My husband's dream of art

Last night the hubby and I were discussing the church band and the music program in general there, and how lucky we were to have such an open and creative music program that encouraged people and kids to explore their musical abilities. The music director, Brian, has a true gift for encouraging kid's musical leanings and developing them into true talent. John, my hubby, is the "sound guy"--the one who hooks up and monitors the sound levels and quality of the singers and musicians. He feels like working the sound board is like playing an instrument. I sat there, thinking it over, and said, "what kind of instrument is it?" Because, after all, a sound board doesn't make any sound. It modifies other people's sound, but it doesn't have a sound of its own. John shook his head, thinking about it, but it was late then, and we went to bed.

The next morning, I went to the kitchen, and there on my place at the kitchen table was a piece of paper, with John's handwriting on it. It said:

"Art is commentary on our existance as incarnate beings." And,

"An instrument is any tool of artistic expression."

I nodded--it made sense--and folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket to take with me to work, so that I could think about it for a while. However, this idea seemed to seize John with a vengeance, and around noon, I got an e-mail about his thoughts on it all. Later he elaborated on it...well, I'll just let him say it in his own words:

Last night, over dinner, Karen and I were talking about how blessed we were by the praise music and musicians at FWUMC. Being a sound guy, I said that, for me, running the sound system is like playing an instrument. She asked "what kind of instrument is it?" I thought about it, but could not really say. I was stumped.

"I went to bed, and had a dream. In the dream, I was in the sanctuary of our church. It was dark and quiet. Then, a voice said "In the beginning was the word." The dream progressed through the days of creation, first with lights in the heavens, then water and earth, and so on. Images of creation appeared on the walls and ceiling, with sounds of water and animals. It appeared as a staged event , like a play. On the sixth day, the lights came up to reveal the praise band. They stood and sat like statues, holding instruments, but expressionless, without life. God then breathed life into them. They came alive, and together with the congregation began to sing and celebrate.

"From this, I had two revelations. The first, that we are incarnate beings, who know of and act within creation through our bodies. That art, in its most general sense, is the expression of our contemplations about our condition as incarnate beings. That this invisible thing we call our selves would manipulate light, sound, words, images, anything at all, though our bodies as a contemplation of our condition as spirits embedded within creation. Sure, we do other things, like walking, loving, helping, and fighting. But art is unique.

The second was this: That, in the context of art, an instrument is any tool we use for artistic expression. The first instrument is our bodies, but our expression may involve other things as well. What is the difference between a sound system and the lens of a camera? Neither is the thing it manipulates, yet are they not the tools of an artist? Or what of a drum or piano that makes no sound without the sound system? Are they not musical instruments? Finally, consider the music director. While he or she may play an instrument or sing, are those their only instruments of artistic expression? On the contrary, every musician in the band is also their instrument."

I thought about this--it made so much sense. And then I e-mailed him back with my thoughts on it:

And in the end, just as the musicians are the music director's instrument, so are we God's instruments. As instruments of God, we express His contemplation of His condition as a supreme being.

From spirit, through creation, to spirit.