Morphemics

Goblins in Christian Art

Monitored by Ryan’s web presence last week was an interesting discussion on the concept of “duende.” In Portuguese, the word (pronounced DWEN-djee) denotes a goblin. I’m not aware that the general Portuguese or Brazilian culture has gone beyond children’s fairly tale references to Marquez’s description of it as “a demon, an inner blackness that craves an escape into the spiritual that is simply impossible.” Nevertheless, the word has been transmuted into a truly intriguing concept. I won’t pretend to be able to say anything about the occasion of the discussion- rock music is simply not one of my driving passions and I wouldn’t begin to know how to identify an emo band. However, I suspect that the term goes beyond rock music to the full gamut of artistic or even cultural expression. Essentially, duende recognizes the necessity of the impossible. It is the religious longing for hope, understanding, or purpose without necessarily buying into the encumbrance of a particular deity or any deity for that matter.

Aaron is right: with Jesus, our view should be light years away. And this not only from those who don’t recognize the religious longing in great art, but from those who recognize nothing more than this religious longing. If there is no Jesus, then our experiences will not find any significance beyond our feelings. All of which is probably not any new information for Christians, and, for the matter, not really the point in this discussion that interests me. What I do want to know is this: is it possible for a Christian artist to have the quality of duende? Duende, according to Marquez’s description, is a craving for the “simply impossible.” The problem is this- Christians, through no fault or effort of their own, have attained the impossible. The spiritual escape, which others so eloquently crave, is already ours; and not just an escape, but a day to day reality. It would seem then that redemption kills art.

Then again, such a conclusion is perhaps a bit hasty. There is no need to relegate Christian art to the picture frames and coffee mugs of your neighborhood Bible Bookstore. While the use of the term may be relatively recent, duende describes a quality that has always been the case. Those who have coined the term in this particular usage are not defining great artists; they are describing them. In many cases, they’re dead on. In other cases, they fail to recognize the objective hope of the Christian artist; however, they do recognize both the religious longing and, at times, the sadness that is found in such art.

Duende, it would seem, is not characterized by mere longing. Longing for something is rather commonplace. We long for things all the time that we may or may not get. As I hear it described, duende is found in the tension between an intense craving and the knowledge that this craving will never be satisfied. Where then is the tension for the believer? We know that, one day, our cravings will be satisfied. But there is no tension here and, consequently, no fertile ground for the artist. The tension, I believe, is found in the recognition that, despite the presence of an intense craving, there also exists a perfect and present satisfaction. The ability to express this tension constitutes the quality of duende just as much as anything that Marquez describes.

It is not so much the inner darkness craving an escape into the spiritual as it is the spiritual craving an escape from the inner darkness. Yet, duende does not have to describe a crisis of faith (although this can be the source of some very good artistic expression). Rather, it may be an affirmation of faith. How does Paul put it? “That I may know him and the fellowship of his sufferings.” It is not that Jesus suffers for us so that we can have a care free existence. Instead, we are crucified with him- and yet we live. Duende may be found in the expression of our union with Christ. It is the knowledge that Christ identifies with his people; that he too has been unable to sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land but has, instead, wept as he remembers Jerusalem.

I have been engaging in a personal exploration of a new concept and there isn’t much more I can say. As I have written this, three examples of duende in Christian art have come to mind. One is a painting: Rembrandt’s “Jeremiah Weeping over Jerusalem.” Another is Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion.” The text may be religious; however, I am not trying to suggest that Christian artists must produce explicitly Christian content. I had in mind the music, which stands on its own. The opening, especially, is incredible. The last is probably more familiar:

What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul…

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.