Art and the Christian Mind E-Book

Laurel Gasque

• Herausgeber: Crossway
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2005

Beschreibung

Hans Rookmaaker's impact on the arts in the twentieth century was enormous. His wide range of intellectual and cultural concerns led him to explore many aspects of art, music, and philosophy during his lifetime, and he made important contributions as an art historian, professor, mentor, thinker, and author. Laurel Gasque examines Rookmaaker's life and shows how he incorporated his biblical beliefs into his teaching, writing, and interaction with the arts and individuals. She also explores the development of Rookmaaker's friendship with Francis A. Schaeffer and how each influenced the other, especially in grasping the vision that became L'Abri Fellowship. Gasque has rich material to draw from, including personal memories of her mentor and friend, conversations with Rookmaaker's family members, and the body of work he left behind. Her careful research and engaging writing style make this book an outstanding contribution to the world of Christian biography.

Leseprobe

Art and the Christian Mind

Originally published by Piquant, Carlisle, United Kingdom in The Complete Works of H.R. Rookmaaker , Part 4, Volume 6: “Hans Rookmaaker: AnOpen Life,” copyright © 2003.

Copyright © 2005 by Laurel Gasque

Published by Crossway BooksA publishing ministry of Good News Publishers1300 Crescent StreetWheaton, Illinois 60187

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided by USA copyright law.

Cover design: Jon McGrath

Cover photo: Getty Images

First printing, 2005

Printed in the United States of America

All photographs are used by permission of Marleen Hengelaar-Rookmaaker.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataGasque, Laurel, 1942–Art and the Christian mind: the life and work of H. R. Rookmaaker / Laurel Gasque.p. cm.ISBN 1-58134-694-8 (tpb)1. Rookmaaker, H. R. (Hendrik Roelof), 1922-1977. 2. Reformed (Reformed Church)—Netherlands—Biography. 3. Art historians—Netherlands—Biography. I. Title.BX9479.R66G37 2005

284'.2'092—dc22

2005003663

VP            15    14    13    12    11    10    09    08    07    06    05 15    14    13    12    11    10    9    8    7    6    5       4    3    2    1

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgments

1 Impact

2 Childhood

3 Youth

4 Conversion and Calling

5 Family and Career

6 Friendships

7 Passions

8 Legacy

Appendix I: Chronology

Appendix II: Sources

PREFACE

In the spring of 1977 I was living in Edinburgh. The sun was shining beautifully through the windowpanes of my little flat on Rose Street when I answered the telephone on Monday, March 14. My delight in the day and at hearing Marleen Rookmaaker’s voice soon jolted into a dark shadow of shock and sadness as she told me that her father had died in the early evening of the night before. It hardly seemed possible that he could have slipped away from all of us so suddenly.

Sorrow softened as I listened to Bach’s wonderful cantata, Gottes Zeit is die allerbeste Zeit (BWV 106): “God’s time is the very best time.... In him, we die at the right time, as he wills.” Then memories flooded in.

My husband, Ward, and I treasured our friendship with Hans. There had been so many memorable and enjoyable times with him and with Anky and the family. We had had opportunity to see him in all sorts of surroundings: in the intimacy of our home in Vancouver on extended visits as our houseguest, at Dutch and Swiss L’Abri, as well as in various British, American, and Austrian settings. Publicly and personally, professionally and privately, there was no contradiction. He was completely himself. He did not try to ingratiate himself through small talk or chitchat. But he did have a great sense of humor. I think Ward is the only person I ever saw who could make him laugh heartily at himself. We loved the fact that he did not take himself seriously every second of the day.

We also almost killed ourselves suppressing our laughter on one occasion at seeing Hans trying to be as tactful as possible in giving his opinion of a work of art in which one of our colleagues had invested a considerable amount of money despite his wife’s disapproval. He was obviously looking for Hans’s endorsement to justify his expenditure and confirm his good taste. When Hans was not immediately forthcoming, he finally asked, “What do you think?” There was a significant interval of silence. There we all were, including our colleague and his spouse and children, waiting with bated breath to hear Hans’s expert opinion. Fiddling with his pipe a bit, he finally looked around at all of us and then at the painting and said, “Well, it really should be entitled, ‘Tunnel of Love.’ It would be best if you put it under your bed.”

But writing the biography of a mentor and friend is not simply about warm personal reminiscences. Over the course of writing this brief biography, I have had to ask myself many questions about what it means to give a textual account of someone’s life with fidelity to the remaining documentary evidence as well as to the highly personal memories (including my own) of those still living.

By turns I have been challenged, humbled, and awed by the life of a person who was neither famous nor obscure by worldly standards. Here was someone who lived a relatively ordinary life of influence in the middle of the twentieth century. The upsurge in biography today often goes hand in hand with catering to curiosity about a celebrity and the hunger of the public to know the foibles of a famous person’s life. Few famous people in any age can be what one might call typical of their time.

Yet we desire deeply to know the lives of people and long for figures who represent their ages. Perhaps the main reason the Bible is still the world’s best seller and we name so many of our children after its cast of characters is that it is a book of biographies, giving powerfully rendered, unvarnished, and distilled lives of people who made a difference for good or ill.

Biographies help give us our moral place in history as we participate through identification with or reaction against those about whom we read. Biographies also overcome the arbitrary distinctions and artificial divisions we make when thinking or writing about history. At best, if crafted well, they can synthesize a personal perspective with a wider view of the events of a period that inspires us to try to understand another time or to live well in the present.

The struggle to achieve a moving narrative while remaining faithful to written evidence and personal recollections is not easy. It provides a great temptation for the biographer to move subtly to create a form closer to fiction than the more limited telling of a life based almost strictly on what can be corroborated.

Out of complete sincerity and desire for Hans Rookmaaker’s name not to fall into oblivion, the late Linette Martin made an important first attempt to share his life soon after he died by publishing a biography in 1979. For that, anyone who values the life and work of H.R. Rookmaaker must be grateful. Despite inconsistency regarding chronology, some historical inaccuracies, and elements of invented narrative, anyone who writes a biography after her work stands on her shoulders and owes her a debt of appreciation. In the latter part of her book, she was able brilliantly to capture Rookmaaker’s colloquially voiced speech on a page of written text—a voice we do not hear in quite the same way in his recorded lectures or his letters. It is so authentic that we can ever be grateful for her dramatist’s gift and forgive her for her factual errors.

The purpose of this additional biography has been to link Rookmaaker to his works and his ongoing influence as well as to try to correct a number of inaccuracies. There has also been an attempt to elaborate the important influence of some people and perspectives in shaping his life and outlook that were overlooked previously.

In his own right, the life and thought of J.P.A. Mekkes, Rookmaaker’s most important mentor and a key post-World War II Dutch Reformational thinker, still needs to be made available to English-speaking audiences. Further reflection on the relationship of Hans Rookmaaker and Francis Schaeffer in their missional dynamic to the so-called hippie generation would also be helpful. It would also be useful for a historian of Christianity to explore the bridge between Rookmaaker’s life and thought and the current generation who have been influenced by him in their art or thinking or written work.

I am more than painfully aware of many names that are missing from this account of the life and influence of Hans Rookmaaker that could be mentioned. No biography can encompass a whole life. The next biographer perhaps can craft it even more inclusively now that we have the published Complete Works available in accessible form. I am reminded of Hans’s playfulness. Walking along a sidewalk with his family and with our family, he would rush ahead of all of us and say, “Three steps forward and two steps back!” and have us all doing the same thing down the street as people looked at us as if we were crazy. What a life lesson in hope! There are setbacks, but buck up—we are also, by God’s grace, going forward. At many instances along the way in life and work, and as I wrote this biography, I have been reminded of “three steps forward and two steps back,” not by abstract admonition but by the remembrance of the act of charging up and down an ordinary street in a normal neighborhood, three steps forward and two steps back.

No biography can get it all right. The aim of this biography has been simply to say that an “ordinary” life can make an extraordinary difference.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, I would like to acknowledge my deep gratitude to the subject of this biography. Hans Rookmaaker never failed to encourage me intellectually and spiritually through friendship or to inspire me to independence of vocation by his creative example and serious conversation. Through his generous gift of time in viewing art and architecture, listening to music, and discussing vigorously, extensively, and openly issues of culture and meaning with me, he gave a dimension to my education that I could never have obtained by formal means. Hans’s complete confidence in the indissoluble relation between art and reality and his wise understanding of their interrelatedness have enriched my thinking and, indeed, my life.

It has been an honor and privilege to write this brief biography of someone who has contributed so much to so many lives, including my own. For this invitation I thank Marleen Hengelaar-Rookmaaker and Pieter Kwant. I am humbled by the confidence they have placed in me to undertake this task.

I have benefited greatly from the generosity and trust of the Rookmaaker family in allowing me to have access to family records, documents, letters, and photos, as well as Hans Rookmaaker’s annual appointment agendas. Sadly, Anky Rookmaaker died on February 10, 2003, as this account of her husband’s life was being completed. Throughout the process of research and verifying details, she kindly assisted as she could until only a few weeks before her death. I shall always appreciate the extended interview I was able to have with her in July 2001 in Ommen, her welcome then, and her hospitality on many other occasions. I also value the opportunity I had many years ago to meet both of Hans’s sisters, Door Haver Droeze and Hannie Rotgans, who were my dinner partners at a family occasion I was invited to join. Less than a year before her death in 2002, Hannie allowed me to interview her in her home in The Hague. Door passed away in 1989.

Again, I give my thanks to Marleen Hengelaar-Rookmaaker. She has been patient beyond measure and indefatigable in answering questions and tracking down or correcting information for me. I am grateful for help with the history of Redt een Kind (Save a Child) from her husband, Albert Hengelaar. I am also appreciative of their gracious hospitality and extraordinary helpfulness when I have been in the Netherlands. Their warm friendship has heartened me at every stage of my work.

Special thanks must go to Jaco Bauer for her unwavering help in translating many documents and letters from Dutch. Her grace and good humor during long hours of working together have sustained me when I thought we might not ever get through some materials.

The staff of the Special Collections of the Buswell Memorial Library at Wheaton College (Wheaton, Illinois, USA)—David Malone, Head of Special Collections and College Archivist; David Osielski, Reference Archivist; and Keith Call, Assistant Archivist—are all owed my thanks for their outstanding help as I worked through the Hans Rookmaaker Papers in their custody. I am also indebted to Graham Birtwistle and C.A. van Swigchem of the Free University of Amsterdam for a record of the history of the Department of Art History. I thank Graham Birtwistle for answering many other inquiries as well.

I would like to extend my appreciation for photographs appearing in this biography taken by Sylvester Jacobs, John Walford, and Peter Smith. I also gratefully acknowledge the help of the Documentatiecentrum at the Free University in tracing photographic material.

Many, many people have openheartedly shared their memories with me or openhandedly assisted me with valuable information in this project. I am sincerely grateful for their help. They are: the late David Alexander, Pat Alexander, Chris Anderson, Philip Archer, Thena Ayres, Jeremy Begbie, Elaine Botha, Ned Bustard, Raelene Cameron, Bettina and David Clowney, Tyrus Clutter, Eleanor DeLorme, Meryl Doney, Harry van Dyke, Bill and Grace Dyrness, Joyce Erickson, Eduardo Escheverria, Lindsay Farrell, Roger Feldman, David and Susan Fetcho, Don Forsythe, Rudi Fuchs, Sharon Gallagher, Nigel Goodwin, Erica Grimm-Vance, David Hanson, Bruce Herman, Irving Hexham, Eugene Johnson, Marc de Klijn, Jason Knapp, Ed Knippers, Roel Kuiper, George Langbroek, Barbara Lidfors, Ranald and Susan Macaulay, Mary Leigh Morbey, David Muir, Karen Mulder, Laurie Nelson, Gerard Pas, Albert Pedulla, Ted and Cathy Prescott, David Porter, Wayne Roosa, Dan Russ, Phil Schaafsma, Edith Schaeffer, Dal and Kit Schindell, Rachel Smith, Betty Spackman, Frank Speyers, T. Grady Spires, Barbara and Jonathan Stanfield, Alva Steffler, Norman Stone, Charles Twombly, Maria Walford-Dellù, Murray Watts, Graham Weeks, and Shorty Yeaworth.

Many friends and colleagues sustained me during this endeavor in ways that defy categories that I have already mentioned. I wish to acknowledge their support. Friends who have been at my side are: Joy Gratz, Pat Henneman, Mary Frank, Julia Popp, Chris and Jeannie Houston, John and Debbie Bowen, Don and Maureen Bennett, Ruth and Ken Smith, Jerry and Jane Hawthorne, Susan and Steve Phillips, David and Lucia Gill, Don and Edie Tinder, Leona DeFehr, Jim and Diane Alimena, Elizabeth and Jim Gladden, Bob and Julie Fredericks, Peter and Frances Shaw, Ruth and Paul Pitt, John and Babby Schwarz, Grace Irwin, Janet and Jeff Greenman, Brian and Lily Stiller, Ruth Ericson Byrholdt, Betty Bennett, Soo Inn Tan, Earl Palmer, Luci Shaw, and Greg Wolfe. I would like to give particular thanks to some of my International Fellowship of Evangelical Students (IFES) and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship of Canada colleagues who have encouraged me to write: Lindsay and Ann Brown, Jim Berney, Barb Boyt, and C.P.S. (Pat) Taylor. The solidarity of these friends and colleagues has been an enormous encouragement.

Elria Kwant, my constant communicant with Piquant, the British publisher, has been wonderful in helping me bring this biography to birth. The depth and breadth of her spirit in prodding me on has been singular. She has been the skilled midwife in bringing this book to life. I give her my heartfelt thanks for her perseverance throughout the long labor.

Last but not least, I would like to thank my dear, long-suffering family for all their care. Though I have been tense to live with at times, they have more than tolerated me and lived good-naturally with Hans as an adopted member of our family as I have written a narrative of his life. I thank my mother, Doris Sandfor, who lives in our home, for many a delicious dinner that took me away from obsessively thinking about the next sentence I should write to family fellowship and a wider perspective.

Many times while writing I have thought of my daughter, Michelle Gasque, as a small child giving Hans Rookmaaker a very respectful and wide berth as she encountered him, especially going up or down the stairs. She was not exactly afraid of him, but she knew instinctively as a child that he was not someone to fawn over small children. This probably left a much more distinct trace on her memory of him than of the many houseguests in our home who tried to sidle up to her. She has cheered me on from the outset and cared for me touchingly all along the way.

To my husband, Ward Gasque, I express deepest thanks for all his skilled help and sound advice, from dealing with the smallest detail to taking in an understanding of the whole scope of the task in which I was involved. Words can hardly convey the depth of appreciation and feeling I have for his constancy and care and concern that I bring my work to completion well.

Laurel Gasque

Camano Island, Washington, 2003

ONE

IMPACT

Hans Rookmaaker’s life spanned a mere fifty-five years (1922–1977). Those years were situated symmetrically in the midst of the twentieth century. He completed the first half of the course of his life in 1949/1950. He was gone by 1977.

Since his death the arts scene among Christians of almost all traditions and denominations in Europe and North America has changed significantly. The Bible Society in New York City now has a serious art gallery. The National Gallery in London marked the year 2000 with an extraordinary exhibition of images of Christ sponsored by two major trusts willing to back such an arts event despite the considerable embarrassment that some art historians still seem to have about Christian subject matter. Over the past thirty years Christian rock music has matured considerably lyrically and musically. Christians in the Visual Arts (CIVA) is an established organization linking and creatively supporting a wide network of Christian artists in all fields of the visual arts. Image: A Journal of the Arts & Religion serves as a beacon of hope for many writers and artists as it speaks credibly from a perspective of faith-commitment to a wider culture beyond the boundaries of religious institutions. In Scotland the Leith School of Art was founded, and in the Netherlands a Christian art academy was established as a result of Rookmaaker’s own efforts.

A generation ago these kinds of developments and resources that we have begun to take for granted simply did not exist. In North America the marginalizing and minimizing of the arts were not just a condition of the church but also of a pragmatic culture that viewed the arts as a luxury rather than a necessity. In Europe the situation was different. The wider culture valued the arts and invested in them more than their North American counterparts. For many cultured Europeans art, filled with the beauty and greatness of past human achievement, was a surrogate religion. For an extremely influential and highly intellectual minority, it became a staging ground for raging anger and discontent, especially after the debacle of World War II and the collapse of confidence in an abiding moral order. On both sides of the Atlantic the church, challenged by a new society and not completely confident of its identity, frequently closed its eyes and ears to culture by ignoring trends or becoming defensive.

With extraordinary openness and human sympathy, and with deep faith, Hans Rookmaaker faced these cultural conditions squarely. Not only did many of the arts developments mentioned above not exist a generation ago, but they were not fully imaginable. The dynamic impact of Rookmaaker’s life and his short lifework made them a lot more probable. Out of all proportion to his length of days, he qualitatively influenced key individuals and groups that would have a remarkable effect on changing attitudes toward the arts in the church and many other institutions.

In 1961 at the height of the Cold War and the great race for space between the Soviets and the Americans, Rookmaaker, not yet a full professor but teaching at the University of Leiden, made his first extended trip to North America. He was not sponsored or invited by churches, though individual friends from his Reformed tradition welcomed him and warmly hosted him, but came through a grant funded by the Dutch government. The purpose of his trip was to make a study of the teaching of art history in the United States.

To say the least, he made the most of this trip. While in the United States he visited virtually every major center of art-historical study east of St. Louis as well as every major art collection from the northeast seaboard to the Midwest. He attended the College Art Association meeting in New York City, where he met many prominent art historians. He took this golden opportunity also to pursue his passion for African-American music and culture. By this time he was an expert in this field and had recently published a book on jazz, blues, and spirituals. His diary during this trip is dotted with contacts with leading black figures such as Thomas A. Dorsey, Mahalia Jackson, and Langston Hughes. Furthermore, he managed to meet a wide range of church-affiliated people, from black Baptists and Dutch Reformed types to a broad spectrum of evangelicals attached to institutions such as Calvin College and Wheaton College and organizations such as Christianity Today. He also traveled to Canada. Afterward he exuberantly corresponded with an amazing number of the people he had met on his travels.

Rookmaaker continued to deepen his thought and nurture his friendships. By 1968 he was a professor and had formed the Art History Department of the Free University of Amsterdam. He was in full stride. The intervening years had helped prepare him for an increasingly chaotic culture. Often this period is looked back at nostalgically as a gentler, more peace-loving time flowing with flower children and happy hippies, when marijuana filled the air and some social issues, such as basic civil rights for blacks in the USA, got straightened out. With fading memory the fierceness of the student protest movements that were gaining strength both in Europe and North America have not always remained clear. When a U.S. combat troop led by Lieutenant William Calley massacred all five hundred civilians of the Vietnamese village of My Lai though they showed no sign of resistance, that tragedy inflamed intense anger, as did the entire war. The attempted assassination of Rudi Dutschke, a well-known German student anarchist and activist, unleashed turbulent solidarity demonstrations in Vienna, Paris, Rome, and London. Student protests closed down the University of Paris in the spring of 1968 and turned the streets of Paris into a battle zone, imperiling the government. West Germany was launched into a decade of tumultuous internal struggle as radicals gathering around the Baader-Meinhof Gang tried to kick-start revolution through violence and terrorism.

During these tumultuous years of student unrest in the late 1960s and early 1970s, few thinkers or leaders were prepared for the hard social, political, and philosophical realities of this era. Many academic and administrative careers were broken in universities across the world. Rookmaaker was not impervious to the pressures on and within his own institution or on himself as an administrator and teacher. But, remarkably, he was prepared spiritually and intellectually for the fundamental challenge of the younger generation’s radical quest and the turbulence of the times it helped create, because through the years he had striven earnestly to bring to bear Christian understanding on all the issues of life. He made a huge impact on the lives of students in several countries.

At first glance he looked like an unlikely person to have much to say to a radical and rebellious generation bent on changing not only the university but also society and its mores. A driver’s license that he obtained in 1961 during his extended travels in the USA describes him as having brown hair and eyes, weighing 160 pounds, with a height of five feet and eight inches. He was not physically a big man or imposing at all. Dressed in an English worsted three-piece suit and smoking his pipe, he appeared a typical, comfortably positioned bureaucrat or professor. He looked more like a bank manager than an art historian. There was not a trace of bohemian manner in his style. On the surface, it was not difficult to suspect him of being slightly out of touch with current trends or contemporary culture.

When the clamor came, however, he was ready. Many times he faced hostile audiences of art students who were astonished to hear this ordinary-looking, little professor talking impassion-ately and intelligently about contemporary issues and trends from a Christian perspective. His courage in facing and discussing the questions of art and morals in society, areas rarely ventured into publicly by conservative Christians, motivated many reluctant Christian students who had compartmentalized their lives to relate their faith to their whole lives and studies in a deep and lively way.

But it was not only Christian students who responded to him. Tony Wales, who in the mid-1960s served on the staff of British Inter-Varsity Fellowship (IVF), said he had seen students and others come to faith in Christ through such Rookmaaker lectures as “Three Steps to Modern Art.” Wales also had seen him receive a standing ovation by several hundred students at a London art college following a two-hour-long presentation and analysis of rock and protest music. On that occasion not only did these students of the protest generation show their respect, but at the end of the same lecture the chairman of the painting department of the college acknowledged that he now for the first time could understand his own son. Wales also relates Rookmaaker’s evident disappointment on another occasion when a lecture he was to give at the Royal Academy had to be moved to a larger hall because the Reynolds Room was bulging with people!

Rookmaaker was a masterful communicator in both Dutch and English. When the lights went down and he started to show slides of great works of art of the past or startling contemporary art and comment on them, his audience was fascinated, whether they agreed with him or not. His lecturing style was highly unusual for a continental professor, as he spoke not from a written manuscript but extemporaneously and with full attentive engagement with his listeners. It was an art form, a performance. Like a jazz musician playing inventively with themes, he would improvise within a given structure (the lecture topic) with mastery and control, skill and intensity. He would bait and shock, amuse and bemuse. A lot hung on the sequence of visual or audio examples he used. The more often he repeated a lecture, the richer it got. His material never became stale with repetition because there was always something new, if only in the provocative tone or way he put things.

In the light of day he was equally compelling. Going to an art gallery with him was an exceptional learning experience. He regularly took his own students from the Free University to the many special art collections in the Netherlands as well as on extended excursions to collections abroad, especially to Italy. But he also frequently invited small groups or individuals to join him at the art museum when he spoke at conferences.

He did not feel compelled to look at every painting or work of art when he entered a gallery. He would say, “Look at the one that draws you to itself.” Or when he gathered a small group before a picture, he would ask the most obvious question first: “What are you looking at?” Often there was acute discomfort in the group because such a basic question seemed so self-evident. Suspicion would arise that there must be some hidden agenda behind it to expose their ignorance. Rookmaaker, however, never toyed with people in this way. He would be playful and provocative for pedagogical purposes. He was always a sincere teacher. Soon everyone in the little group would learn that they genuinely needed to see firsthand what they were looking at. Afterward this made Rookmaaker’s own remarks on the picture all the more rewarding because everyone in the group had started first by seeing it for himself or herself.

Rookmaaker was protective of his little flock of students when visiting an art gallery. He did not take kindly to interlopers with whom he did not have a personal connection. Many of his students relate incidents when a curious visitor would sidle up to the group to hear the interesting things the small, dignified gentleman was saying only to be told directly by him in a not so gentle way, “This is a very special art history course. It costs two thousand dollars. Please go away!” Aghast, the intruder would leave. And the small group would beam at being considered so special and exclusive. There lurked beneath an unpretentious exterior a complex personality of immense vitality and not a few surprises.

Rookmaaker brought his own humanity and his understanding of humanity to his scholarship in a conscious way that is unusual for academics. He also sought to help his students bring their humanity fully into their learning and studies. His own words best describe how important the human element was for him in learning and teaching: