Invitation as Art; Art as Invitation

Invitation as Art; Art as Invitation

I open my mail over the trash bin, foot on the pedal, dumping as I go–but there it is, among the junk mail: something real. Something paper. 

An invitation.

My name is scrawled on the front; “Danielle” or “Dani” depending on when they got to know me. It’s fun to see who chooses to write in their own handwriting, who looked up hand-lettering tutorials, and who printed my address to look like it was addressed by a professional. So far, I don’t believe any of my friends have actually hired a professional calligrapher, but most people see the address as more than functional; they put forth some effort to match the “fanciness” of the invitation inside. 

Inside, invitations vary from large printed postcards to intricately interlocked bits of stationery and ribbon, but they are invariably artistic. 

Largest, in the center of the page, are the full names of the bride and groom–the objects of our celebration. We are being invited to marvel at them, at their love story. Even if I only know one of them! This invitation reminds me that it’s not about me and “Mary Grace Lu,” but about “Mary Grace Lu and Steven James Wesley.” The envelope with my name is thrown away.

The invitation–heavy, important, beautifully fashioned–takes up two magnets on my refrigerator door.

Art involves attentiveness to all of these layers of communication. We craft something a little more nuanced than a didactic message; we craft a kind of experience. From spying the hand-lettered name, to the weight of the invite on the fridge, invitations are art. 

But I am fascinated by them because they are symbolic of art as well. 

Art is, at the core, an invitation. 

We host monthly events where we respond to art together, with both Christians and non-Christians; in these conversations, spiritual themes and worldviews are shared in gentleness and respect. The art has invited us to see the world from the perspective of the filmmaker, or artist, or curator; our conversation is our way of inviting us to know each other a little deeper, to know what we think about life, love, and meaning. 

Of course, understanding art as invitation raises some important questions of exclusivity and accessibility as well. Conversations around representation and affordability and even trigger warnings have brought some of these questions to the forefront: 

Who are we including? What are we directing their attention towards? 

But invitations involve questions around beauty and value as well: 

What is familiar or common, versus perhaps “fancy?” How does that correlate to value? 

And, as often comes out in our discussions, art and the things it chooses to emphasize or de-emphasize is often an invitation into a particular message: 

What is our audience’s first impression? What do we leave them with? 

I think my calling into the arts comes from a particularly strong passion for communication. Most obviously, this emerges in my writing fiction–but I also find myself loving to teach, to host events and entire retreats, to make invitations, to engage in apologetics conversations, to translate the gospel into non-traditional “scripts” based on emergent themes in a person’s life. 

I find a thrill in choosing games or activities for our youth group to help them experience the lesson in a deeper way than merely telling them what the Bible passage says. I love watching them play Werewolves and then understand with a fresh depth the importance of the early church sharing what they witnessed. There is artistry in knowing my audience and their love of competition, there is artistry in turning out the lights, playing some spooky music, raising the stakes. 

In all of it, I craft an invitation for them to step into the passage; if they accept, then they aren’t just hearing about the empty tomb and the angels there, but participating in the weight of what to do with such knowledge. 

It is hard for me to separate out the threads of my life, of ministry, art, teaching… I’m a passionate “inviter,” in all things. 

Or, put another way, I’m an artist. 

How is your art an invitation? Who do you want to invite? How do you hope they receive it? 

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