First and foremost, it is important to note that all three categories of arts—liberal, common, and fine—have been present in the Great Tradition from the beginning. We can find mention of each as far back as Plato, and discussion of the arts occurred throughout the medieval, Renaissance, and modern periods. The way that the arts are outlined, however, as well as how they were set in relation to one another or assigned value, has varied through time. We find Socrates elevating the liberal and fine arts, but for the most part dissing the common arts in The Republic. We find Hugh of St. Victor, Bonaventure, and Milton taking all three arts in resonance and reiterating the core importance of the liberal arts, while also exploring the essence of the common arts and establishing them as worthy of study. There is no single take on these arts that spans the Tradition, and so those who read widely in the canon find a variety of confusing and sometimes contradicting points of view on this topic.

Isn’t that fun? That’s why we’re here! If the purpose of studying the Great Tradition is to gain wisdom as well as knowledge, to seek truth, then we should expect some philosophical wrangling from us imperfect, incomplete, questing souls. In the absence of a perfectly clear and coherent vision, let me offer up a poetic image drawn and distilled from the writings of those scholars mentioned above, one that exposes some of the finest points of explanation within the Tradition while simultaneously exposing some of the greatest complexities of our current moment.

Consider a single strip of paper, perhaps one inch wide and six long. If you write “liberal arts” on one side and “common arts” on the other, you can flip the paper over as many times as you like and still find those words occupying their discrete sides. And yet, if you twist the paper half a turn and connect the ends, you end up with a loop that has only ONE side. Pick any point and trace the circumference: from the outside of the loop you end up on the inside, and continuing the path, return to the outside. You can see two sides, still, and yet by tracing you can also see that the figure only has one side.

This paradox of geometry, called a Möbius band, gives us a way to visualize how the liberal arts and the common arts relate.

The liberal arts are the arts of language and mathematics. Grammar, logic, and rhetoric give us the ability to communicate and reason, while arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy show us number in a variety of forms, through space and time, expressed in myriad ways throughout the cosmos. These arts are undisputedly the core of a sound education: not only are the arts themselves vitally important, but so, too, is the formation experienced by a discipulo engaged in learning them. The fullness of this experience, information and formation together, gives us eyes to see and ears to hear: crowned by philosophy and theology, the liberal arts provide lenses to both perceive and wonder as we behold the logos, the ordering principles within, beneath, and around the cosmos.

On the flip side, the common arts are the skills and services by which we meet our embodied needs in the world. They include agriculture, armament, woodworking, cooking, medicine, navigation, trade, and many more. To many, ancient as well as modern, these are “lower” arts or “vo-tech” skills, and yet these are the arts by which the liberal artist survives, even thrives, if they are virtuously practiced. Without them there would be no food, security, means of exchange, or buildings to live in. Like the liberal arts, the common arts bring us face-to-face with the logos, not only through applied language and mathematics, but through a direct encounter with the givenness of Creation. We could not grow a tomato on our own terms any more than we could base a strong argument on a false set of premises. Both arts put us firmly in touch with the orders of the cosmos, but from slightly different perspectives or vantages. It’s worth noting here that many of the wildest disorders of modernity come from a lack of understanding of this givenness, even as those who promote these disorders are often masters of words and calculation.

As we trace the arc of the liberal arts, we find their full, physical expression (as well as the necessary support of the artists’ earthly needs) in the common arts, and as we trace the arc of the common arts, we find them to be made possible, not to mention fruitful, only through a skillful application of the liberal arts. As we trace, we find the two arts reflecting back at us, and at one another, in practice and in poetry, two sides of a one-sided figure.

That image provides a basis by which to build an understanding of fine arts, for both the liberal and the common arts can be practiced with varying degrees of skill. We know an excellent paper or an excellent wine when we encounter one, and we can also distinguish mediocrity. The capacity to judge extends from encounters, experience, and a sound paideia: we learn how to recognize when an act or an artifact is excellent, well-suited to a particular situation or use, or when it is not. A practicing fine artist, through profound comprehension, contemplation, and refined skill, can craft an artifact or shape an observer’s experience in such a way that an encounter with goodness, truth, and beauty occurs. We have all heard speeches, read literature, played with equations, listened to music, seen performances, grown gardens, or sat for dinners at well-crafted dinner tables in ways that have raised the doxology in our hearts as much as in our minds. And if we haven’t yet, we know that it can be done, and that the requisite level of artistic mastery is worthy of pursuit.

 

Chris Hall, MAT, is a teacher and author in the Christian Classical tradition, as well as the Founder of Always Learning Education, an organization focused on the cultivation and preservation of the common arts.

 

Chris Hall, Founder of ALE 

Get Involved with The Disputed Question

If you’re enjoying the essays and want to respond with your own charitable and respectful thoughts, objections, and responses, you have two options.

1. Public Engagement: Beneath each essay, you'll find a comment box, where you can post comments to be read publicly. 
   
   
2. Direct Author Engagement: Use the form on The Disputed Question page to send your message to the contributing authors on any topic. Those authors may choose to respond to you directly, but may instead reference your ideas in future submissions.