Contemplations of the Spiritual in Visual Art

[ JSS 1.1 (2011) 76-93] (print) ISSN 2044-0243doi:10.1558/jss.v1i1.76 (online) ISSN 2044-0251

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2011, Unit S3, Kelham House, 3 Lancaster Street, She!eld, S3 8AF.

Contemplations of the Spiritual in Visual ArtRina Arya1

University of Wolverhampton, UK [email protected]

Abstract: Many examples of art works are described as spiritual but with-out "eshing out what this means. #is has led to wide applicability of the term but without a sharpening of the concept. I address this by opening up a dialogue between spirituality and the visual arts. I investigate what it means to describe an art work as being spiritual and whether the term ‘spiritual’ can be used in more than one sense in its application. I use examples from di$erent historical periods in art to demonstrate the persis-tence of the concept of spirituality. #e notions of receptivity and context seem to be especially pertinent when thinking about the spiritual – what are the frameworks of interpretation that are required for something to be regarded as spiritual? #e paper provides an introduction and overview of the increasing pertinence of the spiritual in a secular age.

Keywords: contemplation; sacred gaze; spirituality; visual arts.

Introduction

#roughout its history art has often been described as spiritual, which means inter alia that the art in question imparts spiritual ideas or truths. Artworks that have had the term ‘spirituality’ applied to them include early Chris-tian icons, Medieval altarpieces, modernist abstraction and postmodernist artworks such as the installations of Damien Hirst and the video art of Bill Viola. #is list evinces the historical continuity of spirituality in the visual arts. However, we cannot infer that the spirituality of early Christian icons is akin to the spiritual aspects of postmodernist installations. In other words, although the concept persists through the centuries, its meaning is contingent and dependent on the context in which it is used. #e spiritual-

1. Rina Arya is Reader in Visual Communication, University of Wolverhampton, School of Art and Design, University of Wolverhampton, Molineux Street, Wolverhampton, WV1 1DT.

mailto:[email protected]

CONTEMPLATIONS OF THE SPIRITUAL IN VISUAL ART 77

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2011.

ity of icon painting is of a di$erent kind to the spirituality of postmodern art, for instance. In this paper I want to investigate the di$erent applications of the term ‘spirituality’ when applied to the visual arts in order to examine what the commonalities and di$erences are. Within the range of examples is there a core understanding of spirituality that underpins all examples? Or are the di$erences unassimilable? Furthermore, the continued use of the term ‘spiri-tuality’ over centuries in relation to art means that it has an a!nity with art, and I want to uncover what this is.

Spirituality and Art

Before I proceed with the investigation it is imperative to de%ne the terms of my study. In order to focus the discussion I have chosen to concentrate on the visual arts in the Western tradition only, which includes painting, sculpture, architecture, and mixed media such as digital art2 and installation. #e term ‘spirituality’ is di!cult to de%ne in simple terms. It is an umbrella term that refers to a series of certain outlooks on life. It accommodates feel-ings that may involve metaphysical beliefs, or that may be something that is present in one’s life but is unde%ned, often because it is di!cult to articulate. #e elasticity of the term contributes to its convenience of use but also to its somewhat vague and nebulous nature. When placed in conjunction with art, spirituality is often expressed through the artwork, or the artwork gives rise to a feeling of the spiritual. #e experience of the artwork can be a spiritual one, if the viewer is receptive to spirituality. #e spiritual experience is provoked or invoked somehow by the formal aspects of the work – speci%cally, certain exhibition conditions combined with the speci%c features of the forms, such as the surfaces of the canvas, for example. #e medium and other features of presentation are also signi%cant in the dissemination of ideas about the artwork. Mark Rothko’s life-size paint-loaded canvases evoke a very di$erent visceral response to the slick video screens of Viola’s video installations and this in turn can have an e$ect on our spiritual responses towards the art. McGrath (2004: 189) argues for the renewed vigour of proliferations of spirituality in the twentieth century: ‘the cultural perception of the death of God has given way to a renewed interest in spirituality’. #e spiritual then is experienced in everyday life. Masuzawa (1998: 71) echoes this point

2. My use of the term ‘visual’ includes work that has a crucial visual component. However, it does not preclude the other senses, especially the use of the aural in digital media.

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by describing how, in modern Western European societies, spirituality has been dislocated from religious institutions and becomes expressed ‘through a variety of cultural venues’. One of these ‘cultural venues’ is art, which can be said to share the same ultimate concerns with spirituality, such as central questions about the meaning of life including the meaning of su$ering, the condition of embodiment, the nature of evil and the mortality of life. My enquiry into the spiritual in art starts with speci%c artworks. I have chosen three radically di$erent artworks that each engage with the spiritual in a substantial way. However, as will be revealed, the nature of the spiritual in each case varies. I will be taking a viewer-centred approach that chimes with Pink’s notion of ‘re"exivity’ where ‘the researcher becomes part of the emerging text, and this has an impact on how visual information is inter-preted’ (Sullivan 2005: xv). Pink shows how ‘re"exivity can be a concep-tual asset in revealing information’ (Sullivan 2005: xv). I will be exploring contemplation as a method of inquiry in its own right. Contemplating the work enables me to understand, interpret and engage with it. #is happens on a number of di$erent levels: deciphering the formal properties of the work and its accompanying content, and then engaging with the spiritual meaning. In most cases understanding the former leads to an engagement with the latter – an understanding of the visual code deepens our awareness of the spiritual aspects of it. #is is especially pertinent in examples of %gu-ration, which are naturalistic in that they bear resemblance to the outside world. Figurative representations are often symbolic and the viewer needs to be able to unpick the visual code to identify the symbol in order to process meaning. In the Western visual arts one of the most popular symbols of spirituality was the Cruci%xion, which is often symbolized by the %gure of Christ on the Cross. However, in more abstract works, such as in Rothko’s art, as I will discuss shortly, the process is di$erent – we have to engage with the work before the visual codes become apparent. Another key idea that is essential to my study is the notion of receptivity. In order to glean the spiritual aspects of an artwork one has to be receptive to the expressive potential of the artwork. David Morgan recognizes this in his history of religious visual culture and captures it with the phrase the ‘sacred gaze’ in his eponymous book. #e ‘sacred gaze’ denotes any way of seeing that invests its object, whether this is a person, place or thing, with a spiritual signi%cance (Morgan 2005: 2). #is suggests the power of the visual modality as a precursor to spiritual experience. If a person is predisposed or receptive to spirituality then a work may be able to elicit a spiritual response. #is connects with my own stance of looking at the artwork. In my contem-plations of the artworks I drew on the ‘sacred gaze’ as a tool for, or approach to, considering the spiritual content and feeling of an artwork.



!e Icon as a Portal to the Divine

#e icon is a panel painting in Christianity of Christ, the Virgin or the saints and was meant to inspire piety (see Figure 1). ‘An icon, as opposed to a mere image, bears religious signi%cance in that it brings worshippers into relation with God through representations of sacred stories or persons’ (Plate 2002: 54). Icons were characteristically "at and were often simplistic in outline. #ey were presented against a background that was typically plain. #e lack of ornamentation was to draw attention to the theological and aesthetic focal point, which was the depicted %gure(s). Spirituality was regarded as the fourth dimension that would transform the pictorial "atness into a spiritual con%guration. Miles described how ‘the frontal presentation’ of icons ‘encouraged viewers to engage with the images in new and more intimate ways than they had before’ (Plate 2002: 58).

Figure 1: Icon painting c. 1260. Christ the Saviour. Mount Athors, Serbian Monastery of Hilan dar. [Photo: akg-images].

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Icons were used in the early centuries &' and were regarded in the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic Churches as portals to the divine. #e images then were not simply representations of the %gures but embodied the Real Pres-ence3 of the %gure. Wollheim (1992: 793) summarizes the aesthetic problem as follows: are we meant to see the painting as containing an image, or see the painting as itself an image? In the case of the icon, the painting was not a container or receptacle of the image but was the image itself. It played a sacramental role in worship. Sheldrake (2007: 99–100) describes how the icons were ‘deemed to be a medium of direct engagement or communion with God and the saints (expressed powerfully in the fact that the %gure depicted faces the viewer and gazes upon the believer directly)’. In the tradi-tion of the icon the aesthetic aspects were regarded as of lesser importance than the spiritual components and they contributed to their spiritual power. #e icons were ‘regarded as holy in themselves and veneration [was] paid to them as prototypes of the saints they represent’ (Murray and Murray 2004: 255). Fears that veneration would lead to idolatry, thus transgress-ing the Second Commandment, led Emperor Leo to ban icons in 726 &'. #e Iconoclastic controversy of the eighth and ninth centuries was argu-ably the highest point of con"ict between the visual and the written word in Church history. In the Iconoclastic controversy the purpose of icons fell under political and religious scrutiny. On the one side were the iconoclasts (who viewed images in negative terms) and on the other were the icono-philes (who regarded images as aids to worship). Whilst the debate was continuing, prescriptions were placed on what was regarded as acceptable representations of Christ. #e Second Council of Nicaea (787 &') resolved the con"ict by validating the importance of icons as being an integral part of worship, like the Holy Scriptures. #e overthrow of Iconoclasm in 843 &' was seen as a triumph for the Orthodox Church. #e Iconoclastic Controversy revealed the spiritual potential of images. #e iconoclasts wanted to deny the power that religious images held. #e con-troversy then was not against images per se but against the power that many granted to images. #e belief in the sacramental nature of icons meant that they were not viewed as mere representations but that they had a di$erent ontological status. #e iconoclasts feared that icons might encourage people to worship material objects, which was a deviation from their ultimate focus of God. #e iconophiles believed that, on the contrary, rather than being a distraction from God, the icon enabled believers to focus more %xedly on the

3. #e theological term real presence emphasizes the actual presence of the Body and the Blood of Christ in the Sacrament. #is belief is contrasted with others that maintain that the Body and the Blood are present only %guratively (Livingstone 2000: 483).



image and hence enhanced their worship. #e icon represented a convergence between art, religion and spirituality. #e religious symbolism of the icon was not spiritual per se. Spirituality was activated by the looking and contemplative state of absorption of the viewer. In contemplating the icon I found that the formal features of the simplicity of design, frontal aspects of the %gure and plain background invited me to focus on the symbolic representation of the %gure and the pious look on the face of Christ the Almighty.

!e Spirituality of Abstract Art

#e connection between abstract art and spirituality was forged at the begin-ning of the twentieth century with the revival of interest in #eosophy, an ancient philosophical system which investigated the signi%cance of the soul and the nature of mystical insight. Its in"uence can be seen in the work of Mondrian and Kandinsky, for example. In their interpretation art was a substitute for religious experience (Golding 2000: 15) and had the power to revive spirituality in the materialist West. In many cases this was construed as utopian: art had the ability to transform society and the artist as prophet or seer would bring this about. #e a!nities between abstraction and spirituality were rigorously devel-oped4 and the material aesthetic image was seen as capable of unveiling spiritual truths. Although both their formulations of abstraction were at opposite ends of the spectrum,5 Mondrian and Kandinsky believed in the power of abstract art to penetrate external appearances and reveal the order of the universe. Mondrian’s early work was naturalistic (representational) but he later moved into more abstract and universal expressions of these concrete objects. For Mondrian, naturalism was limiting and hindered the universal expression of an object. By stripping down reality to its basic components using the vertical and the horizontal and the primary colours and black and white, Mondrian was able to explore the universal language of existence that lay beneath the outward appearances. So instead of depicting a particular tree he was able to represent the universal essence of all trees. Some 20 years later Rothko embarked on a similar quest. Starting with %guration Rothko moved into abstraction. He too wanted to explore what underpinned reality but denied that this something was in any way meta-physical. He claimed that his focus was on the physical presence of the art-

4. Kandinsky’s Concerning the Spiritual in Art, published in 1912 is regarded as a landmark essay in the subject (see Lindsay and Vergo, 1982).

5. Mondrian’s geometric and minimalist expression di$ers greatly from Kandinsky’s colourful expressive images.

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work, which he de%ned as ‘the materiality’. Rothko wanted to %nd a myth that symbolized the relationship between humankind and the world. #is myth should be universal and timeless. Rothko felt that representational art, which contained traces of the everyday world, was limited because it denoted the particular. In order to articulate the meaning of the universal or the absolute, he drew on the language of abstraction. In an address to the Pratt Institute in New York City in November 1958, Rothko stated that one of the essential ingredients of a work of art was ‘that there must be a clear preoccupation with death – intimations of mortality’ (Burchardt-Hume 2008: 91). Rothko’s solution was in his paradigmatic formulations of "oat-ing rectangular forms. #is constituted his classic phase (which began in 1949) and is exempli%ed by Untitled/Painting (1959) (Figure 2).

Figure 2. Rothko, Mark; 1903–1970. ‘Untitled’, 1959. Oil on paper, mounted on %breboard, 80.7 ( 63.8 cm. Collection of Darwin and Geri Reedy, Courtesy of Julian Weissman Fine Art. [Photo: akg-images. © 1998 Kate Rothko Prizel & Christopher Rothko ARS, NY and DACS, London.]



Many people remark on how seeing Rothko’s paintings %rsthand evokes experiences of the transcendent that takes them to the limits of reason and expression. I visited the Rothko Room in the Tate Modern in 2006 and was immediately struck by the scale of the works as well as the visceral e$ects of the saturated colours. #is is not conveyed satisfactorily in reproduc-tions because we do not get a sense of the overpowering e$ects of scale and colour. It is these features that cause the sense of engulfment and empti-ness that many viewers and critics describe with recourse to the language of spirituality. It was di!cult to retain critical distance from the work and after prolonged viewing I felt as if I had merged into the physical space of the painting. Kraut (2007: 42)summarizes the experience aptly: ‘there is a special experiential rapport between the viewers of Rothko’s works and the works themselves’. Hopkins (2000: 23) comments how ‘the scale of the works was cal-culated so that spectators could measure their physical size against the coloured masses. #is could lead to the feeling of being enveloped or trans-ported out of the body’. By %lling the viewer’s visual %eld, the paintings militate against any potential critical distance that the viewer may have with the work; we are forced to take part in the narrative. #e physical-ity of the paint creates rawness thus generating a haptic response in the viewer. We want to reach out and touch the paintings, and, similarly, we are touched by their e$ects. With their wide-open spaces and the blurred edges of the rectangles, it is unclear whether the rectangles are disappearing into the background or appearing into the foreground. We are trans%xed by the rectangles which seem to hover in mid-air, some obtruding, others receding into the background. Sandler (1996: 12) suggests how ‘the blur-ring of demarcations dislodges the rectangles, causing them to hover in and out’. #e rectangles have varying degrees of transparency and opac-ity. Furthermore the colours of the rectangles are quite distinct from each other (red and blue, blue and yellow, and green and orange, for example) and these also vary in their distinction from the ground colour that frames them. Collectively these e$ects play with the viewer’s perceptions. More-over, the spectator is positioned at that point of proximity where the illu-sion-bearing surface will appear entirely absorbing (Harrison 2001: 186). We are drawn to the borders between the pull of opposing forces and this ambivalence, this ‘pleasing terror’ (Shaw 2005: 100), is characteristic of the sublime. #e viewer feels as if s/he is on the threshold between two states. Chave (1989: 32) employs various metaphors to describe this e$ect of being on the threshold. She suggests that the rectangles could variously symbolize windows, doors, mists, fog, veils and screens. #ese are e$ective in dramatizing the viewing process where we move from a state of knowing

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to an experience of unknowing. #e threshold demarcated the boundaries between the awareness of our everyday lives and the plunge into this tragic vision of death or the abyss. On viewing these works we are submerged in the vastness and openness of the vistas. Our vertiginous feelings prompt questions about the meaning of life and the fragility of mortality. Rothko’s works in this classical phase are spiritual texts, which mediate between the %niteness of the viewer’s space and the in%nity that is displayed by the painting. We are o$ered the potential to overcome momentarily the limits of selfhood and be united with the life force.6 Taylor (1992: 100–101) interprets Rothko’s work as a move towards this absence and silence through the removal of gesture and trace. He views Rothko’s abstraction as a mystical ascent towards nothingness, as a reca-pitulation of Malevich’s movement towards sacred darkness or Reinhardt’s mystical ascent (Taylor 1992: 85). Contemplating Rothko’s artwork is a spiritual journey that begins with an aesthetic response to the monumental canvas that looms in front of us and an absorption of the saturated colours to the terminus that is a re"ection on absence and nothingness. #e power of Rothko’s work and its capacity to evoke feelings of transcendence was capitalized in the Rothko Chapel in Houston. In 1964 Rothko was com-missioned by John and Dominque de Menil to create a meditative space that was %lled with his paintings. #e result was the Rothko Chapel, which was a non-denominational chapel, the only explicitly religious commission that Rothko took on in his lifetime and a testament to the spiritual power of Rothko’s art.

Spirituality in Contemporary Art

In the %nal example I want to look at Nantes Triptych (1992) (Figure 3) by Viola, who is an American video artist who employs electronic, sound and image technology to create an extensive range of works, such as videotapes, architectonic video installations, music performances and "at panel video pieces. He has been central in establishing the contemporaneity of video art and in expanding its possibilities through his innovative explorations of content and form.

6. #e sense of overcoming the limit and attaining a sense of oneness with the universe, the abyss, the ‘other’, or whatever else this sense of overcoming attains can be reframed in mystical terms as a union with God. For a religious believer then, Rothko’s work could be considered as a mystical text which prompts a union between believer and God.



Figure 3. Bill Viola, Nantes Triptych, 1992. Video/sound installation 460 ( 970 ( 1680 cm, room dimensions. #ree-channels of color video projection; central panel front-projected onto 320 ( 420 cm translucent scrim, two side panels rear-projected onto 320 ( 270 cm screens; mounted into wall in large, dark room; ampli%ed stereo sound; two channels of ampli%ed mono sound. [Photo: Kira Perov.]

Viola’s art re"ects his concerns with spirituality, and is inspired by both Western and Eastern mysticism. Viola’s explorations of spirituality are not restricted to particular traditions and are more focused on articulating the fundamental concerns that people have in life. He makes us think about the relationship between life and death vis-à-vis human consciousness, and makes us aware of our nature as human beings. Using image and sound, Viola presents works that have an immersive e$ect on the viewer. It is an art of absorption that requires the viewer to be patient and contemplative, thus opening us up to experiences of profound spiritual re"ection. Viola uses video to explore sense perception as a route to self-knowledge. Nantes Triptych (1992) depicts three panels showing video footage that from left to right are of birth, as symbolized by a newborn baby; a clothed man underwater; and a dying woman. #e clothed man in the central panel moves between alternate stages of struggle and stillness, and is held in suspension before an indistinct shadowy space. He signi%es the journey of life with its ups and downs, and is literally suspended between birth and death. #ese three stages mark the various stages in life with a poignant urgency. What is alarming is the range of emotions that this work induces

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in the viewer. In daily life and in most cultures the activity of child-bearing is regarded as joyous and is kept apart from the process of dying. #e potentiality and energy exuded by the %rst panel is counterbalanced by the stillness of the third panel. #e central %gure can be seen to be enacting the emotions of both stages – vitality and morbidity. #e knowledge that the footage of the birth and death are documents of actual events adds to the emotional pitch. #e three scenes are connected by a sound track of crying, the movement of water and breathing in a 30 minute loop. After a while the sounds coalesce and unite the three images. By the end of the loop the three images are entwined in the cycle of life, where death is not a state that occurs at the end of life but is inherent within its very condi-tion. #is corresponds to a personal cycle of wounding (the fear of death) and healing (the presence of new life) which the viewer experiences in the work. Viola’s work is about the human condition that Morgan (2004: 97) describes as ‘the set of conditions that all humans confront’. #is condi-tion is primarily about coming to terms with the fact that we are embodied and encounter su$ering, pain, alienation, and death. Human interaction entails seeking out communion with others, and attempting to overcome or transcend our limited condition. #is is the existential framework that Viola works out in his artwork and which is central to religious discourse. All religions and mythologies construct narratives through which we can make sense of the stages in life. In some religions death is not conceived of as the end but as a stage in the afterlife. Viola does not posit any metaphysi-cal afterlife; he is %xed on the body and the bodily. However, his work is redemptive because it is a reminder of the universality of human experiences, and he gives the viewer the opportunity to re"ect on the human condition away from the mundane concerns of everyday life. He o$ers the viewer an opportunity to experience the sacrality of human life, something that is marginalized by society. Viola was brought up as an Episcopalian, and was clearly in"uenced by Christianity, as is evidenced by the Christian-centred in"ection of his titles, and the continual allusion that he makes to religious images from art history. But from a philosophical and personal perspective he was drawn towards Western and Eastern philosophies of mysticism (including the writings of St John of the Cross, Meister Eckhart and Islamic Su%sm). He was also in"u-enced by the writings of the Eastern thinkers, D. T. Suzuki (from Japan) and Ananda Coomaraswarmy (from Sri Lanka). He also cites Zen Bud-dhism, which he practiced during his one year sojourn in Japan (1980–81), as having a particularly strong in"uence on his mindset and this is central in the reception and e$ects generated by his art, which encourages mindful



re"ection on everyday life.7 #e primary %eldwork that Viola undertook is important and re"ects his mindset – he did not simply want to convey the cognitive aspects of Zen and other %ndings about mysticism but wanted to recreate the sensory and ritualistic aspects of their practice. It was about the doing, not just the thinking, and this is conveyed in the role in which he casts his viewers.

Spiritual Viewing

In the examples discussed above, spirituality has been evoked in the %gura-tive image of a religious symbol, in a highly abstract work and in a video installation. It would appear then that spiritual expression is neither con-strained by subject nor by media. #e examples are so wide-ranging and this may prompt the question whether any artwork could invoke a sense of the spiritual. #e %rst example is less problematic because the spiritual reading is validated by the religious tradition. In the other examples, though, what is the yardstick of validity? We cannot generalize about the content of artworks that elicit spiritual feelings and I have demonstrated that both %gurative and non-%gurative works are able to provoke spiritual responses. From my re"ective experien-tial analyses it emerged that there are two conditions that are necessary for spiritual engagement in artworks: receptivity and the appropriate context. I will deal with each of these conditions in turn. Rothberg (2000: 162, 166) postulates that there are ‘forms of systematic “spiritual inquiry”)’ of which he identi%es ‘receptive contemplative or meditative awareness’ as an example. #e process that Rothberg outlines in this form of inquiry involves the culti-vation of mindfulness, which occurs during meditation and contemplation. #e viewer’s focus on the artwork increases the ‘presentness’ with the artwork and ‘the gap decreases between knower and known, between consciousness and its content’ (Rothberg 2000: 167). We place ourselves in the space of the artwork through the viewing and through the process of contemplation become absorbed by the artwork. In Rothko’s art this happens physically as we are enveloped by the monumental canvases. In Viola’s Nantes Triptych we become implicated in the narrative. Although starting o$ as representing three %gures that are unconnected with our lives, the integration of the visual and auditory brings us into the centre of the narrative as we contemplate the passage of time in our own lives.

7. Viola was also interested in studies in perception and experimental psychology, which he claims that he was introduced to though McLuhan (see Bellour and Viola 1985: 94).

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Receptivity can also be encapsulated in Morgan’s notion of ‘sacred gaze’, to which I referred earlier. Morgan’s ‘sacred gaze’ shares similarities with Rothberg’s spiritual enquiry in that they are attempting to structure the experience of spirituality without limiting its e$ects. #ey are both practices that involve the viewer, the image and the act of viewing and that have, at their centre, the importance of contemplation. Miles also emphasizes the importance of a ‘sustained interaction’ (Plate 2002: 59). In discussion of media images Miles observes that the fast pace of mediatized culture means that we are bombarded with images that "ash before us whether on a bill-board or on a television screen without giving us the opportunity to have a sustained interaction.8 She adds that ‘a religious seeing’, which I take to be equivalent to Morgan’s ‘sacred gaze’, ‘is one of touch, involving an intimacy, a “conceptual and emotional investment” in the activity of vision’ (Plate 2002: 59). #e spiritual engagement does not just entail the visual but is a multisensory experience. #is is indeed the case in all the analysed artworks that ‘touch’ us in various ways. #e second necessary condition is the appropriateness of context, which is conveyed in discussion of Hirst’s A !ousand Years (1991). #e work consists of a vitrine with a glass division. On one side is a severed cow’s head with an electrocutor above it (an ‘insect-o-cutor’). At the other side of the vitrine is a white minimal box. Maggots hatch inside the white box, turn into "ies and then feed on the cow’s head. If the "ies "y too high then they meet a violent death in the insect-o-cutor. Flies that do not hit the death machine are able to complete the full life cycle. Hirst’s elaborate construction is a life-death machine and demonstrates an actual life cycle. Life and death are placed side by side both physically and metaphorically and Hirst’s contraption acutely highlights the precariousness of life, which at any moment can be snatched away. #is allegory conveys the basic tenets of spirituality – we are born, we die and in between we attempt to formulate meaning. #e "ies did not operate according to such sophisticated ideas; they simply hatched, fed and "ew (some to their death). But the way death snatches people away from their lives makes this artwork an appropriate memento mori9 and makes the indiscriminate nature of death poignant. If the Hirst example was reconstructed in a laboratory it would be pos-sible to set up conditions equivalent to the ones devised by Hirst but now

8. Viola’s ability to create a sustained engagement with video art is an exception and a testa-ment to his ability to sustain interaction with his work. His use of the aural facilitates this engagement.

9. Memento mori was a genre of art that served to remind people of their mortality by using sym-bols that represented the passing of time. Common symbols included skulls and hourglasses.



to demonstrate the behaviour of living creatures. In spite of the similari-ties in the constructions, it is highly unlikely that they would both evoke the same responses or attitudes. #e laboratory experiment would come to the same conclusions about the level of risk that the "ies were under but people viewing the experiment would not present the information in an emotionally re"ective way and would instead report on the lifecycle of the "y, for instance. In contrast, the viewer observing the Hirst installation may con%gure the life cycle in more general terms. #e plight of the "y could be viewed as an allegory of human life, or the human predicament stripped down to its basics. In re"ection we move from thinking about the "y to the role of the human in the universe and %nally to our own role in life. #is is spiritual re"ection. We can conclude then that di$ering contexts instigate di$erent modes of analysis – in the laboratory experiment the scientist or viewer would be oriented toward empirical analysis and may want to mea-sure factors such as the amount of time it takes for the maggots to develop into "ies or the probability of the "ies meeting their death. Such preoccupa-tions are of lesser importance when considering Hirst’s example. We have di$erent modes of re"ection when viewing each of the works – we meditate when viewing Hirst’s example but we cognise when viewing the scienti%c experiment. #e shift of contexts from an art gallery to a laboratory radically shifts perceptions and interpretations. #e placement of the glass vitrine in the laboratory consciously and subconsciously creates a di$erent environment and di$erent expectations of observation and clinical re"ection without spiritual overtones. And so, although we may be viewing exactly the same activity within the vitrine, we record and articulate our responses di$erently. #e context of the art gallery is less prescriptive. Both Hirst and Viola’s work can be described as spiritual for a number of reasons. First, they articulate themes that have spiritual signi%cance: life, death and the passage of time. Second, these themes are central to the narrative. #ird, they invite an exchange or set up an encounter between the viewer and the work that is generative of the spiritual. One of the chal-lenges of this study is that spirituality or the spiritual is not a property that inheres in objects, and so we cannot talk about it in substantive terms. Other cognate terms include the ‘sacred’ and the ‘sublime’ which are not substantives and are described in relation to an encounter with. #is applies to the spiritual – the spiritual is activated in the encounter.10 In the above two artworks, the spiritual experience does not occur immediately. #e

10. Philip Shaw describes this in relation to the sublime but it is equally applicable when consid-ering the spiritual. See Shaw (2000: 2–3).

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viewer has %rst to make sense of what is going on and this takes time. After continuous and constant viewing we move beyond the perceptual reality of the work to an understanding of the deeper reality of the universe; we move from the literal to the metaphorical realm. #e work then becomes a spiritual exercise that often involves having to progress beyond di$erent levels. Technically speaking we participate in their work rather than merely passively viewing it. #e notion of the spiritual quest as involving struggle and growth has its roots in traditional spiritual practices and was docu-mented in the writings of religious visionary, such as St Ignatius’ seminal work Spiritual Exercises (1522–24). Taking this one step further, can we consider artists such as Rothko and Viola as setting up the desired circum-stances for spiritual encounter and therefore serving as artistic spiritual guides or gurus?11

Another aspect that the artworks have in common is the inadequacy of language to articulate the growth of spiritual knowledge. In his discus-sion of the forms of spiritual inquiry Rothberg (2000: 166) highlights how deep contemplation is often a ‘nondiscursive’ experience. #e works can be described in terms of their content but this is simplistic and inadequate to convey the transformative power that they have on the viewer. In discussing the work of Rothko, Sandler (1996: 9) notes that many tend to resort to hyperbole. He talks about the inclination to an ‘in"ated rhetoric’. To vary-ing extents this applies to my selection of artworks. Being unable to speak about the spiritual qualities of the works, we resort to excessive language. In actual fact what we are seeking is the opposite and something akin to the absence and silence that Taylor discusses as being the terminus of Rothko’s work. In pictorial terms this manifests itself through the removal of physi-cal traces or gestures and this mirrors the response of the viewer. We move through language in order to expose its limitations. Language enables us to outline the content – Nantes Triptych is about the experiences of three dis-parate individuals at di$erent stages in their lives; A !ousand Years is about the mundane activities of "ies. #e real meaning, the spiritual meaning, is beyond works: it is ine$able and can only be articulated in silence. Whilst in communion with the work (in the ‘sacred gaze’) we experience the force of the work. After the event the work operates as traces or documents of this event and descriptions about the meaning of the work becomes a way of recalling their power.

11. #is is more plausible in the case of Viola’s work as he was more explicit about his interest in spirituality in both Western and Eastern traditions.



Conclusion

In the development of icon painting in the early centuries &' through to contemporary art, we see a range of di$erent applications and interpreta-tions of the term ‘spirituality’, which may be resolved by considering all the approaches as spiritualities. In the case of the icon, spirituality is inextricable from religious belief and its main purpose was as an aid to devotion. Whilst in the other examples spirituality is not connected with the content or expres-sion but is experienced in the relationship opened up between the viewer and the artwork. #e experiential aspect of seeing the work %rsthand is criti-cal and this is why we cannot talk about the spiritual experience of viewing photocopies of Rothko’s art, for example. Given this, it is worth adding the inextricably public dimension of viewing. In order to experience the artwork %rsthand, viewers have to see the work in situ. #e artists in question, cura-tors of shows and gallery owners have worked together to create the appro-priate atmosphere. Rothko’s work is often hung at eye level and the lighting adjusted in the room to create the required atmosphere. #e lights are often dimmed down to complete darkness in the attempt to encourage viewers to completely immerse themselves in the experience. All artworks have in common the importance of a dialogue or relationship between the viewer as participant and the artwork. #e spiritual aspects do not emerge instantly but through concentrated and continual engagement with the artwork. #is takes the form of looking, interpretation and further contemplating the artwork. After intense viewing the viewer is absorbed into the artwork, which often has an overwhelming and disarming e$ect. #is manifests itself in di$erent ways – in the case of the icon the viewer feels a rapport with God and is elevated in their belief; in the Rothko example the viewer experiences the overcoming of self in the vastness of the canvas. Finally, in the Viola artwork the viewer experiences the cycle of life through digital looping. In the artworks here it is clear that any sense of the spiritual depends not only on the materiality of the artwork for transmission but also the materiality of the self as embodied in order to engage with the work. Each of the three examples requires a sensory engagement and viewing is a thoroughly embodied experience. Underhill describes the spiritual as being the superadded aspects of life that cannot be necessarily explained in rational terms but which nonethe-less contributes to the special qualities of life.12 Her own words are worth quoting:

12. #e similarities to Rudolf Otto’s notion of the overplus is pertinent. In !e Idea of the Holy Otto describes the numinous as being ‘the overplus of meaning’ (Otto 1958: 6).

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#ere is something in us which, in spite of all the e$orts of a mate-rialistic psychology, is not accounted for either by the requirements of natural life or those of social life, and which cannot altogether be brought within the boundaries of the intellectual and rational life. #ough as it develops this “something” will penetrate and deeply a$ect all these levels of our existence, we recognize that it is distinct from them. It is an element which is perhaps usually dormant; yet is some-times able to give us strange joys, and sometimes strange discomforts. It points beyond our visible environment to something else; to a real-ity which transcends the time-series, and yet to which we, because of the existence of this quality in us, are somehow akin (Underhill 2007: 121–22).

#is ‘elusive’ quality that Underhill describes as ungraspable and yet so important in our lives is spirituality. In my analyses of the spirituality of the three artworks outlined I came to the conclusion that the spiritual is activated in the experiential and therefore cannot be extrapolated as a thing-in-itself. It would appear then that, although generalizations can be made about spirituality within the context of artworks, it can only be described through the experience of the artwork. #e ‘religious’ compo-nent of the icon can be explained by decoding the %gurative symbols and situating it within a Christian context but the spiritual power of the icon can only be felt. Equally, in the Rothko and Viola examples the spiritual is not localized to the content but is activated in the participation. #e spiritual then is made present in the experience of the artwork. It cannot be described as an abstract quality but in its manifestation, a quality that Underhill describes in its e$ects on the life of the individual, in the way it manifests itself.

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Contemplations of the Spiritual in Visual Art

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