VISUAL FILES
I consider art to be one of my fundamental priorities. Over the course of 45 years, this priority and life in the Society of Jesus have sometimes seemed incompatible to some, despite the Jesuits’ long academic and practical history in the arts. Living out these two vocations, however, has been an exercise in balance, where external weight has not necessarily leaned in favor of art. For this reason, the formal elements of my work—its fragmented rhythms and contrasts—reflect something of this creative tension.
My identity as a Jesuit has led me to various responsibilities: studies, social commitments, leadership positions, priestly duties. Without a perseverance grounded in something deeper than the image of being an artist, it is quite possible that I would have abandoned art in favor of more conventional obligations.
Tasks outside the realm of art have limited the amount of work I would have liked to produce. Yet these limitations have required me to find a personal method of working. These experiences have contributed important elements to my visual vocabulary and to an essentially hopeful point of view: I have lived through contrasts, certain rhythms have been broken and later rediscovered. Things fall apart, and there is an order within the chaos.
Life has been my reference more than the art world. But it is through art that I can express the experience I observe. It is inevitable that part of those experiences appears in the work; the sculptures and paintings are the distillation of my experiences, the architecture of my spirit. The challenge is to understand and interpret the meaning of these experiences— to discern their message. I express them, but their significance arises from associations and reflections that are brought forth and shared. Just like a conversation that begins in one place and quickly finds its own direction, I consider my works the starting point of a conversation. It has been said that the meaning of a work lies halfway between the work itself and the person who contemplates it.
It is impossible to imagine that art is something superfluous. The very essence of this sensual language—whether visual, bodily, or auditory—nourishes the spirit. When a person dares to be attentive, aware, freed from the limits of the “self,” they discover the realm of the transcendent. Art and spirituality are tuned to the same frequency, though this does not erase the challenges introduced by other forces: the market, fame, and fashion can become the primary centers of interest. I have preferred to channel my ambitions toward the perfection of the work; this, more than any other reward, sustains me.
What can I say about the content? First, it is not rational but visual. Since childhood, I have felt an attraction to structures—buildings, highways, bridges. It is no surprise that architecture appears in my work now. Dance is a more recent reference; both disciplines deal with movement and space. Beyond this, I am drawn to unconventional beauty, whether found in working-class neighborhoods, the central market, or in people who live outside the norm. One feels an authentic energy in these environments and individuals, and it is my preferred aesthetic.
This entire artistic process has been slow. It has been enriched by the art of the past, by wise people, and by a close attention to lived experience. Throughout the process I have observed details, valued doubt, and chosen to play seriously. When others find in these works a connection to their own experiences, I feel there is a good beginning for conversation.
Dennis Leder