God is Light

1 John 1:1–2:11

Works of art by Corita Kent, Garry Fabian Miller and Robin Tanner

Plain Light

Robin Tanner’s etchings are ambitious examples of what can be achieved with light and dark. The Tithe Barn captures the gloomy cavernous interior of a humble Wiltshire outbuilding reminiscent of the underbelly of an inverted ship’s hull. Soaring and encasing, the barn also has a cathedral-like quality. Its robust structure acts as a frame through which our gaze is directed towards a luminous place in the distance.

The subtle tonal contrast between light and dark, achieved by a latticework of ink-filled incisions juxtaposed with void spaces on the surface of the page, results in a dense composition enclosing this light-bathed opening. In the space beyond the opening, a fuzzy vignette of Wiltshire’s agricultural landscape emerges in which nature and humankind are in harmony.

Tanner’s values were profoundly shaped by his Quaker spirituality. Early ‘Friends’, as Quakers are commonly known, often speak of the inward light. The idea is that God is a light whose source is beyond our physical boundaries. In the words of Ben Pink Dandelion, the light comes to us from a different place ‘as if through a keyhole’ (Dandelion 2007: 132). If we entertain the notion of experiencing God as light, as Quakers have done since the seventeenth century, then Tanner’s etching takes on resonances with the Epistle of John’s simple yet powerful message. As in the vista beyond the barn, ‘God is light and in Him, there is no darkness at all’ (1 John 1:5 NRSV).

References:

Dandelion, Ben Pink. 2007. An Introduction to Quakerism. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press)

Tanner, Robin, and Tim Fenn (eds). 1991. From Old Chapel Field: Selected Letters of Robin Tanner, 1920–1988 (Glasgow: Impact)

Experiment with Light

Commentary by Marie Sophie Giraud

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A mighty red circle consisting of various-sized dots, from small to large and expanding outward as though pulsating on the page, appears as a cosmic and quasi-three-dimensional structure. Formed of nine interlocking dye destruction prints and carefully contained within a black frame, Exposure (five hours of light) is a mesmerizing vision of incandescent pixels materializing a striking display of light and dark—motifs which weave through the first letter of John.

The light-formed patterns on each square of photographic paper are unique. Relying on the delicate balance of daylight and chemistry, every moment of photographic exposure is unrepeatable. The squares are pieced together to form a whole blistering circle. At its heart, one small, piercing circle shines intensely like a molten core. Dense in its brightness, this hot focal point echoes the first epistle of John’s description of Christ as ‘the true light that is already shining’ (1 John 2:8 NRSV). We may imagine the light that is sharply brought into focus in Miller’s photograph as the total and unfading light described by John.

Since the 1980s, Fabian Miller has almost exclusively worked with camera-less photography. This technique relies on the propensity of light to react with responsive surfaces. The finished results require a degree of experimentation, given that the artist harnesses the daylight available in his native Dartmoor in South West England. Ever changing, the light’s quality and duration varies from day to day. The results are direct outcomes of patience and trust in the artistic process; how does the artist know when the matrix has been exposed to enough light?

As John proclaims, when a person places their trust in Christ, they ‘(live) in the light and in such a person there is no cause for stumbling’ (1 John 2:10 NRSV). The reassuring and yet encouraging call to follow Christ is echoed in the oft-cited verse found in the Gospel of John, when Jesus urges his disciples to maintain faith by stating ‘I am the way, and the truth, the life’ (John 14:6 NRSV). Implicit in this phrase is the notion that by placing one’s trust in Christ, the route to eternal life becomes an illuminated path.

References

Anonymous. 2018. ‘Exposure (five hours of light) 1 July 2005’, Exposure (five hours of light), https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O1457788/exposure-five--hours-of-photograph-fabian-miller-garry/ [accessed 18 January 2025]

Darkness into Light

Commentary by Marie Sophie Giraud

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Artist–activist–nun Corita Kent is best known for the way she interlaced bold colour with text. This is manifest in her artwork the dark, which offers a philosophical exploration of biblical references to light and darkness. Striking, broad strokes of dark mustard, deep scarlet, and creamy white sweep unevenly across the canvas evoking the meandering edges of geographical territories viewed from above.

Kent’s cursive script is projected onto the page, providing a focal point for reflection. The words ‘the dark has its own light’ flow in fluid black ink.

In Kent’s work, light and darkness occupy the same physical space. And in dialogue with certain biblical passages, light and dark can be interpreted as two sides of the same sacred coin. At numerous points in the Scriptures, these diametrically different values are juxtaposed, each relying on the other to disclose its inherent function and meaning. Stacked in three short lines, comparable insights into Kent’s spiritual outlook come to concentrated and visually arresting expression.

Humans have historically made sense of light in relation to darkness, experienced as the absence of light. Lights are perceived as shining against the backdrop of darkness, just as—in Genesis—God brought light into being from the ‘darkness [that was] upon the face of the deep’; the formless void (Genesis 1:3–5 NRSV).

In the end, from a theological point of view, light is the more ultimate reality. As stated in John’s Gospel, ‘the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it’ (John 1:5 NRSV). By paraphrasing this verse, Kent conveys the idea that in the darkness there are always pointers to light; avenues that bring us to new life. That even in the shadows, new shoots can grow.

The words in John’s first letter—‘the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining’—offer a contemporary analogy for followers of Christ (1 John 2:8 NRSV). Drawing on this imagery, the dialogue between text and colour in Kent’s work allows ‘the dark’ to become a space filled with possibility and meaning, offering a discreet echo of the hope found in the shining light of Christ.

References

Ault, Julie. 2006. Come Alive!: The Spirited Art of Sister Corita (London: Four Corners)

Integrated Impressions

Comparative commentary by Marie Sophie Giraud

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The first letter of John has no obvious recipients. Because it lacks a formal address or salutation, and its content is not directed to a named person or group, John’s words ‘tell us nothing about when or for whom [they] were written’ (Brown 1979: 96). It undoubtedly speaks from a particular context, but its message does not confine itself to a narrow, predetermined audience and it has been received in hugely diverse ways over time, successive hearers or readers of the epistle all bringing their own perspectives to its interpretation.

For this reason, it is regarded as one of the ‘catholic epistles’, whose message is for all (Rodenbiker 2024). Nevertheless, the effects of that message can result in sharp divisions, especially between the children of light and those who are for now ‘still’ in darkness (1 John 2:9).

John’s words urge the community of human souls he calls ‘little children’ to call to mind the simple message revealed through the person of Jesus: that salvation is only found through ‘abiding’ in him (3:24); confessing one’s sins (1:9); obeying God’s commandments (2:3); loving one’s brothers and sisters (2:10). Denying Christ only leads to a state of spiritual darkness, which John characterizes as dwelling in the shadows (1 John 2:9 NRSV).

The words we are confronted with in Sister Corita Kent’s work the dark—rendered in her informal, flowing script—are similarly serious in intent. Camouflaged within what may superficially look offbeat and scrawling, we experience gentle encouragement to keep searching for the light when in a state of spiritual despair. For Kent, light was also synonymous with joy, and a truth that was made as apparent in her political activism as when her ‘brush danced across the page in a lively farandole’ (Ault 2006: 115). And behind this heartening call may lie a personal reflection. The truncated phrase perhaps hints movingly of Kent’s struggles with cancer, a diagnosis she first received in 1974.

While Kent created works that ignited hope by evoking the sacred in subtle and celebratory ways, Robin Tanner harnessed the wordless properties of landscapes to summon a similar divinity. A thread can be drawn between the ‘word of life’ in the letter’s opening verse and the nonverbal revelation of Tanner’s art, two seemingly contrasting epiphanies that might point to the same mystery.

Tithe barns are as commonplace in South West England as thatched roofs, hedgerows, and hay bales. Yet Tanner developed a deeply intimate, almost sacramental engagement with the land he inhabited, giving these ubiquitous symbols of rural life a majestic and enchanting quality in his etchings. In the presence and absence of ink in A Tithe Barn, Tanner makes a clear contrast between light and dark. These tonal qualities play a significant role in conveying the mood and atmosphere of the rural scene. In all its imposing glory, the barn is somehow bathed in otherworldly light and hidden in shadowy darkness, suggesting a tension between the visible and invisible. It is this interplay which creates a sense of depth and mystery.

The barn, a symbol of rural life and its historical connection to communal survival (through the tithe), stands at the intersection of light and darkness, much like the human condition described in 1 John.

The careful balance between light and dark presented as the constant struggle between moral clarity and spiritual and existential uncertainty in John’s letter also reverberates in Fabian Miller’s Exposure (five hours of light). By incorporating black squares dotted with pulses of light to form a starry vision, Fabian Miller has found a way to reconcile the tension between the apparently stark polarity of light and dark. If darkness cannot be wholly erased, it can be incorporated. We may be put in mind of the way that darkness is given a central place in the opening two verses of the Bible as light is brought into being from Earth’s formless void (Genesis 1:2–3 NRSV).

By utilizing the properties of the artists’ chosen medium, these three artworks express and mediate between the themes of light and dark. Meanwhile, John’s letter reminds the community before him of another mediator, and another mediation. For Christ, their mediator and advocate (1 John 2:1 NRSV), will bring about something even more radical than a dynamic equilibrium between dark and light: nothing less than the eventual and complete transformation of darkness into new light, uniting them with the one in whom ‘is no darkness at all’ (1:5).

References

Ault, Julie. 2006. Come Alive!: The Spirited Art of Sister Corita (London: Four Corners)

Brown, Raymond E. 1979. The Community of the Beloved Disciple (London: Geoffrey Chapman)

Rodenbiker, Kelsie. 2024. ‘The Catholic Epistles’, in Companion to the New Testament, ed. by James Crossley and Michelle Fletcher (London: SCM)

Next exhibition: 1 John 3