Blank Canvas

I was quickly taken aback by the - let’s say - very modern nature of the paintings at the Tate Modern recently; I even found myself tempted to fake fascination among the ooh’s and the aah’s.

“Don’t you think this blank canvas perfectly illustrates postmodernism”

“Erm...yes absolutely, and all the other ism’s too” Lord forgive me I've lied.

It surprised me that I didn't delve into the experience full throttle, after all I love art and one of my favourite phrases is “free admission”

Sitting down slightly befuddled, I imagined the thousands of people throwing thousands of pounds around at art auctions. I saw ladies in fur coats dripping with diamonds, gentlemen with Cuban cigars wearing designer labels, hands raised vying for the auctioneers attention. The hammer fell at the £50 million mark after twenty minutes of furious competition for Artist X’s “blank canvas”.

I just didn’t get the whole blank canvas thing.

Then as I walked around the turbine hall, I began to reflect on the artists’ ages, and how they seemed to live relatively long lives, well beyond 80. Surely someone once said that there's proven link between long life and happiness.

Perhaps Artist X had to scrape his pennies, struggle to pay bills, suffer ridicule from friends and family due to his very unorthodox artistry? But he was doing what he loved. He probably wouldn’t have chosen this path if his ambition was to make it big in the arts' world, because the pressure of “making it big” often starts to crowd out creativity, and draw people into operating on autopilot. Some of us stay in certain situations or relationships because it’s the safe option, because the thought of doing anything else, or being with someone else, is downright scary. I don’t necessarily advocate quitting a relationship or leaving a job to start painting; I’m talking about the due season when it becomes necessary to step out of the ordinary into new things.

Because, although Artist X might have painted an unusual painting and even risked ridicule, he didn’t seem scared of trying new things.

So thinking about Tate Modern, or when I look around at creation and see babies, flowers, trees, animals, I reflect on the fact that God has empowered creation to make more and continues to fill it with potential. It’s meant to grow, advance, change, move, morph.

Basically never be the same as yesterday.

Yes it might start out as a blank canvas - but it could end up looking like this:

Life is charged with creative potential and is- in some ways - a blank canvas or piece of paper. Perhaps blank because it’s purposely left unfinished; because we’ve been invited into the beginning stages of something?

The Lord says...

Behold I am doing a new thing! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it and know it. Isaiah 43:19

I marvel at the thought of God being the greatest artist of all and like to think that, as the crown of His creation, we are His greatest works of art. How cool is it that no one else in the world has your fingerprints? The fact that we’re capable of complex verbal language and conscious thought; that we’re all created with different gifts and talents. And while the media may favour a certain body size, God created all body types and declared them all good. Each one wonderfully and fearfully made in intricate detail, over which God spent time pondering and designing.

And through you and me this pondering, designing and creating goes on and on because we're all in the business of making artwork out of our blank canvasses.