I could just kiss his words every time I see them. Good St. Thomas makes so much sense sometimes it's scary.
Definitely this is true. I know, because my work is underdeveloped and incomplete, like my brain. lol
Ok, seriously... the wicked have an absolute aversion to that which is most godly. The gifts of God are more perfect, I think, the more they are like Him Who made them.
I have long contended that the closer to sainthood an artist is, the more of his or her art that will open up to them, so to speak. The gift of art is, in essence, a good seed. But virtue is it's cultivation, and grace it's sustenance. The better the seed itself, the more it may grow even to fruition in the worst or deadest soil. But the worst of seed well nourished may far surpass the best planted in infertile soil, choked by weeds and thorns.
It is POSSIBLE for an atheist or an enemy of God to produce what could be called "good art." But I dare say that the saintly Catholic has the advantage, for God is the best teacher, virtue the best cultivator and grace the best nourishment of all God-given talent. And God opens doors in the minds of those Whom He wills, and needs no mortal teacher to do so (though obviously He most often and naturally uses mortal teachers as a means to do so). In Him and in contemplation of Him, the mind of the artist discovers the secret paths and doors to unlock ever more and more of the treasure God has planted as a tiny seed in him. By virtue he acquires the discipline to practice his art. By grace, the strength to adhere to that discipline, and the guidance toward the intended purpose of his particular talent. Finally, by the contemplation of God and the things of God, the eyes are opened to the purpose and nature of his (and other) talents, and he begins to discern the good or lack thereof in his work. By humility he submits himself to what God shows him. By the Holy Ghost he can be guided to it's proper use.
But without grace, without God... I think talents are like a mansion with many rooms. The atheist may enjoy well and live life to it's fullest (or so he thinks) in the foyer and perhaps parlor. But to the saintly Catholic goes more and more of the keys (according to the measure of his or her perfection and God's will) to the rest of the rooms, to unlock the secret of what life is, can be and ought to be in it's fullness and in all propriety in that mansion. The atheist indeed has gotten from God a kingly home in the foyer, which in comparison everybody else's whole house is drab and dreary and poor and wretched. (Of course many modern artists have barely the mailbox to boast, let alone the foyer. But to speak of the apparent success of the few worldly artists who seem to defy the rule... let's allow them the foyer.) Such are the magnificent gifts of God. But if one thinks the foyer impressive, just wait till they reach the better parts!
Now of course once a man learns that there is here a whole house, each room with it's proper purpose and singular beauty, he is no longer impressed by the foyer... or at least he is no longer AS impressed. He comes to realize, room by room, that living in the foyer is absolutely nothing compared to living in the whole house, and the more he understands the whole house, the more he understands the gift he possesses, and how it was meant to be used. But those keys are for saints (1*) , and we are no saints. (God is not cruel, but it would be if He let every man damn himself according to the fullness of the gifts He gives them, to use them in sin and error and blindness to their greater damnation. What a mercy that most of us never understand our gifts well enough to put ourselves quite so deeply into hell as we would otherwise do if we were set on going wrong.) However we are, all of us, called to be saints, and the closer we strive seriously and earnestly to be saints (albeit little ones, like St. Therese the Little Flower teaches us that most of us will be), the more of those keys, God willing, we may obtain.
I pity the man that sits on the curb and marvels at the great facade, curls up on the withered lawn in the dead of winter and exclaims with delight and utmost pride that the lawn is the life, and the luxury, and the beauty of the whole house, and claims that he is a great man who agrees with him. But I more pity the man who is given all the keys, and who does not try with every ounce of his will and all the sincerity he can muster to BE a saint indeed! It would be better to satisfy one's self with the lawn and be guilty only of abusing it when the master of the house comes, than to demolish the whole house and be guilty of all of it. With knowledge comes responsibility. With error, damnation.
-edit: footnote added-
1* The practice of Christian perfection opens up naturally the willpower, the habits, the knowledge, the truth, etc... which lead man to a better understanding of the talents, a better idea of how they ought (or ought not) be used, and the equipment of the virtues necessary to use those talents properly. That is to say, on the road to becoming saints, we seem to acquire certain things that are vital to the "optimization" of our talents. THIS IS, OF COURSE, ALL PERSONAL SPECULATION THOUGH.
Topic: St. Thomas on Art (Read 1820 times)