Art as religion. Beauty as god.

The experience of beauty in art gives me a sense of belonging. Through art, I feel a connection with life, with the cosmos. A connection that cannot be expressed in words. And that may not even be true. But somehow, this feels irrelevant. Somehow, beauty is more important than truth to me, more real.

As a result, I actually feel rather comfortable with life, and its companion, death. I don’t really ask myself The Big Questions about the meaning of life. I know what the meaning of life is. Art has taught me it. And now I am in a position where I can have a dialog with reality, rather than panicking about it in fear of the unknown -or devoting all my energy to ignoring it. And that is what art has become to me today: a dialog with the cosmos.

It strikes me how, when put in these words, my life with art seems similar to the life of religious people with their belief, with their god. They also have a feeling of certainty, and they rely on this faith, to explore their relationship with reality throughout life.

Maybe the way I like to focus and concentrate with art is similar to prayer for religious people. I don’t actually believe in any particular creed, even though I adore the beauty in especially Christian art and mythology. But I have never been comfortable calling myself an atheist either. My spiritual relationship with art feels like a sort of blasphemy against atheism. And I like that a lot!