Right now I am sitting in my parent's living room on the other side of the United States, with Cheryl falling asleep, Dad checking out the space book he got, and Derek incompacitated on the floor.
The area that my parents live in Nevada is very beautiful... even just flying over this area on the plane was breathtaking because I'd never seen anything like it in my life. The rolling hills with dried brush colored with yellows and browns surrounding the little spot is just awesome. Very cold at 4,600 feet above sea level.
Yesterday we went to Lake Tahoe and although it was very cold and the wind was strong and biting, it was gorgeous out there. Lake Tahoe is completely different than here, with ever green trees and blanketed in about two feet of snow. It's nice to get away from the Pennsylvania weather. The Pennsylvania terrain. I needed to see something new and different, and in some ways parts of this area reminds me a little bit of Texas. I'm eager to do more exploring and picture taking with my family for the rest of this week... I'll post pictures later.
It's been a while since I'd posted anything on the art front. I'm actually coming into a season of re-evaluating what I want to do with my work and where I want it to go. I need to be ingesting more art than spitting it out, letting what I see settle down inside to be thought over. I want to see new things and get to know my contemporaries.... as much as part of me doesn't want to do it because it's going to take work. But if I'm really going to continue using certain types of imagery - intentionally or not - then I'm going to have to feed on those ideas and images. As Rubens had put it, perhaps I should become somewhat obsessed with the images I keep using or wanting to use.
Birds
Wings
Bones
Blood / organs
Human figure
Hands
Now I just need to think of where to start... Where shall my feast begin? And HOW? I'm hoping that sometime during the winter break I'll be able to figure out where to start. Because I've been using the image of the bird (and wings), I feel like this is a good launching point. After getting a library card, I'm thinking about popping into the Free Library for a few hours and seeing what I can find out about birds in art and birds as a symbol. Wish me luck!
Back to Christmas in Nevada.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Everybody wants to go to heaven...
Last time I posted, I posted over a month ago and I was all eager to come up with some profound entry about my experience with being a girlfriend for a year. I wanted to rant about the lack of art making. There was a lot I wanted to write about. But a lot of OTHER things happen as a month suddenly passes.
Like getting into a fender-bender that's left me car-less. I learned a few important things from this experience:
1. Scott's protection and defense on my behalf is fierce. I'm glad I have a man like this in my corner.
2. Losing your car feels like a rock sitting on your chest for a day or two afterward.
3. A Dodge Shadow is no match for an Acura SUV.
4. Asking for rides is humbling in more ways than one.
Besides this I had recently finished David Crowder and Mike Hogan's book, Everybody Wants to go to Heaven, but Nobody Wants to Die (or the eschatology of bluegrass). I needed a book like this. Some of what David and Mike share is tongue-in-cheek or makes me laugh out loud, some makes me comtemplative, and other things is somber. There are a few points at which I could feel the weight that David and Mike felt when recounting their grief over the passing of their pastor; I can totally relate to what it feels like.
It's a book about Bluegrass, the Soul, and Death. (I can't say I have gained a particular invested interest in bluegrass or the history thereof, but it was interesting in a passer-by sort of way)
Finishing the book came at an interest time because I heard a lot about a lot of deaths at the time. Whether family of friends, or crime-related circumstances, it would seem that the subject of death was hard to escape. ... Perhaps I was more aware, and continue to be more aware, because of reading the book. Whatever the case, the point of the book was not to drag you down into this dark hole of mortality. It was uplifting, which suited the authors' point: death is not the end. Death does not win.
I need to hear this and be reminded of it once in a while. Reading a book without first having a clear idea of what it is going to be about can be dangerous. Scandalous, perhaps, because you have no idea what you're investing yourself into. But it's quickly revealed that the book is about death, and it was approached in such a way that I was hooked like a fish. Why do I say it can be dangerous? The risk over reading a book about death -- for me -- means that I have to face some waters I've avoided for a very, very long time.
My mother died when I was 17. I can remember with distinction the sound of my father coming up the steps and towards the door of my bedroom. I was seized with having a feeling I knew what was going to be told to me. As though bracing for the blow. Certainly, the blow came as my dad came near my bedside and told me that mom had died. It felt like I had a ball of curdled milk in my stomach. I don't recall how I cried, I just remember my face buried into my father's chest for a long time. I don't remember stopping. I don't remember my dad leaving but I know he did shortly afterward. I don't remember falling asleep... somehow I did. I woke up that morning and didn't want to move.
I'd been avoiding my mother's death for a very long time. I don't mean to say that I never talked about it. I also don't mean to say that I hadn't been torn up inside every time someone would talk about their mom and growing up ... this was the case for several years, and the notion didn't pass until halfway through college. What I mean is that we were sent her ashes some years ago.
I still have them. If I could avoid touching the box, I would. It weirded me out, to look at a box and think "That's my mom in there."
When Cheryl and dad moved out to Nevada, I had to take the box with me. I felt like I needed to do something with the ashes, like WE needed to do something with the ashes, but I was assured that I shouldn't do anything about it until I'm OK with the ashes when it wouldn't weird me out. During the same week I decided that I wanted to spread her ashes in Paulo Duro Canyon, about an hour outside of where we used to live in Texas. I don't know when we'll get to do this. I just wish the weight of what should be done with the ashes was passed off of my brother and father and onto me.
The box had been sitting in my bedroom in the open for a while since the move. Every time I would look at it, I would think, "There's mom....................."
Then something extraordinary happened.
In the Crowder and Hogan book, they recount their experience of going to the funeral. Going to the viewing. In talking about the deceased's body, it is proclaimed that although it might have a resemblance of their friend, it wasn't. It was something else.
I glanced up from the page and looked over at the box with my mother's ashes. I realized something... those ashes? that's not mom. Technically all the physical components were, but it wasn't mom. Mom was more than flesh and blood, but spirit and personality. There was more to her than anything that could be shoved into a box. Recently, I'd been going through some boxes and trying to clear some clutter in my bedroom and I came to the ashes. I held the box in my lap a while, a white mailing box with our address back in Allentown. For perhaps the second time ever, I actually opened the mailing box to expose the sleek plastic box it held. The first time I did this was several years ago and it felt like caterpillars were eating my stomach. This time, the caterpillars weren't there. I was still ill at ease, but in the sense that you're unsure of what to expect of yourself as you follow through with a discovery.
The rest is between me, the box, and God. Now the ashes are back in the mailing box and sitting in a storage space in my room. I still want to take it to Paulo Duro Canyon. I still miss mom... but it's good to know that I've made peace with something I was afraid of.
Like getting into a fender-bender that's left me car-less. I learned a few important things from this experience:
1. Scott's protection and defense on my behalf is fierce. I'm glad I have a man like this in my corner.
2. Losing your car feels like a rock sitting on your chest for a day or two afterward.
3. A Dodge Shadow is no match for an Acura SUV.
4. Asking for rides is humbling in more ways than one.
Besides this I had recently finished David Crowder and Mike Hogan's book, Everybody Wants to go to Heaven, but Nobody Wants to Die (or the eschatology of bluegrass). I needed a book like this. Some of what David and Mike share is tongue-in-cheek or makes me laugh out loud, some makes me comtemplative, and other things is somber. There are a few points at which I could feel the weight that David and Mike felt when recounting their grief over the passing of their pastor; I can totally relate to what it feels like.
It's a book about Bluegrass, the Soul, and Death. (I can't say I have gained a particular invested interest in bluegrass or the history thereof, but it was interesting in a passer-by sort of way)
Finishing the book came at an interest time because I heard a lot about a lot of deaths at the time. Whether family of friends, or crime-related circumstances, it would seem that the subject of death was hard to escape. ... Perhaps I was more aware, and continue to be more aware, because of reading the book. Whatever the case, the point of the book was not to drag you down into this dark hole of mortality. It was uplifting, which suited the authors' point: death is not the end. Death does not win.
I need to hear this and be reminded of it once in a while. Reading a book without first having a clear idea of what it is going to be about can be dangerous. Scandalous, perhaps, because you have no idea what you're investing yourself into. But it's quickly revealed that the book is about death, and it was approached in such a way that I was hooked like a fish. Why do I say it can be dangerous? The risk over reading a book about death -- for me -- means that I have to face some waters I've avoided for a very, very long time.
My mother died when I was 17. I can remember with distinction the sound of my father coming up the steps and towards the door of my bedroom. I was seized with having a feeling I knew what was going to be told to me. As though bracing for the blow. Certainly, the blow came as my dad came near my bedside and told me that mom had died. It felt like I had a ball of curdled milk in my stomach. I don't recall how I cried, I just remember my face buried into my father's chest for a long time. I don't remember stopping. I don't remember my dad leaving but I know he did shortly afterward. I don't remember falling asleep... somehow I did. I woke up that morning and didn't want to move.
I'd been avoiding my mother's death for a very long time. I don't mean to say that I never talked about it. I also don't mean to say that I hadn't been torn up inside every time someone would talk about their mom and growing up ... this was the case for several years, and the notion didn't pass until halfway through college. What I mean is that we were sent her ashes some years ago.
I still have them. If I could avoid touching the box, I would. It weirded me out, to look at a box and think "That's my mom in there."
When Cheryl and dad moved out to Nevada, I had to take the box with me. I felt like I needed to do something with the ashes, like WE needed to do something with the ashes, but I was assured that I shouldn't do anything about it until I'm OK with the ashes when it wouldn't weird me out. During the same week I decided that I wanted to spread her ashes in Paulo Duro Canyon, about an hour outside of where we used to live in Texas. I don't know when we'll get to do this. I just wish the weight of what should be done with the ashes was passed off of my brother and father and onto me.
The box had been sitting in my bedroom in the open for a while since the move. Every time I would look at it, I would think, "There's mom....................."
Then something extraordinary happened.
In the Crowder and Hogan book, they recount their experience of going to the funeral. Going to the viewing. In talking about the deceased's body, it is proclaimed that although it might have a resemblance of their friend, it wasn't. It was something else.
I glanced up from the page and looked over at the box with my mother's ashes. I realized something... those ashes? that's not mom. Technically all the physical components were, but it wasn't mom. Mom was more than flesh and blood, but spirit and personality. There was more to her than anything that could be shoved into a box. Recently, I'd been going through some boxes and trying to clear some clutter in my bedroom and I came to the ashes. I held the box in my lap a while, a white mailing box with our address back in Allentown. For perhaps the second time ever, I actually opened the mailing box to expose the sleek plastic box it held. The first time I did this was several years ago and it felt like caterpillars were eating my stomach. This time, the caterpillars weren't there. I was still ill at ease, but in the sense that you're unsure of what to expect of yourself as you follow through with a discovery.
The rest is between me, the box, and God. Now the ashes are back in the mailing box and sitting in a storage space in my room. I still want to take it to Paulo Duro Canyon. I still miss mom... but it's good to know that I've made peace with something I was afraid of.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
So, okay...
There's a lot to share: from my frustrations with art making (see: lack thereof) to the delights of having celebrated my very first, first year anniversary as a girlfriend a week ago. And everything in between - like using my credit card for the first time, and cringing all the while.
Much to be had, I assure you. However, I do not have the time to delve into it all right now! (blast!) But one of these days coming up, I'm going to hunker down in one of the local coffee shops to smell like coffee and get it all out of my system.
Much to be had, I assure you. However, I do not have the time to delve into it all right now! (blast!) But one of these days coming up, I'm going to hunker down in one of the local coffee shops to smell like coffee and get it all out of my system.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Featured on a blog
Recently I was interviewed via email by a woman named LeAnne Benfield Martin about my ministry to art students in Philadelphia through the CCO. The blog is called Christians in the Arts and is "a discussion of why Christians should be interested in the arts and an introduction to some artists who are using their work to shine the light of Christ in the world."She's got some interesting interviews from different artists up on her blog that she posts on every Monday and Thursday, so I think it's worth checking out.
And you get to see a little bit about what it's like for me to minister to art students in the city and some reflection about my own work (that will come on Thursday).
And you get to see a little bit about what it's like for me to minister to art students in the city and some reflection about my own work (that will come on Thursday).
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Home is the most important place in the world...
“Home is the most important place in the world,” proclaims a yellow Ikea billboard in navy blue letters over Broad Street in the city that I live in. It proclaims it in another place as well, I think over Market Street… or Arch Street. I’m not sure which it is; I’ve only seen it from a distance, looming in the midst of tall buildings. Ikea also makes this catchy little statement on some of the Septa buses that go throughout the city. While the main purpose of this is probably a marketing scheme to get people to buy home furnishings from their Swedish superstore—where virtually everything can be put together with an Allen-wrench—I think there is something profound about it.
Recently, my parents had packed up the house and moved outside of Reno, NV.
They used to live about an hour’s drive away, which had been the furthest I’ve lived from my parents. I wouldn’t say that we are like a lot of families where the kids see the parents often after being out of the nest for a while. During college, I could go a month or so without really contacting them that much and I only lived about 30 minutes away from them. But I did find that I got along with my parents a bit better when I was away. This is particularly true about my move to Philadelphia… I still wouldn’t call too terribly often, but it was easy to go home any weekend I wanted. I’d left the nest, but the nest was always still there and so I had a home to go to when I wanted to get away from the city.
Now the nest has been removed, and it’s more difficult to go back. The environment is familiar and there are friends to visit, but it’s not the same. I went back about a week ago to pick up some things that were left behind and it was difficult. I’d only lived in that house on and off through college for about three and a half years, but it was still the place that I could easily consider “home base.” The familiarity of things is what makes it home for me; so when I went back and everything in our house was gone, it was tough to come to grips with the fact that my parents REALLY are miles away in Nevada. Despite this, though, I know their being over there is a good thing. I just have a good feeling about it and I know that all shall be well…
Because all matter of things shall be, at some point – no matter how close or distant the time – all things shall be well.
Philadelphia will now become home, and I will have “little homes” in other places like Kutztown and Allentown. Like I had said, I’d already left the nest but now should I be thinking about making my own? For all intents and purposes, I think I will be in Philadelphia for a while. At least, I would like to be; the periods between moving are all too exhausting to keep up with. I’m not too keen on being a migratory bird, that’s for sure.
The signs got me thinking about another thing, however. There is also something terribly ironic about the looming yellow signs proclaiming, “Home is the most important place in the world.” If you’re familiar with cities, then you probably know that with cities come the homeless. There are a lot of homeless people living in Philadelphia’s streets or shelters. Those signs put in their face something they already know too well, and yet they lack it, and whatever the reasons are the results are the same. But I’ve had my thoughts about the homeless shared elsewhere. I'm so fascinated by the ways in which people pass by homeless men and women. Really, it would seem as though they were invisible.
Elephants, really. Lots of Elephants in a room that everyone is trying to avoid looking at or talking about. Or, talking about in ways that are never helpful, or constructive.I just think it’s ironic.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
My Early Muir Owl
This guy totally needs to get some kind of prize for one of the most creative ways to propose that I've heard of.
Maybe I say that 'cause I'm an art geek.
(and the soundtrack to the little thing is really fun too. I wonder what it is)
Friday, August 10, 2007
Something for me to come back to.
http://209.59.134.90/~brewweb/weblog/2007/08/saving_fine_arts_in_america.php#more
Other thoughts totally separate from the blog linked above... to put it in a perfectly vague sense, there are movements of darkness and shadows that keep going on, and I can barely stand the weight of it or understand it. But the good news is that I don't have to carry it alone, and the best news is that He is going to make everything all right.
The sun still rises, and there is still light in the muddiness of it all.
Other thoughts totally separate from the blog linked above... to put it in a perfectly vague sense, there are movements of darkness and shadows that keep going on, and I can barely stand the weight of it or understand it. But the good news is that I don't have to carry it alone, and the best news is that He is going to make everything all right.
The sun still rises, and there is still light in the muddiness of it all.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
A smattering of the long overdue
In my opinion, this blog entry is long overdue and who knows how long it will go. I've neglected to blog in my thoughts over the past month or so because there are so many, and I doubt that I could expound all the things I've been thinking about.
Living in Philadelphia has taught me a lot about snatching up opportunities that will be gone in a breath, and I miss them all the time. It's hard to go far in the city without seeing the homeless asking for change or lunch or curled up in a ball; and seeing the rest of us pass by as if those human beings were invisible. What kills me is that I'm not just an observer, but often times I'm a participant in this blind walking... although I don't think any of us are blind to it. I'd like to think that I'm not indifferent or uncaring, because I see every single one; rather, I am immobilized by two things: what can I offer? and will I be safe? Most of the homeless are men so - to my shame - concern for my safety tends to take precedence over my servitude. What is a very small relief is that when asked, and if I have it on me, I will give change. But even then I feel like I should and could do more.
Thankfully, God brought in two opportunities for me to serve two people on different accounts by offering food and conversation. I sat with a woman named Sianni for a long time, and listened to her story of abuse and emotional disturbances. Despite her situation, her physical and emotional ailments, she had such a deep sense of hope that God was still taking care of her. I'd been wanting to see her again since our meeting, but haven't found her.
The other was a man named Gregory, who'd been sitting in the same place for at least 8 hours that day (I had passed him few times throughout my coming and going) and needed water. He'd been a wanderer of sorts, and recently kicked out of his brother's home. He doesn't like the homeless shelters because they are dirty. He also said that he doesn't like when people pass and don't do anything, and that he can hear the things they say while walking away. Gregory believes in God, and I tried to encourage him to hope in Christ, that He would provide something better for him, and that maybe from the point that he gets to his sister's he could start over again. I prayed with him, that God would help him to find a job in construction because that's what he likes to do.
I'm so thankful that God provided these opportunities and also - somehow - managed to urge me to act. It's relieving, and I could only guess what other opportunities may arise or if I would meet these two again.
It puts an interesting spin on how things have been going for myself financially, since I've recently found myself near some stickiness. By stickiness I mean that things are tight, and I don't like the spot I'm in. I know that things could be worse, I see it every day, and I try to remind myself that the Lord is taking care of me. I know that He is... I know that He still remains as my Abba, Jehova Jira, Adonai.... and so I must learn to pray that God would teach me to be content in this spot, even though I don't like it. There are so many little things that are easily clouded over, that I take advantage of that are wonderful blessings. The apartment I live in, my understanding roommate, the bed I sleep in, the food I'm still able to eat. God's grace on me is so deep and His love so profound that I cannot fully grasp it. Just the very fact that His Son was nailed to a cross covers my inmost needs ought to be reason enough to worship, praise, and dance with joy. I need constant reminders to bring it back to the forefront and give me strength to press onward without anxiety, which so easily entangles me.
Among the little blessings that God has brought into my life is my boyfriend, Scott, who likewise is going through some financial stickiness. It's amazing to me that despite our financial issues we are still able to see each other and then not be redirecting our monetary frustration at one another. It's a huge relief, actually; I know what it looks like to have one thing bothering the snot out of someone and then have it cast out onto other people. It's pretty ugly and it doesn't help with anything anyways. God has used Scott to point out my own faults and tell me things I don't necessarily want to hear, all in gentle ways. He waits patiently through my times of silent frustration and tries to draw me out, and empathizes in a way that isn't all together familiar to me. He's been instrumental in the ways God has been challenging and encouraging me, to which only God can be given the praise and glory for. Although two hours in this day and age is practically nothing compared to other relationships, I do want for Scott to live closer. But I suppose the wonderful thing about our relationship is that physical distance doesn't seem to make a difference right now; we still are growing closer. It just gets harder and harder to say goodbye.
I've been enjoying Philadelphia, for sure, and getting to know the students that I hang out with. I've been wanting to do more, but that's where the financial end of things gets in the way sometimes. It's also difficult right now because it's summer. Yet I won't have to wait much longer - the new school year is just around the bend, and I'm excited to find out what God has in store for us all. There is a lot of hurting and questions and ambivalence that I see in the faces of people that are not that much younger than myself, and I want so much to see it healed and making sense. How do I do this? How do I dig deeper without offending or asking the right questions at the right time? Really, it's not me at all and I know this. It's another thing I have to remind myself of and rely on the Holy Spirit to do what I do. I have to remember also that the same power that God used to raise Christ from the dead is the same power He can utilize to work through me and use me for His purposes. What a relief to know that I don't have to depend on my feeble strength and flawed dispositions!
As for art... well, I'm sure that there is much I could say, with little fruit to show for it. I haven't been able to work on art nearly as much as I'd been wanting to. I haven't been exploring ideas or tossing out poetic thoughts onto paper really... it's all bottling up and soon I could foresee it exploding somewhere if I can just manage to divvy out my time right.
I suppose that's all I will write for now. If we're lucky, I'll get some more thoughts out there about books I've been reading and whatnot.
Living in Philadelphia has taught me a lot about snatching up opportunities that will be gone in a breath, and I miss them all the time. It's hard to go far in the city without seeing the homeless asking for change or lunch or curled up in a ball; and seeing the rest of us pass by as if those human beings were invisible. What kills me is that I'm not just an observer, but often times I'm a participant in this blind walking... although I don't think any of us are blind to it. I'd like to think that I'm not indifferent or uncaring, because I see every single one; rather, I am immobilized by two things: what can I offer? and will I be safe? Most of the homeless are men so - to my shame - concern for my safety tends to take precedence over my servitude. What is a very small relief is that when asked, and if I have it on me, I will give change. But even then I feel like I should and could do more.
Thankfully, God brought in two opportunities for me to serve two people on different accounts by offering food and conversation. I sat with a woman named Sianni for a long time, and listened to her story of abuse and emotional disturbances. Despite her situation, her physical and emotional ailments, she had such a deep sense of hope that God was still taking care of her. I'd been wanting to see her again since our meeting, but haven't found her.
The other was a man named Gregory, who'd been sitting in the same place for at least 8 hours that day (I had passed him few times throughout my coming and going) and needed water. He'd been a wanderer of sorts, and recently kicked out of his brother's home. He doesn't like the homeless shelters because they are dirty. He also said that he doesn't like when people pass and don't do anything, and that he can hear the things they say while walking away. Gregory believes in God, and I tried to encourage him to hope in Christ, that He would provide something better for him, and that maybe from the point that he gets to his sister's he could start over again. I prayed with him, that God would help him to find a job in construction because that's what he likes to do.
I'm so thankful that God provided these opportunities and also - somehow - managed to urge me to act. It's relieving, and I could only guess what other opportunities may arise or if I would meet these two again.
It puts an interesting spin on how things have been going for myself financially, since I've recently found myself near some stickiness. By stickiness I mean that things are tight, and I don't like the spot I'm in. I know that things could be worse, I see it every day, and I try to remind myself that the Lord is taking care of me. I know that He is... I know that He still remains as my Abba, Jehova Jira, Adonai.... and so I must learn to pray that God would teach me to be content in this spot, even though I don't like it. There are so many little things that are easily clouded over, that I take advantage of that are wonderful blessings. The apartment I live in, my understanding roommate, the bed I sleep in, the food I'm still able to eat. God's grace on me is so deep and His love so profound that I cannot fully grasp it. Just the very fact that His Son was nailed to a cross covers my inmost needs ought to be reason enough to worship, praise, and dance with joy. I need constant reminders to bring it back to the forefront and give me strength to press onward without anxiety, which so easily entangles me.
Among the little blessings that God has brought into my life is my boyfriend, Scott, who likewise is going through some financial stickiness. It's amazing to me that despite our financial issues we are still able to see each other and then not be redirecting our monetary frustration at one another. It's a huge relief, actually; I know what it looks like to have one thing bothering the snot out of someone and then have it cast out onto other people. It's pretty ugly and it doesn't help with anything anyways. God has used Scott to point out my own faults and tell me things I don't necessarily want to hear, all in gentle ways. He waits patiently through my times of silent frustration and tries to draw me out, and empathizes in a way that isn't all together familiar to me. He's been instrumental in the ways God has been challenging and encouraging me, to which only God can be given the praise and glory for. Although two hours in this day and age is practically nothing compared to other relationships, I do want for Scott to live closer. But I suppose the wonderful thing about our relationship is that physical distance doesn't seem to make a difference right now; we still are growing closer. It just gets harder and harder to say goodbye.
I've been enjoying Philadelphia, for sure, and getting to know the students that I hang out with. I've been wanting to do more, but that's where the financial end of things gets in the way sometimes. It's also difficult right now because it's summer. Yet I won't have to wait much longer - the new school year is just around the bend, and I'm excited to find out what God has in store for us all. There is a lot of hurting and questions and ambivalence that I see in the faces of people that are not that much younger than myself, and I want so much to see it healed and making sense. How do I do this? How do I dig deeper without offending or asking the right questions at the right time? Really, it's not me at all and I know this. It's another thing I have to remind myself of and rely on the Holy Spirit to do what I do. I have to remember also that the same power that God used to raise Christ from the dead is the same power He can utilize to work through me and use me for His purposes. What a relief to know that I don't have to depend on my feeble strength and flawed dispositions!
As for art... well, I'm sure that there is much I could say, with little fruit to show for it. I haven't been able to work on art nearly as much as I'd been wanting to. I haven't been exploring ideas or tossing out poetic thoughts onto paper really... it's all bottling up and soon I could foresee it exploding somewhere if I can just manage to divvy out my time right.
I suppose that's all I will write for now. If we're lucky, I'll get some more thoughts out there about books I've been reading and whatnot.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Friday, July 06, 2007
Sao Paulo
Thank you.
P.S. There has been a LOT going on in my world, from rabbits to homeless women to travel plans. Woo!
SÃO PAULO: Imagine a modern metropolis with no outdoor advertising: no billboards, no flashing neon signs, no electronic panels with messages crawling along the bottom.
Come the new year, this city of 11 million, overwhelmed by what the authorities call visual pollution, plans to press the "delete all" button and offer its residents unimpeded views of their surroundings.
But in proposing to transform the landscape, officials have unleashed debate and brought into conflict sharply differing concepts of what this city, South America's largest and most prosperous, should be.
City planners, architects and environmental advocates have argued enthusiastically that the prohibition, through a new "clean city" law, brings São Paulo a welcome step closer to an imagined urban ideal.
The law is "a rare victory of the public interest over private, of order over disorder, aesthetics over ugliness, of cleanliness over trash," Roberto Pompeu de Toledo, a columnist and author of a history of São Paulo, wrote in the weekly newsmagazine Veja. "For once in life, all that is accustomed to coming out on top in Brazil has lost."
But advertising and business groups regard the legislation as injurious to society and an affront to their professions. They say that free expression will be inhibited, jobs will be lost and consumers will have less information on which to base purchasing decisions. They also argue that streets will be less safe at night with the loss of lighting from outdoor advertising.
"This is a radical law that damages the rules of a market economy and respect for the rule of law," said Marcel Solimeo, chief economist of the Commercial Association of São Paulo, which has 32,000 members. "We live in a consumer society and the essence of capitalism is the availability of information about products."
The statute's most visible impact promises to be at eye level and above. The outsized billboards and screens that dominate the skyline, promoting everything from automobiles, jeans and cellphones to banks and sex shops, will have to come down. All other forms of publicity in public spaces, like distribution of fliers, will also stop.
The law also regulates the dimensions of store signs, and will force many well-known companies to reduce them substantially by a formula based on the size of their facades. Another provision, much criticized by owners of transportation companies, outlaws advertising of any kind on the sides of the city's thousands of buses and taxis.
The law, as passed, also applied to advertising banners trailed by airplanes and ads on blimps. But in the first of what promises to be a long series of legal challenges, a court ruled the clause unconstitutional on the grounds that the federal government, not the city, controls airspace.
"What we are aiming for is a complete change of culture," said Roberto Tripoli, president of the City Council and one of the main sponsors of the legislation. "Yes, some people are going to have to pay a price. But things were out of hand and the population has made it clear it wants this."
The law, approved by a vote of 45 to 1 in September, goes into effect on Jan. 1. Opponents complain that the date does not allow enough time for merchants to comply, that fines of up to $4,500 for violations are extreme and that the result will inevitably be a diminishing of urban life — "like New York without Times Square or Tokyo without the Ginza," Solimeo said.
"I think this city is going to become a sadder, duller place," said Dalton Silvano, who cast the sole dissenting vote and is in the advertising business. "Advertising is both an art form and, when you're in your car or alone on foot, a form of entertainment that helps relieve solitude and boredom."
This is not the city's first effort to regulate outdoor advertising. A few years ago it was prohibited in the historic downtown area. But there have been complaints about inspectors taking bribes and advertisers simply flouting the law.
"All our efforts to negotiate have had no effect because none of the accords and agreements we reached with the advertising sector were ever complied with," Mayor Gilberto Kassab said in an interview. "A billboard that was forced to come down would be back up a week later in a different spot. There was a climate of impunity."
Since "it is hard in a city of 11 million to find enough equipment and personnel to determine what was and wasn't legal, we decided to go all the way, to zero things out," Kassab said. "When you prohibit everything, society itself becomes your partner in enforcing the law" and reporting violations.
Popular reaction has largely been supportive.
"I'm in favor of anything that improves the way this city looks, and this law will definitely make things better," said Fernando Gil, 25, a student interviewed on Avenida Paulista, the main street in the heart of the financial district. "All that neon and bright lights, it just doesn't fit here."
Advertising companies generally acknowledge that abuses of public space have occurred and that a majority of the city's estimated 13,000 outdoor billboards have been installed illegally. But they also complain that they are being made scapegoats, and that the real problem lies elsewhere.
"It is not politically correct to talk about the million-plus posters and signs that small businesses and mechanics' shops have up all over the place, because they are poor," said Francesc Petit, a prominent advertising executive who has spoken out against the law. "It's easier to attack McDonald's and Coca-Cola and the banks, because that doesn't offend anybody."
Kassab said that once the situation is under control he hopes to allow limited, strictly regulated advertising at bus stops, newsstands, outdoor street clocks and public bathrooms. But some residents who support the new legislation hope that day never comes, even if it were to profit the city's coffers.
http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/12/12/news/brazil.phpP.S. There has been a LOT going on in my world, from rabbits to homeless women to travel plans. Woo!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Where is Thumbkin?
Okay, I realize that I haven't blogged anything in a while but trust me... so much is going on. Here are some highlights:
1. I have a new car (wait, I updated about that already didn't I)
2. God kicked me in the pants
3. God's grace is carrying me through that listed previously
4. I'm in a new apartment
5. I have a new roommate and she rocks the house
6. I'd been able to see Scott four weekends in a row.
7. Scott's sister had her baby yesterday: a girl, 17 inches, 7.7 lbs (or something like that)
8. I got to be up in NJ for it (went up on Thursday, leaving today)
My month-plus has been crazy busy!
1. I have a new car (wait, I updated about that already didn't I)
2. God kicked me in the pants
3. God's grace is carrying me through that listed previously
4. I'm in a new apartment
5. I have a new roommate and she rocks the house
6. I'd been able to see Scott four weekends in a row.
7. Scott's sister had her baby yesterday: a girl, 17 inches, 7.7 lbs (or something like that)
8. I got to be up in NJ for it (went up on Thursday, leaving today)
My month-plus has been crazy busy!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Beautiful song on a beautiful day
So I was listening to XPN and a song comes on that has these wonderful little lyrics with quirky lines like "I had a dream / I saved your life / I proved my love / I took the bullet / I killed a shark..." When the song was over I felt compelled to go look up the artist and the song. The name of the song is Melt and it's by Phil Roy.
Intrigued, I looked up Phil Roy and ended up finding him on MySpace where he has the song I heard on XPN, as well as two other songs. This is one of the other songs found there, and I wanted to share it because in some ways it is a good reminder for me.
Phil Roy - "It's Alright"
It's alright
Forget what you don't have
Forget that you don't
Just forget it
Forget that you're afraid
Forget that you are
Don't panic
Forget that you're alone
Everyone's alone
Think about it
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light
Don’t worry
Forget that you can't love
Forget that you can't
Just forget it
Forget the reasons why
Forget the reasons
Can you do that
Forget that you are lost
Everyone gets lost in the journey
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light
Don’t worry
Just stop
take a look around you
Just stop maybe it'd be better
If you calm down
It's alright
Perfectly alright
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light, the light
Oh lead me to the light
Lead me to the light
Intrigued, I looked up Phil Roy and ended up finding him on MySpace where he has the song I heard on XPN, as well as two other songs. This is one of the other songs found there, and I wanted to share it because in some ways it is a good reminder for me.
Phil Roy - "It's Alright"
It's alright
Forget what you don't have
Forget that you don't
Just forget it
Forget that you're afraid
Forget that you are
Don't panic
Forget that you're alone
Everyone's alone
Think about it
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light
Don’t worry
Forget that you can't love
Forget that you can't
Just forget it
Forget the reasons why
Forget the reasons
Can you do that
Forget that you are lost
Everyone gets lost in the journey
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light
Don’t worry
Just stop
take a look around you
Just stop maybe it'd be better
If you calm down
It's alright
Perfectly alright
It's alright
And when it ain’t easy
It’s just life
Don’t worry
It's alright
We're all in the dark
Looking for the light, the light, the light
Oh lead me to the light
Lead me to the light
Friday, May 11, 2007
Between movies and religion, and everything else
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,678640-1,00.html
In light of the recent conclusion in the Spiderman triology, I think it's terribly appropriate that TIME Magazine jotted out this article about the religious qualities found in recent (that is, over the past few years) hits from Hollywood. While Spiderman 3 is pretty overt in its message of redemption and forgiveness, I know that pastors - at least the ones I know or have heard about - have been pulling from less obvious movies for a long time.
Thank you Brewing Culture for your tasty tid-bits.
In other news... I know that the last blog-posts I left you with seemed to be pretty dismal. But as I mentioned previously, there have been some really great things going on in the spit of land I call my world. Thank goodness, too, because I would go crazy if I didn't know that God was taking care of me and doing these cool things.
1. First and foremost, I have a new car. It's a 1993 Dodge Shadow with a matted gray paint job. It doesn't look all too pretty, but I don't complain. Oh no. I had the most amazing van to ever exist: a 1987 Toyota Minivan, silver with purple stripes on the sides, and lovingly named "GiGi." It was terrible, but I loved it.
The Shadow couldn't have come at a better time or in the most humbling way possible. Like GiGi, the Shadow was given to me by someone else. My friend Sarah's parents treat me like a second daughter (which always makes me ponder how my dad feels about it), and they felt the Lord leading them to buy me a newer car. I feel like I don't deserve their kindness, and honestly I can't say enough how grateful I am to them and to God.
2. Earlier on the same day that I found out I would be getting a new car, an opportunity opened up for a place to move... to live with one of the students in my ministry, Emily. I'd been looking at a few apartments (two, really), since the Campbells are moving and Emily plops down in the coffee shop when I was in there one day. She turns to me and says, "Do you know of anybody who's looking for a place to live?" ... Did I ever. The tale of what happened the following two days is exciting and proves that God not only hears and answers prayers, but that He provides and is able to put the resources where His mouth is. I'd been looking at another place that was much cheaper, but considerably far away. I was going to come check it out and I prayed the night before that the Lord would make it abundantly clear to me where He wanted me to be. The next day I get a call from the girls at the house I was to check out, and they basically said that they were moving out and living somewhere else -- and they didn't need a roommate anymore.
So God made it abundantly clear by taking out the option entirely. How crazy is that?
3. The next story takes a bit to explain, so I'll try to be brief - which unfortunately means I have to leave out some details. I hate doing that.
I met a man who knows Ben from the studios, named Michael. He liked my work a lot, and said that he wanted to come by in a few months to see what kind of work I'd come up with by then. I get an email from him the next day saying that he had an opening in his schedule that Thursday or Friday, so I say we can get together Thursday (this was last week). We met from 11AM to 1PM, and the time I had with him was very encouraging to me as an artist.
A really awesome observation of his that he had to share about contemporary artists was how he related them to Translators and Interpreters because of his extensive time spent with both. Many contemporary artists, he said, seemed to be Translators... explaining that Translators merely state exactly what one person said in one language into another language. He went further and said that Interpreters not only translate one thing in one language to another language, but they are able to articulate the emotion and meaning that is found in one language and culture into another.
He said that I was more of an Interpreter, and that this was far better than being merely a Translator, because I seem to deeply feel what it is I'm trying to convey in my work. ... That's encouraging because that's exactly one of the things I want to get across.
By the end of our conversation, he had bought one of my prints and more or less commissioned me to do a painting for a certain (and surprising) amount of money. But this wasn't like your typical commission. He didn't tell me what he wanted and asked me to paint it for him. No, rather Michael had asked me to paint whatever it was that I wanted, with the desire to push me to paint. I'm a printmaker... I'm timid about painting. But he saw a painting I did a number of years ago, and a few others, and said that I shouldn't give up on painting. That I should definitely keep painting. This made me tilt my ear because another person that I did not know who saw (and bought) the same painting said exactly the same thing.
So somehow, by God's grace, I have this benefactor that not only appreciates the art that I have, but wants to see me make more and push me to experiment and go through threshes I am timid to go through.
This is an incredible affirmation to me -- from God, as God's way of reminding me of the gift that He's given me to make art. I still think that I'm just small viddles when it comes to art and art making, but to hear people (that are not my friends or family) seriously appreciate and compliment my work is encouraging.
Those are the awesome things that God has been moving in my life, recently. There are others... oh yes, many others. He is changing and growing and humbling me as His child. Continually and in personal ways.
That's what I've got for now.
In light of the recent conclusion in the Spiderman triology, I think it's terribly appropriate that TIME Magazine jotted out this article about the religious qualities found in recent (that is, over the past few years) hits from Hollywood. While Spiderman 3 is pretty overt in its message of redemption and forgiveness, I know that pastors - at least the ones I know or have heard about - have been pulling from less obvious movies for a long time.
Thank you Brewing Culture for your tasty tid-bits.
In other news... I know that the last blog-posts I left you with seemed to be pretty dismal. But as I mentioned previously, there have been some really great things going on in the spit of land I call my world. Thank goodness, too, because I would go crazy if I didn't know that God was taking care of me and doing these cool things.
1. First and foremost, I have a new car. It's a 1993 Dodge Shadow with a matted gray paint job. It doesn't look all too pretty, but I don't complain. Oh no. I had the most amazing van to ever exist: a 1987 Toyota Minivan, silver with purple stripes on the sides, and lovingly named "GiGi." It was terrible, but I loved it.
The Shadow couldn't have come at a better time or in the most humbling way possible. Like GiGi, the Shadow was given to me by someone else. My friend Sarah's parents treat me like a second daughter (which always makes me ponder how my dad feels about it), and they felt the Lord leading them to buy me a newer car. I feel like I don't deserve their kindness, and honestly I can't say enough how grateful I am to them and to God.
2. Earlier on the same day that I found out I would be getting a new car, an opportunity opened up for a place to move... to live with one of the students in my ministry, Emily. I'd been looking at a few apartments (two, really), since the Campbells are moving and Emily plops down in the coffee shop when I was in there one day. She turns to me and says, "Do you know of anybody who's looking for a place to live?" ... Did I ever. The tale of what happened the following two days is exciting and proves that God not only hears and answers prayers, but that He provides and is able to put the resources where His mouth is. I'd been looking at another place that was much cheaper, but considerably far away. I was going to come check it out and I prayed the night before that the Lord would make it abundantly clear to me where He wanted me to be. The next day I get a call from the girls at the house I was to check out, and they basically said that they were moving out and living somewhere else -- and they didn't need a roommate anymore.
So God made it abundantly clear by taking out the option entirely. How crazy is that?
3. The next story takes a bit to explain, so I'll try to be brief - which unfortunately means I have to leave out some details. I hate doing that.
I met a man who knows Ben from the studios, named Michael. He liked my work a lot, and said that he wanted to come by in a few months to see what kind of work I'd come up with by then. I get an email from him the next day saying that he had an opening in his schedule that Thursday or Friday, so I say we can get together Thursday (this was last week). We met from 11AM to 1PM, and the time I had with him was very encouraging to me as an artist.
A really awesome observation of his that he had to share about contemporary artists was how he related them to Translators and Interpreters because of his extensive time spent with both. Many contemporary artists, he said, seemed to be Translators... explaining that Translators merely state exactly what one person said in one language into another language. He went further and said that Interpreters not only translate one thing in one language to another language, but they are able to articulate the emotion and meaning that is found in one language and culture into another.
He said that I was more of an Interpreter, and that this was far better than being merely a Translator, because I seem to deeply feel what it is I'm trying to convey in my work. ... That's encouraging because that's exactly one of the things I want to get across.
By the end of our conversation, he had bought one of my prints and more or less commissioned me to do a painting for a certain (and surprising) amount of money. But this wasn't like your typical commission. He didn't tell me what he wanted and asked me to paint it for him. No, rather Michael had asked me to paint whatever it was that I wanted, with the desire to push me to paint. I'm a printmaker... I'm timid about painting. But he saw a painting I did a number of years ago, and a few others, and said that I shouldn't give up on painting. That I should definitely keep painting. This made me tilt my ear because another person that I did not know who saw (and bought) the same painting said exactly the same thing.
So somehow, by God's grace, I have this benefactor that not only appreciates the art that I have, but wants to see me make more and push me to experiment and go through threshes I am timid to go through.
This is an incredible affirmation to me -- from God, as God's way of reminding me of the gift that He's given me to make art. I still think that I'm just small viddles when it comes to art and art making, but to hear people (that are not my friends or family) seriously appreciate and compliment my work is encouraging.
Those are the awesome things that God has been moving in my life, recently. There are others... oh yes, many others. He is changing and growing and humbling me as His child. Continually and in personal ways.
That's what I've got for now.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Anything
Love. It's a wave I ride that won't ever reach the shore... Overwhelmed by the tide and wanting nothing more tonight, than to take this time and make it all mine.
It's coming around again...
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
Hope. It's the light that strikes that burns inside of me. It's a binding light but somehow I can see again when I've lost my way. It's becoming very clear.
It's coming around again...
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
Somewhere between the darkness and the light my spirit takes flight. The colors fill the sky and I am free.
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
-- Mae, from The Everglow CD
As tempting as it is, I cannot be overwhelmed by all the atrocities in the world or in this country, or even in this City of Brotherly Love. I dare to ask why and for what reasons these things happen, but buried in the pit of my belly, I know why. It's more than just pent up frustrations or twisted psychology or revenge. It's a darkness that dares to claim people as its own, a spiritual beast that devours with each step in alleys the of America and China, the desert of Sudan and Iraq, and all over the world. It's a beast that says that the life of every living thing - human or otherwise - is totally expendable and at the mercy of those who pretend to be God.
I want it to stop, and I pray and I long for the day of the Lord -- when there shall be no more tears or bloodshed or death. But I realize that I am an agent of Light, and I cannot be overcome by evil. I can't curl up in a little ball, brought to a spit of helplessness in the face of the work of satan... With tears and confidence I must come before the Lord for those who are in that darkness, who are overcome by evil, who act in evil and are affected by evil. The One who is in me is the One who can overcome evil with Goodness, Holiness, and Truth. I pray that I can be used as God's tool to bring this to people so they can see beyond the darkness.
"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
"...the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world."
It's coming around again...
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
Hope. It's the light that strikes that burns inside of me. It's a binding light but somehow I can see again when I've lost my way. It's becoming very clear.
It's coming around again...
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
Somewhere between the darkness and the light my spirit takes flight. The colors fill the sky and I am free.
Every now and again sometimes I get lost on the wind of a dream. The air gets clean and the seas get wide and I can do anything. The pain won't even cross my mind, there is wonder in everything. The rope gets loose and the chains unbind and I can do anything.
-- Mae, from The Everglow CD
As tempting as it is, I cannot be overwhelmed by all the atrocities in the world or in this country, or even in this City of Brotherly Love. I dare to ask why and for what reasons these things happen, but buried in the pit of my belly, I know why. It's more than just pent up frustrations or twisted psychology or revenge. It's a darkness that dares to claim people as its own, a spiritual beast that devours with each step in alleys the of America and China, the desert of Sudan and Iraq, and all over the world. It's a beast that says that the life of every living thing - human or otherwise - is totally expendable and at the mercy of those who pretend to be God.
I want it to stop, and I pray and I long for the day of the Lord -- when there shall be no more tears or bloodshed or death. But I realize that I am an agent of Light, and I cannot be overcome by evil. I can't curl up in a little ball, brought to a spit of helplessness in the face of the work of satan... With tears and confidence I must come before the Lord for those who are in that darkness, who are overcome by evil, who act in evil and are affected by evil. The One who is in me is the One who can overcome evil with Goodness, Holiness, and Truth. I pray that I can be used as God's tool to bring this to people so they can see beyond the darkness.
"I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
"...the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world."
Atrocity in the name of "art"
Apparently, a Hungarian filmmaker won an award at a film festival recently for his "edgey" or innovated piece. I don't know the reasons why he won the award, but what I do know is that he should not have been awarded anything. There is a scene in the film that lasts more than 2 minutes in which a kitten is held underwater until it dies. The entire drowning process is shown in the film. For this reason, I am not including a link to where you can see the film. The jury says that they had thought that the scene was a special effect, but the filmmaker himself admits that it is not. He claims that the cat was ill anyway, and this was a "mercy killing."
I think that's B.S.
I had once heard a story on Animal Planet about a group of men that were arrested for cutting up a horse with a chainsaw, while it was still alive. And taking photographs. I don't know their reasons, and quite frankly I don't care.
These are more than just an "animal rights" complaints for me. I do love animals, as they are a part of God's creation, although I do not put them on the same level as human beings. They are to be taken care of. To actively torture, injure, mistreat, or effectively kill an animal with no real reason (which drowning would be) speaks volumes towards the inner psychology and inner spiritual darkness of a person. They have a twisted regard for that which is living, whether it is animal or human. Who is to say that an act of violence towards an animal would not lead towards violence in the realm of humanity? It is indeed a deep darkness for someone to take the life of something else into their own hands in torturous ways. More than that, to revel in it and celebrate the "artistic freedom" of it after having won an award for it.
Makes you think about movies that revel in the "entertainment" of horror. Yeah we know it's not real in THOSE movies, but you know there are twisted individuals out there that want to make it real, and are highly entertained by the idea of torturing others. Some who do make it real. ... Not as being influenced by media per se, but influenced by the darkness already within them, mastered by none other than the father of lies.
I wish I didn't watch the video. I'm scarred for the rest of the day... prayerfully the image will be burned out of my mind somehow.
Good things have happened since the last post that I made, and hopefully my next post will include those joys. This was just too startling to not say anything about.
I think that's B.S.
I had once heard a story on Animal Planet about a group of men that were arrested for cutting up a horse with a chainsaw, while it was still alive. And taking photographs. I don't know their reasons, and quite frankly I don't care.
These are more than just an "animal rights" complaints for me. I do love animals, as they are a part of God's creation, although I do not put them on the same level as human beings. They are to be taken care of. To actively torture, injure, mistreat, or effectively kill an animal with no real reason (which drowning would be) speaks volumes towards the inner psychology and inner spiritual darkness of a person. They have a twisted regard for that which is living, whether it is animal or human. Who is to say that an act of violence towards an animal would not lead towards violence in the realm of humanity? It is indeed a deep darkness for someone to take the life of something else into their own hands in torturous ways. More than that, to revel in it and celebrate the "artistic freedom" of it after having won an award for it.
Makes you think about movies that revel in the "entertainment" of horror. Yeah we know it's not real in THOSE movies, but you know there are twisted individuals out there that want to make it real, and are highly entertained by the idea of torturing others. Some who do make it real. ... Not as being influenced by media per se, but influenced by the darkness already within them, mastered by none other than the father of lies.
I wish I didn't watch the video. I'm scarred for the rest of the day... prayerfully the image will be burned out of my mind somehow.
Good things have happened since the last post that I made, and hopefully my next post will include those joys. This was just too startling to not say anything about.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Jesus is Gone
LA Times article about churches in Europe:
The Bell Tolls for Germany's Churches
Thought it was interesting, especially because I have an artist's studio in an old church. The difference is, though, that the church is still active-- not like it had been in it's former days, but people do still attend. I suppose another big difference is that it's in the middle of a city, and not the countryside villages.
The Bell Tolls for Germany's Churches
Thought it was interesting, especially because I have an artist's studio in an old church. The difference is, though, that the church is still active-- not like it had been in it's former days, but people do still attend. I suppose another big difference is that it's in the middle of a city, and not the countryside villages.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
This week: Emotions run rampant
I feel like I'm having the most emotional-rollercoaster week than I have had in a very long time.
Monday: Virginia Tech
Tuesday: Can't stop thinking about VT
Wednesday: Still thinking about VT, and then I get wind from some crazy stuff going down at my alma mater, Kuztown University. Last night I had to wrestle with God about financial stickiness as well.
This morning: Still wrestling with that stickiness from last night, and VT, and I find out more information about what went down at KU.
In the midst of being sorrowful and trying to climb out of it, now I'm a little pissed off and I'm trying really hard not to be (that is, to not sin in my anger).
So there's this Philly based group of people called "Repent America" and "Life and Liberty Ministries" and they decided to show their faces at Kutztown University campus yesterday -- the Day of Silence, of all days, and only two days after the Virginia Tech shooting. These are your fire-and-brimstone types, REPENT OR PERISH kind of people. Bearing signs reading "Homosexuality is a sin," and talking about abortion (apparently putting up images near the childhood and development center), they came with bullhorns. I wasn't there, but I've seen some photos and WFMZ's coverage of it ... and regardless of how accurate or not WFMZ's coverage is, the fact that this happened at all makes me mad. It's these kinds of people that made me not want to be a Christian so many years ago, so I have a biased stance on the whole situation, because I believe this kind of attitude blasphemes the very nature of God.
The most striking thing about their actions is that it speaks more as John the Baptist than Jesus. While it was necessary for John the Baptist to speak about repentance, and repentance is necessary, aren't we supposed to be like Jesus in our actions and preaching? The people that Jesus spoke out against the most were not sinners but the religious leaders of the day (which happened to be the Judaic priests and Pharisees, etc). They were rebuked for their hypocrisy, self-righteousness, and being "white washed tombs." They were rebuked for making it difficult for people to enter the kingdom of heaven by placing on them the Law and its regulations. (Matthew 23) This has a familiar ring to my ears with groups like the ones that showed up at Kutztown. Looking at Repent America's website, they seem to be more focused on the Old Testament Law than anything else... which doesn't make any sense to me, because we are part of the New Covenant. If you try to cling to the Old Covenant, you're a slave to the Law... and if you're a slave to the Law, the grace of God through Jesus Christ is worthless to you. Paul talks about it plainly in Romans. In a sense, you're making an idol out of the Law, and doesn't God's word say that there shall be no idols before Him? I believe that the Ten Commandments stand true today, otherwise there would be a lot of issues going on in the world. But Jesus says that the Law is summarized by loving the Lord your God, and loving your neighbor as yourself. In braying about fire-and-brimstone the way they do, they're not exactly characterizing the Love of God in a way people will understand.
And here's the thing... I do believe that homosexuality is a sin, and I do believe that abortion is a sinful act and I am pro-life. However, I also believe that I should hate the sin and love the person who is made in the image of God. A common phrase is 'hate the sin, love the sinner.' I recently read in a book of mine that it's more accurate to say that you're loving the one who bears the image of God. Abortionists and homosexuals, regardless of their acts, are still made in the image of God just as much as I am. More than that, why is it that their sin is of greater import than my sin? Aren't we all in the process of sanctification -- that is, being moved and changed and grown by the Holy Spirit so that our sins are pushed out over time? We aren't going to reach holiness and perfection in this life, and anyone who thinks so is heretical. Yes, we are covered by the blood of Christ and covered by HIS righteousness... but, we still sin even as Christians.
As someone had mentioned on a Facebook group, I'm sure that these groups think what they're doing is right. I'm sure they would look at me and, for this and several other reasons, think that I'm just as whacked out of my gourd as I think they are. And that's where the worlds collide, grappling until Kingdom Come.
God is a wrathful God, God is a just God. He is also a God of love, compassion, patience, and peace. How all of this works together, I don't know, because I am not God.
So all I can say, in spite of all my frustration and anger, is that God will deal with them as He will deal with us all.
I'm so tired of having an emotional week....
Monday: Virginia Tech
Tuesday: Can't stop thinking about VT
Wednesday: Still thinking about VT, and then I get wind from some crazy stuff going down at my alma mater, Kuztown University. Last night I had to wrestle with God about financial stickiness as well.
This morning: Still wrestling with that stickiness from last night, and VT, and I find out more information about what went down at KU.
In the midst of being sorrowful and trying to climb out of it, now I'm a little pissed off and I'm trying really hard not to be (that is, to not sin in my anger).
So there's this Philly based group of people called "Repent America" and "Life and Liberty Ministries" and they decided to show their faces at Kutztown University campus yesterday -- the Day of Silence, of all days, and only two days after the Virginia Tech shooting. These are your fire-and-brimstone types, REPENT OR PERISH kind of people. Bearing signs reading "Homosexuality is a sin," and talking about abortion (apparently putting up images near the childhood and development center), they came with bullhorns. I wasn't there, but I've seen some photos and WFMZ's coverage of it ... and regardless of how accurate or not WFMZ's coverage is, the fact that this happened at all makes me mad. It's these kinds of people that made me not want to be a Christian so many years ago, so I have a biased stance on the whole situation, because I believe this kind of attitude blasphemes the very nature of God.
The most striking thing about their actions is that it speaks more as John the Baptist than Jesus. While it was necessary for John the Baptist to speak about repentance, and repentance is necessary, aren't we supposed to be like Jesus in our actions and preaching? The people that Jesus spoke out against the most were not sinners but the religious leaders of the day (which happened to be the Judaic priests and Pharisees, etc). They were rebuked for their hypocrisy, self-righteousness, and being "white washed tombs." They were rebuked for making it difficult for people to enter the kingdom of heaven by placing on them the Law and its regulations. (Matthew 23) This has a familiar ring to my ears with groups like the ones that showed up at Kutztown. Looking at Repent America's website, they seem to be more focused on the Old Testament Law than anything else... which doesn't make any sense to me, because we are part of the New Covenant. If you try to cling to the Old Covenant, you're a slave to the Law... and if you're a slave to the Law, the grace of God through Jesus Christ is worthless to you. Paul talks about it plainly in Romans. In a sense, you're making an idol out of the Law, and doesn't God's word say that there shall be no idols before Him? I believe that the Ten Commandments stand true today, otherwise there would be a lot of issues going on in the world. But Jesus says that the Law is summarized by loving the Lord your God, and loving your neighbor as yourself. In braying about fire-and-brimstone the way they do, they're not exactly characterizing the Love of God in a way people will understand.
And here's the thing... I do believe that homosexuality is a sin, and I do believe that abortion is a sinful act and I am pro-life. However, I also believe that I should hate the sin and love the person who is made in the image of God. A common phrase is 'hate the sin, love the sinner.' I recently read in a book of mine that it's more accurate to say that you're loving the one who bears the image of God. Abortionists and homosexuals, regardless of their acts, are still made in the image of God just as much as I am. More than that, why is it that their sin is of greater import than my sin? Aren't we all in the process of sanctification -- that is, being moved and changed and grown by the Holy Spirit so that our sins are pushed out over time? We aren't going to reach holiness and perfection in this life, and anyone who thinks so is heretical. Yes, we are covered by the blood of Christ and covered by HIS righteousness... but, we still sin even as Christians.
As someone had mentioned on a Facebook group, I'm sure that these groups think what they're doing is right. I'm sure they would look at me and, for this and several other reasons, think that I'm just as whacked out of my gourd as I think they are. And that's where the worlds collide, grappling until Kingdom Come.
God is a wrathful God, God is a just God. He is also a God of love, compassion, patience, and peace. How all of this works together, I don't know, because I am not God.
So all I can say, in spite of all my frustration and anger, is that God will deal with them as He will deal with us all.
I'm so tired of having an emotional week....
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What these things produce: poetry
The Blood of Abel
Unsettled and uneasy with heavy shoulders,
and graying out my sense of color,
this weight lingers just above me.
I struggle to decipher what I see
and what I know.
The underbelly of a beast
feels the ground protesting its feast,
where Abel cries out, desperate to be heard;
the seed of his life stolen by cruel birds.
All men suffer and all men die,
but this? this grips me inside
like tendrils loose enough to give me room,
yet entrapping me with a sense of gloom.
Is what we reap really what we sow?
I smell blood and death
yet know of glory's bredth-
This paradox arrests my thoughts;
is frustration all but naught?
In quiet buildings and classroom halls,
colors hide in corners, afraid of the Fall.
The sounds break silence and cut through more:
life doesn't soak into tile floors,
nor retreat its flow.
How long, O Lord,
must they die by the sword?
How long must time repeat the terrible?
I cannot stand the story of Abel.
Blood pleads, thick and drawing near,
"Why weren't you here?"
Why are there children of Cain?
When will you restore the slain?
Yet you do know.
This did not all go on unseen,
they aren't left alone, in need.
Help us to wait, O Lord,
for our hearts to be restored.
YB 07 4 18
Unsettled and uneasy with heavy shoulders,
and graying out my sense of color,
this weight lingers just above me.
I struggle to decipher what I see
and what I know.
The underbelly of a beast
feels the ground protesting its feast,
where Abel cries out, desperate to be heard;
the seed of his life stolen by cruel birds.
All men suffer and all men die,
but this? this grips me inside
like tendrils loose enough to give me room,
yet entrapping me with a sense of gloom.
Is what we reap really what we sow?
I smell blood and death
yet know of glory's bredth-
This paradox arrests my thoughts;
is frustration all but naught?
In quiet buildings and classroom halls,
colors hide in corners, afraid of the Fall.
The sounds break silence and cut through more:
life doesn't soak into tile floors,
nor retreat its flow.
How long, O Lord,
must they die by the sword?
How long must time repeat the terrible?
I cannot stand the story of Abel.
Blood pleads, thick and drawing near,
"Why weren't you here?"
Why are there children of Cain?
When will you restore the slain?
Yet you do know.
This did not all go on unseen,
they aren't left alone, in need.
Help us to wait, O Lord,
for our hearts to be restored.
YB 07 4 18
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Their Names...
Maxine Turner
Henry Lee
Matt LaPorte
Lauren McCain
Prof. Jamie Bishop
Prof. G.V. Loganathan
Juan Ortiz
Jarrett Lane
Ryan Clark
Leslie Sherman
Caitlin Hammaren
Prof. Liviu Librescu
Prof. Kevin Granata
Reema Samaha
Emily Hilscher
Jocelyne Couture-Nowak
Daniel Perez Cueva
Ross Alameddine
Jeremy Herbstritt
Daniel O'Neil
Mary Read
Nicole White
Erin Peterson
Mike Pohle
Matt Gwaltney
Student blog entries found through WRAL.com.
As I read them, I cannot help but be gripped emotionally.
One
Two
Three
Henry Lee
Matt LaPorte
Lauren McCain
Prof. Jamie Bishop
Prof. G.V. Loganathan
Juan Ortiz
Jarrett Lane
Ryan Clark
Leslie Sherman
Caitlin Hammaren
Prof. Liviu Librescu
Prof. Kevin Granata
Reema Samaha
Emily Hilscher
Jocelyne Couture-Nowak
Daniel Perez Cueva
Ross Alameddine
Jeremy Herbstritt
Daniel O'Neil
Mary Read
Nicole White
Erin Peterson
Mike Pohle
Matt Gwaltney
Student blog entries found through WRAL.com.
As I read them, I cannot help but be gripped emotionally.
One
Two
Three
Monday, April 16, 2007
Virginia Tech
I found out about this morning's events around noon today, well after it had happened. I was drawing and listening to xpn.org, and NPR came through with the news. As soon as they said anything about VT my ears were attentive, because I have a friend that attends VT. Not just that, but the fact that it happened at all was shocking enough.
It was shortly thereafter that I called CJ up to see if he was okay and unfortunately I only got his voicemail. Thankfully, I got a call from him about two hours later, but my heart is still heavy for the campus.
33 college students gone in the blink of an eye.
It was this kind of thing that made me question life, death, and everything in between back on 9/11/2001, and snowballed my search for God. I can only pray that the same sort of thing would happen to others in this situation, as unfathomable that seems to me right now. I can only imagine the questions of, "How could God allow something like this to happen? Wasn't He watching?" abound.
Having just started working on a college campus -- a scant three months ago -- I have my own questions. What if something like that happened here? What if some kid snapped and decided they were going to take the lives of others into their his (or her) own hands? Would God enable me to receive those grieving, and gently bring light and hope in their lives despite current events? Would I even know how to serve them in the midst of my own grief? What would I do?
I don't know the answers to these questions, and honestly they are not questions that I should be asking at this point in time. Something might happen, as no one expects these things to happen. Blacksburg didn't. What is more fitting is to continue to pray for the school, the students, the families, and the friends. Holding off classes tomorrow will do little in allowing students time to cope on Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday. "Life will carry on and the pieces will be picked up over time, though." To be honest, I think that's the crapiest thing to say to anyone, despite the fact that it is true. Death comes in, and even when we are sick and frail, we do not expect for it to come the way that it does. It seems unfair. It is further unfair when life is snatched out from under one human being by another human being. Life will carry on, but not without a certain amount of weight.
The ironic thing about it is that, although people say that death is just a part of life no matter how it's taken out of the picture, we are all still moved in some way when someone close to us dies. As I learned from a dear friend who learned it from someone else, the fact of the matter is that we were not meant to die.
We were not designed to automatically know how to handle death. I would say that no matter how old we get or how many funerals we encounter, or how scientific we look at it, or how jaded we become, we simply learn how to cope with death. You do not learn it the way that you learn how to ride a bicycle and then simply know what to do after it has been learned. Some may nay-say, but you have to understand that I believe that people were created by a Creator who intended us to live forever... until somebody had to go and screw it up. And now that it's screwed up, we're still picking up the pieces and often dropping them at the same time. It's a terrible situation... but, this is why Jesus Christ is such an integral part of my life.
Despite the fact that death causes me to feel wounded as a human being, and although it causes me to be angry and then broken when I hear about one person killing another person, I know that things will be restored to order one day. Until then, we go through days of sorrow, and then better days.
There is a better day coming for those that lost someone today. It might be a week from now, or years. When it does come, it will be a great sigh of relief to have the burden lifted off of their shoulders. Until then it will be heavy... some days heavier than others. But looking towards that better day and having hope that things will get better will come, after the grief.
And thankfully, we are allowed to grieve.
It was shortly thereafter that I called CJ up to see if he was okay and unfortunately I only got his voicemail. Thankfully, I got a call from him about two hours later, but my heart is still heavy for the campus.
33 college students gone in the blink of an eye.
It was this kind of thing that made me question life, death, and everything in between back on 9/11/2001, and snowballed my search for God. I can only pray that the same sort of thing would happen to others in this situation, as unfathomable that seems to me right now. I can only imagine the questions of, "How could God allow something like this to happen? Wasn't He watching?" abound.
Having just started working on a college campus -- a scant three months ago -- I have my own questions. What if something like that happened here? What if some kid snapped and decided they were going to take the lives of others into their his (or her) own hands? Would God enable me to receive those grieving, and gently bring light and hope in their lives despite current events? Would I even know how to serve them in the midst of my own grief? What would I do?
I don't know the answers to these questions, and honestly they are not questions that I should be asking at this point in time. Something might happen, as no one expects these things to happen. Blacksburg didn't. What is more fitting is to continue to pray for the school, the students, the families, and the friends. Holding off classes tomorrow will do little in allowing students time to cope on Wednesday, or Thursday, or Friday. "Life will carry on and the pieces will be picked up over time, though." To be honest, I think that's the crapiest thing to say to anyone, despite the fact that it is true. Death comes in, and even when we are sick and frail, we do not expect for it to come the way that it does. It seems unfair. It is further unfair when life is snatched out from under one human being by another human being. Life will carry on, but not without a certain amount of weight.
The ironic thing about it is that, although people say that death is just a part of life no matter how it's taken out of the picture, we are all still moved in some way when someone close to us dies. As I learned from a dear friend who learned it from someone else, the fact of the matter is that we were not meant to die.
We were not designed to automatically know how to handle death. I would say that no matter how old we get or how many funerals we encounter, or how scientific we look at it, or how jaded we become, we simply learn how to cope with death. You do not learn it the way that you learn how to ride a bicycle and then simply know what to do after it has been learned. Some may nay-say, but you have to understand that I believe that people were created by a Creator who intended us to live forever... until somebody had to go and screw it up. And now that it's screwed up, we're still picking up the pieces and often dropping them at the same time. It's a terrible situation... but, this is why Jesus Christ is such an integral part of my life.
Despite the fact that death causes me to feel wounded as a human being, and although it causes me to be angry and then broken when I hear about one person killing another person, I know that things will be restored to order one day. Until then, we go through days of sorrow, and then better days.
There is a better day coming for those that lost someone today. It might be a week from now, or years. When it does come, it will be a great sigh of relief to have the burden lifted off of their shoulders. Until then it will be heavy... some days heavier than others. But looking towards that better day and having hope that things will get better will come, after the grief.
And thankfully, we are allowed to grieve.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Art Auction: v.1.5
I promise, I'll stop posting about random things and actually tell you about the auction. ... At least, I could try. As I think I mentioned previously, I was stowed away in my studio for most of it, being the social bug that I am.
That doesn't make sense. Let me start from the beginning.
Scott (read: my faithful and handsome assistant) went down to the studios with me decked out in a trusty pair of jeans and t-shirt only to arrive at the Studios to realize that I hadn't gotten the memo for attire. So I scurried back to home, changed, and scurried back to the Studios in heeled, fancy boots, fancy skirt, and fancy shirt. I had to get all gussied up, which generally speaking wasn't such a bad thing except that my feet were ready to revolt by the end of the night.
But anyway.
So we got there and helped to set up the finishing touches. People started to filter through and quite honestly I feel like I left myself for a good half hour because I don't remember what all I had done. I know I caught sight of two supporters of mine (Heather and Vince) from Quakertown and left Duy and Scott in the dust. I chatted. I said hello to co-workers that filtered through, as well as some students... and then at some point I brought Heather and Vince up to the studio to discover the small herd of people therein. That's when I hustled with my faithful assistant to set things up that I didn't previously think about setting up. I talked and my insides felt like they were tied up in knots, and that's how most of my evening went. Any time I caught wind of my prints on auction being bid on, I scarcely could believe it.
I was shocked that anyone wanted to buy prints out of my studio, too.
So I was a stationary social bug, talking to people about my work and primarily explaining collagraph printing. I must have explained it ten times that evening, and at some point my faithful assistant brought me water because my throat was getting very, very dry and tired. Thank you, Scott. I'm glad I can count on you for being there for me. Thanks also to everyone who came into my studio, but most of those people have no idea that this blog exists... so my thanks is moot to them. Rats.
Overall the auction went well. There were tons of people there, and I'm grateful that we could do it and that I had the opportunity to participate. It's encouraged me to take the steps towards applying for a type of membership for the Washington Printmakers Gallery down in DC... which seems pretty far to be applying for, but long story short I was encouraged to do so by one of the folks on committee back in October at that show I participated in. We'll see how things go... I think that if I didn't participate in the Art Auction, I wouldn't have thought to apply right now. Funny how things work out. I hope that the night was as encouraging to my Studio-mates as it was for me, and that they had a great time meeting people.
I would share photos, but most of my photos are uninteresting; besides, I only have six total.
I'm sure I'll fish some up at some point from somewhere, but I'm not worried about it. The night was a total blur, and I was fully exhausted from it.
That's all I've got.
That doesn't make sense. Let me start from the beginning.
Scott (read: my faithful and handsome assistant) went down to the studios with me decked out in a trusty pair of jeans and t-shirt only to arrive at the Studios to realize that I hadn't gotten the memo for attire. So I scurried back to home, changed, and scurried back to the Studios in heeled, fancy boots, fancy skirt, and fancy shirt. I had to get all gussied up, which generally speaking wasn't such a bad thing except that my feet were ready to revolt by the end of the night.
But anyway.
So we got there and helped to set up the finishing touches. People started to filter through and quite honestly I feel like I left myself for a good half hour because I don't remember what all I had done. I know I caught sight of two supporters of mine (Heather and Vince) from Quakertown and left Duy and Scott in the dust. I chatted. I said hello to co-workers that filtered through, as well as some students... and then at some point I brought Heather and Vince up to the studio to discover the small herd of people therein. That's when I hustled with my faithful assistant to set things up that I didn't previously think about setting up. I talked and my insides felt like they were tied up in knots, and that's how most of my evening went. Any time I caught wind of my prints on auction being bid on, I scarcely could believe it.
I was shocked that anyone wanted to buy prints out of my studio, too.
So I was a stationary social bug, talking to people about my work and primarily explaining collagraph printing. I must have explained it ten times that evening, and at some point my faithful assistant brought me water because my throat was getting very, very dry and tired. Thank you, Scott. I'm glad I can count on you for being there for me. Thanks also to everyone who came into my studio, but most of those people have no idea that this blog exists... so my thanks is moot to them. Rats.
Overall the auction went well. There were tons of people there, and I'm grateful that we could do it and that I had the opportunity to participate. It's encouraged me to take the steps towards applying for a type of membership for the Washington Printmakers Gallery down in DC... which seems pretty far to be applying for, but long story short I was encouraged to do so by one of the folks on committee back in October at that show I participated in. We'll see how things go... I think that if I didn't participate in the Art Auction, I wouldn't have thought to apply right now. Funny how things work out. I hope that the night was as encouraging to my Studio-mates as it was for me, and that they had a great time meeting people.
I would share photos, but most of my photos are uninteresting; besides, I only have six total.
I'm sure I'll fish some up at some point from somewhere, but I'm not worried about it. The night was a total blur, and I was fully exhausted from it.
That's all I've got.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Choclate Jesus Uproar
Many thanks go to Heather for sending me this article:
Chocolate Jesus Exhibition Scrapped
These are the thoughts I shared on a thread...
Although I find it rather immature to see the Chocolate Jesus (My Sweet Lord) by Casimo Cavallaro as an attack on Christianity, I can in some ways understand why there are those of us -- that is, Christians -- who would find it offensive. Not everyone really likes to see reproductive organs, especially if our Savior is the bearer of such organs. This is why renaissance painters were often asked to edit their masterpieces (or, in most cases, they were edited without permission) by the church that commissioned them.
Perhaps we should look a little deeper at this situation than the superficial response that it is getting from just about everyone across the globe.
As a Christian and also as an artist, I am not offended by this sculpture and I do not see it as an attack against Christianity. Before you cry out heresy, here me out.
There is a beautiful relationship going on here with the symbolism of the chocolate. For most of people, chocolate is a candy favored by young and old. It is sweet and we would even say that we "love chocolate." I think chocolate is wonderful, personally. I also think the same thing about Jesus Christ - I love him and I think that He is wonderful. Granted, my "love" for chocolate is obliterated by my love for Christ, but that's not the point. Christ's sacrifice was meant for all, both young and old people, to bring them into a relationship with God because we are separated from God if we do not believe in Him. The sacrifice - the Crucifixion - was needed so that our sins could be atoned for.
Of course, there are those who don't believe this and find Jesus offensive. They do not favor that sort of theology, so they don't like Christianity. In the same way, however superficial, there are those who do not like chocolate, as shocking as that may seem.
More than just this... The idea of making Christ out of chocolate is beautiful because we eat chocolate. Now, we do not eat Jesus, per se -- although Catholic theology says otherwise.. I come out of a Protestant background... but this isn't about theological differences. There is a certain Christian practice called Communion that I'm sure many non-Christians are familiar with in some way. Bread represents Christ's Body and wine (or grape juice, depending on your church) represents his Blood. We are told to take and eat, and to take and drink, so that we shall never forget His Sacrifice. Could it be that the artist intended to echo this same practice in making the figure of Christ out of something that we eat?
Also, what of the nudeness of Cavallaro's depiction of a chocolate Christ? I couldn't imagine what his own personal reasons for making the piece are, let alone the nudeness. However, as someone else had pointed out, Christ was crucified naked...Jesus suffered physically, but I would say that He had also suffered further humiliation by being hung on a cross without beng covered. To the Hebrews, this was one of those types of humiliation that could have been worse than just getting killed. To cover up this fact -- indeed, by covering His body -- would be to cover up this truth. And to cover up truth is to say that it isn't important. I think that it is important, because Christ came in a human body. He came gender specific... he came as a man. Fully God and fully human.... which includes all the bits that we don't normally like to talk about.
But the human body is a wonderful, beautiful thing that God created. Do I want to see naked people all the time? No, not particularly. It is my sinful nature that wrestles me to think thoughts that I do not wish to think... it is not the naked body itself that makes me think those things. The body is not an evil thing... Sin is evil. Sin distorts, and thus far it has proven our society an unworthy adversary because our society says that a naked human body is either evil, or it is immediately connected to pornography and sex. But again, the body is not evil. God created man, and He created woman, and He said that what He had made was "good." Far be it from us to say that something God had created - to its minutest of details - is bad.
And with those thoughts shared, I am done. Do with these thoughts what you will.
Chocolate Jesus Exhibition Scrapped
These are the thoughts I shared on a thread...
Although I find it rather immature to see the Chocolate Jesus (My Sweet Lord) by Casimo Cavallaro as an attack on Christianity, I can in some ways understand why there are those of us -- that is, Christians -- who would find it offensive. Not everyone really likes to see reproductive organs, especially if our Savior is the bearer of such organs. This is why renaissance painters were often asked to edit their masterpieces (or, in most cases, they were edited without permission) by the church that commissioned them.
Perhaps we should look a little deeper at this situation than the superficial response that it is getting from just about everyone across the globe.
As a Christian and also as an artist, I am not offended by this sculpture and I do not see it as an attack against Christianity. Before you cry out heresy, here me out.
There is a beautiful relationship going on here with the symbolism of the chocolate. For most of people, chocolate is a candy favored by young and old. It is sweet and we would even say that we "love chocolate." I think chocolate is wonderful, personally. I also think the same thing about Jesus Christ - I love him and I think that He is wonderful. Granted, my "love" for chocolate is obliterated by my love for Christ, but that's not the point. Christ's sacrifice was meant for all, both young and old people, to bring them into a relationship with God because we are separated from God if we do not believe in Him. The sacrifice - the Crucifixion - was needed so that our sins could be atoned for.
Of course, there are those who don't believe this and find Jesus offensive. They do not favor that sort of theology, so they don't like Christianity. In the same way, however superficial, there are those who do not like chocolate, as shocking as that may seem.
More than just this... The idea of making Christ out of chocolate is beautiful because we eat chocolate. Now, we do not eat Jesus, per se -- although Catholic theology says otherwise.. I come out of a Protestant background... but this isn't about theological differences. There is a certain Christian practice called Communion that I'm sure many non-Christians are familiar with in some way. Bread represents Christ's Body and wine (or grape juice, depending on your church) represents his Blood. We are told to take and eat, and to take and drink, so that we shall never forget His Sacrifice. Could it be that the artist intended to echo this same practice in making the figure of Christ out of something that we eat?
Also, what of the nudeness of Cavallaro's depiction of a chocolate Christ? I couldn't imagine what his own personal reasons for making the piece are, let alone the nudeness. However, as someone else had pointed out, Christ was crucified naked...Jesus suffered physically, but I would say that He had also suffered further humiliation by being hung on a cross without beng covered. To the Hebrews, this was one of those types of humiliation that could have been worse than just getting killed. To cover up this fact -- indeed, by covering His body -- would be to cover up this truth. And to cover up truth is to say that it isn't important. I think that it is important, because Christ came in a human body. He came gender specific... he came as a man. Fully God and fully human.... which includes all the bits that we don't normally like to talk about.
But the human body is a wonderful, beautiful thing that God created. Do I want to see naked people all the time? No, not particularly. It is my sinful nature that wrestles me to think thoughts that I do not wish to think... it is not the naked body itself that makes me think those things. The body is not an evil thing... Sin is evil. Sin distorts, and thus far it has proven our society an unworthy adversary because our society says that a naked human body is either evil, or it is immediately connected to pornography and sex. But again, the body is not evil. God created man, and He created woman, and He said that what He had made was "good." Far be it from us to say that something God had created - to its minutest of details - is bad.
And with those thoughts shared, I am done. Do with these thoughts what you will.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
A complete and total side note: comments on MySpace advertisements
I hate all the advertisements on MySpace. A lot of them are just annoying, flashy, and asking me to shave some lady's legs (or more recently, Brittany's head) to win something I'll never get without jumping through hoops. However, there are others that I have HUGE issues with. ... And actually lead me to more broader thoughts than just MySpace.
1. All the models from Victoria Secret ads are totally airbrushed and altered, and it makes me want to frown. While I'm not necessarily all for Dove, this little film thing is interesting. http://youtube.com/watch?v=L_aDpmfAzxI
This brings into question, then: What is beauty? Is there such a thing as beautiful women who AREN'T altered, either literally or through digital imaging? I think this gives into a totally falsification to men and feeds into a fantasy of 'perfect women.' Granted, not all men are affected this way and I praise them for that, we need more of them around standing up against artificial portrayals of women. Don't believe me that there's an issue? Why is it, then, that companies like Victoria Secret feel like they have to airbrush every little thing on a woman's body? Why is it that comic books are so overrun by female characters with outlandish curves?
2. In my opinion, True.com is just a glorified version of prostitution. Now hear me out: the website says "love" but really all they're promoting is lust with their advertisements. The ones here on MySpace appear "tame" but I've seen others that are totally geared to rustle up some hook-ups and anything but love... typically at the same time exploiting women.. Which they are obviously trying to counter the claim by now portraying men in their ads. I'm not the only one to notice this. http://www.onlinedatingmagazine.com/columns/2005editorials/april2005.html
Which all of it actually brings into mind the media's definition of love and twisting sexual activity. How many times did Joey hop into bed with some boyfriend on Dawson's Creek, or the characters on the O.C., because the characters "loved each other?" They broke up how many times? Who didn't end up staying with who? The media often times suggests that love is an impulse, and in order to satisfy that impulse completely you have to have sex right now. If you don't - well, you're not really in love, you just thought you may have been. Or, after some time after sex, the relationship is terminated.
So, it's kind of like saying it's okay to just go out and hook-up with whoever and then call it a night. Or that it's okay to sleep with your boyfriend, even if you may end up breaking up after an indefinite amount of time. I think that sort of thing tears at the insides of a person, no matter how much they say they're okay with it and that they don't deal with feelings of having been used... that is to say, the occassional pang of feeling worthlessness or wanting recognition as a human being.
We're more than just the sum of our body parts, after all.
... So that's my two-cents, and the vehement dislike of those sorts of advertisements. I did go on a bit of a tangent, and it may not be altogether coherent, but that's what I've got for you. It rubs me the wrong way every time I see those ads.
1. All the models from Victoria Secret ads are totally airbrushed and altered, and it makes me want to frown. While I'm not necessarily all for Dove, this little film thing is interesting. http://youtube.com/watch?v=L_aDpmfAzxI
This brings into question, then: What is beauty? Is there such a thing as beautiful women who AREN'T altered, either literally or through digital imaging? I think this gives into a totally falsification to men and feeds into a fantasy of 'perfect women.' Granted, not all men are affected this way and I praise them for that, we need more of them around standing up against artificial portrayals of women. Don't believe me that there's an issue? Why is it, then, that companies like Victoria Secret feel like they have to airbrush every little thing on a woman's body? Why is it that comic books are so overrun by female characters with outlandish curves?
2. In my opinion, True.com is just a glorified version of prostitution. Now hear me out: the website says "love" but really all they're promoting is lust with their advertisements. The ones here on MySpace appear "tame" but I've seen others that are totally geared to rustle up some hook-ups and anything but love... typically at the same time exploiting women.. Which they are obviously trying to counter the claim by now portraying men in their ads. I'm not the only one to notice this. http://www.onlinedatingmagazine.com/columns/2005editorials/april2005.html
Which all of it actually brings into mind the media's definition of love and twisting sexual activity. How many times did Joey hop into bed with some boyfriend on Dawson's Creek, or the characters on the O.C., because the characters "loved each other?" They broke up how many times? Who didn't end up staying with who? The media often times suggests that love is an impulse, and in order to satisfy that impulse completely you have to have sex right now. If you don't - well, you're not really in love, you just thought you may have been. Or, after some time after sex, the relationship is terminated.
So, it's kind of like saying it's okay to just go out and hook-up with whoever and then call it a night. Or that it's okay to sleep with your boyfriend, even if you may end up breaking up after an indefinite amount of time. I think that sort of thing tears at the insides of a person, no matter how much they say they're okay with it and that they don't deal with feelings of having been used... that is to say, the occassional pang of feeling worthlessness or wanting recognition as a human being.
We're more than just the sum of our body parts, after all.
... So that's my two-cents, and the vehement dislike of those sorts of advertisements. I did go on a bit of a tangent, and it may not be altogether coherent, but that's what I've got for you. It rubs me the wrong way every time I see those ads.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Art Auction: v.1.0
So this is not exactly an overview of the auction but just a very quick response to it. I may write something more ... "official" later, but I'm not exactly the best when it comes to writing anything "official."
First and foremost: God has so amazingly blessed me with this evening.
The art auction up at the Church Studios, hosted by Olivet Covenant Presbyterian Church - "A Work in Progress" - was awesome. While I do not know all the details of how everything went, I'm very certain that the auction was a success. I do not know all the details because 85% of my time was spent in my studio interacting with and being social with the wanderers that would come in. ... I had the joy (note: mild anxiety) to come in when a handful of people were already there, and then even more came in, and I got to explain my process for the pieces I've made. And then scramble with my faithful assistant (note: Scott) to set some things up for better viewing. And then I got to very consistantly reiterate many things, but it was really great to have people ask about the works (and works-in-progress) and to discuss things with them. Apparently the pieces I've been working on, the lightboxes, is intriguing.
It was awesome.
Overall? I am floored, in the way in which my jaw ought to have been scooped up off the floor quite a few times. Besides being able to converse with individuals about my work, God also blessed me amazingly with one simple question asked by a few people: "So, are you selling any of your work?" This is not a question I was at all prepared for, nor one that I thought I would ever get asked.
Four out of six of the prints (etching, monotype, and collagraph) I put into the auction were bid on and taken, two or three that apparently had been bid over quite a few times, and one of which I had NO IDEA would be bid as high as it was.
Four prints (collagraph and etching) were sold right out of my studio.
... I don't know what to do with myself other than to say that God is so good. I am encouraged and humbled all in one stunned package. I pray that my brother artists in the Studios were so blessed by the event.
I am exhausted. Scott has left to go to Lansdale so he can go on a band adventure for the weekend. I think it's time for me to sleep.
First and foremost: God has so amazingly blessed me with this evening.
The art auction up at the Church Studios, hosted by Olivet Covenant Presbyterian Church - "A Work in Progress" - was awesome. While I do not know all the details of how everything went, I'm very certain that the auction was a success. I do not know all the details because 85% of my time was spent in my studio interacting with and being social with the wanderers that would come in. ... I had the joy (note: mild anxiety) to come in when a handful of people were already there, and then even more came in, and I got to explain my process for the pieces I've made. And then scramble with my faithful assistant (note: Scott) to set some things up for better viewing. And then I got to very consistantly reiterate many things, but it was really great to have people ask about the works (and works-in-progress) and to discuss things with them. Apparently the pieces I've been working on, the lightboxes, is intriguing.
It was awesome.
Overall? I am floored, in the way in which my jaw ought to have been scooped up off the floor quite a few times. Besides being able to converse with individuals about my work, God also blessed me amazingly with one simple question asked by a few people: "So, are you selling any of your work?" This is not a question I was at all prepared for, nor one that I thought I would ever get asked.
Four out of six of the prints (etching, monotype, and collagraph) I put into the auction were bid on and taken, two or three that apparently had been bid over quite a few times, and one of which I had NO IDEA would be bid as high as it was.
Four prints (collagraph and etching) were sold right out of my studio.
... I don't know what to do with myself other than to say that God is so good. I am encouraged and humbled all in one stunned package. I pray that my brother artists in the Studios were so blessed by the event.
I am exhausted. Scott has left to go to Lansdale so he can go on a band adventure for the weekend. I think it's time for me to sleep.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
DNA and Art
... I'm not sure what it is, but I find this very cool.
http://www.dna-art.com/index.html
It could be because I love anything to do with genetics and DNA and all that fun stuff. It kind of reminds me of an art form I heard about some years ago where an artist was using the deceased's ashes to make art.
Just thought I'd share.
http://www.dna-art.com/index.html
It could be because I love anything to do with genetics and DNA and all that fun stuff. It kind of reminds me of an art form I heard about some years ago where an artist was using the deceased's ashes to make art.
Just thought I'd share.
Monday, March 12, 2007
A poem fitting for the season
It's days like this that I sit in eager anticipation of the warmer seasons, and look forward to when everything is alive again.
Anticipating Equinox
Curled up tight in quiet hibernation,
young ones begin to feel the warmth
of the sun as he spreads his hands across the earth
All that he touches receives light and life,
even the shadows nod toward his splendor,
and night retreats from his path
Can you sense what they do,
the coming of equinox?
When those who sleep will be roused,
stretching limbs upward and downward;
when those in dark places will lift their heads
and be birthed as newborn babes-
It is then that colors take the stage
quiet at first in budding whispers
passing rumors of paintings so wonderful
that you and I long to behold merely days away
What is it that will come?
The sun follows his course and stays aloft,
coaxing children from the places they hide
Make yourself attentive;
can you hear their hymns?
Soft words of joy,
relinquished from a long, oppressive sleep
to crescendo forth into hues of praise
I cannot help but be captivated,
tempted toward rapture and carried away by their song,
and moved by their efforts to grasp light
Tiny fingers spread skyward,
longing to be free of mud, dirt, and darkness
Can you see their jubilant straining,
faces full of color and mouths full of song?
Can you empathize with their liberation?
YB 07 3 12
Anticipating Equinox
Curled up tight in quiet hibernation,
young ones begin to feel the warmth
of the sun as he spreads his hands across the earth
All that he touches receives light and life,
even the shadows nod toward his splendor,
and night retreats from his path
Can you sense what they do,
the coming of equinox?
When those who sleep will be roused,
stretching limbs upward and downward;
when those in dark places will lift their heads
and be birthed as newborn babes-
It is then that colors take the stage
quiet at first in budding whispers
passing rumors of paintings so wonderful
that you and I long to behold merely days away
What is it that will come?
The sun follows his course and stays aloft,
coaxing children from the places they hide
Make yourself attentive;
can you hear their hymns?
Soft words of joy,
relinquished from a long, oppressive sleep
to crescendo forth into hues of praise
I cannot help but be captivated,
tempted toward rapture and carried away by their song,
and moved by their efforts to grasp light
Tiny fingers spread skyward,
longing to be free of mud, dirt, and darkness
Can you see their jubilant straining,
faces full of color and mouths full of song?
Can you empathize with their liberation?
YB 07 3 12
Friday, March 09, 2007
Community
I've noticed an interesting trend through my journal entries over the past month that anything with actual substance has been fairly cynical. Truth be told, I do have a cynical edge in my life that has yet to be fully worn down by the Holy Spirit; it's not exactly one of my favored characteristics. And apparently at 1AM and after reading both Adam's and Al's recent blog entries, I feel compelled to write about something that has more substance and is less critical of the world around me. It's time to scurry to my little thinking place and put out some reflections.
Manna is the bible study/discussion group that I'm taking under my wing in part with CCO co-worker (and consequently, whose family I live with) Andy Campbell at University of the Arts, and since I showed up this semester we've been going through a book that I am convinced ought to be mandatory reading material for anyone interested in the arts and happens to be a Christian. Needless to say, I'm very excited to finally talk to people about it who jive with the arts, since it's one thing to talk about it to non-arty people, and totally a different thing to talk about it with arty people. The book: It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God. Tonight's chapter (article) was written by David Giardiniere, and all about Community. Of course the article's slant is toward artists of all shapes and sizes, but reading about community reminds me about how passionate I am about community and belonging to a community.
As being made in imago dei, the image of God, means that human beings are inherently relational creatures. God is a relational being: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. He is the perfect and holy image that we have of unity and community being Three in One. God also seeks to have community and relationships with His creatures. It makes sense, then, that we would be relational; we are made to have community first with the Lord and also with other human beings. How beautiful it is when people come together with the same heart and purpose, to become a sort of family. As Christians, we are called to this.
Paul frequently talks about the individual Christian being part of a bigger community through the imagery of anatomy: we are all parts of the larger body. We are members, not in the sense of Status, but in the sense of Organs. It is vital for the "members" or organs of the human body to be working in community and unity wth the other organs of the body, while at the same time retaining its unique job and characteristics. For it cannot be so that an eye would decide to be a hand, or that a hand would decide to be a leg and neither can these things work independently from the rest of the body. You don't have to take an anatomy class to know that the human body just doesn't function that way. It is the same with us as believers in Jesus Christ. We need each other in order to encourage, build up, rebuke, pray for, challenge, and push each other towards God. I believe that this is primarily found in church communities.
This is something that has been on my mind for several weeks now, primarily because I currently feel at a loss as to where my place is in Philadelphia. I've lived here for about two months and I have yet to really find a solid, consistent group of individuals who can be my "transplant" family -- and I use the word transplant loosely, since I've moved on from the community I knew for four and a half years. I hunger and long for the sort of community I've just described above. And I do not use "hunger" and "long for" lightly. I need a church body to belong to, not for some trite fulfilment or simple satiation to be with people, but so that I can be encouraged, challenged, and pushed towards God.
The Lord has been good to me, however, in placing me in a city where I do know some people and He has also provided some awesome connections with people that have the potential to lead to very strong community. I have been very blessed to be around awesome people from time to time.
However that does not negate the fact that I still need to be integrated into a church. I'm unsure what my struggle up to this point has been, since I had been attending a younger church (Liberti Church) just up the street from me for a while before I actually moved here. February left me with barely any Sundays to explore other churches - so February was actually a little dreadful in some regards. Every time I thought about my need for community, a lump would quickly form in the pit of my throat; even now, there is an ache. This actually brings up a funny story: this past Sunday as I was ready to go to a different church, I discovered that my car was parked in. So, that left me with Liberti Church, which I have been unsure of going to all through February. All the way there, I had to pray and ask for a heart that would be open to what He would have for me there because it was clear I was going there for a reason that morning.
While the sermon was excellent and all about reliability and dependability (something I'd love to write more about later), I suppose the most striking thing was that one of the pastors listed some things that their church was all about. The funny part is that I wholly agreed with each of the things that Liberti is all about as a church, perhaps especially worship, community, and campus ministry.
Is this the community God has set up for me to be a part of? I'm not sure... but I do know that I had to also ask myself, "Why am I not going to this church? I agree with all these things." Perhaps, then, it is where I am meant to be integrated. Perhaps I should just bite the lip of my fears and submerge myself in this body of brothers and sisters and allow myself to be a part of a new community... because as surely as I live and breathe, I do think that I am afraid to start fresh. But despite that fear I know I need and hunger for it. I know how essential it is for me to be connected because I cannot function fully--as being made in the image of God--without that community and those relationships.
We shall see, I suppose. Prayerfully, the Lord will push me in the direction I need to go. I need to be pushed, face forward, so that all of my hesitancy is lost to the wind.
... And with that in mind, it is time for me to go to sleep.
Manna is the bible study/discussion group that I'm taking under my wing in part with CCO co-worker (and consequently, whose family I live with) Andy Campbell at University of the Arts, and since I showed up this semester we've been going through a book that I am convinced ought to be mandatory reading material for anyone interested in the arts and happens to be a Christian. Needless to say, I'm very excited to finally talk to people about it who jive with the arts, since it's one thing to talk about it to non-arty people, and totally a different thing to talk about it with arty people. The book: It Was Good: Making Art to the Glory of God. Tonight's chapter (article) was written by David Giardiniere, and all about Community. Of course the article's slant is toward artists of all shapes and sizes, but reading about community reminds me about how passionate I am about community and belonging to a community.
As being made in imago dei, the image of God, means that human beings are inherently relational creatures. God is a relational being: Father, Son, Holy Spirit. He is the perfect and holy image that we have of unity and community being Three in One. God also seeks to have community and relationships with His creatures. It makes sense, then, that we would be relational; we are made to have community first with the Lord and also with other human beings. How beautiful it is when people come together with the same heart and purpose, to become a sort of family. As Christians, we are called to this.
Paul frequently talks about the individual Christian being part of a bigger community through the imagery of anatomy: we are all parts of the larger body. We are members, not in the sense of Status, but in the sense of Organs. It is vital for the "members" or organs of the human body to be working in community and unity wth the other organs of the body, while at the same time retaining its unique job and characteristics. For it cannot be so that an eye would decide to be a hand, or that a hand would decide to be a leg and neither can these things work independently from the rest of the body. You don't have to take an anatomy class to know that the human body just doesn't function that way. It is the same with us as believers in Jesus Christ. We need each other in order to encourage, build up, rebuke, pray for, challenge, and push each other towards God. I believe that this is primarily found in church communities.
This is something that has been on my mind for several weeks now, primarily because I currently feel at a loss as to where my place is in Philadelphia. I've lived here for about two months and I have yet to really find a solid, consistent group of individuals who can be my "transplant" family -- and I use the word transplant loosely, since I've moved on from the community I knew for four and a half years. I hunger and long for the sort of community I've just described above. And I do not use "hunger" and "long for" lightly. I need a church body to belong to, not for some trite fulfilment or simple satiation to be with people, but so that I can be encouraged, challenged, and pushed towards God.
The Lord has been good to me, however, in placing me in a city where I do know some people and He has also provided some awesome connections with people that have the potential to lead to very strong community. I have been very blessed to be around awesome people from time to time.
However that does not negate the fact that I still need to be integrated into a church. I'm unsure what my struggle up to this point has been, since I had been attending a younger church (Liberti Church) just up the street from me for a while before I actually moved here. February left me with barely any Sundays to explore other churches - so February was actually a little dreadful in some regards. Every time I thought about my need for community, a lump would quickly form in the pit of my throat; even now, there is an ache. This actually brings up a funny story: this past Sunday as I was ready to go to a different church, I discovered that my car was parked in. So, that left me with Liberti Church, which I have been unsure of going to all through February. All the way there, I had to pray and ask for a heart that would be open to what He would have for me there because it was clear I was going there for a reason that morning.
While the sermon was excellent and all about reliability and dependability (something I'd love to write more about later), I suppose the most striking thing was that one of the pastors listed some things that their church was all about. The funny part is that I wholly agreed with each of the things that Liberti is all about as a church, perhaps especially worship, community, and campus ministry.
Is this the community God has set up for me to be a part of? I'm not sure... but I do know that I had to also ask myself, "Why am I not going to this church? I agree with all these things." Perhaps, then, it is where I am meant to be integrated. Perhaps I should just bite the lip of my fears and submerge myself in this body of brothers and sisters and allow myself to be a part of a new community... because as surely as I live and breathe, I do think that I am afraid to start fresh. But despite that fear I know I need and hunger for it. I know how essential it is for me to be connected because I cannot function fully--as being made in the image of God--without that community and those relationships.
We shall see, I suppose. Prayerfully, the Lord will push me in the direction I need to go. I need to be pushed, face forward, so that all of my hesitancy is lost to the wind.
... And with that in mind, it is time for me to go to sleep.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Consumable Quote
This is off of a Starbucks cup from a month ago. ... yes, I still have the cup; no, there wasn't anything in it. Yes, now that I have the quote written down somewhere, I will throw away the cup. In the mean time I wanted to share this because I thought it was neat.
The Way I See It #153
Is art entertainment?
Art teaches us about who we are.
Entertainment tells us who to be.
Art is a public service.
Entertainment is a private product.
Art opens our minds.
Entertainment thinks for you.
Art is publicly offered.
Entertainment is publicly traded.
Art is the words we wish to say, but lack the language to say it.
-Justin Dillon, from the band Tremolo
I'm checking out the band now, and I have to admit that I actually like it. Good job, Mr. Justin.
The Way I See It #153
Is art entertainment?
Art teaches us about who we are.
Entertainment tells us who to be.
Art is a public service.
Entertainment is a private product.
Art opens our minds.
Entertainment thinks for you.
Art is publicly offered.
Entertainment is publicly traded.
Art is the words we wish to say, but lack the language to say it.
-Justin Dillon, from the band Tremolo
I'm checking out the band now, and I have to admit that I actually like it. Good job, Mr. Justin.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
The annoyance of sickness and sleep
At an undesirable hour of the night, I cough and sniffle and cough some more in ways that I am wholly unable to suppress. Trying to stifle the urge to cough more, I roll over on my side and attempt to bury my head into my pillow. No good; the stuffiness of my sinuses already inhibits breathing, so being nestled into a pillow is not exactly the best way to get oxygen. In frustration I turn over on my sid,e remaining uncomfortable in all sorts of ways and simply unable to settle. I breathe in and sigh—only to have my chest seize the opportunity to cough more. The nape of my neck is damp with sweat, yet to crawl out from beneath the covers would leave me cold and desiring warmth. This is not exactly the ideal situation when I want to get some rest.
I look at the clock. 3:13 AM. I’ve slept about six hours at this point, which is pretty routine for me, but I was hoping to sleep ten hours to knock out the sickness I’ve come to wrestle with. I attempt to sleep again, the coughing having subsided just long enough to trick me. Then, I’m stirred again with a very brief fit of coughing and the clock reads 3:45 AM. I stare into the darkness towards my ceiling, trying to hash out with God why I can’t sleep.
It started out harmless. All I had was a little bit of congestion, little bit of a scratchy throat… Now, four days later, it’s an all-out assault on my respiratory system with no prisoners taken: Cough, scratchy throat, stuffy ears, stuffy—and runny—nose. Headache. My insides feel squeamish, yet that could just be due to the fact that it’s so early in the morning and I’m not ready to be this awake. Clock now reads 5:18 AM. At least I’ve been able to kill some time on the computer, completing a poem, while trying to figure out why in the world God would have me awake at this, seemingly, ungodly hour. I’m still trying to figure it out.. In the mean time, coughing seems to have subsided… that’s a good sign, unless it’s trying to trick me all over again. Sickness can be so cruel in its teasing.
The Comissioned
Nestled individuals, settled and cozy
among the woodlands of glass and steel,
just within arm's reach
and close enough to feel its city-breath
and waiting for the harvest-
She stands before the unknown.
Near-sighted and fumbling through a saturated faith;
it's more than a fidgety feeling
when you're standing in the daybreak of twenty-three.
Longing to see the fires of glory,
red and yellow and white hues
bringing to light all that isn't seen by men--
As though gripped by the innards
by something that won't relent...
In the same manner as the purple, velvety richness of night
when punctured by a million stars and satellites
Captured by a beauty held east to west,
and setting her hands to eclipse her face,
she is brought to nothing.
Cacooned in God's grace
being made perfect, holy, and pure
for the day his face will be seen -
perfect and holy and pure -
He sees colors so fantastic
which have never graced mankind.
She sees fruits and grains desperate for harvest,
heavy for more than just the field they stand in,
bowed with burdens unseen, unheard
Yet where are the harvesters?
Do they wonder what it must be like
to taste the colors that we have yet to know?
Do they ponder what it must have been like,
seeing now only an Eden shrouded in fog?
Hearts aching for a day yet to be revealed,
and she hears their silent longing
She comes to serve, desirous of unblemished humility,
though struggling to spread wide her palms-
torn between faith and fear of the unknown
yet burdened for the sights and sounds of hallelujah
YB 07 3 4
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Mooshy-gooshy
Okay, so, I went to the IAM Conference this past weekend and I WILL write something about it at some point (if nothing else, at least post visual art that spawns out of the inspiration to ART), but I also got to visit with Scott for a couple of days. So this is what happened...
Inspiration for creativity + God's awesomeness + Scott = Motivation for creativity + explosion of endearment
I try to keep math simple. I'm sure there are a number of other factors I could toss in there, but this isn't about mathematics. This is about poetry. Enjoy.
Proximate
No TV sound or ambience,
you woman, young man,
sitting in liberating silence-
a quiet scarcely breached
save for calm, regulated sleepy breathing
Forehead to forehead,
his nose neighboring her own,
and palms cradling cheeks.
Yet, even in this proximity,
lips never trespass what we've sworn,
strangers to each other
'lest wedding vows are spoken
And in this place, in this solace,
a peace grows between us
like a tender shoot young with life,
nurtured by the Son of David
and giving form to greater grace.
Gentle, tender, soothing
I feel no danger in this place
Who is this man,
mirroring through speckled imperfect glass,
the image of God?
Though incomparable with the face of Glory,
what a gift this is that I've recieved.
Hand cradling her cheek,
gentle strokes soothe her weary bones
The palm of the Spirit warms her
and she is captivated.
YB07 2 26
Inspiration for creativity + God's awesomeness + Scott = Motivation for creativity + explosion of endearment
I try to keep math simple. I'm sure there are a number of other factors I could toss in there, but this isn't about mathematics. This is about poetry. Enjoy.
Proximate
No TV sound or ambience,
you woman, young man,
sitting in liberating silence-
a quiet scarcely breached
save for calm, regulated sleepy breathing
Forehead to forehead,
his nose neighboring her own,
and palms cradling cheeks.
Yet, even in this proximity,
lips never trespass what we've sworn,
strangers to each other
'lest wedding vows are spoken
And in this place, in this solace,
a peace grows between us
like a tender shoot young with life,
nurtured by the Son of David
and giving form to greater grace.
Gentle, tender, soothing
I feel no danger in this place
Who is this man,
mirroring through speckled imperfect glass,
the image of God?
Though incomparable with the face of Glory,
what a gift this is that I've recieved.
Hand cradling her cheek,
gentle strokes soothe her weary bones
The palm of the Spirit warms her
and she is captivated.
YB07 2 26
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Look ahead towards March!
A WORK IN PROGRESS: Open Studios & Art Auction
Friday, March 23, 2007
At the Church Studios at Olivet Covenant Presbyterian Church,
22nd and Mt. Vernon Streets
Silent Auction of original works, affordably priced,
as well as gift certificates to local cultural events
Preview at 7:00, Bidding from 7:30-9:30
Complimentary hors d’oeuvres. Limited, free onsite parking
Proceeds benefit the Church Studios and the CCO
The CCO partners with colleges, churches and organizations to develop
men and women who live out their Christian faith in every area of life.
Info: Rebecca Wainwright, rwainwright@ccojubilee.org, 215.232.8393
transforming college students to transform the world
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Crowded
For those of you folks who don't know, I highly enjoy the David Crowder band. Their music is fantastic. I've been listening to Can You Hear Us several times over the past two days, which runs with my habit of listening constantly to the other CDs of theirs that I have, and I think I've come to a conclusion: David Crowder is my favorite band. This is profound because, if you don't know, I've always had a hard time nailing down ONE band as a favorite... and while all those other bands I ever list are also my favorite bands, I think it's safe for me to say that I have one that sits above them all -- and that's pretty much judging it by how often I listen to my CDs. They're starting to get beat up from me listening to them so much (thank goodness I have them saved on my computer now!). If nothing else, David Crowder is my favorite declared-Christian-band.
Anyway. That's a tangent thought. I actually just wanted to share lyrics that aren't by David Crowder, but it's a song he did a rendition of that particularly gripped me yesterday as I was driving back to Philadelphia in the morning, even though I've heard it many times before.... I first heard it by Delirious? , and it grabbed me back then too.
And then some that actually are David Crowder:
Anyway. That's a tangent thought. I actually just wanted to share lyrics that aren't by David Crowder, but it's a song he did a rendition of that particularly gripped me yesterday as I was driving back to Philadelphia in the morning, even though I've heard it many times before.... I first heard it by Delirious? , and it grabbed me back then too.
What can I do with my obsession?
With the things I cannot see
Is there madness in my being?
Is it wind that blows the trees?
Sometimes you're further than the moon
Sometimes you're closer than my skin
And you surround me like a winter fog
You've come and burned me with a kiss
And my heart burns for you
And my heart burns
And I'm so filthy with my sin
I carry pride like a disease
You know I'm stubborn God and I'm longing
to be close
You burn me deeper than I know
I feel lonely without hope
I feel desperate without vision
You wrap around me like a winter coat
You come and free me like a bird
And my heart burns for you
And my heart burns for youAnd then some that actually are David Crowder:
I need words
As wide as sky
I need language wide as
This longing inside
And I need a voice
Bigger than mine
And I need a song to sing you
That I've yet to find
I need you, oh
I need you
I need you, oh
I need you
To be here now
To be here now
To here me now
To here me now
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Retracing steps
I've been thinking a lot about my last post involving art and how jaded I seem to be against stereotypical 'Christian art.' Truth is, I'm pretty jaded against anything I precieve as overtly cute, idealistic, or utopian in nature that is purposed to be taken seriously.
Granted, let it be known that I've had my fair share of your stereotypical Christian art come out of my hands (with scripture scrawled, etc), and you can see plenty of examples of it at my DA art pile --> pandalemur.deviantart.com. The difference I'm trying to make is that I've been learning not to take those drawings and whatnot seriously. They aren't drawings I have any desire to be put into a gallery or in any sort of setting like that, but rather they are gifts to Christian friends and they can do whatever they want with them. Nevermind that sometimes I even annoy myself with that.
I suppose the use of crosses and icthuses in contemporary Christian art -- that is, the kind you see in bookstores -- is annoying to me because I feel like the theological and historical (respectively) meaning of each symbol is dumbed down or not even thought about. The cross is the place of suffering so we could have life, and I can't take a pink cross with little flowers as that... and the icthus could've been considered a secret-society symbol, so Christians could identify each other silently, and now it's all over the place like a tool of commercialism. Perhaps that's just the thing: I'm annoyed by the way half of American Christianity has become so commercial and consumeristic.
I will say one thing about some decorative art, "christian" or otherwise: I can give some credit to the skill they implement when painting. There is plenty of cottage paintings and eagle paintings that are infinitely better than anything I can do, but that's because it's not the kind of art I do. I have a hard time making things look remotely photographic. The skill and patience to do that is amazing; but this stands for any sort of art, not just those cottage-eagle-Christian paintings found in bookstores.
As for the mysterious stuff I was talking about, I realize not all art has to be mysterious in nature........ perhaps that's my head overflowing and giving fodder to my own ideas and mode of creating. As I was thinking about it the other day, I realized that opinion is heavily reflected in my own art; that there is suffering and I think the suffering should be represented but also weaved with beauty, hope, and redemption. I play with the ideas of bondage and freedom quite a bit (and this I didn't realize until a year ago, when my professor pointed it out to me). The idea of suffering as necessary for growth and life is an idea that grips my bones, convincing me that it is equally necessary to acknowledge that dynamic. True, that while although not everything in the world is beautiful all the time, there certainly are beautiful things in the world that deserve recognition - and as a follower of Christ, it's those things my mind is meant to dwell on. Yet I would not know what the truly beautiful things were if I did not also acknowledge what the ugly things were. I need to know what is bad to appreciate that which is good.
But anyway.
Now that I've explained myself and expounded on my thoughts a little bit, it's time to get lunch.
Y
Granted, let it be known that I've had my fair share of your stereotypical Christian art come out of my hands (with scripture scrawled, etc), and you can see plenty of examples of it at my DA art pile --> pandalemur.deviantart.com. The difference I'm trying to make is that I've been learning not to take those drawings and whatnot seriously. They aren't drawings I have any desire to be put into a gallery or in any sort of setting like that, but rather they are gifts to Christian friends and they can do whatever they want with them. Nevermind that sometimes I even annoy myself with that.
I suppose the use of crosses and icthuses in contemporary Christian art -- that is, the kind you see in bookstores -- is annoying to me because I feel like the theological and historical (respectively) meaning of each symbol is dumbed down or not even thought about. The cross is the place of suffering so we could have life, and I can't take a pink cross with little flowers as that... and the icthus could've been considered a secret-society symbol, so Christians could identify each other silently, and now it's all over the place like a tool of commercialism. Perhaps that's just the thing: I'm annoyed by the way half of American Christianity has become so commercial and consumeristic.
I will say one thing about some decorative art, "christian" or otherwise: I can give some credit to the skill they implement when painting. There is plenty of cottage paintings and eagle paintings that are infinitely better than anything I can do, but that's because it's not the kind of art I do. I have a hard time making things look remotely photographic. The skill and patience to do that is amazing; but this stands for any sort of art, not just those cottage-eagle-Christian paintings found in bookstores.
As for the mysterious stuff I was talking about, I realize not all art has to be mysterious in nature........ perhaps that's my head overflowing and giving fodder to my own ideas and mode of creating. As I was thinking about it the other day, I realized that opinion is heavily reflected in my own art; that there is suffering and I think the suffering should be represented but also weaved with beauty, hope, and redemption. I play with the ideas of bondage and freedom quite a bit (and this I didn't realize until a year ago, when my professor pointed it out to me). The idea of suffering as necessary for growth and life is an idea that grips my bones, convincing me that it is equally necessary to acknowledge that dynamic. True, that while although not everything in the world is beautiful all the time, there certainly are beautiful things in the world that deserve recognition - and as a follower of Christ, it's those things my mind is meant to dwell on. Yet I would not know what the truly beautiful things were if I did not also acknowledge what the ugly things were. I need to know what is bad to appreciate that which is good.
But anyway.
Now that I've explained myself and expounded on my thoughts a little bit, it's time to get lunch.
Y
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