Tillich and Popular Culture
Traces of Paul Tillich in the Art World
This brief sketch is not meant to
detail Paul Tillich’s rich theory of art, but rather to
discover details of the public perception of and
reaction to Tillich’s participation in the cultural
elite of New York and elsewhere. A search for
contemporaneous accounts of his public influence amounts
to a sort of Tillichian archeology. In lieu of potsherds
and clay tablets, we have scraps of newspapers, quotes,
and passing mentions of the Tillich’s influence in the
artistic world. So I begin with the hypothesis that from
whatever mundane objects we uncover, we may draw some
modest conclusions about the public perception of the
man during his time.
Tillich’s activities on the New
York art “scene” are well documented. As a theologian he
was never dismissed by the avant garde as some
puritanical theologian (of course he was not, but the
absence of the depreciatory term is telling) and even
seems to have understood some artists more deeply and
compassionately than art critics. For example, as
Christmas approached in 1952, the Sunday edition of the
New York Times detailed several exhibitions of
religious art, which included crucifixion paintings of
Salvador Dalí and an exhibit at Union Theological
Seminary for which Tillich acted as faculty advisor. Art
Editor, Aline Louchheim, opened the article noting that
none of these exhibits contained “sweetly sentimental or
sickly streamlined versions of religious themes,” which
he or the readership may have expected. Louchheim framed
the discussion of Dalí and others with Tillich’s
four-fold artistic relationships, including creativity
itself as “’the power of being, the ultimate
potentiality of life,’” then noted with what seems to be
a tone of mild surprise that artists, particularly
expressionist artists in the Union exhibits, resonated
with Tillich’s thought. Tillich provided a profound
frame for Louchhiem, who closed otherwise rich piece
with the line “[m]aybe spirituality, like beauty, lies
in the eye of the beholder.” I wince as both Tillich and
Dalí are gulped down a cliché’s gummy maw, even if it
does contain a partial truth or show exactly what
happens to pearls cast before swine.
Tillich’s consistent involvement in
the art world earned him a nearly a perfunctory place in
the aesthetic news of the post-war world. References to
the man abound. Before me sits a 1962 Boston Globe
notes Tillich’s presence on a panel regarding religious
art during the Easter holidays. A 1964 New York Times
notes first lady Claudia Johnson’s attendance at
Tillich’s dedication lecture for the Museum of Modern
Art’s expanded sculpture garden. Tillich’s obituary in
the Boston Globe notes his interdisciplinary work,
particularly his consistent commitment to the fine arts.
Most of these references to Tillich are casual mentions
with minimal explanation of his identity and station.
Tillich’s influence and reputation
appears on a spectrum. In 1966, a year after Tillich’s
death, New York Times art critic Grace Glueck
reported on a dinner held by the New York Society for
Clinical Psychiatry. Glueck quoted an organizer of the
event as saying, “[w]e’ve had everyone appear at these
dinners, from Paul Tillich to Warhol…” The passing
reference seems to suggest a spectrum spanning from the
depth of an old standard in cultural engagement to a
new, perhaps more bizarre era for the New York artistic
world. If I were allowed to read a little more into the
ephemeral comparison, I might sense an implicit contrast
indicates a slight sense of nostalgia speedily ignored
in the excitement and row of the middle sixties. Even
so, a decade later, in the November 5th issue of the
New York Times Gluck again mentioned Tillich as the
late owner of a painting by Alfonso Ossorio featured in
a New York exhibition of religious art. In a 1989, Jack
Anderson wrote a review of spiritual choreography in
which discussed one dance, which “…suggests humanity is
forever on the brink of disaster” and presents a
“’yearning for the wholly other: an ultimate reality.’”
Is it surprising that Tillich, then dead for twenty-five
years but whose affinity for dance was well documented,
made an appearance in this context? One choreographed
piece, which dealt explicitly with the problem of
theodicy, prompted Anderson to include several lines
from Tillich’s sermon “You Are Accepted” in his review.
It is not clear whether or not the choreographers
intended such a comparison, but a discussion of
Tillich’s grace “’in spite of separation and
estrangement’” certainly borrows Tillich’s living
theological depth for an aesthetic discussion some years
after his death.
If nothing else, the fragments give a sense of Tillich’s
aura within the aesthetic community. Whether or not he
ever made a transition from the avant garde to the rear
guard in the popular consciousness is unimportant—that
there was a popular consciousness of a theologian
speaking seriously on art is remarkable. To be mentioned
in passing does Tillich the honor of needing no
explanation. Tillich seems to have been a ‘household
name’ for those aesthetically inclined. Even so, a
piecemeal collection of references begs the question—are
these fragments only fragments or do they
represent a legitimate positive regard for Tillich in
the art world? Are they simply remnants, a modern
pedestal of Ozymandias preserved in library archives?
Or, are these small memorials to a significant
contribution? This is difficult to answer. Of course
Tillich’s influence faltered once his corporeal presence
left the conversation, and it is not surprising that
mention of the man in the news has also slowed
considerably as we approach half a century since his
passing. I suspect, though, that he would not be
surprised or even saddened by waning influence. He lent
is voice to an existential situation, an epoch of space
and time and bore no illusions about the finitude of his
voice. Were he here, though, what might disappoint the
man is that no other theologian since has answered the
call to speak meaningfully to the artistic community.
Josh Hasler
Boston University
Fall 2010
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