Incarnational art.

Postmodern Heretics: Catholic Imagination in Contemporary Art, by Eleanor Heartney. Midmarch Arts Press.

Over the years, I've written many times about living in a middle space between my faith (Catholicism) and my profession (fine art). I've often had to act as interpreter to fellow believers of contemporary artworks that were difficult to understand without a bit of translation. Alternately, I've defended my church to artists suspicious of any organized religion.

Eleanor Heartney's Postmodern Heretics: Catholic Imagination in Contemporary Art is the first book I've read that attempts to bridge that gap in a comprehensive fashion. She examines some of the most controversial artworks of the past two decades, noting that a majority were created by artists who are, or were brought up as, Catholics. In the process, she deftly draws parallels between a kind of physicality that is peculiarly Catholic and these artists' propensity for expressing their ideas through corporeal means.

I admit some trepidation in reviewing this book for Sojourners--where folks have worked to overcome long-standing divisions among Christians of various traditions--because Heartney's book argues for difference. Catholicism is, after all, unabashedly catholic, appropriating pagan elements universally and "christening" them in the process. All matter is regarded as sacred, and God is experienced through the world. Instead of distinguishing between the spiritual and the physical, Catholics often intentionally blur them. Both sociologist-novelist Andrew Greeley and theologian David Tracy have argued that Catholics and Protestants actually perceive the world differently in this sense, and that there is something distinctive about the "Catholic imagination."

Catholic children grow up surrounded by representations of a nearly naked man hanging from a cross or a mother, breast exposed, nursing a child. It shouldn't be a surprise, then, that the controversial artworks Heartney chooses usually deal directly with the body. Some of the art discussed is highly visceral and not for the fainthearted. Be ready to approach it with an open mind.

THE FIRST CHAPTER begins with a description of Bernini's 17th-century sculpture The Ecstasy of St. Teresa. Teresa's head is thrown back in a swoon, as an angel (bearing a striking resemblance to Cupid) aims an arrow at the saint's heart, portraying "her spiritual union with God in a transport of physical excitement." Heartney quotes a critic of the time who, shocked by such sexual implications, berates the artist for "dragging that most pure virgin ... into the dirt."

Fast forward to 1999, when Chris Ofili, a British artist of Nigerian descent, caused a controversy at the Brooklyn Museum with his collaged painting The Holy Virgin Mary. His use of three hardened balls of elephant dung (a substance that in Africa is found in everything from medicinal poultices to papermaking) elicited similar condemnations from New York City's Mayor Rudolph Giuliani and the Catholic League's William Donohue.

But aren't these critics also Catholic? Yes, but Heartney insists that those more thoroughly schooled in Catholic tradition tend not to blush at earthy images for their own sake. She cites Sister Wendy Beckett, the Carmelite nun of PBS fame. Openly willing to consider Andres Serrano's photograph of a crucifix immersed in urine in proper context, she was not in the least repelled by the artist's use of bodily fluids. Her reaction is consistent with what Heartney describes as "incarnational consciousness."

Postmodern Heretics is worthwhile reading, an important step in opening a much-needed dialogue. But while Eleanor Heartney is a respected art historian, she is not a theologian; the text contains occasional errors (or, at least, incidences of imprecise language) that confuse her argument. The book also relies heavily on a prior knowledge of contemporary art, containing only a few images printed in black and white. For readers unfamiliar with the artists discussed, a trip to the library or a search on the Internet is a must. There are also numerous typographical errors, which at times can be distracting.

It is to be hoped that Heartney will continue to refine her ideas--perhaps in conjunction with a theologian--and publish a revised edition at a later date.

Virginia Maksymowicz teaches sculpture at Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania She makes large sculptural installations about political and social issues.