Art as Attention, Presence, Prayer: Visual Artist Scott Aasman
In Conversation with Emily Chambers Sharpe
Art gives a language to my faith.
— Scott Aasman
Scott Aasman is an illustrator, artist, community builder, part-time chicken farmer, and zine maker. As a student of both art and theology at Redeemer University, Scott found a way to express the ideas he was reading in textbooks visually through his work in the studio. By colliding and fusing biblical and cultural meta-narratives and layering them with personal and local narrative, he attempts to open up possibilities in ways of seeing tired and ‘over-seen’ stories through surprise, mystery, meaning, and wonder. Scott has been an American Illustration AI40 Chosen winner and his work has been seen in galleries, churches and publications across North America.
Scott is also a co-founder of Salt Cellar Arts, an arts-focused community for the “spiritually attentive and creatively engaged,” whose goal is open the doors for the churched to engage more deeply in creativity, imagination and cultural literacy while championing the role of the Divine in art-making. Scott lives and works out of Hamilton, Ontario, with his wife Michelle and their two children.
The following transcript has been edited. A version of the conversation is available in the audio interview above.
Emily Chambers Sharpe: I’d love for you to tell us a bit about your story. It helps us get to know who you are and how faith in the arts fits into that story.
Scott Aasman: As far as how faith and arts have been in my life, it’s always been a congruent stream in my life, separate but going in the same direction. I grew up in a reformed Christian household, so it was very Protestant. They placed a high degree of importance on explanation, on doctrine, on theology, and there wasn’t a lot of room for mystery. And that’s important. I got really good at knowing what was right, what was correct, how to properly respond to certain theological questions about God and Jesus and all that kind of stuff. There wasn’t a lot of room for mystery. So my mind was really engaged, but I always had a hard time with the heart aspect. At the same time, I was into drawing. I started at a pretty young age, like most kids do, because it was fun, and it was a way to create worlds and express myself. With drawing, it just felt like there were limitless possibilities.
Kintsugi Grace: Speech by Makoto Fujimura. May 2023. Sketchbook entry.
And it so happened that when I was five years old I was diagnosed with something called Legg‑Perthes disease, which is a degenerative bone disease of the balls of the hips. Essentially, [the balls of the hips] became deformed and would not fit properly into the socket. That involved hospital stays, and I was in traction for a couple of weeks. They put me in a cast from my thighs to my ankles, with literally a hockey stick in between my knees. Eventually, they had braces that would let me bend at the knees, but there was a metal plate between the knees that kept my feet about three feet apart. I had to wear that for a number of years, and during that time, you know, being five-, six-years-old, it made things like going outside at recess during the winter made it pretty difficult to put on snow pants. So I had to stay inside. I couldn’t climb trees. I couldn’t ride my bike. Playing soccer was pretty difficult; I had to play goalie and there’s a pretty easy spot to score on.
But one thing that I could do at that point, and one way I could express myself and feel proud of who I am, was through drawing. I remember staying inside at recess and feeling a bit bummed that my friends were outside, but I can still remember a number of drawings that I did at that time and the explorations of stuff that I was doing. I give credit to my parents, too, who really encouraged me and gave me the right tools and stuff. My mom framed a picture I drew, which just made me so proud. I just never stopped drawing from that time.
But my faith life and my art life were two streams, following me as I went along in life. As I grew more serious in my faith, I went to Redeemer University (actually also here in Hamilton, Ontario), with the idea to study theology and maybe become a pastor. It was a consideration at that point in my life, and I’m glad I didn’t follow it through. But at the same time, art was following me. I started off as just an art minor, which soon became an art major. So I did a double major in both art and theology, and it was at that point that the wires started getting crossed. Things that I was thinking about and engaging with in the classroom were starting to come out in my work in the studio. I had always been a doodler in my notes, and I found being able to draw while I was taking notes helped me retain information better than I could when I was writing on a computer or writing it by hand. I think that was really the start of my illustration, where I’m communicating the knowledge and communicating what people are saying and synthesizing it and presenting it in ways to be understood.
At that point, there was still a heavy emphasis on getting it correct. Theology is wonderful, but the tradition I was in at the time had a heavy emphasis on correct thought, and it hasn’t been until the past five years or so where, through various things in my life—some heartbreak in the church, my introduction to the mystics, and just my life experiences—where I’ve been learning that there’s much more mystery to faith, and we should be able to embrace the mystery. Now when I think about faith, I always think about this quote by Wendell Barry in his book Jayber Crow: “Faith puts you out on a wide river in a boat, in the fog, in the dark.” I find that art also puts me into that space, where I don’t quite know what’s going on, I don’t quite have the right answers. And I can go safely into those spots and engage in the mystery, having that faith that Jesus is there with me. For me, faith and art have an interesting tension, where they inform each other, but there’s also an element of keeping each other in check. Art gives a language to my faith but also calls me out into Wendell’s boat.
ECS: After you finished your degree, what did daily life look like for you, and how has that changed over the years?
SA: After I got my degree, I was in love with a girl — I still am in love with her — and I got married. And I felt, well, we gotta start paying off some school debts, and I got a job as a carpenter for seven or eight years. Eventually, I got to a point where I realized that, while I loved my coworkers, and it was a decent job, my passion is art, and that’s where my “calling” is. Throughout all of that time, I was finding various ways to make art. I was a member of a gallery for a number of years until it shut down, I helped start a couple of art ministries at the church I was a part of, and I was constantly drawing. I never stopped drawing. Whether it was in the evenings or early mornings, I was always making art, until several years ago, when I made the change to becoming a full-time artist. And that was partly due to circumstance. I had some hip injuries in early 2020, right before COVID. Because of COVID, daily surgeries were shut down, and it was hard to see specialists. So I was unable to get the help that I needed. It wasn’t that I wasn’t able to walk, but just going about my daily job as a carpenter was very difficult. I literally limped into becoming an artist. Luckily, since then, I’ve had both hips fixed up, so I’m back to normal, but that’s been a long, long process.
Showing up to a blank page and just filling it with something is such an important act. It is an act of faith… It’s a practice of attention and presence, and I feel it’s an act of prayer.
So now I’m an artist. I’m an illustrator. I spend my days at my drawing desk. And this starts out every day with bringing my kids to school. I really treasure that time. My dad was an incredibly hard worker, but for the first 12 years of my life, he worked in Toronto, which was over an hour away. We got to spend a lot of time together on weekends and in the evenings, but never got to spend time with him in the mornings, and there’s something special about that time with my kids.
I find my day really starts on the walk home from school as far as my creative life goes. I try to keep my phone at home or at least firmly planted in my pocket and just enjoy the five minutes, the silence, and start to slow down, to be present to the day. Just trying to be attuned to what I’m feeling, how I am mentally or spiritually. And it transitions me to a spot where I’m open to what’s next.
I like to start my work day by just drawing something. It’s often in a sketchbook or sometimes a fun digital project that I want to do, but just something for the sake of doing it. Something that I’m interested in. Sometimes I draw my mug or an image that’s burning in my head or something that just comes up.
It’s in that showing up to a blank page and just filling it with something is an important act. I think it is an act of faith, showing up to a blank page. It reminds me of Genesis 1, where the Spirit hovers above the waters while the earth was formless. In showing up to a blank page, I’m tapping into that spirit. It doesn't have to be good, it can be a terrible drawing, but the fact is, there’s something new in this world that wasn’t there 10 or 15 minutes ago. It’s a practice of attention and presence, and I feel it’s an act of prayer. It’s not your traditional Lord Jesus kind of prayer, but it’s more of saying, here I am, be here with me. It’s an invitation.
There are times where [drawing] is a slog, but trying to find those few moments here and there where you’re able to tap into something a little deeper can feed you when you’re doing the more grinding work. After those morning exercises, I hop into my daily work, which involves drawing roughs for projects, answering emails, doing invoices—interspersed with dishes and laundry and that kind of stuff. If I’m ever stuck or get burnt out, there are times where I have to step back and take a break or maybe draw something that I’m interested in. Who knows what’s going to happen and when that inspiration or the Spirit will push me further?
ECS: What are some of the themes that you find yourself returning to?
The Green Knight. 2023. Digital drawing.
SA: Stories have always been super fascinating to me. I can recall very clearly the stories from my children's Bible growing up. Those are what always spoke to me, how images can tell stories. I’m constantly finding myself falling back to Bible stories, stories of saints, and Greek myths. If I’m stuck on something, I’ll just find a story and draw something from it. Recently, I wanted to explore the color green because I don't really like the color green, and I never know how to use it properly. So I challenged myself to draw the green knight from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which was a fun exercise because it got me interested in the drawing, and it helped me grow using green.
ECS: That’s really cool. I saw a few things that you drew, including the Sir Gawain story and a couple of other things that I would say had a medieval tie. Do you have an influence from there? Are there other influences that you would want to share with us?
SA: Medieval art has always been super fascinating to me as an illustrator, looking at things like the Book of Hours or illuminated manuscripts. It’s working with the text, illuminating and illustrating that, but also adding commentary and a mystical element. You look at things like the Marginalia, where you get these wild, interesting images that don’t necessarily speak to the text, but there’s a cultural language going on there. I love that I don't really understand it, but it kind of brings me into that space. I’ve always been interested in knights and dragons and those stories.
ECS: What kinds of things have you been working on recently, whether for yourself or for pay?
SA: The past couple of months have been super interesting for me professionally. Now that we’re emerging from this incubation and trauma of the past three years of lockdowns and COVID, I’m noticing people are slowly getting back up, dusting themselves off, and processing what exactly went on and ways forward. Just amongst my peers here in Hamilton and my greater circle of friends, there’s been some really interesting projects going on which I’ve been super fortunate to get roped into.
I have a friend who’s recently developed and created this card game of spiritual awakening, and he asked me to do a few illustrations for that. It’s weird, but it’s wonderful. Another friend of mine recently started a concert series in this old Anglican church called Secret Sound. You show up, and you don't know who’s playing. You come in silence, and you sit in these pews, and it’s candle lit. .And then an artist comes and plays some music, and it could be someone you know, it could be someone you don't know. But the artist has complete free reign of what they want to play. So you’re not going to get the hits, they’re going to get to play the things that they really want. It creates this incredible sense of vulnerability. And so I’ve been doing a number of illustrations for that. It’s fun because we make it mysterious but hint at what’s happening or who it is. It creates an interesting dialogue amongst the people who are seeing the posters going “Is it this person?”
Then I’m working with another friend, who is a poet and is writing a book. I would say it's a poetic memoir working with name and identity and overlapping narratives. I’m doing some work with him for that. Maybe because we’re all getting a bit older and we have a little extra income to start these interesting projects. A lot of my friends are starting bands again and all that kind of stuff. It’s really cool to be roped into this creative feeling that was so present back when we were in our twenties when we had that energy and maybe now we’re getting a second burst of that.
Personally, I have an ongoing project called Lullabies, Legends, and Lies, which is a great name. I stole it from Bobby Bear and Shel Silverstein. It’s an ongoing body of work and kind of like a car crash of narratives. Another project I’m really excited about is a secret project. I’m allowed to say that it’s a product that is devoted to rabbit trails, intuition, and collaboration. I’m working with a friend of mine, he’s a poet, and we make something and we give it out to people, but it has to be in person or like, by handwriting. So I can’t talk this way, but if my friends or if somebody wants to hear about it give me a call and we can talk about it.
Those are some of the more exciting things. I’m also heavily invested in a community that we’ve recently started through our church called Salt Cellar Arts, which is more of a community-building thing for artists. There’s a lot of stuff I’m very passionate about right now. There’s always something to do, which is nice. It’s not always financially the best, but it’s always exciting. And it feels just really important to kind of be a part of these kinds of things right now.
Grace to Ghosts. 2022. Ink on paper, digital media.
ECS: A lot of the work you’re doing, actually, is community-related. A lot of creative folks are trying to have that rich internal creative life and then we also know there’s a community piece, and sometimes I think it can be a challenge for us to turn one way or the other. What it’s like for you to have the community creative aspect as well as an individual creative aspect?
SA: Your work can’t just be for you. You’re often working with a designer or art director who has the final say in things. And at first, I didn’t really like that. It’s like, well, “How dare you silence my vision?” Or thinking, “I know better.” But when you’re working an illustration kind of job, it is a collaboration. And I’ve noticed over time how wonderful it is to have somebody else’s voice calling you out sometimes or directing you, saying, well, this is what we need. From that standpoint it’s been really helpful for me, and I’ve learned more from that than anything else. But to work as an artist you need these circles of support around you. I’m fortunate enough to have a number of friends that I’m texting on a daily basis, if not every other day, about ideas that we have or getting feedback on work. Being able to share what we’re struggling with as far as ideas, and it’s just wonderful to able to bounce those ideas off of people. Like your inner circle of voices that you can trust and then work outward from there.
ECS: That’s really helpful. There is something really enriching and beautiful about coming together with others and sharing something that you’ve done. I don’t know that I always know when’s the time to share and when’s not. But it’s good to think that there’s something good about bringing our work before others too.
SA: My son and I actually have started something recently where we’re drawing stuff together. Right now we’re working on a knight. I’m drawing a knight, and my son wants these trees and we’re doing some spiders for the trees, and then he’s drawing a big dragon. Our local library has a sticker machine, so we’re thinking about, what if we just take it, make it into some stickers, and he can give it to some of his friends at school. And there’s something just so special about saying, “I made this. You can have it.” And it’s an expression of something that wasn’t there before, and now it’s here. I just find it a beautiful opportunity.
ECS: I’m interested in what materials you like to work with and why. Have things changed over time? What are the tools that you like?
SA: In a perfect world, I would have a nice pen and some nice paper, and I would just draw pen and ink all day. I have a conglomeration of pens here, my desk is a mess, but there’s just an inexplicable joy that comes over me when I am able to put a pen to paper and make lines. Unfortunately, that has led me to be a bit of a pen snob, so I’m very particular about the pens I use. But I remember even as a kid when my mom let me use a Sharpie for the first time, and the bold black line across a blank page was just exhilarating. If I had a choice, it’d always just be pen and ink.
But there’s also tools that are given to us through digital media, and there’s something very nice about an undo button from time to time, or being able to easily change colors. Just being able to have a digital format to give to people to print off, it’s a helpful tool. It can’t be my only tool, digital media, but a good part of my day, probably most of my day is spent on that kind of stuff, digital media. But if I had a choice, pen and ink all the way.
The beautiful thing is, the iPad is not physical pen and ink, but you’re still using the hand. It’s still all done with a fancy apple pencil. So you can still keep the hand present in those kinds of drawings, which is nice.
ECS: As you’re creating new things, does audience play any role in your creative process?
A Banner in the Wilderness//Moses was a Wizard (Ex. 17). 2022. Digital drawing.
SA: There’s two ways that it works. There’s my professional illustrative way which is one way, and then there’s also my personal art, which is another way. Professionally, it’s very different than personally. As an illustrator, I’m conveying what somebody else’s thoughts are in ways that complement and emphasize what they’re saying. So, I have to be a steward of what somebody else is saying. I can’t just go do whatever the heck I want because that wouldn’t work. I have to think about who's saying something and be a medium in a certain way between two parties and utilizing my own personal visual language to walk alongside what’s being said. So there has to be an element of legibility and clarity there, and that differs from project to project. If I’m doing cover art for a hardcore band, it’s a lot different than a spread in Christianity Today. I’ve been fortunate to work with some incredible art directors and designers who give a pretty good brief as to the direction they want things to go. They always have a pretty good idea of what you are as an artist. They give you some direction as to what they’ve seen in your work before that they want you to work with. So they’re really good at helping shape what you can say and what the audience needs to hear as far as this kind of stuff goes. That’s more of the professional side, so I’m thinking quite a bit about the audience at that point.
But personally, in my work, I really hope to mystify things and push people out into that boat in the river, in the fog, like what Wendell Berry talks about. My personal work, it’s very busy and there’s a lot of stuff going on. I talked about this car crash, like in my Lullabies, Legends, and, Lies kind of series, there’s a car crash of narratives, and things are flying around and swirling around these figures. I hope to kind of treat it more like a kind of breadcrumb trail of a story. And, you know, have a kind of a few breadcrumbs where you’re kind of understanding a little bit of what the context is, but also kind of get lost in the details and maybe even feel a little bit, like, overwhelmed by what’s going on, and finding ways to kind of read it that way.
Another big quote that I have right above my desk here is this quote by Leonard Cohen. “As our eyes grow accustomed to sight, they often armor themselves against wonder.” So in my personal work especially, I really hope to take things that are familiar and kind of confuse people into ways of re-seeing it, to challenge the viewer and to get them to be disarmed a little bit as to knowing what it’s about, so they can reengage with it with fresh eyes and new sight.
The way I approach it is I have these little details and little odd things that are happening but they’re all somehow tying into the main focus and they’re kind of tying into this main idea. An image is made up of a lot of little elements that are all working together. I often say if I’m exploring a theme that theme might be the mountain, but I like to play in all the foothills around it that define what that mountain is. So you’re seeing it from different angles and you’re having different ways of engaging with it. I love that approach.
ECS: You brought that word play in, and I think even when you talked about using green, which wasn’t a favorite color, but you’re going to play. How does play come into what you do and what role does it have?
SA: Play is super important, but play is not play; it’s also serious in a way. How would I explain this? Play is kind of like exploration. It’s working with the main theme or object and engaging with it in different ways and testing it. When I think of play, I think of lion cubs, right? They’re jumping, they’re pouncing on each other, but they’re also learning skills, like how to hunt in the future or asserting dominance and all that kind of stuff, how to interact with each other socially, how to survive. At the source of everything I’d say play is just this idea of exploration, of working with various ideas and subjects and hopefully new and creative ways that are maybe unconventional and may not make a whole lot of rational sense or practical sense, but can also illustrate something or speak to something greater about it.
Make lots of bad things. Explore the unknown, and be wrong about things… Use this as a spot to explore and do it.
Work and play are intimately tied. The play part, I think, is when you’re exploring ideas. And then there’s the actual work part where it’s like, okay, now I have to button down and make sure my lines are really legible and what colors should go where. There’s the sweat equity, I guess, you put into a drawing or into your work. So they’re intimately tied, and there’s interplay between them when I’m working, but, yeah, there’s definitely separate parts of it as well.
ECS: If you were speaking to someone who is a little bit like you were, maybe a younger person who enjoys drawing and finds themselves doodling quite often, what’s something you would say to encourage them in the life of art and faith? What would be something that you wish someone had said to you?
SA: First and foremost, I would say you’re not wasting your time. What you’re doing is important and it’s valid and it’s beautiful. It’s worth spending your time doing this, and it’s worth making sacrifices to do it. Even if you don’t ever make anything that was going to be in a gallery or whatever, just being able to learn to be present with these kinds of things is important for you as a person.
Secondly, I would say it’s okay to be wrong and it’s okay to make bad things. Actually, make lots of bad things. Explore the unknown, and be wrong about things. There’s nothing wrong with being wrong as long as you can acknowledge it. Use this as a spot to explore and do it. Make sure you have a sketchbook with you at all times. If I’m leaving the house, I have a sketchbook on me. I have many, many sketchbooks, so keep one in your back pocket.
Also, find someone you can trust to talk about some of your work as well. It doesn’t have to be everything, but have something to share with somebody, whether it’s a close friend or a mentor, or someone you look up to. They can give you advice, but more often than not, they’ll see things in your drawing that you don’t see. My favorite thing is to hear what other people have to say about my work because they’re always telling me things that I’ve never thought about, and it helps me understand myself and my work way better, and it’s constantly just super surprising.
I guess those are the three main things. And then, keep going.
