And if you’re just saying that’s the perspective from “The Church,” I don’t think you’ve made a strong argument either.

No, I don’t think it’s true that The Church sees Art as a tool to illustrate its beliefs, and any use besides this is either time wasting or leading faith astray.

Even if they think it’s “time-wasting,” wouldn’t they see it as the same as sports, putting models together, stargazing, painting landscapes, Nascar, or whatever other hobby we’re allowed to have? Is Nascar just “wasting time?” Uhh, well, that’s a really bad example.

It’s strange. I know many musicians who felt they had to choose between good art and the Church, and chose art. Why do our artists feel there’s a dichotomy there? I know one musician in particular who just returned to the church a couple years ago after a lifetime of inactivity simply because his mother told him when he was a teenager, “You can’t be a rock musician AND in the Church.” So he said, “Okay, I’ll be a rock musician then.” His journey back has been difficult and painful, even hard to watch.

I’m less interested in whether the Great American Novel is possible, or will be written. I’m more interested in the artists themselves, and whether they ever feel like they have to choose. I’d rather see our artists TRYING their best than actually succeeding. I’d rather see our artists staying in the Church, at least, and still feeling they can give it their best shot.

I’ve written a book of my own that deals with a very edgy topic in a very edgy way, but I probably won’t publish it simply because I hope to maybe one day get into CES. Ha. There goes my credibility.

I can see that kind of discussion going on now, but I’m not sure if the conversations around me, at least, grew from the quote itself–I’m afraid that Mormons (at least in my experience) seem to have this inferiority complex that always invites such discussions (“Steve Martin is really a Mormon!” and suchlike). I do think it’s an inspiring quote for those of us who are actually working in the arts and striving to be our best, independent of whether we are known to the world as a “Mormon artist” or whether the LDS world regards us more highly because we’re somehow “cleaner” than the world, not because we’re actually good at what we do.

(That drives me crazy–I love how some girl got on the Jeremiah boards and lambasted them for the “scantily-clad girl”–i.e., the girl wearing a short dress in one episode–that we wouldn’t even NOTICE in a Hollywood movie. As I watched that same scene, I knew that girl was on the “bad” side *because* she wasn’t paying attention to the BYU dress code: “Oh, she’s wearing a ‘short’ skirt! She MUST be giving in to Satan!”)

What’s interesting is that none of the so-called Mormon literati I know have a disdain for genre fiction — or at least not for science fiction/fantasy (and many not for young adult and mystery either — romance is a different story). One thing that Orson Scott Card’s work (and not just him — but also the same market and literary forces that led him in to speculative fiction) did is create a whole generation (or two) of Mormon writers and critics who read speculative fiction and see it is a very valid way to explore Mormon themes. Indeed, many of the short story writers you see publishing literary fiction with the Mormon journals write/have written (and even published) speculative fiction.

As for the Orson F. Whitney quote: well, that’s a big discussion in and of itself. Here’s a brief reaction — I’m highly influenced by Whitney. At the same time, that quote of his needs to be understood within the context of the time and one of the major issues I have with it is not that it is, that Whitney said it and how he said it, but rather that it has created an anxiogenic atmosphere that past several decades among Mormons who want to look to (and talk to death) the prospects of greatness while ignoring or paying cursory attention to all the minor triumphs and works of interest that our culture is producing.

Interesting story, and I really do like how they’re incorporating Mormon belief story-wise. Perhaps my opinion doesn’t count as much as the literati, given that I edit the genre fiction that so often isn’t considered “great” merely because it’s genre, but I really think that the “great Mormon novel” will come through storytelling efforts like this, and like that of Orson Scott Card in Lost Boys (wow, that’s a freaky book), and through the efforts of Mormon writers in the mainstream, especially in fantasy and science fiction.

We’re pretty interesting to look at as a culture when it comes to fantasy and science fiction, actually. We believe in many supernatural occurrences–the Holy Ghost prompting us and manifestation of spirits can come in many ways–but we seem to split as a culture, as someone said above, when it comes to fantastic allegorical storytelling. We have a really great tradition of F/SF in our culture, but we have just as many people jumping on the evangelicals-against-Harry-Potter bandwagon, which puzzles me. I’m not sure what it arises from, because I have just as many staunch conservative Mormon friends who love F/SF as I know staunch conservative anti-HP people (though those anti-HP people tend to be from an older generation, come to think of it–is it a generation gap?).

At any rate, there are a number of faithful LDS writers out there in the mainstream who are writing great books, whether or not they’re writing in the LDS market (LDS Storytellers, by the way, honors both LDS-market writers and LDS writers writing in the mainstream; this year was the 2nd year for the Whitney awards, which honor Elder Orson F. Whitney. What he prophesied regarding Mormon art, I think, is extremely relevant to the discussion at hand:

Above all things, we must be original. The Holy Ghost is the genius of “Mormon” literature. Not Jupiter, nor Mars, Minerva, nor Mercury. No fabled gods and goddesses; no Mount Olympus; no “sisters nine,” no “blue-eyed maid of heaven”; no invoking of mythical muses that “did never yet one mortal song inspire.” No pouring of new wine into old bottles. No patterning after the dead forms of antiquity. Our literature must live and breathe for itself. Our mission is diverse from all others; our literature must also be. The odes of Anacreon, the satires of Horace and Juvenal, the epics of Homer, Virgil, Dante and Milton; the sublime tragedies of Shakspeare [sic]; these are all excellent, all well enough in their way; but we must not attempt to copy them. They cannot be reproduced. We may read, we may gather sweets from all these flowers, but we must build our own hive and honeycomb after God’s supreme design.

We will yet have Miltons and Shakespeares of our own. God’s ammunition is not exhausted. His brightest spirits are held in reserve for the latter times. In God’s name and by his help we will build up a literature whose top shall touch heaven, though its foundations may now be low in earth. Let the smile of derision wreathe the face of scorn; let the frown of hatred darken the brow of bigotry. Small things are the seeds of great things, and, like the acorn that brings forth the oak, or the snowflake that forms the avalanche, God’s kingdom will grow, and on wings of light and power soar to the summit of its destiny.