Today at the radio backyard fence. Could the reason you connect with a song, a story, a painting, an opera, a film, a novel, a play? Could that be because the artist who created that work has so invested himself or herself into the art, that it reaches us on a deeper level? Russ Ramsay thinks so. He writes, much of the world's great art comes from places of sadness, and I believe that's often why we connect with it. Today, we continue the discussion with Russ about what art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Let's get started first by thanking Ryan McConaughey doing all things technical. Tricia is in the producer chair today. Peter will be answering your calls. I also want to thank our friends and partners who support this program. All of you, our back fence partner. Make sure you open your email today, you're going to see the two rednecks and me. We talk about Moody Radio helping people take their next step with Jesus. And that may mean for you reminding yourself of how central the gospel is to your daily life. Maybe walking with Jesus for decades, maybe just a few weeks. Our thank you right now if you support us, is the book by Doctor George Sweeting, How to Begin the Christian Life, and my hope is that it will re-energize you about the gospel. And then we'll give you a tool to help somebody else down the road. I'd love to send this to you again. It's only a few days left for this. 866 95 Faber. Most people give online. They just click through Chris Fabry live. Org scroll down and they see there it is. How to begin the Christian life and give a gift right there of any size will send it to you. Or if you'd like to call 279. Go right ahead and you can become a partner with us and give a gift each month and receive my back fence. Post the video that we send out every Thursday. Again, go to Chris Fabry live.org. It's interesting. A week ago we were at a writer's conference bringing you a seminar on processing pain through writing and reading Christian fiction. And one of the points that we talked about during that hour, the quote by C.S. Lewis, we read to know we are not alone. And it strikes me that today's conversation about art is the same. We gravitate toward art and artists because they show us that we are not alone in our pain, in our struggle, in the triumph and the sorrow. We're going to talk again with Russ Ramsey, author pastor who has a passion for uniting art and faith. He's been in vocational ministry for more than 20 years, currently serves as the lead pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church is Cool Springs. Location. He holds an MDiv and a Th.m from Covenant Theological Seminary. He's written a number of books, including the one we talked about a couple of years ago. Rembrandt is in the wind. He wrote, behold the King of Glory, and the latest is Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Russ, welcome back to the program. How are you doing today?

Today at the radio backyard fence. Could the reason you connect with a song, a story, a painting, an opera, a film, a novel, a play? Could that be because the artist who created that work has so invested himself or herself into the art, that it reaches us on a deeper level? Russ Ramsay thinks so. He writes, much of the world's great art comes from places of sadness, and I believe that's often why we connect with it. Today, we continue the discussion with Russ about what art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Let's get started first by thanking Ryan McConaughey doing all things technical. Tricia is in the producer chair today. Peter will be answering your calls. I also want to thank our friends and partners who support this program. All of you, our back fence partner. Make sure you open your email today, you're going to see the two rednecks and me. We talk about Moody Radio helping people take their next step with Jesus. And that may mean for you reminding yourself of how central the gospel is to your daily life. Maybe walking with Jesus for decades, maybe just a few weeks. Our thank you right now if you support us, is the book by Doctor George Sweeting, How to Begin the Christian Life, and my hope is that it will re-energize you about the gospel. And then we'll give you a tool to help somebody else down the road. I'd love to send this to you again. It's only a few days left for this. 866 95 Faber. Most people give online. They just click through Chris Fabry live. Org scroll down and they see there it is. How to begin the Christian life and give a gift right there of any size will send it to you. Or if you'd like to call 279. Go right ahead and you can become a partner with us and give a gift each month and receive my back fence. Post the video that we send out every Thursday. Again, go to Chris Fabry live.org. It's interesting. A week ago we were at a writer's conference bringing you a seminar on processing pain through writing and reading Christian fiction. And one of the points that we talked about during that hour, the quote by C.S. Lewis, we read to know we are not alone. And it strikes me that today's conversation about art is the same. We gravitate toward art and artists because they show us that we are not alone in our pain, in our struggle, in the triumph and the sorrow. We're going to talk again with Russ Ramsey, author pastor who has a passion for uniting art and faith. He's been in vocational ministry for more than 20 years, currently serves as the lead pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church is Cool Springs. Location. He holds an MDiv and a Th.m from Covenant Theological Seminary. He's written a number of books, including the one we talked about a couple of years ago. Rembrandt is in the wind. He wrote, behold the King of Glory, and the latest is Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Russ, welcome back to the program. How are you doing today?

Thank you. It's good to be here. I'm doing great. I'm doing great. How are you doing?

Thank you. It's good to be here. I'm doing great. I'm doing great. How are you doing?

I'm doing really well. I wasn't feeling that well last week, but I'm feeling a lot better. And did I get to talk with you? Makes me even more excited because I've been going through the book, seeing these gorgeous photos of the paintings that some of the paintings you're talking about. Let me get you to respond to what I was saying about the pain thing, to not to know we're not alone. Do you agree with that?

I'm doing really well. I wasn't feeling that well last week, but I'm feeling a lot better. And did I get to talk with you? Makes me even more excited because I've been going through the book, seeing these gorgeous photos of the paintings that some of the paintings you're talking about. Let me get you to respond to what I was saying about the pain thing, to not to know we're not alone. Do you agree with that?

Oh, yeah. I mean, absolutely. And, you know, the evidence of that is just the existence of art museums. You know, it's kind of a strange thing, like if objectively, to think, you know, and most major cities in the world, there's a building somewhere, at least one that's dedicated to putting things on the wall so we can come look at them. And, you know, it raises a great question of why do we why do human beings do that? Because it's a bit of a strange behavior, but it's not because it's it's a way that we connect with the stories of what it means to be people. When we look at the things that these great artists from around the world have have chosen to compose and paint and sculpt and weave, you know, that we would look at that would help us understand what it means to be a person living in this world that's so full of of joy and sorrow and grief and gain and all of those things. So, yeah, I very much believe that.

Oh, yeah. I mean, absolutely. And, you know, the evidence of that is just the existence of art museums. You know, it's kind of a strange thing, like if objectively, to think, you know, and most major cities in the world, there's a building somewhere, at least one that's dedicated to putting things on the wall so we can come look at them. And, you know, it raises a great question of why do we why do human beings do that? Because it's a bit of a strange behavior, but it's not because it's it's a way that we connect with the stories of what it means to be people. When we look at the things that these great artists from around the world have have chosen to compose and paint and sculpt and weave, you know, that we would look at that would help us understand what it means to be a person living in this world that's so full of of joy and sorrow and grief and gain and all of those things. So, yeah, I very much believe that.

You say in the book that we are drawn to sad stories or art that exemplifies this. Why do you think that's true?

You say in the book that we are drawn to sad stories or art that exemplifies this. Why do you think that's true?

Because our lives are full of sadness. We live in a. We live in a world that's so broken that there's there's really no part of it that's untouched by that. But also, we are also people who have this God given innate sense that all that brokenness is not the way it's supposed to be. And so there's something that resonates with us when we engage with the sorrowful parts of life that actually is kind of kindling a hunger in us for the renewal of all things. And so we walk around every one of us with these, um, kind of these polar, uh, uh, you know, competing things of, of the sadness, the brokenness, the grief, the loss that we carry, the longing that we carry. Um, and then the hope and the glimpses of, you know, what will one day be a new heavens and new earth. And so, yeah, the sad stories sort of remind us that, yes, yes, the struggle that I feel is real, but the struggle is not the end of the story.

Because our lives are full of sadness. We live in a. We live in a world that's so broken that there's there's really no part of it that's untouched by that. But also, we are also people who have this God given innate sense that all that brokenness is not the way it's supposed to be. And so there's something that resonates with us when we engage with the sorrowful parts of life that actually is kind of kindling a hunger in us for the renewal of all things. And so we walk around every one of us with these, um, kind of these polar, uh, uh, you know, competing things of, of the sadness, the brokenness, the grief, the loss that we carry, the longing that we carry. Um, and then the hope and the glimpses of, you know, what will one day be a new heavens and new earth. And so, yeah, the sad stories sort of remind us that, yes, yes, the struggle that I feel is real, but the struggle is not the end of the story.

The other aspect of that is, uh, you know, I think of the cross, the, the sadness that is redeemed, redeemed that we want, our sadness, we want we want resurrection. You know, we want this and we we generally don't see that in our lives because of all of the pain and the struggle, but that is really what we long for. And sometimes it can be that we, we call faith, um, making that happen, you know, redeeming ourselves in a sense that we try to turn the sadness of our life into something good by saying, well, God must have done this. And so that we figure it out. And that's a sound like a broken record to myself, even. But that is not really faith. That's us trying to figure out how it all works together.

The other aspect of that is, uh, you know, I think of the cross, the, the sadness that is redeemed, redeemed that we want, our sadness, we want we want resurrection. You know, we want this and we we generally don't see that in our lives because of all of the pain and the struggle, but that is really what we long for. And sometimes it can be that we, we call faith, um, making that happen, you know, redeeming ourselves in a sense that we try to turn the sadness of our life into something good by saying, well, God must have done this. And so that we figure it out. And that's a sound like a broken record to myself, even. But that is not really faith. That's us trying to figure out how it all works together.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I think I think that, uh, that that art one of the things I love about the power of art, and when I talk about art, in a way, I'm really talking about storytelling. Um, because that's what art does. It's it's a form of storytelling. But storytelling is a is a way of communicating. Flannery O'Connor said, uh, that, uh, stories are a way of saying something that can't be said in any other way. I love that quote, but but I think about, you know, all the things that we try to do to circumvent or try to, uh, do an end run around the things that are just realities of living in a world that's like ours, that when we engage with stories and art, there's a lot that kind of can slip past the gates of our defenses. Um, because we love a good story, uh, where all of a sudden we can find ourselves being confronted with, with truths, with sorrows, with hopes that maybe otherwise we would have tried to keep in check and try to keep, you know, um, at bay. And instead we find ourselves just kind of fully immersed in them and then having to take them at face value and deal with things honestly. And that's just one of the great powers of it.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I think I think that, uh, that that art one of the things I love about the power of art, and when I talk about art, in a way, I'm really talking about storytelling. Um, because that's what art does. It's it's a form of storytelling. But storytelling is a is a way of communicating. Flannery O'Connor said, uh, that, uh, stories are a way of saying something that can't be said in any other way. I love that quote, but but I think about, you know, all the things that we try to do to circumvent or try to, uh, do an end run around the things that are just realities of living in a world that's like ours, that when we engage with stories and art, there's a lot that kind of can slip past the gates of our defenses. Um, because we love a good story, uh, where all of a sudden we can find ourselves being confronted with, with truths, with sorrows, with hopes that maybe otherwise we would have tried to keep in check and try to keep, you know, um, at bay. And instead we find ourselves just kind of fully immersed in them and then having to take them at face value and deal with things honestly. And that's just one of the great powers of it.

That's one of the quotes that I wrote down from O'Connor that you just said. Another is you saying, art shows us back to ourselves, and the best art doesn't flinch or look away. And I thought, I've heard that before. And I looked over on my wall and I've got that quote by Kurosawa who says, to be an artist means never to avert your eyes. So that's what you're saying, that good art does, that we linger here even though it's painful. Right.

That's one of the quotes that I wrote down from O'Connor that you just said. Another is you saying, art shows us back to ourselves, and the best art doesn't flinch or look away. And I thought, I've heard that before. And I looked over on my wall and I've got that quote by Kurosawa who says, to be an artist means never to avert your eyes. So that's what you're saying, that good art does, that we linger here even though it's painful. Right.

Mhm. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And we and we you know there's you know Rembrandt is a good example of somebody who um. has a had a technique for causing us to not avert our eyes and that is he would he would paint himself into certain biblical scenes, and then he would be the character in the painting who would be looking directly at the viewer. And so if you look like, if you look at an old Renaissance era painting and there's one of the characters is looking at the viewer, the odds are decent that that's that's a self-portrait from the artist, and it's their way of breaking the fourth wall and actually calling you into the scene that they're depicting. And so it's sort of a way that they're sort of joining your hand to the hand of somebody that they're painting. And he has this in a, um, a painting of his called The Raising of the cross, where Christ has been nailed to the cross. And they're and they're standing it up, and he is one of the centurions. Uh, and he's dressed like a, you know, like a, like a 17th century Dutch man, um, while he's doing this and he's got a beret on and a blue robe and and he's looking directly at the viewer while he's straining to lift the cross into place. And he's he's joining us and it's disarming, you know, because he's he's not just showing us Christ, being risen, risen up on the cross, lifted up to die, but he's showing himself complicit in the act. And by looking at us, he's asking us, are we not complicit, too? It's really a profound way of engaging the viewer.

Mhm. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And we and we you know there's you know Rembrandt is a good example of somebody who um. has a had a technique for causing us to not avert our eyes and that is he would he would paint himself into certain biblical scenes, and then he would be the character in the painting who would be looking directly at the viewer. And so if you look like, if you look at an old Renaissance era painting and there's one of the characters is looking at the viewer, the odds are decent that that's that's a self-portrait from the artist, and it's their way of breaking the fourth wall and actually calling you into the scene that they're depicting. And so it's sort of a way that they're sort of joining your hand to the hand of somebody that they're painting. And he has this in a, um, a painting of his called The Raising of the cross, where Christ has been nailed to the cross. And they're and they're standing it up, and he is one of the centurions. Uh, and he's dressed like a, you know, like a, like a 17th century Dutch man, um, while he's doing this and he's got a beret on and a blue robe and and he's looking directly at the viewer while he's straining to lift the cross into place. And he's he's joining us and it's disarming, you know, because he's he's not just showing us Christ, being risen, risen up on the cross, lifted up to die, but he's showing himself complicit in the act. And by looking at us, he's asking us, are we not complicit, too? It's really a profound way of engaging the viewer.

Well, and you've just put your finger on something that people who like me, who have not been arrested by paintings and more, by stories and songs and films that we need to learn. And so I'm going to ask you to, to lead us into that a little bit today, as you did a couple of years ago. Russ Ramsey was with us two and a half years ago, his latest. I've been waiting for two and a half years. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. It's our featured resource. Click through today's information right there at Chris Fabry live.org. And if at any point you want to jump in, you've read this book or one of his earlier ones, you have a question about Van Gogh or others? (877) 548-3675. Russ Ramsey is back. He is a pastor in Nashville, Tennessee. He and his wife and children live there. Find out more about him and his latest. Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart at Chris Fabry Live. Org Chris Fabry live.org. One of the things we talked about a couple of years ago and I want to go back to is your art teacher, I believe you were in junior high school at the time, or maybe it was high school and and she had this. She gave you her love of art. She lived that in front of you. And when she would talk about the different artists, there was something about Vincent van Gogh that was very alluring that she. She said, you say in the book that she talked about him and used his first name as if he were a friend of hers, right?

Well, and you've just put your finger on something that people who like me, who have not been arrested by paintings and more, by stories and songs and films that we need to learn. And so I'm going to ask you to, to lead us into that a little bit today, as you did a couple of years ago. Russ Ramsey was with us two and a half years ago, his latest. I've been waiting for two and a half years. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. It's our featured resource. Click through today's information right there at Chris Fabry live.org. And if at any point you want to jump in, you've read this book or one of his earlier ones, you have a question about Van Gogh or others? (877) 548-3675. Russ Ramsey is back. He is a pastor in Nashville, Tennessee. He and his wife and children live there. Find out more about him and his latest. Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart at Chris Fabry Live. Org Chris Fabry live.org. One of the things we talked about a couple of years ago and I want to go back to is your art teacher, I believe you were in junior high school at the time, or maybe it was high school and and she had this. She gave you her love of art. She lived that in front of you. And when she would talk about the different artists, there was something about Vincent van Gogh that was very alluring that she. She said, you say in the book that she talked about him and used his first name as if he were a friend of hers, right?

Yeah, yeah. I really remember that this was my high school art teacher. Her name was Kathy Ferguson, and, um, she, uh, she would speak about, uh, Vincent and Georgia O'Keeffe, both with this kind of affection, as though they were people that she knew personally and, um, and not in a gimmicky way, but just kind of the way I think I would. I would describe it as is with a, with a kind of a discretion and reverence for them. Um, and I noticed that as a kid, like, I didn't, I didn't I wouldn't have been able to say it that way. You know, when I was 16. But but I noticed that there was something very serious about the way that she regarded Vincent in particular. And she the art she gave us or the advice she gave us was if you want to be a lifelong appreciator and lover of the arts, find an artist or two that you connect with, and then just pay attention to them for the rest of your life. And they will. They will introduce you around to their friends. They'll teach you their story. They'll teach you about their mentors. As you look at their work, you know, you'll read the plaque on the wall and it'll direct you down the hall to Rembrandt, whom Vincent loved. And so for me, for 36 years of my life, I've been, um, paying attention to Vincent Van Gogh and I, you know, and I call him Vincent. Um, and, um, I think of him that way. I feel like he's he's I, you know, I, I'm not so, you know, in the, in the clouds to say I have a relationship with him because that's a two way thing. But he's been a very important figure in my life. And I guess relationally, there is a relationship there between me and the work that he left, his paintings and his letters, um, which are just archived online and so full of richness and, and wisdom and insight into the work that he did. But a lot.

Yeah, yeah. I really remember that this was my high school art teacher. Her name was Kathy Ferguson, and, um, she, uh, she would speak about, uh, Vincent and Georgia O'Keeffe, both with this kind of affection, as though they were people that she knew personally and, um, and not in a gimmicky way, but just kind of the way I think I would. I would describe it as is with a, with a kind of a discretion and reverence for them. Um, and I noticed that as a kid, like, I didn't, I didn't I wouldn't have been able to say it that way. You know, when I was 16. But but I noticed that there was something very serious about the way that she regarded Vincent in particular. And she the art she gave us or the advice she gave us was if you want to be a lifelong appreciator and lover of the arts, find an artist or two that you connect with, and then just pay attention to them for the rest of your life. And they will. They will introduce you around to their friends. They'll teach you their story. They'll teach you about their mentors. As you look at their work, you know, you'll read the plaque on the wall and it'll direct you down the hall to Rembrandt, whom Vincent loved. And so for me, for 36 years of my life, I've been, um, paying attention to Vincent Van Gogh and I, you know, and I call him Vincent. Um, and, um, I think of him that way. I feel like he's he's I, you know, I, I'm not so, you know, in the, in the clouds to say I have a relationship with him because that's a two way thing. But he's been a very important figure in my life. And I guess relationally, there is a relationship there between me and the work that he left, his paintings and his letters, um, which are just archived online and so full of richness and, and wisdom and insight into the work that he did. But a lot.

Of struggle, a lot.

Of struggle, a lot.

Of. Yeah, a lot, you know, a lot of hard living.

Of. Yeah, a lot, you know, a lot of hard living.

Right?

Right?

Yeah, yeah, a lot of a lot of just failure, a lot of, um, he, you know, he sold one painting while he was alive and he died, um, uh, right when he was on the verge of being recognized as one of the greatest artists living in Europe. And within years of his death, he was he he was a household name. And, uh, and so such a tragic thing to have happen. And his life was just so full of, Of calamity that befell him. And then also just just complicated and and painful choices in how he lived that that were his own, uh, misery of his own making, you know, and and so he's this. But I really relate to that. You know, I relate as a person to, um, to being stuck between the pole, the poles of, of wonder and and sorrow.

Yeah, yeah, a lot of a lot of just failure, a lot of, um, he, you know, he sold one painting while he was alive and he died, um, uh, right when he was on the verge of being recognized as one of the greatest artists living in Europe. And within years of his death, he was he he was a household name. And, uh, and so such a tragic thing to have happen. And his life was just so full of, Of calamity that befell him. And then also just just complicated and and painful choices in how he lived that that were his own, uh, misery of his own making, you know, and and so he's this. But I really relate to that. You know, I relate as a person to, um, to being stuck between the pole, the poles of, of wonder and and sorrow.

Yes. I wonder, though, if he had achieved notoriety in his own, you know, his time and sold more than one painting, if that would have changed. His art was the the depth of the pain that he painted from, and that he put on the canvas, informed by his quote unquote, failure, which wasn't failure other than, you know, monetary and, and, uh, because, because we see him now for who he really is. But if he had gotten wild success, you know, had a bestseller, lithographs all over the place, you know, up on the wall. Would that have changed him at all?

Yes. I wonder, though, if he had achieved notoriety in his own, you know, his time and sold more than one painting, if that would have changed. His art was the the depth of the pain that he painted from, and that he put on the canvas, informed by his quote unquote, failure, which wasn't failure other than, you know, monetary and, and, uh, because, because we see him now for who he really is. But if he had gotten wild success, you know, had a bestseller, lithographs all over the place, you know, up on the wall. Would that have changed him at all?

Yeah. I mean, you know, it's hard to know, right? Because because when you look around at at other examples of stories like that, you see so many where, yes, that that changed people. Um, but then when I look at Vincent in the times during his life when he was celebrated and when he was, you know, there were articles written about his art. And when he did sell that painting, um, there was an article written about it, and he hated the article. He he hated the attention. He he wanted to crawl under a rock, you know. And so there's a part of me that wonders like if if the. I wonder if he was the impediment to his own success. Um. And with when, when he when he passed away. I wonder if if his, uh, art took off because he wasn't sabotaging his own, his own journey. But, yeah, it's hard to know. You know, it's it's I think about that with, with some musicians who died young like, you know, part of what makes their music so meaningful is how is how what their point of view was, is they were just so pure and struggling as songwriters in the beginning. And then they're taken young and you kind of wonder, like, if they'd written songs and become super famous and traveled, would with their music be different? Would they have lost something along the way? Uh, it's hard to know, but. But his story is so compact. Vincent's is, um. And it's just it's such a such a poignant tragedy, I guess.

Yeah. I mean, you know, it's hard to know, right? Because because when you look around at at other examples of stories like that, you see so many where, yes, that that changed people. Um, but then when I look at Vincent in the times during his life when he was celebrated and when he was, you know, there were articles written about his art. And when he did sell that painting, um, there was an article written about it, and he hated the article. He he hated the attention. He he wanted to crawl under a rock, you know. And so there's a part of me that wonders like if if the. I wonder if he was the impediment to his own success. Um. And with when, when he when he passed away. I wonder if if his, uh, art took off because he wasn't sabotaging his own, his own journey. But, yeah, it's hard to know. You know, it's it's I think about that with, with some musicians who died young like, you know, part of what makes their music so meaningful is how is how what their point of view was, is they were just so pure and struggling as songwriters in the beginning. And then they're taken young and you kind of wonder, like, if they'd written songs and become super famous and traveled, would with their music be different? Would they have lost something along the way? Uh, it's hard to know, but. But his story is so compact. Vincent's is, um. And it's just it's such a such a poignant tragedy, I guess.

Why do so many people make fun of his cutting off his ear.

Why do so many people make fun of his cutting off his ear.

Huh?

Huh?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. And so in the book, I tell the story in great detail about that. There's a chapter devoted to that episode, and the reason I tell that story in the detail that I do is because is because Vincent matters to me deeply, and I want people to stop laughing at that. You know, it's because it's one of those moments where it was this deepest moment of shame in his entire life. And it's one of the two things we people typically know about Vincent. They know that he painted Starry Night, and they know that he cut off his ear. And I think I think part of the reason that we we laugh at that or we make jokes about that, is because we don't know what to do otherwise with the tragedy of the fact that that he did that, that there was some some kind of madness, there was some kind of of, uh, weight and burden that he was carrying and mania, perhaps that that led him to do this thing. Um, that because it makes us uncomfortable to reckon with what must be the sorrow and the pain behind, um, the motivation to do that. We we kind of circumvent acknowledging the sorrow of that by, by making a joke out of it. And, um, And yet he's one of those people. Like, Scripture is like this, where he is known largely by one of his greatest moments of shame and weakness. And Scripture is full of people like that, you know, blind Bartimaeus, Simon the Leper, Doubting Thomas. You know, there's the list of just a long list. You know, the woman caught in adultery, the woman with the issue of blood, the demoniacs by the caves, you know, the demoniac by the caves, like all these people who have these things that are known about them. And what we know them by is their hurt. And Vincent falls into that category and and I think he's a good he's a good like he's a good person, historical figure to practice, um, gentleness with because he lived a hard, hard life and, um, suffered this thing that everybody knows about. And we then have a responsibility to figure out, well, how do we carry that information, what do we do with it? And I think that's what you say, treated with respect.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. And so in the book, I tell the story in great detail about that. There's a chapter devoted to that episode, and the reason I tell that story in the detail that I do is because is because Vincent matters to me deeply, and I want people to stop laughing at that. You know, it's because it's one of those moments where it was this deepest moment of shame in his entire life. And it's one of the two things we people typically know about Vincent. They know that he painted Starry Night, and they know that he cut off his ear. And I think I think part of the reason that we we laugh at that or we make jokes about that, is because we don't know what to do otherwise with the tragedy of the fact that that he did that, that there was some some kind of madness, there was some kind of of, uh, weight and burden that he was carrying and mania, perhaps that that led him to do this thing. Um, that because it makes us uncomfortable to reckon with what must be the sorrow and the pain behind, um, the motivation to do that. We we kind of circumvent acknowledging the sorrow of that by, by making a joke out of it. And, um, And yet he's one of those people. Like, Scripture is like this, where he is known largely by one of his greatest moments of shame and weakness. And Scripture is full of people like that, you know, blind Bartimaeus, Simon the Leper, Doubting Thomas. You know, there's the list of just a long list. You know, the woman caught in adultery, the woman with the issue of blood, the demoniacs by the caves, you know, the demoniac by the caves, like all these people who have these things that are known about them. And what we know them by is their hurt. And Vincent falls into that category and and I think he's a good he's a good like he's a good person, historical figure to practice, um, gentleness with because he lived a hard, hard life and, um, suffered this thing that everybody knows about. And we then have a responsibility to figure out, well, how do we carry that information, what do we do with it? And I think that's what you say, treated with respect.

You say several times. Be gentle. This is a hard world. That's what you take away. Partly from him, right?

You say several times. Be gentle. This is a hard world. That's what you take away. Partly from him, right?

100%. Yes. And it's in his art. Like, you know, I taught I was asked to come speak to a classroom of second graders about Vincent van Gogh recently, and I just showed them the sunflower paintings, and I asked them at one point I said, I'm going to show you the sunflower painting, and I just want you to look at it for about 20s. And then I'm going to ask you if you what feelings you felt looking at it. And so we just sat there in silence for about 20s. And then I started asking the kids what they what they felt looking at this pot of sunflowers. And eventually two kids both said, I felt sad. And I thought, yeah, you did. Yeah you did. And and you know, what's the reason? Why do you look at a painting of sunflowers in a vase and feel sad? Because every painting Vincent painted was sad. Um. His sorrow is in all of it, and so is his sense of wonder and beauty and the sunflowers that it translates even in something as innocuous as evasive sunflowers. Um, to a second grade child to see it. It was it was a fascinating response. Yeah.

100%. Yes. And it's in his art. Like, you know, I taught I was asked to come speak to a classroom of second graders about Vincent van Gogh recently, and I just showed them the sunflower paintings, and I asked them at one point I said, I'm going to show you the sunflower painting, and I just want you to look at it for about 20s. And then I'm going to ask you if you what feelings you felt looking at it. And so we just sat there in silence for about 20s. And then I started asking the kids what they what they felt looking at this pot of sunflowers. And eventually two kids both said, I felt sad. And I thought, yeah, you did. Yeah you did. And and you know, what's the reason? Why do you look at a painting of sunflowers in a vase and feel sad? Because every painting Vincent painted was sad. Um. His sorrow is in all of it, and so is his sense of wonder and beauty and the sunflowers that it translates even in something as innocuous as evasive sunflowers. Um, to a second grade child to see it. It was it was a fascinating response. Yeah.

That is.

That is.

And because I'm sure that some of them said, well, it was I love sunflowers. They make me feel happy, you know.

And because I'm sure that some of them said, well, it was I love sunflowers. They make me feel happy, you know.

Yeah. They said happy. They said peace. They said, you know, it's it's pretty and I think. Are they though sunflowers aren't really pretty.

Yeah. They said happy. They said peace. They said, you know, it's it's pretty and I think. Are they though sunflowers aren't really pretty.

Well to that second grader, no, but I think you're touching the nerve of exactly what it is that an art? The depth of art will do. And that is the same thing that God did when he created, you know, we are the the sub creators. We don't do anything new. We are just kind of imitating his creativity and then presenting that back to him. But when we do it well, then the you can go to the depth that where there is more there than is there. Right. Mhm.

Well to that second grader, no, but I think you're touching the nerve of exactly what it is that an art? The depth of art will do. And that is the same thing that God did when he created, you know, we are the the sub creators. We don't do anything new. We are just kind of imitating his creativity and then presenting that back to him. But when we do it well, then the you can go to the depth that where there is more there than is there. Right. Mhm.

Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. Absolutely.

Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. Absolutely.

So you told me before we went on the air that because you wrote these kind of sad stories about the different artists that you processed some of your own life through those stories, the pain and the struggle. Can you give open, open up your heart here a little bit and tell me, what was it that you processed as you wrote this?

So you told me before we went on the air that because you wrote these kind of sad stories about the different artists that you processed some of your own life through those stories, the pain and the struggle. Can you give open, open up your heart here a little bit and tell me, what was it that you processed as you wrote this?

Yeah, I think, um, well, for me, uh, this the, you know, the last handful of years has been, has been a period of my life where I've experienced a lot of personal loss. Um, I lost my father, uh, and then. And then some other, other areas of my life where, you know, things just kind of got turned upside down and had to walk through a seasons of a lot of uncertainty and a lot of, um, uh, you know, just, just the loss of, of relationships and, um, you know, and it's it's something that, uh, it was was kind of ever present with me and my family, um, as we, as we grieved, you know, and, um, and so in writing about these stories, I think, you know, a writer, uh, well, a writer, like like me, I guess, um, you know, it's hard to separate kind of the personal circumstances of life with, with the things you're writing about. And I, you know, I began to find that what I, what I was gravitating toward in telling the stories of these artists, um, was that part of them that that was that felt compelled to create, um, you know, this part of them, you know, there's a chapter about about, uh, a painter named Jimmy Abegg and, uh, who's a friend of mine here in town, and, uh, Edgar Degas, one of the Impressionists who both have macular degeneration, had macular degeneration. And Degas lost his eyesight as he was painting. And yet he kept painting. You know, it was a compulsion. It was a it was because that's what he is. He's a painter. And I was just drawn to these stories of how do you how do you continue to live out your vocational life as the person the Lord has wired you and made you to be in the face of losses that really, really shake you up? And, um, writing about painters who who are losing their ability to see what it is that they're painting. Um, it was a was a really compelling story to tell, but it was also really a way for me to reckon with my own sense of how do I how do I move forward? Um, with, with these, with things now that used to be are gone. Yes. How do I navigate that? And so, so often we're very cathartic for me.

Yeah, I think, um, well, for me, uh, this the, you know, the last handful of years has been, has been a period of my life where I've experienced a lot of personal loss. Um, I lost my father, uh, and then. And then some other, other areas of my life where, you know, things just kind of got turned upside down and had to walk through a seasons of a lot of uncertainty and a lot of, um, uh, you know, just, just the loss of, of relationships and, um, you know, and it's it's something that, uh, it was was kind of ever present with me and my family, um, as we, as we grieved, you know, and, um, and so in writing about these stories, I think, you know, a writer, uh, well, a writer, like like me, I guess, um, you know, it's hard to separate kind of the personal circumstances of life with, with the things you're writing about. And I, you know, I began to find that what I, what I was gravitating toward in telling the stories of these artists, um, was that part of them that that was that felt compelled to create, um, you know, this part of them, you know, there's a chapter about about, uh, a painter named Jimmy Abegg and, uh, who's a friend of mine here in town, and, uh, Edgar Degas, one of the Impressionists who both have macular degeneration, had macular degeneration. And Degas lost his eyesight as he was painting. And yet he kept painting. You know, it was a compulsion. It was a it was because that's what he is. He's a painter. And I was just drawn to these stories of how do you how do you continue to live out your vocational life as the person the Lord has wired you and made you to be in the face of losses that really, really shake you up? And, um, writing about painters who who are losing their ability to see what it is that they're painting. Um, it was a was a really compelling story to tell, but it was also really a way for me to reckon with my own sense of how do I how do I move forward? Um, with, with these, with things now that used to be are gone. Yes. How do I navigate that? And so, so often we're very cathartic for me.

We run from that pain when really that's where the the life is. And I can understand, you know, and I've done my share of running as well. What's the the quote from Princess Bride? Life is pain, Highness.

We run from that pain when really that's where the the life is. And I can understand, you know, and I've done my share of running as well. What's the the quote from Princess Bride? Life is pain, Highness.

Anyone who tells you.

Anyone who tells you.

Differently is selling something.

Differently is selling something.

Is selling something.

Is selling something.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

That's it. And and that's.

That's it. And and that's.

True. Um, and so I'll take a time out here. Russ Ramsey is with us. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. I can open the phone lines. Do you want to ask a question? Make a comment. Maybe there's some piece of art that you have seen that does this very thing on the inside of you that touches that nerve of the pain and the struggle. And you'd like to talk about it. 87754836758775483675. And then we're going to have Russ have us sit in front of a sunflower or the Mona Lisa or something and show us what we're missing if we don't do that. This is Chris Fabry live on Moody Radio. We're talking about the power of art to connect us and show us the beauty in the middle of the struggle. And I wonder if there's anybody listening today who has a part of your story, the issue of abortion. For many, that is such a deep wound, it's a place of shame and regret. But the master artist, the one who heals and forgives and restores, wants this wound, this scar, to be a place of grace in your life. And that really is why Care Net exists to transform what is seen by the culture as a negative, an unplanned pregnancy, something to get rid of so you can achieve your best life. That's what you'll be told God can make out of your past or your present a redemptive future. Care net walks with women and men at risk for abortion. Absolutely. They save lives. If you go to Chris fabric archive.org, click the Green Care Net button. You'll see the numbers tick by. Those aren't just numbers. Those are lives saved. Someone you know is going to need the Ministry of Care net someone you know needs to be involved in the Ministry of Care net. Maybe that's somebody you find out more today. Click the green Care Net button at Chris Fabric Give.org where you'll also find out about Russ Ramsey. Our guest today. Back after two and a half years, I had to twist his arm and he said, okay, I'll come on and talk about Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Answer this question. Russ, do you remember any art on your walls as a kid growing up? Either, let's say at home, but also in school? Was there anything that you could remember that you close your eyes and you could see it?

True. Um, and so I'll take a time out here. Russ Ramsey is with us. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. I can open the phone lines. Do you want to ask a question? Make a comment. Maybe there's some piece of art that you have seen that does this very thing on the inside of you that touches that nerve of the pain and the struggle. And you'd like to talk about it. 87754836758775483675. And then we're going to have Russ have us sit in front of a sunflower or the Mona Lisa or something and show us what we're missing if we don't do that. This is Chris Fabry live on Moody Radio. We're talking about the power of art to connect us and show us the beauty in the middle of the struggle. And I wonder if there's anybody listening today who has a part of your story, the issue of abortion. For many, that is such a deep wound, it's a place of shame and regret. But the master artist, the one who heals and forgives and restores, wants this wound, this scar, to be a place of grace in your life. And that really is why Care Net exists to transform what is seen by the culture as a negative, an unplanned pregnancy, something to get rid of so you can achieve your best life. That's what you'll be told God can make out of your past or your present a redemptive future. Care net walks with women and men at risk for abortion. Absolutely. They save lives. If you go to Chris fabric archive.org, click the Green Care Net button. You'll see the numbers tick by. Those aren't just numbers. Those are lives saved. Someone you know is going to need the Ministry of Care net someone you know needs to be involved in the Ministry of Care net. Maybe that's somebody you find out more today. Click the green Care Net button at Chris Fabric Give.org where you'll also find out about Russ Ramsey. Our guest today. Back after two and a half years, I had to twist his arm and he said, okay, I'll come on and talk about Van Gogh Has a Broken Heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. Answer this question. Russ, do you remember any art on your walls as a kid growing up? Either, let's say at home, but also in school? Was there anything that you could remember that you close your eyes and you could see it?

Yeah. There are two things come to mind immediately. One is a Caravaggio painting called The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, which is four men, Jesus, the risen Christ, guiding the finger of Thomas into the wound in his side. And I remember seeing that as a kid, actually, we have that hanging in the church that I pastor now, which has a lot of children. And part of the reason I have it on the wall is because I remember seeing it as a child and being a little scandalized by it and wondering, am I allowed to be seeing this? Because it's it's it's not grotesque, but it's but it's graphic. I mean, it's, you know, it's an open wound and a and a finger in it. Um, but I remember seeing that as a kid and just being captured with a sense of wonder what is happening in this painting. And that has been a really important question for for me to be asking then when I was younger, because as we go through life, we encounter all kinds of things where we, um, where the God that we thought we knew turns out to be different. And it's not that he's changed, it's just that we had a perspective and certain set of assumptions. And then and then life gets hard and suffering comes and we we wonder, like, wait, have I have I misjudged, um, who you're supposed to be to me and and who I'm supposed to be to you. And so that's one. And the other one is my grandparents gave us, um, a Norman Rockwell coffee table book. And I remember, um, just looking through that book all the time at the various Saturday Evening Post covers that he painted. And that's kind of stuck with me forever.

Yeah. There are two things come to mind immediately. One is a Caravaggio painting called The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, which is four men, Jesus, the risen Christ, guiding the finger of Thomas into the wound in his side. And I remember seeing that as a kid, actually, we have that hanging in the church that I pastor now, which has a lot of children. And part of the reason I have it on the wall is because I remember seeing it as a child and being a little scandalized by it and wondering, am I allowed to be seeing this? Because it's it's it's not grotesque, but it's but it's graphic. I mean, it's, you know, it's an open wound and a and a finger in it. Um, but I remember seeing that as a kid and just being captured with a sense of wonder what is happening in this painting. And that has been a really important question for for me to be asking then when I was younger, because as we go through life, we encounter all kinds of things where we, um, where the God that we thought we knew turns out to be different. And it's not that he's changed, it's just that we had a perspective and certain set of assumptions. And then and then life gets hard and suffering comes and we we wonder, like, wait, have I have I misjudged, um, who you're supposed to be to me and and who I'm supposed to be to you. And so that's one. And the other one is my grandparents gave us, um, a Norman Rockwell coffee table book. And I remember, um, just looking through that book all the time at the various Saturday Evening Post covers that he painted. And that's kind of stuck with me forever.

Okay, that was my next question. Why did you include Norman Rockwell? Because he seems to be, you know, Rembrandt or Van Gogh and Rockwell. It's like we're talking about two different people here, or, uh, two different. Yeah, but it's not really so. So talk about.

Okay, that was my next question. Why did you include Norman Rockwell? Because he seems to be, you know, Rembrandt or Van Gogh and Rockwell. It's like we're talking about two different people here, or, uh, two different. Yeah, but it's not really so. So talk about.

Rockwell. No.

Rockwell. No.

Yeah. Norman Rockwell. So for for the longest time, for me, my impression of Norman Rockwell was that he was a sentimentalist, you know, that he painted sentimental paintings. Um, and I didn't really understand what he was doing. You know, he would describe himself not as a painter, but as an illustrator. I would disagree. He had a he had an exhibit come through our town a number of years ago where you got to see his Saturday evening post paintings in person, like the actual paintings. And they're large and they're incredibly well done. They're just breathtakingly beautiful. And he was a master of his craft, but his job was to tell America's story back to her. You know, while we were going through the 30s and 40s and 50s and 60s, he was painting, um, American life. And, uh, and so he did it for a really long time in a very high profile way. And while America was changing in front of him. And so he is an artist, you know, basically had to reckon with what any artist does. And that is how, how what does it look like for me to tell the truth? Um, when the world around me is changing over time, you know, I think of Paul Simon and I think the Paul Simon we got when he was in his 20s is very different than the Paul Simon we have now. And he changed. He changed because of a lot of suffering and a lot of, uh, reflection and a lot of, um, you know, he reached the pinnacle of, of great fame and realized that that it wasn't everything he thought it was going to be. And, um, and so Rockwell is one of those people who, when he got into the 50s and 60s in the civil rights era, um, became more front and center and stories were being told. He started paying attention to them and realized that that's a part of America's story that he had failed to talk about. Um, and in fact, had maybe even contributed to, um, a sort of a, uh, a racially, uh, biased way of looking at the world by by painting all of the people of color in his paintings up to that point in servile positions, you know, as waiters and docents and, um, you know, uh, you know, people, you know, carrying people's luggage and that sort of thing. And when he heard the Ruby Bridges story in the news of the, you know, the little girl in kindergarten walking to a desegregated school and having to be escorted by U.S. marshals, he painted that, um, and he called it the problem we all live with. And it's this little kindergarten African American girl with two. Two US marshals in front of her and two behind her, and tomatoes splattered on the wall beside her. And, uh, and he started to tell this story kind of as a way of, of I think this is my impression, but kind of as a way of repenting of his own, uh, uh, of his own silence up to that point. Um, and he painted in several paintings that were really kind of focused on racial injustice. And it it was what makes them so poignant for me is that they're coming from him. They're coming from this person who is so faithfully tried to paint America as well as he can during war, after war, during economic crisis, during presidential administration changes, all of those things, you know. And he leaned into that in the later part of his career in ways that are really profound and really well done.

Yeah. Norman Rockwell. So for for the longest time, for me, my impression of Norman Rockwell was that he was a sentimentalist, you know, that he painted sentimental paintings. Um, and I didn't really understand what he was doing. You know, he would describe himself not as a painter, but as an illustrator. I would disagree. He had a he had an exhibit come through our town a number of years ago where you got to see his Saturday evening post paintings in person, like the actual paintings. And they're large and they're incredibly well done. They're just breathtakingly beautiful. And he was a master of his craft, but his job was to tell America's story back to her. You know, while we were going through the 30s and 40s and 50s and 60s, he was painting, um, American life. And, uh, and so he did it for a really long time in a very high profile way. And while America was changing in front of him. And so he is an artist, you know, basically had to reckon with what any artist does. And that is how, how what does it look like for me to tell the truth? Um, when the world around me is changing over time, you know, I think of Paul Simon and I think the Paul Simon we got when he was in his 20s is very different than the Paul Simon we have now. And he changed. He changed because of a lot of suffering and a lot of, uh, reflection and a lot of, um, you know, he reached the pinnacle of, of great fame and realized that that it wasn't everything he thought it was going to be. And, um, and so Rockwell is one of those people who, when he got into the 50s and 60s in the civil rights era, um, became more front and center and stories were being told. He started paying attention to them and realized that that's a part of America's story that he had failed to talk about. Um, and in fact, had maybe even contributed to, um, a sort of a, uh, a racially, uh, biased way of looking at the world by by painting all of the people of color in his paintings up to that point in servile positions, you know, as waiters and docents and, um, you know, uh, you know, people, you know, carrying people's luggage and that sort of thing. And when he heard the Ruby Bridges story in the news of the, you know, the little girl in kindergarten walking to a desegregated school and having to be escorted by U.S. marshals, he painted that, um, and he called it the problem we all live with. And it's this little kindergarten African American girl with two. Two US marshals in front of her and two behind her, and tomatoes splattered on the wall beside her. And, uh, and he started to tell this story kind of as a way of, of I think this is my impression, but kind of as a way of repenting of his own, uh, uh, of his own silence up to that point. Um, and he painted in several paintings that were really kind of focused on racial injustice. And it it was what makes them so poignant for me is that they're coming from him. They're coming from this person who is so faithfully tried to paint America as well as he can during war, after war, during economic crisis, during presidential administration changes, all of those things, you know. And he leaned into that in the later part of his career in ways that are really profound and really well done.

The paint, one of the other paintings is Breaking Home Ties. This was 1954, and it's the young man, and it strikes me that Ruby bridges that painting. She is ramrod straight. You know, she's got all of the confidence in the world, even though the world is kind of against her. And so is the the young man who's going off to college. You know, he's got his suitcase beside him, and there's a dog with his head on his knee, and his dad is kind of slouched over with his hat in his hand, and you're just seeing them saying goodbye, which is just a gorgeous to me. This sitting on the car waiting for the bus or whatever it is. It's just this gorgeous snapshot, but people will point at that and say, see, that's the, you know, the white person's view of things, which you're right. You know, it is. There's there's no person of color in there, but it's really his reflection of what was happening in that snapshot in that place. Right.

The paint, one of the other paintings is Breaking Home Ties. This was 1954, and it's the young man, and it strikes me that Ruby bridges that painting. She is ramrod straight. You know, she's got all of the confidence in the world, even though the world is kind of against her. And so is the the young man who's going off to college. You know, he's got his suitcase beside him, and there's a dog with his head on his knee, and his dad is kind of slouched over with his hat in his hand, and you're just seeing them saying goodbye, which is just a gorgeous to me. This sitting on the car waiting for the bus or whatever it is. It's just this gorgeous snapshot, but people will point at that and say, see, that's the, you know, the white person's view of things, which you're right. You know, it is. There's there's no person of color in there, but it's really his reflection of what was happening in that snapshot in that place. Right.

Well, well that painting. So in my church, I have decorated the sanctuary and lobby with high quality reproductions of great works of art. And so art is everywhere here. Um, we don't have any of that live, laugh, love stuff. We've got, you know, we've got Caravaggio and Rembrandt and, um, and every once in a while, I'll just, I'll kind of acquire a new painting and just put it up, and I won't mention it. I'll just put it up and it's a new one. And in my office right now is a is a large kind of actual size of that painting, breaking home ties. And, you know, you had teased before the break that I walk you through a painting that, you know, if you studied it, um, and really kind of took it apart and tried to understand what was going on. There's so much there that painting is the one that came to mind immediately for me. Um, because it is it is a father and a son, uh, and he is the son is going off to college. They're waiting for a train. So you see the train track at the bottom of the painting, and the son is sitting upright, and he's looking one direction down the track, and the father is slouched over, tired, and he's looking the other direction down the track. So he, the son, is looking toward the train that's coming to get him, and the father is looking in the direction of heading back home. And the father has the key fob of his pickup truck in his shirt pocket, and the boy has his train ticket in his pocket. And the. And he's got a stack of books at his feet, and there are bookmarks in the books that show that he's read about a third of each one. So he's kind of already left for college in that sense. He's already reading the assigned readings, and he's holding in his lap. The boy is, um, uh, a box with a pink ribbon around it, which is, you know, his his lunch that his mother gave him. And so he's still very much a child, but he's stepping off into into manhood. And the thing about that painting that gets me is the boy is in this brand new suit. It's just crisp and clean. His shoes are polished, and the father is in ragged denim and beat up work boots. And you can tell that one of them is full of energy and the other one is just weary. But the father is holding two hats in his hand. Uh, it just gets me every time I think about it. He's holding his own worn straw, wide brimmed hat, and then he's also holding this fresh, crisp fedora that goes with his son's suit, and it's the way that the father is holding on to his son for these last moments that they have together before he leaves. And Rockwell packs all of that in these just little details of a scene that you look and you say in the first three seconds, I get it, it's a father and a son, you know, and the son's going off to college. It's like, yeah, but the longer you look at it and you study these details and you see the way that he composed this scene, the sadder it gets and the more beautiful it gets and the more universal it becomes. Um, of what is it like to say goodbye to somebody because. Because life is calling them. Because the Lord is calling them to a new vocational path that takes them from you. How do you navigate that? You know, and that painting is so poignant in that because it's so, um, it's something that comes for just about everybody.

Well, well that painting. So in my church, I have decorated the sanctuary and lobby with high quality reproductions of great works of art. And so art is everywhere here. Um, we don't have any of that live, laugh, love stuff. We've got, you know, we've got Caravaggio and Rembrandt and, um, and every once in a while, I'll just, I'll kind of acquire a new painting and just put it up, and I won't mention it. I'll just put it up and it's a new one. And in my office right now is a is a large kind of actual size of that painting, breaking home ties. And, you know, you had teased before the break that I walk you through a painting that, you know, if you studied it, um, and really kind of took it apart and tried to understand what was going on. There's so much there that painting is the one that came to mind immediately for me. Um, because it is it is a father and a son, uh, and he is the son is going off to college. They're waiting for a train. So you see the train track at the bottom of the painting, and the son is sitting upright, and he's looking one direction down the track, and the father is slouched over, tired, and he's looking the other direction down the track. So he, the son, is looking toward the train that's coming to get him, and the father is looking in the direction of heading back home. And the father has the key fob of his pickup truck in his shirt pocket, and the boy has his train ticket in his pocket. And the. And he's got a stack of books at his feet, and there are bookmarks in the books that show that he's read about a third of each one. So he's kind of already left for college in that sense. He's already reading the assigned readings, and he's holding in his lap. The boy is, um, uh, a box with a pink ribbon around it, which is, you know, his his lunch that his mother gave him. And so he's still very much a child, but he's stepping off into into manhood. And the thing about that painting that gets me is the boy is in this brand new suit. It's just crisp and clean. His shoes are polished, and the father is in ragged denim and beat up work boots. And you can tell that one of them is full of energy and the other one is just weary. But the father is holding two hats in his hand. Uh, it just gets me every time I think about it. He's holding his own worn straw, wide brimmed hat, and then he's also holding this fresh, crisp fedora that goes with his son's suit, and it's the way that the father is holding on to his son for these last moments that they have together before he leaves. And Rockwell packs all of that in these just little details of a scene that you look and you say in the first three seconds, I get it, it's a father and a son, you know, and the son's going off to college. It's like, yeah, but the longer you look at it and you study these details and you see the way that he composed this scene, the sadder it gets and the more beautiful it gets and the more universal it becomes. Um, of what is it like to say goodbye to somebody because. Because life is calling them. Because the Lord is calling them to a new vocational path that takes them from you. How do you navigate that? You know, and that painting is so poignant in that because it's so, um, it's something that comes for just about everybody.

You can see.

You can see.

To Everything from this point on is going to be different. It'll never be like it was like it.

To Everything from this point on is going to be different. It'll never be like it was like it.

Used to be. Which is.

Used to be. Which is.

Which is a hopeful thing, you know, because you're moving forward. But it's also a sad thing. And so the question I have for you, because you haven't mentioned him is the dog. The dad is looking at it one way. The boy is looking in the other way, the dog seems to be the only one who's really present fully in that painting.

Which is a hopeful thing, you know, because you're moving forward. But it's also a sad thing. And so the question I have for you, because you haven't mentioned him is the dog. The dad is looking at it one way. The boy is looking in the other way, the dog seems to be the only one who's really present fully in that painting.

Yeah.

Yeah.

The dog is an interesting character in that painting because he's resting his chin on the boy's knee as as though he's, he's he's staying close to him. But we also know that when that boy gets on that train, the dog gets back in the truck and goes back home and and so, you know, it's. Yeah, the dog is is the is the kind of, um, uh, you know, he's he's the, the it's called breaking home ties. And maybe that's a little play on words, because the dog is kind of breaking the tie between the two of them. You know, he's he's the one who is present with the boy and also going home with the father.

The dog is an interesting character in that painting because he's resting his chin on the boy's knee as as though he's, he's he's staying close to him. But we also know that when that boy gets on that train, the dog gets back in the truck and goes back home and and so, you know, it's. Yeah, the dog is is the is the kind of, um, uh, you know, he's he's the, the it's called breaking home ties. And maybe that's a little play on words, because the dog is kind of breaking the tie between the two of them. You know, he's he's the one who is present with the boy and also going home with the father.

You have a section in the book two about the symbols in art, and I want you to talk about that. Let me take our final break. Russ Ramsey is with us today. I hope you're enjoying this half as much as I am. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. It's our featured resource. Click through today's information right there. Chris Fabry, live morgue. More straight ahead on Moody Radio. We're having a little fun with Russ Ramsey and Vincent Van Gogh at the radio backyard fence today. Van Gogh has broken heart. But art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. I'm going back to Norman Rockwell here, and he talks about so many different artists throughout the book. But this breaking home ties and we could talk about the Ruby Bridges, you know, the problem we all live with. There's another Norman Rockwell murder in Mississippi in 1965 that just will tear your heart out. Um, but I want to go back to you. Say that there are symbols like apples and dogs and other things. What should we be looking for in paintings like that?

You have a section in the book two about the symbols in art, and I want you to talk about that. Let me take our final break. Russ Ramsey is with us today. I hope you're enjoying this half as much as I am. Van Gogh has a broken heart. What art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. It's our featured resource. Click through today's information right there. Chris Fabry, live morgue. More straight ahead on Moody Radio. We're having a little fun with Russ Ramsey and Vincent Van Gogh at the radio backyard fence today. Van Gogh has broken heart. But art teaches us about the wonder and struggle of being alive. I'm going back to Norman Rockwell here, and he talks about so many different artists throughout the book. But this breaking home ties and we could talk about the Ruby Bridges, you know, the problem we all live with. There's another Norman Rockwell murder in Mississippi in 1965 that just will tear your heart out. Um, but I want to go back to you. Say that there are symbols like apples and dogs and other things. What should we be looking for in paintings like that?

Yeah, I think a lot of a lot of older art in particular, um, Renaissance era, uh, works would, would include items like in, in still lives or just in the backgrounds of paintings, uh, things that were intended to help you kind of locate what was going on, what the person was about. Um, you know, and so if there's if there's a painting of, of somebody and there's a peacock, for example, just randomly in the in the frame. That's the the way that the author is, is conveying that this is a proud man. You know, that this is a person who is who is proud and is and is probably wealthy. You know, dogs are exactly what you think they are. They're they're representatives of loyalty. And so, you know, they they are this kind of mix of docile and affectionate and also ferocious when, when defending the thing that they love. And so if you see a dog in a painting, like in this Rockwell painting, it's, it's, it's a, it's intended to, to kind of connect your heart to, to the connections that are being made in the painting. And so there's a lot of stuff like that, you know, when you see, you know, you see a skull, for example. Um, that's mortality. Books symbolize learning and knowledge. You know, candles represent the passing of time. And so a lot of times when you see, like a candle in a, in a, um, in a candlestick, you know, the author or the painter is telling you something based on how much candle has burned away, you know. And so if it's just a little tiny stub of a candle, it's, it's kind of the end of a life or it's the end of the moment. And if the candle is just freshly lit, it's the beginning of something, you know, and it's. And so a lot of that stuff was, was sort of a visual vocabulary that people, people who, you know, engaged with art and art was a regular part of their worlds. Um, would, would sort of know that vocabulary and be able to read a painting a little bit better because they would see certain things that they would say, oh, um, that that's included here. And that usually is supposed to make me think of this or the the artist is trying to tell me, you know, something about this person's wealth or, or morality or whatever.

Yeah, I think a lot of a lot of older art in particular, um, Renaissance era, uh, works would, would include items like in, in still lives or just in the backgrounds of paintings, uh, things that were intended to help you kind of locate what was going on, what the person was about. Um, you know, and so if there's if there's a painting of, of somebody and there's a peacock, for example, just randomly in the in the frame. That's the the way that the author is, is conveying that this is a proud man. You know, that this is a person who is who is proud and is and is probably wealthy. You know, dogs are exactly what you think they are. They're they're representatives of loyalty. And so, you know, they they are this kind of mix of docile and affectionate and also ferocious when, when defending the thing that they love. And so if you see a dog in a painting, like in this Rockwell painting, it's, it's, it's a, it's intended to, to kind of connect your heart to, to the connections that are being made in the painting. And so there's a lot of stuff like that, you know, when you see, you know, you see a skull, for example. Um, that's mortality. Books symbolize learning and knowledge. You know, candles represent the passing of time. And so a lot of times when you see, like a candle in a, in a, um, in a candlestick, you know, the author or the painter is telling you something based on how much candle has burned away, you know. And so if it's just a little tiny stub of a candle, it's, it's kind of the end of a life or it's the end of the moment. And if the candle is just freshly lit, it's the beginning of something, you know, and it's. And so a lot of that stuff was, was sort of a visual vocabulary that people, people who, you know, engaged with art and art was a regular part of their worlds. Um, would, would sort of know that vocabulary and be able to read a painting a little bit better because they would see certain things that they would say, oh, um, that that's included here. And that usually is supposed to make me think of this or the the artist is trying to tell me, you know, something about this person's wealth or, or morality or whatever.

While I mentioned posture with Ruby, you know, and with the young man and then the dad who's kind of leaning forward, you say you look at people's posture. Are there any of them imitating a famous position? Posture can convey attitude and outlook, but it can also be used to link a person to another historical or mythological figure. Does anyone have the outstretched arms of the crucified Christ? And you give the Caravaggio the embodiment of Christ painting there as well? So posture can be there. You say rivers, shells, silver and gold, even dead animals, if they are in the. You say, that's pretty fascinating.

While I mentioned posture with Ruby, you know, and with the young man and then the dad who's kind of leaning forward, you say you look at people's posture. Are there any of them imitating a famous position? Posture can convey attitude and outlook, but it can also be used to link a person to another historical or mythological figure. Does anyone have the outstretched arms of the crucified Christ? And you give the Caravaggio the embodiment of Christ painting there as well? So posture can be there. You say rivers, shells, silver and gold, even dead animals, if they are in the. You say, that's pretty fascinating.

Huh? Yeah, yeah. There, there are all these things that just are there to convey, you know, um, I think that the dead animals. Right. They convey kind of, uh, the contradiction of abundance by way of destruction. And so, you know, you would you would maybe have a dead animal in something where you're seeing an opulent, um, you know, maybe mansion or something that is required, uh, you know, that, you know, with, with a bearskin rug, you know, that would required a lot of destruction and death and and the clearing of a lot of trees and that sort of thing. Um, in order to provide this, this opulence for, for maybe just one person, you know, and so that that was the kind of the idea of abundance by way of destruction. It's it's a.

Huh? Yeah, yeah. There, there are all these things that just are there to convey, you know, um, I think that the dead animals. Right. They convey kind of, uh, the contradiction of abundance by way of destruction. And so, you know, you would you would maybe have a dead animal in something where you're seeing an opulent, um, you know, maybe mansion or something that is required, uh, you know, that, you know, with, with a bearskin rug, you know, that would required a lot of destruction and death and and the clearing of a lot of trees and that sort of thing. Um, in order to provide this, this opulence for, for maybe just one person, you know, and so that that was the kind of the idea of abundance by way of destruction. It's it's a.

Yeah.

Yeah.