Just What It Seems To Be

It is time to take a moment and acknowledge a fine line that must be walked when on a search for meaning - especially when one is exploring meaning in visual images. The simple truth is this: sometimes things are just what they seem to be. Sometimes there is not a deeper meaning implied in a composition or image or in the unique juxtaposition of objects. Sometimes, like the scratchboard image below of a band clamp, an image is just a visual interpretation or exploration of an object and serves no greater purpose.

I say this by no means to dissuade the search for connection, meaning and revelation in encounters with art. I say it instead as a call to mindfulness in those encounters. A mindfulness that brings awareness to what is presented - acknowledging it for what it is, gleaning from it what one may and letting it be simply what it is when a search for significant meaning and purpose seems fruitless.

Having said this I must also acknowledge that rarely will an image exist that is devoid of meaning or connection, even in some small way, for someone who encounters it. We are, after all, people living our lives from moment to moment carrying with us the infinite stories and experiences from each past moment which feed into each next moment creating context, connection and continuity. With all of those connections playing into each encounter it is very possible that someone may have a memory jarred by a seemingly benign image inducing an unexpected emotional response and there by imbuing that image with meaning.

Of course by now you can see why I call this is a fine line to walk - because even when something is created without intentionally implied meaning it is in the mysterious nature of art to reach out to us when we encounter it and stir within us memory, connection and meaning. In the opposite vein sometimes a piece of art, created with meaning in mind, does not move us but instead leaves us emotionally flat. We all bring different experiences into each encounter and what works in one moment for one person may not work for another but the moment remains valid for each just the same.

And so we must carry on searching for meaning where we can, encountering meaning when it sneaks up on us and letting meaning rest when things are just what they seem to be.

Band Clamp

Scratchboard

Found Collages

Collage as an artform is a unique and flexible medium. It allows independent images and forms to come together and create a new whole that is simultaneously derivative and original. Collage compositions can be abstract or literal; expressing emotion and feeling through color and form or sharing an idea or story through concrete representations. Collages can juxtapose the unlikeliest of images in unexpected ways to convey meaning or challenge assumptions. This open nature of collages makes them a powerful format for artistic expression and an intriguing medium for artistic encounters.

One of the most intriguing aspects of collages is their unexpected possibility. Almost anything can go into the creation of a collage and one never quite knows the full extent of what might be encountered when visually exploring a collage. This uninhibited potential makes the creation and visual consumption of collages a constant adventure.

Another unique aspect of collage is dimensionality. Because collage is a coming together of many separate pieces into a new whole there exists the opportunity for layering and overlapping in ways that create depth. Sometimes the collage creates an illusion of depth through thoughtful juxtaposition of elements, but in many cases collage creates a tangible physical depth through the layering of pieces on top of each other. This physical sense of depth is akin to our everyday experience of depth in the world. We take up space and we move in the spaces in between the things that surround us - we expect and innately understand depth because we live in constant dimensional encounter with the world around us.

In the opposite vein there are also times when the collage technique is used to flatten a sense of depth. This can be seen in the collapsing of space between two or more elements and a merger of those elements into a new relationship and composition. This ability of collage compositions to flatten space jars our visual sensibilities, challenging our expectations and encouraging us to look at the relationship between things in new ways.

I like to carry these lessons of collage with me into my encounters with the world as a reminder to constantly look at the elements of life around me and investigate how moments, events and even people overlap and relate to each other in creative and unexpected ways. I also enjoy being on the lookout for found collages - collages that exist independently of intentional creation but are instead elements that, when encountered as a whole, come together into a visually pleasing composition. Found collages are another method of keeping me engaged in constantly looking at the world around me in new ways, seeing things for what they are and what they may become when joined in relationship with their surrounding context.

Images - Found Collages

Photographs of Found Collages

Change of Seasons

It is Fall again in Maryland and the wind is turning cooler as the leaves begin to change. I love the fall, I always have. It is a season of in between, a slowing down of the long days of summer and a time of preparation for the upcoming winter nights.

In many ways my life is immune to the impact of seasons - I work indoors, on a computer, in a building in which the temperature is moderated to keep me cool in the summer and warm in the winter. My hands do not dig into the earth and feel the changes in texture as it cycles through seasonal life. My yearly schedule is even consistent without a school year type schedule to provide structure. Sometimes it scares me how disconnected I can live from nature - as I often find myself forgetting what season I am in or what season I am heading into or coming out of.

There is something about this disconnection from the seasonal cycles of nature that feels very unnatural, but I am comforted by fall. Fall calls me to attention, it brings me back to myself, reminding me of the fleeting nature of things and inspiring me to once again be aware; to take notice of the days of my life and to step lively into them with celebration of where I've come from, excitement about where I'm going and all the while being engaged in the present moment.

Fall does this for me through the slant of the sun which lights up the afternoon in a brilliance and warmth that is enhanced by and enhances the color of the changing leaves. Fall does this through the falling of leaves which reminds me of the impermanence of things, bringing a delightful crackling sound to my steps as I walk through them and making space for the new life that will burst forth after the restful dormancy of winter. Fall is simultaneously melancholy and hopeful and brings the warm glow of those emotions to life within me. Fall ushers in a cold season of dark evenings but it sends us off to meet winter in a blaze of color and possibility.

So I give thanks for yet another change of season that has once again brought fall to my front door. I give thanks for the reminder of the natural cycle of change, for those things which are coming to a close, those things which remain in full swing, and the potential of things yet to come. I give thanks for the beauty surrounding me and the fullness of life in this transitional moment.

The Color of Leaves

Fall Leaf Photographs

Contrast

The idea of contrast as an element of art is the juxtaposition of opposites - a stressing of differences between elements that provides a moment of interest. Contrast creates a spot that draws attention and in doing so it highlights the unique qualities of each of the contrasting elements. Contrast is also used to separate objects and to make something distinguishable against its surrounding environment.

Contrast is all about the dissimilarity of things. It is a celebration of differences with the intention of honoring and exposing the individuality of each of the contrasting elements. A celebration that is only made possible through relationship. Without connection, each element remains a unique entity of intrinsic value and independent character. Yet side by side, in relationship, contrast can re-define each element opening a new depth of understanding and experience.

Image: Calder

Pen & Colored Pencil

Composition Based on Jewelry Designed by Alexander Calder

That's Theological - Bug Bites

I have been working on a series of wood collages the past couple of weeks and last week it was finally time to begin painting them. Tuesday evening was the first rain free evening of the week so I took advantage of the opportunity to get outside and paint. I laid out a big sheet of paper on the ground, put the collages on top of the paper and began to apply the first layer of paint. I was only painting the backs of the collages in the first round so it didn't take very long to get them coated. As I came inside after moving them to the porch to dry for the rest of the evening, I began to feel stinging and itchy pain on my arms and feet. Upon investigation I found that I had been bitten by mosquitoes several times on both arms and once on each foot during my little outdoor adventure. Subtle swelling of the spots ensued and I quickly applied some aloe to cool the burning pain of the bites.

I immediately recognized the silliness of the situation. I should have known better than to paint outside, at dusk, on a summer evening without some sort of bug bite prevention in place. However, what had happened had already happened so there was nothing to be done but breathe through the immediacy of the pain, wait for it to subside, and make a mental note to avoid such a situation in the future. In fact, I did more than just make a mental note about it - I posted a status update on Facebook about it stating "the next time I get the bright idea to paint outside at dusk on a summer evening - please remind me that bugs bite." I guess I figured that actually writing it down and putting my experience out there in the virtual world might help me remember the painful reality of the moment and assist me in my vow to not repeat such an event.

Time passed and the stinging and swelling subsided and all of a sudden it was Friday evening and I found myself with some free time to fill. It was a nice evening again so I thought to myself that I really should get a layer of paint on the front of the collages. So outside I went and laid out a big sheet of paper and placed the collages on top of it and began to apply the first coat of paint to the front of the collages. I was half way through coating the second collage when I felt the itchiness start and the realization dawned on me that I was painting outside, at dusk, on a summer evening and I reminded myself - oh yeah - bugs bite. Fifteen bites later, the collages were resting on the porch to dry for the evening and I was, once again, inside applying the cooling salve of aloe to my burning and itching arms.

What is it about the human brain that allows us to have experiences, learn lessons from those experiences and yet still allows us to venture into the same setup again when we know full well that the outcome may be quite painful? Is it a desire to test the nature of things, is it an innate sense of arrogance challenging us to prove that what we know should happen will not occur just because we do not want it to? Maybe it is an underlying acceptance of pain as an interwoven aspect of life and our previous experiences with pain have taught us that with time comes the easing of pain and eventual healing. Or perhaps it is simply a lack of attention to intention as we move through the moments of life.

It was certainly not my intention to hurt myself by going outside to paint on Friday evening, I was distracted by the task at hand and did not even think to take a moment to be attentive to the entirety of the situation. This lack of attention to the whole very often leads to complex and sometimes messy situations. Awareness of the larger context of any given situation can provide insight into the intricacies of actions, interactions, and reactions that may occur. Such insights allow space for the understanding of motivations and situations that, without a willingness to be tuned in to the big picture, may be overwhelming, confusing, or discomforting.

Contextual attentiveness offers us an opportunity to enter into situations with an understanding spirit and, if needed, the proper equipment necessary for a positive and engaging outcome. That being said, I am also fully aware that it remains impossible for the human brain to have a complete understanding of the whole of any context regardless of our intentions. We simply do not have access to every bit of information that is necessary in any given situation to have a complete understanding. There are so many variables at play in the equation of each moment that it is almost surprising that we come through so well, so often.

Here enters grace. Grace which knows that which we do not know and intervenes even when we are unaware of the assistance we receive. Grace cushions our humanity and empowers us to encounter each experience in open fullness. Grace is not a magic wand that makes all things as we wish them to be, it does not always act to prevent pain or complexity, nor does the presence of grace relieve us of our responsibility to be attentive and aware of that which we can grasp and act on in any situation. Yet grace continues to be present, filling in the gaps of our human knowledge and sorting out far more than forgotten bug spray.

So, here I sit with the remnants of bug bites on my arms reminding me to be thankful for the Grace which constantly surrounds and inconspicuously intercedes in so many moments of life.

Bug Bites - That's Theological.

Courthouse I

Pen and Colored Pencil

Found in the Scrap

I have been working on an acrylic painting over the last couple of weeks. To be honest I have not made a painting in a while but it has been fun to once again stand before a large canvas and smear paint around in the adventure of making art. When I started this particular painting I had a rough idea of a composition that I wanted to use but was unsure of details. Being a firm believer in the artistic process I jumped in and shploped (yes that is a technical term) paint around the edge of the canvas to take away any potential for blank page stage fright. This was the first of several layers of paint to be applied to the piece over the next couple of days.

After three days of use I decided it was time for a fresh pallet surface. I had been using pallet paper so all this required was tearing off the used sheet and a fresh sheet would be available. However as I tore off the surface sheet I saw in the midst of the crust of smears a nice little patch of paint that, to me, appeared to resemble an abstracted building - a villa of sorts with a roof and windows rising out of a streak of paint on the pallet. The image pleased me and I decided to save the scrap as a reminder of something to attempt again, on purpose, in a later piece.

I have posted the scrap image below and you may or may not see the building that I see in the smear of paint just as you might or might not take joy from the lines and color as I do. Either way I offer up this little scrap as a reminder to keep your eyes open in all arenas of life so that whenever a small moment of unexpected beauty or insight presents itself you are able to catch a glimpse of it.

Pallet Villa

Acrylic

Picture Imperfect

When I make a piece of visual art and I think I have reached a finished point I step back and take a long look. As I see the piece as its own unique entity for the first time I begin to notice the way each stage of the work plays into the work as a whole. I also take note of the areas of the composition that seem to stick out - either in a healthy and fun way or in an odd and distracting manner which cry out for additional attention before the work can actually be considered done. This critical eye serves to check the piece and see if it passes the unspoken standards I set for myself as an artist of what I expect of a work that I am ready to share with others as part of my visual voice.

One of the challenges I run into in the process is the comparison of my work to the imagery that saturates the culture around me as a test of quality. Much of the imagery that I see daily is digital imagery – created with a base photograph or images and compositions developed on a computer. Digital imagery has the ability to be crisp and clean and picture perfect. While media images are not specifically art, they do build a visual reference point for comparison and set a certain threshold of expectation for viewers.

Handmade art can be, but is not always, visually crisp and clean. Very often the lines of my art are fuzzy and wobbly and the shapes are more indicative of the objects they are representing versus explicit reproductions. This is one of the gifts of visual art – the space for interpretation and an imbued sense of feeling. Yet it is also a challenge in confidence when comparing the visual images I make to digital and printed imagery. I am not a machine, and I celebrate that fact, but sometimes my brain forgets to maintain that distinction and tries to critique my art from a mechanical standpoint. In these moments of comparison I tend to linger on the moments of imperfection in my pieces and sometimes have a hard time seeing the work in the light of its unique authenticity.

Last weekend I was digging through piles of scrap wood in my Dad’s workshop in search of materials for some wood collages. I came across a small chunk of wood that had two holes bored into it – one formed a perfect circle and the other circle fell off the edge of the piece – I let out a squeak of delight and said “look at how beautiful this is”. My Dad and partner just looked at me and laughed at how excited I was at the botched elements on a chunk of wood. “If its holes you want – I have more stuff over here” my Dad said and brought over a stack of wooden circles full of holes and lines grooved into the surface. In that moment I was reminded of the power and potential of imperfection. In no way was I stifled and deflated by the lack of crispness and rigidity that would exist in the result of using these scraps in a collage. Instead, I was elated by the imperfections and I was on the lookout for them, excited about the unexpected beauty and character that each ding, dent, and scrape on a piece of wood might offer the resulting collaged composition.

While I value and believe that critique is a necessary part of creating and encountering visual art, I am also learning to be gentle and gracious with that process. I am seeking to be open to each piece as a whole and to enjoy it in its own uniqueness instead of getting bogged down in the infinite critical suggestions of what it might have been. I will continue to celebrate the human touch that is evident in handmade imagery and challenge myself to be mindful that areas of images that hint of imperfection may actually be the perfect elements of interest and beauty.

Cutout I

Paper Cutout

Constant Calder

Upon entering the Minneapolis Institute of the Arts on a typical Wednesday morning and making my way through the sea of school children gathering in tour groups in the lobby a tug on the heavy glass doors opens a path into semi-silence. Entrance guards smile a greeting as I pass them and head for the stairs. After climbing the first several steps I am in the belly of the building, a courtyard area with open space that rises three stories above my head. I look up and am delighted to see a mobile by Alexander Calder drifting quietly in the open space of the upper stories. Here is an artist I have long been fascinated with, his bold use of primary colors, inventive playfulness, and the peace and joy I find whenever I encounter his work. The constantly morphing shapes of his mobile compositions call viewers to pause and notice the significance and potential impact of even the mundane moments of life.

Making my way up the stairs to the second floor, my eyes stay on the piece as much as possible. I watch as it dances through the air, a black-monochrome mobile, it is enormous and yet it floats on the slightest breeze. On the far side of the courtyard opening there are some benches with viewing access to the Calder. I find one that offers a good view and sit down to spend some time with the work of silent beauty hanging in the midst of so much noise both visual and audio.

A school group stops to look at the Calder, more of them interested in looking down on visitors still making their way into the inner sanctuary of the museum than looking at the piece silently drifting in space. The guide starts to inform the kids about the sculpture. “This is a piece by Alexander Calder…,” she continues with biographical details that most of the kids miss, their eyes glazed over from boredom. To draw them in, she asks questions. “What would happen if a person blew really hard on this piece of art?” Slowly the kids’ attentions are grabbed as they start to investigate. “It would spin!” One of them suggests. “Right,” affirms the guide, “and what is that called when a sculpture can move with the wind?” “A Mobile!” The kids cry out and again she praises them. At this point all eyes are tracing the black pieces as they cut through the air. The guide continues. “Many people see the morphing shapes as leaves, plants”-“hands, lily pads!” the kids jump in with their offering of what they see. “Perhaps,” suggests the guide, “but Calder was probably thinking of the ocean, fish, and the way things move in the water when he made this. He named this piece “Ahab” after the mean captain of the ship in the story of Moby Dick. Perhaps he was thinking of the waves, or a whale.” The group pauses for a moment taking in the sculpture with newly found respect and awe. “Alright,” quips the guide, “let’s go around the corner and look at another piece.” With that the attention to the Calder is gone and the kids bustle off around the corner and out of sight.

I am left alone with the piece again. Well, as alone as one can get in the inner courtyard of a museum that contains the nonstop hustle and bustle of visitors traveling up and down the stairs of the three stories, and the service people cleaning glass walls and shifting around supplies in squeaky rolling carts. Yet somehow the Calder stands its ground as a pause in the busyness, a place of calm and resistance to the forces of constant movement encompassing it. Ironic in the sense that the Calder itself is never still, it too is constantly adrift on the tides of the air pushed around by the movement of bodies. At times it pauses for a moment to frame the visitors staring at it from the platform of the stairway, pausing to catch their breath and then, as the visitors continue the climb, the Calder too shifts from the wave of movement. We affect it and it, if we let it, affects us.

As I sit here observing the mobile, it has moved around 360 degrees and now faces me as a flat composition in the air. A moment later, it has shifted and again takes on 3 dimensional form. The flat black pieces of shaped metal are welded onto metal arms of differing lengths and weight that hang precariously from figure 8 shaped loops allowing for the maximum movement of each arm. The piece hangs in space suspended from the ceiling by a thick silver chord that blends, almost to disappearance, into the lighting vents as one looks up, letting the sculpture claim all the attention it can.

A mobile is one of the few forms of sculpture that shows off all sides of itself to the viewer as the view sits still, and yet also shifts as the viewer moves to different observation points around, above and below the piece. Moving around to the side of the piece more directly overlooking the courtyard, the Calder is silhouetted against a blank white wall. All visual distractions are peripheral from this vantage point either to the sides or below. The piece stills and rocks just slightly as if almost pretending to be painted on the white wall behind it for my viewing pleasure, but as another group climbs the stairs and shifts the air molecules the mobile reacts and is spinning again.

I stop a smiling security guard and ask him what he thinks of the Calder. He pauses for a moment and says, “I love it, it kind of blends in, so it’s easy to overlook, but it’s great. As a guard, it’s not something I have to worry about people touching because it’s isolated, so it doesn’t really get a lot of my attention, but it’s great.” He stammers on, “it has also been here for a very long time. Everything else is always changing, but this remains. You get used to it. But it is nice to be reminded of it and to draw attention to it again.” Leaving me to continue his rounds, I smile as I look at the piece and reflect on its nature as a permanent presence.

Enduring and yet ever changing, Ahab carries with it the reminder of what process theology calls the dipolar nature of God, classified as primordial nature and consequent nature. The primordial nature of God sends out possibilities of what each moment of existence might become taking into account the moments of the past and putting forth options for the future. The consequent nature of God takes in and is affected by each moment of existence after a decision has been made about what that moment will become. Each moment is an elegant interweaving of the suggestions of possibility offered by the primordial nature and the becoming of the consequent nature in response to the outcome of the previous moment. In these natures there is action and reaction, just as in Ahab, an action, such as a burst of air, is followed by a reaction as the sculpture moves it into a new composition.

The air system kicks on to circulate the museum air and Ahab begins to rock gently, side to side, and up and down. What a witness this piece of art is to the dynamic presence of God in the world and a model of what it is to be in relationship in a life of faith. It is constant, yet constantly moving in its interaction with the surrounding environment. Constructed of steel, welded in a specific formation, and balanced perfectly, it is as it was created to be. Each piece, the arms, the figure 8 hooks, the shapes, is essential to the whole, without even one the balance would be thrown and either the whole piece would need to be reconstructed, or some pieces would have to change to compensate for the missing member. Only with each specific piece in place as planned by its creator can the sculpture optimally function. In perfect balance and solid construction it gives and takes in interaction with the constantly changing world around it, affected by each movement of its surroundings and affecting those who are willing to take the time to get to know it. The Calder, in its almost methodical movement, is a still small voice calling out “pause and be still” in this world full of movement and distraction and take joy in the new composition that each moment brings.

Swirly Sketch

Brush Pen Sketch

Construction

Many of my friends can tell you that I have long had an underlying fascination with construction equipment. Some would guess that the roots of this subtle obsession go back to my first job out of high school when I worked as a Flagger for the Virginia Department of Transportation (VDOT) and spent the summer surrounded by dump trucks, steam rollers and the pungent smell of freshly laid blacktop. Others may think it has something to do with the fact that my Dad's family owned a building supply store in a northern Alberta town and that somehow an appreciation for the tools that make construction possible was genetically embedded in me. I myself cannot say for certain what the actual source of this interest in construction is but I can affirm that it has been (and continues to be) a rich source of perspective and life lessons for me.

Construction is the bringing together of many parts to form a functional whole, it is a process of transformation that involves the creation of one thing at the expense or deconstruction of something else. From a visual art perspective it is an act of collage making - at times on a grand scale. Construction takes planning, foresight, preparation, skill and energy. Stages of an active construction project can appear messy, destructive, and counter productive, but construction at its most basic is a process. It is a process through which all steps, in their own time and way, work in purpose for a common goal.

To bear witness to construction is to bear witness to the process of transformation. It offers insight into the challenges and joys of change. It offers awareness of the potential that independent objects/beings can have when used in conjunction with something else - along with the knowledge that those objects will no longer be solely what they were before becoming integrated into a construction. It is exciting, exhausting, energizing and bittersweet.

This week all of the roads that lead to our apartment complex are being stripped and resurfaced. Coming and going from our driveway is a unique experience each time we venture out or make our way home. Traffic patterns are constantly shifting along with the texture of the road upon which we drive. I, of course, love this - I love being near the big trucks, I love seeing the progression of deconstruction and reconstruction and the juxtaposition of the rough stripped portion of the road bumping up to the sections of completed fresh surface. I even kind of like being stopped in the middle of the road by a flagger to allow one of the dump trucks out to go pick up its next load. It is a reminder that things do not always operate on my schedule or under my control - a call to awareness of the things around me - to notice how they are at present, ponder what they have been in the past and to remain attentive as they become what they will in the ever ongoing construction and transformation of life.

Concrete Collage

Cut Photograph Collage

That's Theological - Spontaneous Love

A couple of months ago I found myself tucked in a library carrel sketching and writing while I was waiting for my partner, a Librarian, to finish a presentation. It was early evening and the sun was quickly beginning to drop as I sat in the quiet space and riffled through my papers. I was aware of other patrons making their way around the library that evening and was acutely aware of two that were looking at books in the stack one row away from where I was sitting. Their voices were soft as they chatted back and forth but I could discern that one was an adult female and the other a young boy.

The two were mostly reading the spines of the books that they were searching through and making small commentary on what they might find inside the book covers. They continued to talkatively peruse the shelves for a while together and then fell into a comfortable silence. I could hear the woman still shuffling through books but the boy seemed to have become restless with the process and was quietly pacing up and down the row. Several minutes passed with quiet rustling as I returned my attention to my own activities. I had almost forgotten their closeness to me when I heard the little boy's voice whisper "I love you." My ears perked up at his statement and it appeared he startled the woman he was with too because she loudly said "what?" and he said again - soft but definite - "I love you."

There, in the middle of a row of library books, something inside that child moved him to express his love for his mother in a totally unexpected and spontaneous outburst. His mother was generously reciprocal in her response to her son and to bear secret witness to that moment warmed my own heart unexpectedly. It was a gentle reminder that it is in the nature of the love that resides within us to move us to action in any moment - to offer that love as a gift to those around us - to speak it and make it known.

Spontaneous Love - That's Theological.

Red Collage II

Mixed Media Collage

Spectator Joy

Last week I attended a concert celebration in honor of Billie Holiday at the Pratt Library in Baltimore. Sitting in my auditorium chair before the performance I quietly twiddled my thumbs and people watched as the seats filled in around me. The crowd was in good spirits and the performers were doing some last minute planning up on stage. As one of the performers took up the microphone to offer introductions and get the celebration officially started the audience settled and was prepared for what was to come – some jazz duo music by a pianist and a drummer and then the singer would come out on stage to join in and sing in honor of Holiday.

As the singer left the stage, the pianist and drummer settled into comfortable positions for play. It only took one note from the piano and two beats of the drums for the spine tingling pulses of inspiration to start spreading through my whole body. I realized in that moment how long it had been since I had been to a live musical performance. Then the realization that I was sitting in the presence of a creative act filled me with comfort, hope, and energy. What a gift the two musicians were offering us by allowing us into their moment of artistic expression. This is a big difference between performance arts and visual arts – immediacy with the creative act itself.

Visual arts allow spectators to have an encounter with the outcome of a creative act – which can be a very powerful experience. But performances draw a spectator right into the moment of creation with the artist. This collaboration between artist and audience in a performance piece allows both parties to experience the mystery of the creative process in powerful ways. The artist’s experience feeds off of the creative act itself but also off of the energy and response of the audience. Similarly, the audience simultaneously encounters the product of the creative act offered by the artist while also getting a glimpse of the process.

The act of creation is a unique experience and to be offered a chance to witness and enter into the moment of creation with the performers opens us up to unexpected encounters. As I sat there, taking in the music, with my spine tingling and goose bumps down my arms I was transported out of the mundane and into the extraordinary. My spirit was awakened and I reveled in the joy of the artistic offering.

Red Collage I

Mixed Media Collage

That's Theological

A dear friend was in school with me during my first semester in Seminary and did much to help me transition into the world of theological studies. One of the key ingredients to that successful transition was insightful humor. Humor can be a grace-filled gift in many realms of life – but it was an essential aspect of those first few months of serious theological inquiry. Humor had a way of keeping us grounded in ironic reality when we were on the verge of being carried away by our newly acquired theological insights. Yet the grounding that humor provided was also a stepping stone to a broader awareness of the possibility of theological thinking.

In class one evening an excellent professor, in an attempt to assist us over the hurdle of learning to think theologically, began to list words and themes and after each one stated – “that’s theological”. Of course, the helpfulness of this phrase did not occur to my friend and me at the time, we instead took humor and delight in this phrase and carried it with us into our daily living. We would banter and in the middle of whatever we were talking about one of us would say with all seriousness – “that’s theological”. It provided joy without end when we would say it about the most mundane subjects which on first glance have no theological bearing at all – and it still brings a subtle smile to our lips today, years later, when one of us decides to throw it into conversation.

Humor kept the phrase ‘that’s theological’ at the forefront of my thinking about most things – which in turn opened me up to actually thinking theologically about unexpected subjects. I was no longer confined to just thinking theologically within the constraints of the more obvious theological topics but was instead allowed to approach any topic with an eye for theological relevance. I assume that this openness was what my professor was trying to offer us when she offered us the phrase ‘that’s theological’ and I am thankful that the intention of it finally sunk in – even if it was only through humor that I stuck with it long enough to begin to understand.

Humor – That’s Theological.

Pitcher & Cup

Scratchboard

Looking at Art

The term art encompasses many forms of expression – the written word, music, dance, performance and visual arts to name some of the broad categories. While I appreciate and am thankful for the unique offerings of each form of artistic expression the visual arts have been my main field of study and practice. Due to this history I am excited to encourage people to explore visual arts. Encounters with any form of art start with a willingness to participate and interact with that artwork. Meaningful participation can be informed and deepened through the use of simple observational skills. Observational skills are tools of awareness that can be applied in any setting and are ways of opening the door of interaction and understanding of how a piece of art is working to create its impact.

The tools of observation start very simply with a pause. Taking time to take in a piece of art is half the battle in both understanding a piece of art and giving the art a chance to communicate with you. So start by taking time. Take time to look at the piece as a whole, then divide it into sections in your mind and quickly scan each section of the piece. The first look, while benign in practice, immediately teaches you more about the piece. As you peruse the piece and take in what you see, do not yet critic it, just look. Start to pay attention to how your eyes move around the piece. Note the portions of the piece that cause you to linger and pay attention to where your eyes go when they start moving again. Noticing these moments is noticing the underlying composition of the piece. Composition is one of the foundational aspects of a piece of art. It is the structure of the piece, the organization that is created by the artist to keep your interest in moments of both active tension and balanced rest.

If it is a three dimensional piece take time to circle the entire piece taking it in from as many angles as possible. This is one of the objectives of three dimensional works, they are meant to be viewed from many different perspective points, each one offering a different feeling and composition. Likewise two-dimensional pieces also have many vantage points to explore. Even if you are not physically moving around the piece your eyes should take in as many different perspectives as possible. Other basic elements that work within the composition to create a piece of art and to communicate what the piece is about are things like – line, shape, texture, color, and balance. Within each of these groupings there are a multitude of sub-groupings. Lines, for instance, can be thick or thin, dark or light, solid or broken. They can lead in straight paths or be curvy – they can exist as their own element, or when connected they can become shapes. Shapes can be small or large, geometric or organic, simple or complex, and flat or dimensional in appearance. Taking note of these different elements – even simply naming them – helps better prepare you for the further search for understanding and meaning.


This process of taking time to look at piece of art and begining to note the different elements within the piece will set you on the journey towards a deeper understanding of the art itself. It will also offer the art a chance to impact you in the ways it was created to while opening the possibility to move you in ways that neither the artist, who originally created the work, nor you could predict. This is part of the power of art, if given the opportunity, to move you in unexpected ways. One of the best ways to start learning to look is to think of it as an adventure, a treasure hunt in which one isn’t sure what the treasure will be, or even if one will find what one set out to find, but will most certainly have encounters on the journey that will be worthwhile treasures in and of themselves. There is seriousness in artistic appreciation to be sure, but there is also adventure and a lot of fun if you open yourself up to looking.

Postmodern Visions I

Postmodern Vision: Isaiah 6:1 (pun intended)
Acrylic & Conte Crayon

Art Is

Art is. Art is a means through which ideas, emotions, lines, colors, stories, melodies, rhythms, and all of the other complexities and simplicities of life have an opportunity to come together. Art is expression, relationship, communication, distraction, influence, and play. Art can change the world in the micro and the macro. Art impacts those who create it, those who experience it, and those who avoid it. Art fills a void created when we focus on literal, tangible, mathematical and scientific explanations of the world we live in and the ways we inhabit that world. Yet art is not counter to the literal, tangible, mathematical and scientific explanations of this world, it is a companion that can partner with these methods of understanding to open up new ways of exploring and engaging this world.

Art is not necessary in the strictest definition of what is needed to sustain human life and yet it is an imperative if that human life is to grow into the fullness of existence that it has the potential to experience and become. Art is a tool to understand the world around us, the world hiding within our own persons and the web of relationships that creates the world in which we move and live out our daily living. Art can be weapon, unintentionally when used without thought and consideration for the context in which it is created and shared, and intentionally when it is used to perpetuate ideals that violate and degrade. This potential of art should not prevent us from embracing art as a whole, instead it is a reminder that in all things there is a potential for violence and suffering and without acknowledgment of that potential, the potential for good can not be fully engaged.

Art offers us a voice, a method of expression when words, calculations and suppositions fall short of satisfactory explanations of that which makes up our experiences. Art is a balm for wounds so deep that hope of healing is only a distant glimmer. Art is a prophetic voice in times of drought calling the waters of change down from the mountain and up from the depths. Art is joy, laughter and tears made manifest in ambiguity so as to offer a unique experience to each participant in each moment of encounter.

These are reasons that I say art is. Very often one of the key questions of art appreciation is “what is art?” and while I explore what is art, I believe the most effective way to engage, explore, and grasp all that art has, will, and can offer is to start with the certainty that art is.

From the Toolbox III: Taking Measure

Colored Pencil & Image Transfer on Mylar

Art & Theology: Where the Two Meet

One of the primary purposes of this blog is to house a forum for thoughts and explorations in the combined field of art and theology. While the independent fields of art and theology each offer volumes of information and insight in and of themselves, the combination of the two offers a chance to look at each with renewed vision.

Art can expose us to new ways of appreciating and engaging the world around us and offers a unique outlet for the expression of those encounters. The creation of art can be a holistic process of unexpected insight, connection, and healing for the artist and, once created, a work of art offers a gift of experience, ranging from enjoyment, challenge and insight, to those who encounter the art as spectators. The potential power of art as it offers these experiences of meaning to both artists and spectators alike is one of the base connections it shares with theology.

Theology, in its enduring search for meaning and connection in the world, offers an outlet of expression in the way people live out theological understandings in their lives and the continuous exploration of meaning offers insight into theological possibilities. Theology in this sense is not just an understanding of meaning but is an active living out of meaning in the world.

This base connection of both art and theology to provide both insight and action is just a small piece of the foundation of the connections between the two fields and future posts will further explore the vast realm of those connections.

From The Toolbox II

Colored Pencil & Image Transfer on Mylar

Thinking Theologically

To be a theologian sounds like a heavy task. The word itself - theologian – immediately brings all sorts of stodgy images to mind. Truth is, theologians come in all shapes and sizes, all creeds and colors with varying approaches to theology that span whole spectrums of societies. Theologians are a people on a quest – a quest in search of…something – generally meaning – and usually only encountering more questions. Yet the challenge for the theologian is to continue to seek meaning that somehow sheds light on connections and relationships through which we may catch glimpses of God.

This is the essence of theology to me – seeking and finding and failing to find and continuing to seek glimpses of the intricate connections that exist in the world. In the process of observing connections between humans, animals, nature, objects, places, memory, imagination (the list could truly go on and on), we begin to learn, understand, and experience more of God and what it is to be a person living in the midst of so many connections.

So now I have just set forth a very concise definition of theology and right away it must be acknowledged that, of course, this definition is not comprehensive. This definition of theology does not even scratch the surface of the realm of theology as it exists and is used in spiritual, political, and academic ways all over the world. What it does offer is an entry point – an opening through which theological exploration can begin and the beginning is very often one of the most challenging portions of a journey to overcome. Of course there are bumps (and worse) on every road – but getting up the gumption to start travelling on a road is what allows you to have the opportunity to encounter all that will be met along that path – the bumps and the unknown and unexpected scenery and experiences along the way that would never be known if the journey fails to commence.

I have been on a journey of theological inquiry for much of my life, having grown up in a family of theological thinkers and preachers and in a community that strived to live out its theology in everyday ways of life. Pondering the theological implications of almost everything is just about second nature to me – but I still remember being thrown for a loop my first couple of weeks of seminary when all of my professors kept asking us students to think theologically, or respond to this (insert topic of your choosing here) theologically. Over and over I was asked to think and respond theologically and over and over all I could think and respond internally with was – what does that even mean? What on earth does it mean to think about something theologically – let alone respond theologically?

The harder I tried to ‘think theologically’ the less anything made sense – and while this may be the case in some theological conundrums – it is not (or at least should not be) the case for theological thinking at its base level. So I wallowed for a while in my confusion of what this request of my professors could possibly mean – when it finally dawned on me that my question was the answer: thinking and responding theologically simply meant exploring meaning – what does it mean! What are the contextual realities of a situation and what are the implications of that situation in action? With a renewed insight into a more grounded approach theological thinking and responses ensued and continue to this day as I live out my theological quest and strive to find connections and meaning in the world around me.

So now I extend the invitation to you to join the expedition of theological thinking – be not overwhelmed by the stigma of the word theology – instead jump into the process with an open heart and mind and experience the joy, pain, and grace that can be found in the adventure.

From the Toolbox I

Colored Pencil & Image Transfer on Mylar

A Go-To Medium

It can sometimes be a challenge to take advantage of time that becomes available to make art. A moment presents itself for creative output and yet there are either no concrete ideas of what to work on, too many ideas of what to work on, projects already in process that are in a waiting stage, or projects in process that require more time than the present moment allows for and all of a sudden – this moment – once so full of exciting possibility feels a bit squished.

Very often this moment of indecision has completely stalled artistic expression for me and has left me feeling frustrated, overwhelmed and at some moments, just plain lazy, with the temptation to by-pass a chance to make something seem like an easy out. While there is a time for rest and other activities in life that are fulfilling – there is a joy, energy, and satisfaction that comes out of the creation of art that – for me – is unique to that process. To have the chance before me to delve into the creative process and to let that opportunity pass me by can be disheartening.

The keeping of an art log (see Art Log entry for more details on art logs) has been one approach to overcoming this situation. When the problem is a lack of in-process projects or a blank canvas that is causing the visual equivalent of writer’s block, the art log is a great resource for getting the next project kicked off. However, very often these moments for artistic expression arise when other obligations present time constraints and this particular creative opportunity may not be the moment to start something new. The solution I have decided to explore in these moments is to have a ‘Go-To Medium’ – a pre-selected medium to work with that can be considered an ongoing project and is a natural selection of what to work on when some unexpected time for art presents itself.

A go-to medium serves two purposes – it breaks the spell of what to work on before it has a chance to stagnate the moment and it offers and opportunity to practice new or familiar mediums on a regular basis. My current go-to medium is pen & ink drawing this means that I am keeping my ink and drawing nibs readily accessible so that at any moment I can grab them and jump into sketching (you can see one of my pen & ink sketches below). This has been my go-to medium for two months now and, while I have not turned to it as often as I might have expected to in that time period, it is a comfort to always have a project to work on a moment’s notice.

Go-To Medium projects are meant to be explorations of that medium or to offer the freedom to just experience the creative act without the expectation of a finished product. Letting go of the expectation of creating a piece of art can very often open up the process to allow for exploration of a medium in a way that may, unexpectedly, become a finished piece on its own – or may offer insight into applying that approach to a more polished piece in the future. Either way, the goal of the go-to medium is to allow for a seamless transition into art making in unexpected moments of creative opportunity.

Pen & Ink Sketch

Art Log

Art is many things - not the least of which is a way of encountering the world around us with an openness to seeing, exploring, and understanding the relationships between things in familiar, new, and unexpected ways.


One of the ways I have decided to live out Art is to document my explorations and encounters in the world through the keeping of an Art Log. At it's most basic level, an art log is simply a list - an ongoing list - of ideas, inspirations, themes, shapes, colors, mediums, observations, hopes, desires, and touchstones. It is a list that, once active, serves as a resource for inspiration in moments of creative production and it is a list that archives and houses ideas that may be the root of a future project.

The physical being of my art log is a page a day moleskine calendar which provides me with ample space each day for recording one art idea and jotting down any other events of the day - from special events, to locations and daily activities while traveling, to gatherings with friends and family, to recording the name of any books I've finished reading on that day. I find that having the daily calendar is a nice way of tracking the year as it passes, is a good resource for looking back on past years' activities, and it provides a bit of accountability to stick with the list and not let it slip away from active additions. Each numbered page holds the expectation of being filled on the date that matches that number - and if I fall behind - there is always a specific number to catch up to.

I have been living with the daily creation of an Art Log for three full years now - and I am now two months into my fourth. It has become a small outlet for me on a daily basis while at the same time offering up insights in the moments I am needing something to work on. I enjoy the way my art log makes me keep my 'eyes open' to the things that are going on in the world around me and keeps me thinking about those things in creative ways. Challenging me to explore the potential for visual representations of things that I see - or stories that I hear - or simply recording the fact that a bright yellow line I saw that day looked visually energized and pleasing against its brilliant blue background. This constant openness to inspiration lets inspiration constantly come my way - no - I am not claiming to be a brilliantly inspired person - but I do seize the bits of insight and inspiration that head my way and I find that (as with most things) the more I open myself up the more I am offered.

I sometimes sit back and look at the Art Logs I've completed this far and wonder if the well of insights isn't in danger of running a little dry - not to mention that after three years and over a thousand ideas already recorded I have plenty of projects to keep myself busy with probably for the rest of my life - yet each day I find myself eagerly being on the lookout for what I might find to scribble down on that day's page. I realize now that while my Art Logs are available for use as a tool and a resource for myself as an artist - they are also a reality check for myself as a person - a reminder to keep being engaged in each moment of every day - to take note of the things around me, to keep learning about themes that show up in my life - and to remind myself that even the most mundane moments and objects can sometimes be the best source of inspiration.