Museum of Art

Let the mountains shout for joy, and all ye valleys cry aloud; and all ye seas and dry lands tell the wonders of your Eternal King! And ye rivers, and brooks, and rills, flow down with gladness. Let the woods and all the trees of the field praise the Lord; and ye solid rocks weep for joy! And let the sun, moon, and the morning stars sing together, and let all the sons of God shout for joy! And let the eternal creations declare his name forever and ever! D&C 128:23

The BYU Museum of Art (MOA) is one of my favorite places on campus. It's a fun haven from the occasional frenzy and stress of college life. (To those of you who might ever find yourself on BYU campus, the MOA Cafè is also AMAZING.) In fact, I'm hoping to do an internship at the MOA in a future semester, so it's near and dear to my heart.

The exhibit that we visited this time is entitled "Types and Shadows: Intimations of Divinity." The Museum even has a really great website with lots of resources about it.

The entrance to the gallery displays this awesome scripture from the Pearl of Great Price:

And behold, all things have their likeness, and all things are created and made to bear record of me, both things which are temporal, and things which are spiritual; things which are in the heavens above, and things which are on the earth, and things which are in the earth, and things which are under the earth, both above and beneath: all things bear record of me. —Moses 6:63

I, as a Humanities major, can certainly appreciate the power of art to testify of God. Although some of the works in this exhibit weren't particularly to my taste, I like the fact that artists take the time and effort to express their love and appreciation for the Savior through their craft.


This work, painted by a Utah artist named Lee Bennion, was particularly striking to me. I'm usually not a big fan of this simplistic painting style, but after discussing the symbolic significance of the subject matter and composition with Rita Wright, a curator at the MOA, the painting began to grow on me. There's a bit of a tradition in my apartment that I make bread every Sunday night to share with friends; after analyzing this painting, that simple act has taken on greater significance. I could see how the distortion of the woman's body was an intentional stylization similar to that of the elongated forms of saints often used in church architecture. I noticed the importance of her hand gesture and the symbolic use of color.

This painting was another of my favorites:

This depiction of the story of the prodigal son, done by Modernist Bruce Smith, was unexpectedly poignant. First, I'm a sucker for aesthetic beauty; frankly, these apples and grapes looked good enough to eat. Second, I think that Smith's use of symbols is stunning. Even the triptych form of the canvas has significance to the segmentation of the storyline.

I'm no art expert or connoisseur. I don't even consider myself reasonably well educated when it comes to art. But I think that one of the most powerful things about these artistic genres is their ability to convey messages to the professional and ignorant alike. For the same reason that we hang artwork in our chapels and temples, religious art like this can edify both artist and viewer.

To all those in the general vicinity of Provo, hurry and get down here before the exhibit closes on the 13th. Who wouldn't want to see Rembrandt, William Blake, Minerva Teichert, and Carl Bloch alongside lots of talented contemporary artists?

The take-home message can be summarized in the words of Alma:

... all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator. Alma 30:44