On Mosaic Art
The loss of aesthetic beauty and its resulting consequences
Few things give us such a glimpse into the past lives of the people of this world, as art. Remarkable in its timelessness, it provides us with a picture of things exactly as they were. Knowledge can be drawn from historical literature of course, telling us exactly how people lived in some regards, but art can fill gaps left by books. You do not always write down the little details that would be found in art—specific clothing, physical appearance, etc. The cultural knowledge we receive through artistic artifacts is vast. Much of the art of deep antiquity has been lost, simply because not many mediums can survive time. Paint fades, paper disintegrates, but natural, durable mediums can last multiple millennia.
There is one type of art that I find to be of particular interest— mosaic art. Mosaic art is a skill, arranging small pieces of tessera (consisting commonly of glass, tile, ceramic or stone) into a large picture. These pictures can be wildly intricate, as they are able to capture the very details of a person or animal. Over the millennia many different cultures have perfected the art form.
I see great value in these mosaics, because I have seen them and been wildly impressed by them. I have found that there is no way to so tangibly understand history, but to be in it. When surrounded by the artifacts of antiquity there is such a vast understanding of the depth of reality history possesses. Realizing that the pictures you are staring at are the same as people hundreds, sometimes thousands of years ago, also stared at. Seeing the very tiles placed by these artists, humans that have lived the same as me—this is something that has deeply, deeply altered my understanding (as well as interest) for history.
I am vastly aware that this reality goes beyond mosaics, but there is something so beautiful about the care and time necessary for these pictures that is so lost in our modern world. The careful planning, masterful cutting, and painful construction—beautifully reflecting the intricacy of the world around us. I find it deeply interesting that mosaics were a pagan art form originally, as they were used to paint pictures of the Greek and Roman gods. The early Church was diligent in pursuing the very historically-Christian idea of transforming everything around them into an act of ordered worship. I believe that beautiful and intentional works of art reflect beautifully the natural creation the God has given to us.
This belief was embedded in the early church, resulting in magnificent cathedrals; full of mosaics, stained glass, and frescos. These mosaics were incredibly labor intensive and costly; however this is why they were chosen. It cost these people something to build them, sometimes more tangibly than the money spent—it cost time and work. Mosaics became more than an art display, but a picture of gratitude, devotion, and the church’s importance. Francis Shaeffer says: “A Christian should use these arts to the glory of God, not just as tracts, mind you, but as things of beauty to the praise of God. An art work can be a doxology in itself.”1 This idea is essential when thinking about the place of art in this world—it is only beneficial if its end is to glorify God.
One church in particular that has left me in absolute awe, is St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. This church is so large you can easily get lost in it—making you feel incredibly small, and ultimately insignificant. This idea was wonderfully articulated by Abbot Surger: “The building ought to lift the mind toward heaven… so that, looking upon these things, men may be stirred to the contemplation of divine things and their own humility.”2 Each detail in these churches is a reflection of worship; a sign that God is synonymous with beauty and power. Psalm 90 says: “For all the gods of the peoples are worthless idols, but the Lord made the heavens.Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary.”3
Current culture largely struggles with this concept, embracing minimalism, typically resulting in un-interesting, simple, and sterile buildings. We pursue efficiency over beauty, simplicity over careful details, and practicality over large statements of God’s beauty. We need more mosaics. We need more intricate, painfully scrutinized details—We need to care! C.S. Lewis says: “If you reject aesthetic satisfactions you will fall into sensual satisfactions.”4 This incredibly encapsulates the problem we have developed. Our culture pursues abstract sensual satisfactions, largely as a result of the collapse of aesthetic satisfactions. We no longer take time to observe the natural world around us, but observe our interpretation of it.
We have abstracted beauty into personal post-modern philosophy, no longer pursuing what is good, true, and beautiful—truth becomes quite a novelty when living within post-modernism. Augustine brings incredible clarity on this subject:“Beauty is a certain harmony, proportion, and order, by which the eye or mind delights.”5 This demonstrates to us the reality that beauty is not a subjective, sensual reality, but an objective aesthetic pursuit. This belief has been largely lost in today’s world, we no longer commonly endorse proclamations of God’s beauty and order through our aesthetics.
I wonder what our world would look like if we began pursuing aesthetic satisfactions again. Returning to tradition, challenging both our physical and mental capabilities, using modern technologies to rival the beauty and order of antiquity. Continuing to build masterful mosaic pictures; tangible, precise, and beautiful. Working to break out of our modern slump of efficiency, and into meticulous, cumbersome, and elaborate structures—ultimately bringing us aesthetic satisfactions, that we may rejoice in God’s order and beauty.
Art and the Bible: Two Essays, Francis Schaeffer (1973)
Abbot Suger, De Administratione (1140s)
Psalm 96 (ESV)
Learning in Wartime, C.S. Lewis (1939)
On Christian Doctrine, Augustine (397 AD)