Act of Faith

I've been inspired by this wintery gift-giving season, so for this project, I knew I wanted to give something away.

I decided to create prints from a series I've been working on over the semester called "Like the Moon."

This unfinished series is my exploration of how the moon might be related to the human experience given to us by God. Though I am still learning so much about this topic, I realized that the images I've been creating might have the potential to bless, challenge, and affirm others.

I am learning that like the moon, we mysteriously exist with intrinsic value. 

On the front and back of each print, I wrote generalized notes -- things I hope people know, affirmation, or words I wish had been spoken to me. The notes ranged from single sentences to multiple paragraphs, but the point made on each was this:

You are loved. You have intrinsic value.

After writing dozens of notes on my prints, I braved the rain to stick them around downtown Newberg. My goal was to place them around inconspicuously, so as not to create a display or scene, but still so they'd be found and read soon. 

I had a lot of fun with this idea. I felt like a sneaky Christmas elf leaving unexpected presents for strangers. 

After spreading the prints/notes around, I realized that what I'd done was so much easier than I'd expected it to be. For some reason, I'd anticipated such a hassle. However, though the process was somewhat time consuming, it really energized me. This type of gentle evangelism helped me to see that my relationship with art + faith does not need to be loudly proclaimed from my lips, but can be shared through simple, quiet actions. I was reminded that doing is more important than talking, and I feel encouraged to continue. 

I must admit I'm nervous that these pieces will be ignored, left unread, tossed out, or not received well. I suppose that's the bummer about doing things in secret -- there's no guarantee for feedback. However, I think there's something beautiful about not knowing what will happen. 

I plan to continue this project sporadically for a long, long time. The process of making my work so tangible and accessible is invigorating, and I have learned that this is what I want with my faith, too. 

I guess sometimes I need to let the most complex topics rest and be simple.

An example of one of the longer notes (excuse my language): "Forgive me if I seem like another Christian shoving gooey Jesus words down your throat, but consider hearing me out this time. . .I get it. God seems weird, prayer is uncomfortable, and church is often too touchy-feely if not condemning and/or judgmental (or just plain boring). I've experienced shit and I'll admit to you that I've questioned if GOd is some made up Bologna, or the real deal. Take it or leave it, all the God + Jesus stuff, but please hold on tho this. No matter what you've done, where you've been, what secrets you keep, or what insecurities you live with -- YOU ARE LOVED. You are worth more than anything you could think of -- regardless of your appearance, performance, possessions, interests, habits, or relationships. Maybe the world makes you feel empty, inadequate, or useless for whatever reasons, but please know that these are lies. I don't care if you're a slut, racist, druggie, shopaholic, Bible thumper, douche bag, toolbox, thief, idiot, lazy butt, or whatever you think you are -- YOU HAVE INTRINSIC VALUE. And forgive the haters, they've got their own crap to deal with." 

Identity

Identity: Mihaela Ivanovae 

As I was making my list of "identifiers" in class today, I noticed I was hesitant to write down anything that'd end up circled (circled words = malleable traits/qualities). I've long wrestled with the relationship between my core + my surface, and this exercise revealed that my battle is not yet over. However, I realized something freeing in this process. The three words I did end up circling were "photographer," "painter," and "potter;" yet I did not circle artist.

I have interacted with these mediums on varying levels + for different lengths of time, yet they have each taught me so much. I've been inspired, challenged, encouraged, and delighted by them. Though I love these mediums, I don't necessarily feel married to them. "Artist," on the other hand, is an identifier I've always known to be permanent. I think I can marry that one -- no matter what season I'm in, I'll always be an artist of some sort. But no matter how much I dive into the mediums of photographer/painting/pottery, something in me isn't ready to say that's all I'll ever do. As an artist, I want to allow myself to go through phases and welcome the unknown.

Self Discovery: Three Rivers Deep

By Bobby Neel Adams

That being said, I think the way I live is a crucial identifier, too. The book mentions how it is often difficult to blend Christianity + art, so instead we begin to live in several subcultures. As I verbalized this reality, I saw how this makes sense. It's easier; it's simple. However, I don't think this is how I want to live. Since I left "Christian" and "artist" both un-circled on my list, shouldn't I let them harmoniously make up my identity?

The three images I've added into this post are images that I've admired + resonated with in various ways for about a year now. Each of them is somehow about identity/self discovery. Something I find particularly beautiful about these is the way they each capture layers of the human experience in one cohesive stand-alone images. I want my identity to be something like these images -- layered with meaning, yet all-there as a many-dimensional piece.

Why We Need Artists

I guess it's a pretty good question, "Why do we need artists?"

It's hard to understand what the world would be like without art -- it seems so naturally integrated with everything in existence, that I could hardly blame someone for feeling as if it's not so prominent. It's like the way I imagine being a fish. If I lived underwater, I bet I wouldn't really think of everything as wet.

If I lived in Spongebob's house, I highly doubt I'd be constantly thinking about the water around me. On land, I'm never that aware that I'm dry until I get wet. 

According to the book, something about the nature of life has meaning. There's a reason we're alive; and if that reason isn't explicitly tangible (or describable), there's still the unavoidable reality of meaning. And apparently that's why artists exist. Because when something in life is meaningful, and can't necessarily be described in words, we can still create.

Because of this, I don't think art necessarily needs to be defined. If God created meaning in this world but left us without the words to fully express it, I think he's able to delight in a little bit of mystery. In fact, maybe art is good when it can't be defined. Art that can't be defined provokes thoughts, conversation, intrigue, or emotion -- which, even if that emotion is very negative, means something.

One of Benjamin Cohen's paintings, which is an example of art that makes me feel something different every time I see it. 

The book also says, "when you experience the meaning of something, you need to praise it" (122). I think artists exist because in some capacity they can do this in a way no one else can. I believe artists are born with gifts that enable them to communicate for themselves, but also perhaps for others. The fact that we all interpret one painting differently seems to be evidence for this.

(One final thought I'm still chewing on from this chapter is that each of us is a leaf, and that together we make up a lovely, leafy tree. I love this idea, and I'm still sorting out what my leaf might be. I'd love to hear about yours...)

Craftsmanship + Beauty

These two chapters have possibly been the most difficult for me to read so far. . .  Not because of the language or ideas, but because something about them just feels stingy to me. After reading this chunk, I felt like I'd just heard a really cheesy sermon from an ultra conservative pastor.

However, there are some key points that I did appreciate and agree with:

• "Before the Fall a standard was set for the skilled mastering of the. . .'stuff' of creation'" (125). 

When God made the world, he made it WELL. He didn't skimp out on anything, not even us. There was beauty all around, and that was good. When I think about this, I'm so captivated by the image of our untainted earth -- but also of the remnants leftover which sing with evidence of God's reality (ex. things like the way light shines through leaves, and the ways the human body operates). Because of this, I realize that as a Christian artist there are high standards set for the work I do. It's not that what I make must be perfect, but that as I create I should hold myself to a standard which seeks perfection (if I am seeking to be like God). I believe I am called to interact respectfully with the materials I have access to. Page 139 says, "With every gift comes the requirement to use it well." 

• ". . .the Bible only speaks of God creating, never people" (128). 

I have to wonder, can we actually create something -- or are we simply rearranging creation? Everything on this earth (manmade or natural) is a product of whatever God first left for us. 

Therefore, when I create something I believe I'm simply imitating the act of creation which God first invented. I have to remind myself that whatever spark of creativity or original idea I have is something to praise God for, because he is the reason that part of my life can exist. I owe him all my thanks because he allows me to create with that which he first created, by shaping and combining substances in various ways. McCleary says, that if we wish to mimic God, we must do things well and that, ". . .we might find guidance for our own 'creations' by looking at aspects of His'" (129).

Mudshark Studios, making art out of natural materials from the earth (clay)

• "Your work will only be as good as the art you have seen over and over" (136).

An image by Ansel Adams, a great photographer I admire.

This point struck me pretty hard. During my time at Fox, I've experienced repeatedly the push to be following + connecting with other artists as consistently as possible. At first, it just seemed like a hassel. However, as I got through various art history classes and started forming a list (a very long list now) of artists I admire from prehistoric through contemporary eras, I have realized that my ability to see and create art well has drastically improved. I am constantly inspired by the work of others, and I have learned so much through my observations (as well as practice, of course). I think that it's crucial to be engaging with other work. 

An image by Vivian Meier, a photographer whose work I consistently study

Finally, to avoid getting too lengthy in this post, I'll just list one of the reasons I felt this bit of reading was contrived. After all the advice within these chapters, I still found myself asking: What is beautiful? What is magnificent? I felt that the book has a narrow view of beauty, claiming that Christian art has a standard someone detached from reality. However, I don't think beauty is as simple as the authors explain it.

This may seem strange, but this place (pictured below) is what revives me most.

Vaughn Bay, feat. the dock at my childhood home. Photo taken by me, summer 2015. 

It looks lovely in this photo, but this dock is actually real rickety (to the point where it may not actually be safe to walk on), often covered in seagull poo, and sprouting with splinters. The water is muggy and swirls with boat oil in the mornings, and its construction was paid for with stolen money. However, it's my symbol. More than anything else, this dock embodies by greatest insecurity, truest joy, deepest regret, and strongest sense of identity. It's tainted with my extended family's strange history, but I absolutely adore it.

The thing is, it wasn't constructed well. It wasn't created by Christians, and I'm one of the few Christians who truly admires it. According to the book, I don't feel like the authors would be able to call it beautiful. But if I had to label one object on earth as beautiful, this might be it. So I guess I just feel a little unsettled, like I've been shut down by a close-minded evangelical or something. 

Artist Interview: Rachel Rudeen

I've always admired Rachel Rudeen, partly because we have so much in common -- we both resort to the mediums of photography and clay, and are/were both on the early graduation track at George Fox. Rudeen graduated from Fox in the winter of 2013. Though she's not too much further along in her art journey than I am, I thought it'd be interesting + encouraging to interview a Christian artist who directly understands my current season of life. After speaking with her, I felt inspired + grateful to be a part of this community and to be following a legacy like hers.

In our interview, I asked Rachel to discuss four topics: her art background, her art philosophy, what she hopes to say through her art, and living as a Christian artist in a secular world. Here's some of what she had to say...

Background: 
Rachel is the daughter of a creative woman who encouraged her children to play with their hands. As Rachel grew, she started attending a tiny school which only offered one art class -- her favorite class. She experimented with as many mediums as possible (drawing, painting, ceramics, batik, printmaking, etc). Unfortunately, during this season of life she felt that her limited exposure to more advanced classes would hinder her potential for success in college. She admitted it was largely due to the professors at Fox that her fears eventually subsided.

Art philosophy: 
There are two ideas that Rudeen holds close about art: that it can bring people together + enrich their interactions with each other; and that it can be translated into something which is accessible for everyone.

From Rudeen's Senior Show, "Marrow," which focused on creating community through clay. 

She said, "Community became very important to me while at Fox, and I believe art can truly foster and deepen community - whether through creating together, experiencing art together, or simply spending time with and learning from other artists." In our conversation, she emphasized her believe that communities lacking in art are missing something truly important. She believes that art can communicate in ways we can't otherwise -- it can speak "across cultures, challenge the status quo, and point to something greater than oneself."

An example of Rudeen's photography.

She also talked about how she feels that creating art is a way she can fulfill God's purpose for her. She believes we all were born with gifts we must foster. Since God is the ultimate creator and artist, Rudeen believes that we all have the capacity to be an artist of some form. Some of Rudeen's greatest role models (people she sees as "artists") are "great listeners, parents, teachers, and scientists. These people lead their lives with integrity and honesty, they have discovered their talents, and they actively practice and improve those talents to make an impact in the lives around them."

What she hopes to say with her art: 
Rudeen longs for her work to bring about action. She believes deeply in the ability art has to foster community, and that's what she seeks with her own creations. She said, "I want my ceramics to bring people together and enrich events that may otherwise be considered mundane. I try to create vessels that spark conversation, evoke contemplation, and ultimately deepen relationships." Similarly, what she loves about photography is the opportunity it presents to connect with people. She loves being a part of special moments in the lives of others, and takes joy in documenting those seasons. Aside from this, she admits that working with clay + cameras is simply something that allows her to escape and recover from her full-time office job. Ultimately, she said, "my art evolves around bringing people together!"

Rachel Rudeen Handcrafted Mug

Life as a Christian artist in a secular world: 
Rudeen currently works at KU, a large, secular university where she can interact with non-christian artists regularly. Despite her differing religious beliefs, she says she still finds joy in connecting with those she sees on a regular basis and she finds that she can often draw artistic inspiration from them. She said, "I try to have meaningful conversations with the graduate students in an effort to honestly get to know them, which I have come to value. There is so much I can learn from them, and I have taken the approach of trying to do so while staying true to my beliefs and keeping the integrity of my work.



Overall, I'm so thankful for this conversation with Rachel Rudeen. She is an alum who continues to inspire me by not only being a wonderful artist, but also a wonderful person.

Goodness

This first bit of It Was Good Making Art to the Glory of God  has challenged me to think freshly about goodness, and I'm feeling sort of excited about that. Over the course of the semester, I've found myself back and forth on my beliefs regarding art philosophy, so bear with me as I sway like a pendulum and try to sort out my thoughts once again. . .

During Art Talk this week, visiting artist Monika Meler shared an excerpt of a letter from Sol Lewitt to Eva Hesse. In the letter, Lewitt advises Hesse: 

"Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping... Stop it and just DO!... 

Letter from Sol Lewitt to Eva Hesse

Don't worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you - draw and paint your fear and anxiety... 

You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO! 

Try to do some BAD work - the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell - you are not responsible for the world - you are only responsible for your work - so DO IT. And don't think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea, or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be... 

I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty your mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that's that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I'm sure you know all that. You also must know that you don't have to justify your work - not even to yourself." 

What I love most about all this advice is how freeing it is. Lewitt suggests that there's something inherently GOOD in simply making - even without a plan or thought or audience in mind. What he ultimately admits is that making art is important, regardless of what it is. And that's an idea I think I can be on board with; but I have to admit I'm still feeling somewhat hesitant. . . 

In Exodus 31:1, the Lord calls Bezalel and Oholiab to become makers. Even in the second book of the Bible, making art is already important. It's a task God created, and therefore it is good to do.

But while it may be good to make for the sake of making alone, I tend to think there's something even more to strive for. Page 13 of It Was Good  says, ". . .with a God who finds nothing impossible, even an ass can be made to speak truth." 

It's that word, "truth," that I get hung up on. I believe that if God created this earth, then at the core of it it is GOOD. He created this world carefully + intentionally, adding intricacies and details we can hardly come close to understanding. But, thanks to the Fall, that goodness was + is easily tainted + bent when we let our sinful nature puts its spin on things. However, that doesn't mean that goodness no longer exists. It's that word "truth" that I think is key in all this. Perhaps, in order for something to be GOOD it must portray some truth(?).

Backing up to Lewitt again, I think there's truth in the goodness of making for the sake of making. And then speeding forward to Meler's own work, I think there's truth in the way she explores her Polish roots through printmaking:

Monika Meler: Pusto/Sucho diffused relief paint 

As the book suggests, "For those called to truly be imitators of the Creator. . . they need to be good, do good and make good" (17).

So if there's anything I know, it's that goodness is good. As a Jesus lover, goodness is something I should strive for in my morals and lifestyle and permeate into all of my aesthetic/artistic endeavors.

Sources:
It Was Good Making Art to the Glory of God
Sol Lewitt to Eva Hesse
Monika Meler: Gallery Shoal Creek

Grace and Necessity: Part IV

Whew, we made it! This dense, thought-provoking, and wordy book is finished, yet something in me still feels incomplete. As I think back about what this book has said + meant, I realize I have many simple unanswered questions swimming around in my brain. 

What is art? 

Is this art? 

Is this art?

What is good art? What is my responsibility as a Christian artist? 

Over the past few weeks, we’ve discussed various views about what makes art important + the reasons we create. I’ve been encouraged and inspired by the words we’ve thrown around + written down, yet I still feel that these topics are so enormously heavy that closing up my book + setting it back on the shelf doesn’t seem appropriate yet. 

Apparently to the Oxford English dictionary, art is "the expression or application of creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form... producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power." 

Georgia O'Keefe thought art is filling a space in a beautiful way. Georges Saurat thought art is harmony. Pablo Picasso said, "Art is a lie that makes us realize truth." 

And that's where I get stuck, too. When I ask myself these questions (listed above), I always come back to the same word: truth. 

Williams says, “But truthfulness unfolds - it doesn’t happen all at once - and makes possible different levels of appropriating or sharing in the activity that is the world” (137). 

In regards to art, this idea that truthfulness can grow or appear more clearly over time seems to invite a dialogue between art + viewer + artist. Imagining that threefold space helps me to see how there is something about the implicit ontology of art which is unavoidable. Art may not always come along with completed perceptions, definitive responses, or straightforward motives, but something about the fact that it simply exists is important. 

To me, that seems to hold some sort of truth. There’s intrinsic value in art, like there’s intrinsic value in us (God’s creation). This connector helps me to see the value of art, and therefore its potential goodness + truth. So while I still not be able to nail down what art actually is (where are the limits?), I do believe that good art is art which conveys some truth... 

However, I don’t think it just stops there. In class, we discussed the idea that an art-artist relationship is similar to a child-parent relationship. At some point after creating + developing, the art (like a child) must be let go. The artist must release it into the world and stop watching over it as carefully as they once did. The art must be free to interact with viewers, and to create conversations and experiences that the artist may not have control over or even be involved in. Basically, art must be allowed to live. 

After thinking about this idea a bit, I realized that maybe good art is art which lives well - meaning that once it is let go, it enters into those conversations and experiences in a way which conveys truth. Whether that truth means it encourages, inspires, informs, questions, or suggests, I believe that’s what makes it important or good. 

Here is a list of some of my other final thoughts: 

• Things are not only what they are. Art is not only what it is. 
• We must interact with our natural (and quiet) inclinations. 
• Art can be an outlet for fulfilling divine needs. 
• We are capable of remaking bits of the world with self-sacrificial love. 
• Through creating, we can discover our own unfinishedness. 
• Like God created us because he loves us, we are free to create art because we love it. 
• Integrity is key. 

Sources:

Images: The Guardian

Mental Floss: 27 Responses to the Question "What is art?" 

Oxford English Dictionary 

Grace + Necessity: Part III

Attempting to translate Rowan Williams to English, Round 3. Here we go.

To start, I must admit that I love the way Williams describes his ideas about art in comparison to Flannery O'Connor's fictional stories. O'Connor has always been a literary crush of mine, largely because of the way she never seems to hide bits of the truth from her readers. Her stories are often creepy or at least uncomfortable to read, but there's something warm about them. They're honest. They're real. And even though they are at times disturbing, I find them beautiful.

It's this sense of reality within O'Connor's stories that I love + long for -- and this doesn't change when it comes to art. I love Williams' idea that "...what matters is the search for the internal necessity of a work" (97). I had to read this line over and over because something about it just seemed so right, but also so vulnerable. There's a purpose in what we do. There's substance behind surface, a sense of life in something that is created + shared.

Take two minutes to watch this video: Ralph Winter on Flannery O'Connor

Ralph Winters suggests that Flannery O'Connor's words are fundamentally at odds with our cultural Christianity. The cynical elements she includes in her stories are bold; they don't fit into the prettily-wrapped Gospel-holding package that we wish to maintain. However, Winters says, "If you're truthful and honest and skillful, those stories can last a very, very long time." O'Connor's words do this; they introduce meaning to this cynical world. Through narrative, they expose truth. According to Williams, "The truth creates its own form" (98).

But what does that mean? Does art always convey some truth (even something insignificant), or is truth something more-so to strive for? I'd like to think that it always does, but that like nearly anything else, the authenticity and intentionality behind it is a great determiner in its overall impact and importance... (maybe?).

According to Williams, "... the event that disrupts and questions and changes the world is precisely what obliges the artist not to try to recreate it from scratch." We don't need to distort reality in order to make things more beautiful, just as Christ is not someone/something we have to sell. Goodness can be found within the truth, because the truth inherently is good (despite what it may entail). I'm starting to think that no matter what the truth is, we don't necessarily have to be afraid of it.

Sources:

Flannery O'Connor Sketch: The Gospel Coalition: Kathleen Neilson

Grace and Necessity: Rowan Williams

Vimeo: Ralph Winter on Flannery O'Connor

Grace + Necessity: Part II

When I think of the chalice + bread, it's easier for me to understand the power of a symbol. Though I know that these substances I intake are simply bread + juice or crackers + wine, I also believe in a mystical relationship between myself, these substances, and Christ. Though these are just small tidbits, I am reminded of something infinitely greater than myself, of grace and love, of repentance, and of Jesus' sacrifice for me. So when Williams talks about "transubstantiation," this thought process helps me understand how it can connect to art... 

Like the chalice + bread, art can somehow meet our needs. Christ can be present in art, speak through art, move through art, and celebrate the art which comes from His own creations.

Reading through Grace and Necessity is causing me to question my relationship with + beliefs about art, but what's been sticking out to me most is that art is so much more than whatever it's surface looks like. Backing up to the basics, I first recognize my admiration for the simple substances I'm using as I create: cameras, paintbrushes, canvases, thread, pens, a pottery wheel. The ontology (I discovered this word in the book + hope I'm using it right...) of these materials delights me. Having these things in my hands, being able to play with them + admire them, and respecting their purposes is such a simple yet fulfilling emotion that I experience as an artist. Before they've even been used, I love the anticipation of working with my hands + using these tools to create something. Something about these supplies is like a weird, other type of transubstantiation for me -- like the chalice + bread, these are symbols that almost represent something magical or mystical.

Here are some images of materials I love to use, things which serve as symbols for the way I crave + need + cherish art.

Williams says, "human beings are those creatures who uniquely have the capacity and responsibility to uncover for one another the nature of the world in which sameness and otherness constantly flow into each other, and in which there is no final reading of a 'surface'..." (pages 82-83).

What I think he means by this is that we are not only able to reveal truth to one another, but we are called to do so. When "sameness and otherness" meet, we find the body of Christ with its individual and uniquely crafted facets working in unison. So despite whatever I create with whatever materials, I might fulfill my role as an artist if I portray some truth that humans hearts can connect to. 

After all, "Art is an uncovering of what is uniquely human" (82). 

As we create, we are blessed with the incredible freedom to make choices, to play, and to sing a song straight out of our hands and hearts that would otherwise find no words. Maybe we are meant to find some truth in the world (something beautiful or raw or real), and create the connection between that thing and our own hearts + souls.


ps. Here's the definition of ontology: 

• a branch of metaphysics concerned with the nature and relations of being
• a particular theory about the nature of being or the kinds of things that have existence

Sources:

Grace and Necessity: Reflections on Art and Love by Rowan Williams

Merriam Webster Online Dictionary

Personal Images (taken on my iPhone)

Grace + Necessity: Part I

I went to a new church this morning. As it generally goes, the congregation was given a few minutes to make introductions amongst ourselves. I turned around to be quickly greeted by a middle-aged woman eager to know the details of my college career. Upon hearing that I'll be graduating with a degree in Studio Art, she proceeded to encourage me towards grad school as soon as possible -- after all, to teach I'll need a Master's degree... I interrupted her... 

"Actually, I'll probably just be an artist." 

She awkwardly shifted her eyes around the room. Finally, she seemed to find some bit of relief. She proceeded to tell me about her artist friend who works on her "art hobby" because of her husband's great job, and about how I should really learn about drones (because apparently, artists who use drones are the ones who go far). 

"Maybe..." And I drank the rest of my coffee while she described her new boat. 

And I was thinking... (click to see)

As I drove home from the service, I was bummed by the degree of misinformation this woman had. My sadness wasn't really because of her, though, but due to my realization that the majority of my small world probably wonders the same thing. What the heck would one do with an art degree? 

I think Rowan Williams knows. The artist would make art. That's what he/she is called to do; that alone has intrinsic value. And because of that, whatever he/she creates also has intrinsic value. 

On page 15 of Grace and Necessity, Williams says "[the] artist as artist is not called on to love God or the world or humanity, but to love what he or she is doing." For me, that sentence sums up the majority of Part I's confusing verbiage. 

According to Williams (at least, I think...), honing our gifts + interests glorifies God! I think God delights in a math nerd celebrating the solution to an equation, a teacher being tickled by the progress of a student, a parent taking pride in their child, and certainly in an artist creating. 

But before I go babbling on further, watch this video: The Gap by Ira Glass

So good, right? (Thanks to Nicole for sharing this with me a year or two ago.) I hope you're all encouraged by this.

As the video admits, "For the first couple years that you're making stuff, what you're making isn't that good." But that's not where it ends. Makers are supposed to make (no matter what the results look like), and that alone is beautiful and will lead to even more beautiful things. If Williams were here to watch this with us, I think he'd agree. He claims that art which is created for the sole intent of being beautiful or making a difference in the world will simply fail to do so. It's ok to simply let art be art; it exists because it draws from reality, and reality exists because of God. If we love what we're doing, we're doing something right. 

I think that's pretty beautiful. 

Sources:

Williams, Rowan. Grace and Necessity: Reflections on Art and Love.  

Sax, Daniel. "The Gap by Ira Glass," Vimeo.

"First Day of Camp," giphy.com

Romanesque: Saint-Lazare Autun

                                                                                 

Also known as...  Autun Cathedral
Where is it?  Autun, France
What is it?  A Roman Catholic Cathedral + National Monument
When was it built?  Between 1120 - 1146 (Wow, it's old!) 

In the 11th + 12th centuries, a large number of pilgrims started traveling all over the place, which led to the development of new churches, cathedrals and monasteries. Monasteries in particular held enormous amounts of land, which resulted in political and economic power. This enabled them to make a revival of sculpture and ornamentation on Christian buildings. What all of these new religious structures shared were rounded arches, stone vaults, thick walls, and exterior relief sculptures. There were systems of stresses + buttressing, logical arches in the naves of churches, and lots of geometric shapes. Not only were these buildings well decorated, but they were also built quite large to accommodate for all the pilgrims coming to visit churches with sacred relics (Adams).

The elaborate decoration that became popular within Romanesque art is particularly evident at the Autun Cathedral.

Autun Cathedral, France

It was built when the Bishop of Autun requested its construction as a response to pilgrims headed to Santiago de Compostela. He hoped for it to house the relics of Lazarus + include sculptures that shared Christian ethics (which it did). It was believed that Lazarus sailed to Provence, became the Bishop of Marseilles, was martyred, and then his relics obtained by Autun.

The cathedral features elaborate sculptures by Gislebertus (such as acanthus leaf decoration -- see below "Flight into Egypt"). It is built in the shape of a Latin cross. An inscription in they tympanum says "Gislebertus hoc fecit," which means "Gislebertus made this" (Hayes).

Gislebertus' signature.

An example is the Flight into Egypt, which shows the Holy Family escaping King Herod's order for all boys younger than two to be killed.

 Flight into Egypt

This piece has a very detailed surface + lots of repeated curves (which is prominent in Romanesque art). It also features Christ as a homunculus ("little man"). While he is shown as the size of an infant, he is not babylike in other physical aspects nor in personality, which was a popular convention of Christian art at the time (Adams). The acanthus leaf decoration is particularly prominent in the upper left corner.

Another example is the tympanum of the cathedral, which pictures Christ at the Last Judgment. (A tympanum is the semi-circular wall space above an entrance.) In this image, Christ appears nearly weightless. *Gislbertus' acanthus leaf decoration is particularly visible here, too.

Tympanum at Autun: The Last Judgment 

In the 15th century, parts of the church were burnt in a fire and gothic features were added to the structure in place of what was lost. The sculptures were all still very Romanesque until canons in 1766 destroyed them. A large portion of it was then covered in plaster + painted over to look more contemporary. In 1837, a clergyman finally chipped the plaster away to rediscover the tympanum (Hayes).

What I find most interesting about this is that Christ's head wouldn't stop protruding from the plaster. 

Clergymen eventually became so fed up with Christ's unwillingness to be covered up, that they simply chopped his head off and gave it away. It wasn't until 1948 that it returned where it belongs. To me, this image is a convicting example of the way we tend to cover Christ up at times when he seems irrelevant. I have to give thanks at the fact that he wouldn't go away though, not even in sculpture form.


Sources:

Adams, Laurie. A History of Western Art. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2011. Print. 184-191.

Hayes, Holly. "Autun Cathedral." Sacred Destinations. N.p., 2011. Web. 13 Sept. 2015. <http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/autun-cathedral;.

"Autun Cathedral." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 21 Jun. 2015. Web. 13 Sept. 2013.
<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autun_Cathedral;.