University of New York Press, 1993.

Talks a lot about Burchfield's spirituality in relation to his artwork, and how it developed throughout his lifetime, from his fear of organized religion to often pantheistic beliefs, to Christianity. Describes specific paintings and seasons in his career affected by his spirituality, romanticism, and love of the fantastical. A good visual reference.

6. Morgan, David. Promey, Sally M. Exhibiting the visual culture of
American religions
Images from an exhibition on American Religious visual culture at the Brauer Museum. Includes an essay by Promey challenging the historical consideration of religion as something separate from art and American culture, and introducing the return of religion to art as American culture becomes increasingly visual. Also includes essay by Morgan giving an overview of the exhibition while discussing key issues in religious imagery.

7. Kirschner, Melanie. Arthur Dove Watercolors and Pastels. New York: George Braziller, Inc., 1998
Describes Dove's spontaneous and fresh depictions of his personal connection to the landscape by means of watercolor and pastel. Use of such portable and intimate media enabled him to capture first impressions of color and form upon initial observation, and contributed to the development of his abstract style.

8. Eldredge, Charles C. Reflections on nature: small paintings
by Arthur Dove, 1942-1943
A good visual reference for unconventional ways of portraying the landscape in abstract language. Dove's work is very unlike my style, but it was helpful to see something so different in these quick sketches. His use of color and line to express the essence of what he saw in the landscape helped me think about and see the landscape in new ways.

9. Kandinsky, Wassily, Concerning the Spiritual in Art. New York: Dover Publications, Inc.,1977.
A discussion of spirituality found in forms and colors of art, written by a 20th Century abstract painter whose work was influenced by music and spirituality.

10. Rookmaaker, H. R. Modern Art and the Death of a Culture. London: InterVarsity Press, 1970
An analysis of contemporary art (contemporary to the previous generation) in light of major historical movements; a discussion of Christianity and the arts, of truth and beauty. Asserts that art, like nature, needs no claimed meaning or justification other than its existence as a work from the hands of the Creator. There is no such thing as specifically "Christian art" as if a Christian artist should only make work to adorn a church or preach a message; instead, Christian-made art should be skillful, healthy, resulting from a sound insight on reality, and coming out of the fullness of the artist's humanity.

11. The Bible. New International Version. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Publishing
House, 1986.