When I teach watercolor classes, I begin with this verse to help my students understand that creativity is a gift from God and a mirror of His own creative process. It is a poignant and profound way in which we, God’s masterpieces, image him. Just as God looked and saw (surveyed, reflected on, concluded) that all he had made was very good, we, too, are invited by Christ to ‘consider the birds of the air and the flowers of the field.’ This ‘seeing’ is the very first skill I teach my students, for the work of a visual artist stems from our ability to perceive and consider. Just as a cellist knows their instrument uniquely – the weight of their bow and the smooth ebony beneath their fingertips – the artist wields the instrument of observation with lifelong practice and curiosity.

When we learn to look, two things happen. First, we discover that creation is very good. I am reminded of my time at A Rocha France, painting moths and finding the beauty and intricacy of these often-overlooked insects. Sometime later, at L’Abri in Switzerland, this experience was mirrored in my workshop with students as I asked them to closely observe and draw moths at various stages of their lifecycle. The act of looking and creating was utterly transformative, with one student sharing that three days earlier, she would have killed a moth without a second thought. They had learned to cherish – to see the ‘very goodness’ – of this tiny piece of creation. The artist’s role is to teach people to see, and when we learn to see, we respond with love. 

The second thing that happens is that God is revealed in creation – ‘The heavens declare the glory of God.’ When I have sent my students into nature to practice looking, God has spoken to them as He so often speaks to me. The artist becomes a storyteller. As I consider, ponder, and discover the depths of God as revealed in creation, my art tells these stories.

My friend, a composer, tells me that for her, the beauty of music is that it unfolds through moments in time. As an artist, I find great beauty in art’s ability to hold countless brushstrokes, hours of effort, and corresponding or even contradictory ideas all together, at once, on the same paper. Meaning is so powerfully received when it is rooted in the complexity of life; as the Psalmist wrote, ‘he makes the valley of Achor a gateway of hope.’ Not the valley of abundance or ease, but the valley of trouble. Art holds space for mystery and paradox in a way that is unique to this discipline and has been explored within Christian worship for centuries if not millennia.