Hymn-Inspired Art Creation: Listening for Peace in Old Songs
- Brittney Switala
- Jan 24
- 3 min read
"Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates..." Deuteronomy 11:18-20
I didn’t set out to make hymn-inspired art.
I was painting abstract flowers during the pandemic, just to see if I could do it. I was drawn to vintage paper, but then hymns kept showing up — as companions. Lines I’d sung for years surfaced while I worked. Verses I thought I’d forgotten came back quietly.
I thought of Mom, Dad, and our imperfect church choir cantatas when I was growing up in Iowa.
I thought of my mom who I overheard singing out of a hymn book during her private devotional time.
I thought about the importance of sharing these words and common faith with the next generation- as a way to talk about the deeper things of God.
Why Hymns Matter in My Creative Work
Hymns are theology that has been lived.
They were written by people who knew grief, doubt, awe, and hope — often all at once. When I work from a hymn, I slow down. I let the words shape the work before I ever pick up a brush or palette knife. (In fact, the hymn that is filling my brain right now is "His Eye is on the Sparrow.")
I’m not trying to modernize hymns or make them clever. I’m trying to honor their weight.
This kind of art allows space to:
hold beauty and meaning together
reflect on faith without explanation
invite pause in a noisy world
For example, when I work with Amazing Grace, I’m not painting the song. I’m sitting with the word "grace" and working through my own imperfect understanding. If a piece invites someone to pause, even briefly, it has done its work.
A Truth About Hymns (That Might Make You Smile)
Not every hymn I use is anyone’s favorite.
I own around thirty hymnals. Realistically, there are about twenty-five hymns everyone loves. The rest are quieter — faithful, but overlooked. And I use those too.
Often, those hymns become the bottom layers of my work. They aren’t meant to be seen or recognized. They’re there because they matter. Because they were sung. And because I’m not about to throw them away just because they aren’t popular.
Those hidden hymns make perfect foundations — unseen, steady, and carrying the weight.
Hymn-Inspired: Why Creating Feels Peaceful to Me
Creating feels peaceful because my mind is not.
I’m deeply engaged with the news. I care about politics. I hold strong convictions and want to change the world. That side of me is bold and visible — and it can get heavy.
When I’m painting, working slowly with hymn pages and layered materials, something in me finally exhales.
The peace you see in these paintings isn’t a personality trait. It’s a longing.
It’s where I go to find steadiness when the world feels loud.
I am both:
outspoken and contemplative
driven and reflective
restless for change and hungry for peace
The art isn’t a contradiction of who I am. It’s the counterbalance.
Hidden Hymns and Quiet Discovery
Some pieces include what I think of as hidden hymns — fragments of text, layered symbols, or subtle references beneath the surface.
Meaning doesn’t need to shout.
These details invite viewers to linger, notice, and return. That slow discovery mirrors faith itself. These types of paintings can be helpful starters for conversations about faith.
One Life, One Body of Work
I don’t have a split personality. I have a full one.
The same woman who cares deeply about the world and speaks boldly is the woman who creates quiet, hymn-rooted art. Both come from the same place: deep care.
These paintings aren’t pretending everything is calm. They are reaching for the peace the Lord promises — and that I need.
I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
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