“In the beginning, God created heaven and Earth,” the preacher said, clutching his Bible. “And the Earth was without form, and so He formed unto its canvas that art known as mankind and his surroundings, and it was His greatest creation. And there shall be no other art but that by God the Artist.”
That’s ridiculous, Vigo thought, keeping his expression serene. He sat among the faithful in a church of colorless grays, without so much as a flash of color to interrupt its absolute plainness.
None knew of the contraband he wore under his gray cloak. He had created it at odd moments away from the fields where he and the townsfolk grew and gathered God’s art in the form of wheat and corn, later to be eaten to sustain God’s primary artwork, mankind.
The preacher continued: “It is a sin to change our Lord’s perfect art, to make imperfect that which was perfect. Some look in a mirror, and use a comb to fix that which the Lord had made perfect. Some see a wrinkle in an item of clothing, and use an iron to fix that which the Lord had made perfect. Some see a bit of uneven crabgrass in a lawn of finer grass, and pull it to fix that which the Lord had made perfect. Some think these are minor sins, and the Lord will not care.”
Vigo fingered the comb in his pocket. He had the best-kept hair in a room of unkempt monstrosities. That was perfect art? He’d seen pictures of people that styled their hair until it was truly art. What was wrong with that?
The preacher slammed the Bible down on his pulpit and thundered, “There are no minor sins! When you sin, you place a blotch on God’s work, and become one more piece of art that was perfect, but is perfect no more.
“And so I say unto you, put away your mirrors and combs, your irons and weeding gloves, for the artwork that stays true to its perfect nature shall inherit the Earth.”
Hypocrisy, Vigo thought. The preacher’s robe was the purest white in a room full of gray, making him stand out like a peacock.
It was time, he decided. He’d been planning this moment for many months. Now that the moment was here, he found he could barely breathe. He rose to his feet and raised a trembling hand, his heart racing. He had hoped to stay calm.
Smiling, the preacher said, “Yes, Brother Vigo?”
“Is it not a sin to put on a play in a theatre, as the wicked from the past once did?”
The preacher nodded. “Aye, Brother Vigo, those that would do theatre are blots upon the canvas of the Lord.”
“And is it a sin because their actions are an attempt at art, when only God may do art?” His mind began to clear.
“Rightly so, Brother Vigo. Your observations are astute.”
“Then, since actions can be art, and since we are God’s art, are not our actions also His artwork?” A calm overtook him. He’d visualized this scene a thousand times.
“Mr. Vigo!” the preacher exclaimed, walking down the aisle toward him. “You do not have the training to interpret the art of God.”
Vigo stepped into the aisle. “Some see the actions of God’s artwork, mankind, and seek to change that which the Lord had made perfect. Is that not a sin?” The two men faced each other, with all eyes upon them.
“Art does not make art!” the preacher cried.
“You are wrong,” Vigo said, his heart again racing, but this time with exhilaration. He tore off his cloak, exposing the bright red shirt beneath. There were gasps. The blue lettering across the front said, in two slanted lines, Art is Beauty. Beauty is Art. A colorful rainbow underlined it. It had taken him a long time and many ruined shirts to get right.
The preacher stepped back, a peacock scorned. “Brother Vigo, you have fallen to a place from which you cannot return.”
“I do not wish to return.” Vigo looked about at the congregation. “God gave us the ability to create beauty. A belief that says we must not create this beauty as He intended is a false belief.” He walked to the door, then turned back.
“I am no longer a member of this church of gray, but join me, and we will create beauty in all its forms — paintings, statues, music, poetry, and any others we find.”
There was a hop to his step as he left the building. Art should be done for its own beauty, he thought, not for some God. We’ll fight this battle one brushstroke at a time, and make the world a better canvas for all.
Larry Hodges, of Germantown, MD, is an active member of SFWA with over 40 short story sales, over half of them since summer 2008. He’s a graduate of the six-week 2006 Odyssey Writers’ Workshop, the 2007 Orson Scott Card Literary Boot Camp, and the 2008 Taos Toolbox Writers’ Workshop. He’s a full-time writer with three books and over 1200 published articles in over 100 different publications. He’s also a member of the USA Table Tennis Hall of Fame (Google it!), and once beat someone while using an ice cube as a racket. Visit him at www.larryhodges.org.
GD Star Rating
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22 Responses to “ONE BRUSHSTROKE AT A TIME • by Larry Hodges”
Comments
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February 17th, 2011 at 1:10 am
And so a new way of attaining bigotry is born, though the bigotry remains the same…
February 17th, 2011 at 4:55 am
It all seems a bit contrived.
February 17th, 2011 at 5:21 am
Okay, well, getting past the flawed, illogical premise, and the most unoriginal use of “Art is Beauty, Beauty is Art,” linking that to the title, and the use of color and art, the uncloaking business in a church, I see this story as a manifesto in support of gay rights/gay marriage? Along with the other story “Amos Waters,” I guess you could call this theme month at EDF.
February 17th, 2011 at 5:58 am
I was thinking this would need some pondering, but a manifesto for gay marriage?
Oh, yes, there’s an area in Brussels that has painted rainbows all over the place.
Thanks, I could have taken a long time to reach that conclusion.
But what is Vigo doing in this place in the first place? You can always find repressive institutions if you look for them. Stay away is my advice.
Anyway, it looks as if he’ll be barred in future.
Sheila
February 17th, 2011 at 5:59 am
There wasn’t enough going on in this story, or enough characterization, to engage me on an emotional level.
I don’t know what world this religion formed in, but if it is meant to be our world, then that preacher is ignoring centuries of Christian texts that celebrate art, music and beauty. The preacher should read “On the Divine Images,” by the ninth-century monk St. John of Damascus, who explains that the artist, by creating, is acting in the image of God, the Creator. And the Bible says that we are made in the image and likeness of God.
So if this story takes place in our world, I’d be interested to know more about how the theology of the church in this story developed, and how it (apparently) came to be so all-encompassing. If it doesn’t take place in our world, then I think the setting and time period of the story need to be clearer, or it doesn’t work.
February 17th, 2011 at 6:25 am
Oh dear. It occurred to me while I was drying my hair that I’ve gotten my church history mixed up. It’s been a while since I took that “Art and Monasticism” course.
John of Damascus was seventh/eighth-century, not ninth. He did write “On the Divine Images,” and it does defend the use of Christian art, but he makes slightly different points; the text I was really thinking of is “Essay on the Diverse Arts” by a twelfth-century German monk named Theophilus.
The rest of my comment stands.
February 17th, 2011 at 7:14 am
I didn’t detect the manifesto-on-gay-rights thing, though I do understand how this piece could be read that way. But I did find the story engaging, well-written, and kind of refreshing in its simplicity. That it can be “interpreted” in a variety of ways, for me, is one of its strengths. Nicely done, Larry!
What I got out of it? A reminder of the evil inherent in fundamentalism run amok, in people refusing to think for themselves, relying instead on some demagogue to do their thinking for them, and in blind, unquestioning obedience to dogma of any type. The other side of that coin is the courage inherent in expressing one’s beliefs despite their evident unpopularity, and the risks one takes in doing so.
Yeah, as themes go that one probably borders on unoriginal, but so what? I thought the writer expressed himself beautifully; even if my take on his theme missed the mark completely, I still enjoyed his short story.
Good work! Thanks for sharing.
February 17th, 2011 at 7:20 am
I like the way this author writes. I like Vigo, bless his enthusiastic little heart, and I like the image of colour vs. gray.
I don’t have the energy or inclination to beat my head against a wall this morning debating religious or sexual orientation. I’ll take it as a simple story about a fellow who stood up for something he felt strongly about and leave it at that. Three stars.
February 17th, 2011 at 8:05 am
Lots of ways to take this story. For me, it’s a bit allegorical, and concerns the question of “truth” as stated by someone other than yourself.
The story says that people who are unwilling to read, study, and think for themselves are happy to let others do that for them. The result: They get told what to think and believe…and they do. They follow like sheep, unquestioning.
Too much of that today. Too many people letting “pundits” do their thinking for them. And, since the author addresses that point in the story (to me), I’ve got to give him four big ones. Vigo on!
February 17th, 2011 at 8:32 am
I really liked this story. I’d love to see more in this universe, for example how did the world get so colourless in the first place? I didn’t read this as just an allegory for gay rights, but as an allegory warning against institution that teaches us there’s only one way to think,
February 17th, 2011 at 8:45 am
Reading the story (rather than reading into the story) I found myself working to get to the finish. I wondered why. Pace, scene, repetitive description like ‘colorless gray, without so much as a flash of color’ and tense change in the last paragraph; ‘There was a hop’ rather than ‘He hopped’.
Three from me.
February 17th, 2011 at 8:54 am
Yes definitely reads like a gay rights allegory. COuld use some basic editing. All in all, I enjoyed it in it’s simplicity. Nicely done.
February 17th, 2011 at 9:50 am
Wondering what Vigo had planned kept me reading, a good thing.
My only wish is for more tension rising in Vigo leading up to his stand for all things ungray. And less exclamation points – always.
February 17th, 2011 at 10:47 am
Finally a story I like on EDF. Bravo.
February 17th, 2011 at 10:59 am
I did not read gay rights at all. Just a breaking from conformity. I enjoyed this piece. I wonder why so many comments seem disparaging.
February 17th, 2011 at 1:25 pm
I enjoyed this story and am glad I’m not the only who saw nothing about gay rights blended in. In fact, I was waiting for him to set a bomb off or shoot the preacher. When he simply charged out of the church, it was almost a let down – lol.
February 17th, 2011 at 1:35 pm
“You do not have the training to interpret the art of God.” Who does, really?
I too see this piece as a stand against conformity and mindless following of doctrine. Love it!
February 17th, 2011 at 2:50 pm
While I appreciate what the story was driving at, I just didn’t feel it worked very well as, er, a story.
I needed to know more about who Vigo was and why he was making his stand to care. Never thought I’d see the day where I grew tired of seeing people stick it to fundamentalists, but I guess this was it.
February 17th, 2011 at 8:04 pm
This was one of the best stories I’ve ever read here.
And I’m sorry, but the people who notice everything else about a story except the beauty in it here, they annoy me.
‘Art is beauty. Beauty is art.’
February 17th, 2011 at 9:40 pm
Ironically, the story is about bigoted opinion, just like comment #19.
February 17th, 2011 at 10:51 pm
This one didn’t really do it for me. Just too tell-y and kind of predictable.
I did like the detail of the messy hair a lot. The idea of a church where people just don’t attend to hygiene is interesting. And the preacher talking about minor sins. But like Erin said, I need to know more about their world.
I started losing interest when Vigo and the preacher started arguing. And the end was just too much of a PSA for me, though I agree with it, gay rights allegory or no.
February 18th, 2011 at 12:05 am
The messy hair thing was what first tripped me up. Vigo talks about his comb, implying his hair is neatly combed. Surely the preacher would have noted that before. Do they not bathe either? Or brush their teeth? Why do they wear clothing if they are perfect the way God created them? It’s just silly. I disregarded all this nonsense, and tried to find some other meaning in the story. And yeah, the rainbow, the uncloaking which suggested coming out, the refusal to conform to normative standards, the fact that this takes place in a church, brought gay rights/gay marriage to mind. It could have been about a million other things, any of the generalities posited in the comments above. To me the particular details chosen suggested a specific agenda. Anyway, that’s what I took from the story.