"The World Will be Saved by Beauty"

In just the last few days, I have received multiple reminders of the importance of beauty in our lives. Even today, with the announcement of the winners of the Nobel prize in Physics, there were multiple descriptors of the "beauty" of the discovery of exotic topological matter. In a column today, David Brooks speaks of a "lovely" society. An exhibit of engravings by Fritz Eichenberg at my church in Paris, KY gave me the chance to learn more about The Catholic Worker movement and Dorothy Day. A statement about the work of Eichenberg ends with a quote from Dostoevsky, "The world will be saved by beauty." 

Each of these examples on the surface might not be typical subjects for beauty. Physics and mathematics are often a source of fear and loathing. Lately we are opining about society with scornful words and divisive rhetoric. And working to feed and care for the poverty-stricken does not immediately bring to mind beauty. 

How is beauty connected to physics and society? How can beauty save the world? Seeing beauty and appreciating beauty requires that we keep our eyes, minds and hearts open. The answers are not set in black and white concrete and not readily apparent on the surface. The beauty answer demands a closer look, a deeper understanding. In other words, we must learn to appreciate beauty. We can not appreciate beauty without learning. We must also have perspective. 

I have been thinking about this a lot lately because of a project in my hometown of Lexington, KY. It was a tattoo project where folks took words from a poem by Frank X Walker entitled Love Letta to d Worl'.  A phrase from that poem has been popping up regularly around town, "unlearn fear and hate." This is a good sentiment, but how do we unlearn anything? There is only one way, by learning something new that dispels the old learning. We have to learn the lessons on harmony. This is what I learn from the poem. In fact, Frank X Walker's poem is such an all-encompassing and wondrous answer to what I am trying to say here that I will just suggest that you read his poem. He takes in the whole world and loves it thoroughly.  I believe his poem can save the world.

Spring Creation

Let's Play: back and forth with oil pastel and watercolor

In the upcoming Saturdays I will have the new experience of working with young people to create images of Easter. Their ages range from 7 to 17+. We are going to be thinking about some of my favorite subjects: creating and perceiving; and how those two things are intertwined.
      I've been dwelling in this milieu already because every Lent I read The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett.  The story of Mary Lennox's and Colin Craven's transformation gives me the annual conviction to throw off the clogging mantle of old, crippling and wrong-headed ideas and habits. Incrementally, I am nudged into seeing the world afresh. It is also an excellent narrative about perception, objective and subjective and how we can begin to see things more clearly and completely.

This change is not instant or "cheap". It is slow and deep. Often, it happens in a hidden fashion, not to be seen until the life force pushes to the surface, like daffodil bulbs in Spring.

Lenten Growth, 10 x 8", oil pastel and watercolor

   We will be working with watercolor and oil pastel, a medium that I have not used extensively. So, I will be playing and experimenting, too. Spring!

My hope is that through the creation of our Easter images, these young people will feel the beauty of seeing the world clearly and also the enchantment and poetry of their own particular vision.  Only a start is possible, of course, with our small project. Still, I am looking forward to seeing their world in Spring.

Finding Beauty Every Day

Early in the morning on Paris Pike

Previously, I have summed up my artistic endeavors with the tag line: Painting Everyday Wonders. Of late, this message has felt a little confining. The truth is that every day I am working in more ways than painting, and my expression can be delivered through means other than visual art. Sometimes my work is not about making, but simply perceiving.  I wanted to come up with a tag line that more accurately states my case and I came up with: Finding Beauty Every Day. When I am doing my true work, I find beauty, every day and it is usually everyday beauty. Often I am out on a walk when I find beauty. Sometimes I am teaching a non-self-confessing artist about working with watercolor and pastel and I notice a special gift that they have for design or color or whimsy.  Perhaps I am singing McFerrin's Psalm 23 with the choir or helping to hang a show of floral paintings. And I do spend time in my studio making paintings of everyday wonders. That is certainly part of my work.

Evensong, 12 x 12" watercolor/pastel on paper mounted on board
scene driving home on Paris Pike after choir practice

     Recently, I took part in a Music that Makes Community workshop (the photo above was taken on my way to join other St. Peter's folk to travel up to Minneapolis.) It was a wonderful experience. We worked on ways to bring people together through singing. We were urged not to focus on excellence at the expense of engaging people (who might be reluctant singers.) A founder of Music that Makes Community observed that while excellence is always important, perhaps a more appropriate goal might be beauty. I have been thinking about this ever since.  Beauty. You can strive for beauty, but you can also find it.  You can be sensitive to beauty and appreciate it when it is not so obvious in our distracted world. Inclusiveness can be beautiful.

     Beauty is just the thing that I am seeking and I hope to find it every day.

Be Still

Psalm 46, 12 x 12", mixed media

My father died in a tractor accident over twenty years ago. It was March, in the middle of Lent. At his service, Psalm 46 was read. My mind had been in overdrive for days trying to comprehend what had happened and what the future would be like with this sudden loss; but it was dumbstruck at these words: "Be still, and know that I am God!" Just the words I needed to hear, and within the context of turmoil and suffering. These words, along with "Remember that you are dust and  to dust you shall return" are comforting words to me.
       I appreciate the perspective correction; particularly these days with the escalation of rant and the extreme need to be right. I am guilty of this type of thinking. This causes me to miss out on the bigger picture and the beauty of our world and our lives. So, this Lent (Spring) I am going to quiet my mind and sharpen my senses to watch the season unfold. It is going to be pretty glorious to experience Spring!
      And there will be a visual aid for this journey: St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Paris, KY is displaying a special exhibit for Lent titled, Be Still. It will have work that evokes stillness or a sense of calm. My offering for the exhibit is a painting inspired by Psalm 46 (shown above.)The exhibit goes up Sunday, March 9, 2014 and will be on display through Sunday, April 13, 2014.  St. Peter's is located at 311 High Street in Paris, KY (right behind the courthouse.

Winter's Light

Lichen Rosette and Oak Leaves, Lost Cove 

The world is rich, wonderful and complex. I was able to experience this over the weekend.  First, by visiting the woods surrounding Sewanee, TN. David and I had just finished reading a wonderful book The Forest Unseen by David Haskell, which focuses on one square meter of old growth forest on The Mountain; so our pleasure was heightened. (Please see my November 12th posting, The Efficient Complexity of Nature.) Our hike was on a newly acquired (by The University of the South) parcel of land. Most of the leaves were down with the exception of the beech tree leaves which clung on in a rustic, rustle-y fashion.  We walked over the well leafed forest floor through the gray woods and took in the blue distance of Lost Cove.  Later on, walking along a fire lane, young green pine trees added another layer. Approaching the winter solstice, the light was clear and exacting, throwing well-defined shadows even on the bed of leaves.

All Saints Chapel adorned in greenery

         Later on that afternoon, we attended the Lessons and Carols service at All Saints Chapel. Walking across the quadrant to the chapel, a low sun glittered through the trees generously gracing the landscape to the west. It was a tonalist's vision!  This year, the music also seemed to celebrate the rich layers of life as the selection ran a gamut of ancient chant to newly composed work featuring a sliding scale of pitch intervals. The chapel was festooned with traditional winter greens and red carnations. There were layers of light as well, with candlelight reminding us of the enveloping dark of winter.

        The next morning we departed before daylight to drive back to Lexington.  I was able to look back and see the rosy light begin to develop; The Mountain a soft and eternal presence.  What joy to witness a new coming of the light! As the day progressed, the subtle beauty of winter shown.  I remembered how much I like these colors and their invitation to reflect.


         Sunday evening, at St. Peter's Episcopal, Paris, we held an Advent Evensong and reception for our Advent Art Exhibit.  This year's theme, conceived by our Rector, Rev. Chris Brannock-Wanter was summed up in the word "Relate."  Dr. Ann Kingsolver was our homilist and Sue Massek enriched our thoughts with her voice and banjo. As Ann Kingsolver spoke, I felt lightning bolts of new understanding. Her ideas of how humans relate reminded me very much of David Haskell's detailing of the complex interconnections of nature; there is more than meets the casual eye! This at once makes things more complicated and more simple for us humans.  We don't have to invent artificial systems to help our fellow beings.  Instead, we open our senses ("Listen for the light!") and see the possibilities of our role in the wonderfully rich complexity of life!

The light returns again

Taking on Goliath

Sheep and spring lambs

I am always a little puzzled when people qualify their desire to take an art class by saying: "I must warn you, I have no experience!" (Or they don't know how to draw, paint, use watercolors or pastels, etc. etc. etc...)  I thought that was the point of taking a class: to learn something or try something new! The other thing that I notice is that there is a notion that one may not express themselves artistically without a full arsenal of techniques, color theories and compositional strategies.

    So, I perked up earlier this summer when the story of David and Goliath was read at church (St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Paris, KY.)  The young shepherd, David, is reluctantly selected to take on the champion Philistine, Goliath.  The Israelites are dubious about David's abilities. Saul insists on cloaking David in heavy armor that is much to big for him. The armor is so heavy that David is not able to walk! David removes the bronze helmet, coat of mail and sword and instead places five smooth stones in his shepherd's bag and has his sling in hand. And there you have it, the recipe for success for David and, I believe, the way for success for would be artists.

      Often, folks who have finally gathered the nerve to try creating become paralyzed trying to remember all the rules and theories. They can't move, just like David in the armor.  Perhaps it is more important to go into battle with the tools you are already comfortable using. We all use our hands and our eyes and we can start there.  Even David makes a case for his abilities by talking about his experience as a shepherd, keeping lambs safe from lions and bears. I suspect that most people actually have fairly well developed color theories from their own experience of creating homes. They also know a great deal about composition and their own preferences.

    This is not to say that there is no place for the diligent study of the elements of fine art. There is; particularly for young people.  But for people who are coming to art a little later, why not use the tools you know; for which you have a second nature affinity. Simply think about training your eyes and your hands to create from your own perspective.

   

Darkness and Light

Mark 14:32-36

John 20:1-18

      It is early Easter morning and I am pondering mysteries, so I decided to go ahead and get up and write about it. One of the things that I treasure about belonging to a faith tradition is that my understanding changes as I live out my life. I guess you could call it a living faith and I love the surprises that come along. 

  

     This week provided some gentle surprises.  Maundy Thursday, for example. Now I have been surprised by Maundy Thursday before, so you would think I would know better...but there it is. Do I really want to go to a foot washing service? That seems kind of personal. But, I am in the choir, duty calls (or sings.) Maybe we will be singing through the foot washing, I have worn lace-up shoes as a defense. No, the choir retreats to the pews for the sermon and there we are, right in place for the foot washing! And I am reminded of the beauty of feet, their elegant architecture; a most wonderful form follows function. After the service and the stripping of the altar, we descend to the chapel where a garden has been created and the heavy, lovely scent of flowers fills the air. Outside, the sun is setting. This is the not-so-secret Garden where the juxtaposition is compelling: simple beauty and our complicated humanity.

     Good Friday was surprising. I am thinking of the stark reality of dark emptiness. But it is love and the just as real idea that death is necessary for life. We have a "reserved communion" (which I am just now realizing might have more than one meaning.)

     The Easter Vigil was a visual feast of light and dark. The lighting of the Paschal fire sent seductive (dangerous?) flames about the feet of worshipers. Into the sanctuary we all processed with our candles lit by the same fire. It was supposed to be dark, but the sun shone through the stained glass windows and with all the candles, there was an enlightened atmosphere as we heard the story from the very beginning. By the time we met at the baptismal font, it was truly dark outside. After remembering that story, if our candles had not been doused by the flung baptismal water, we blew them out and the house lights were blazing again.  (Now I have taken too much time writing and I must get ready to walk Carly and go to St. Peter's.)

     My Easter morning surprise is that when Mother Chris began to speak about the Gospel lesson this morning (John 20: 1 - 18.) She said that it was all about darkness and light. I must have been channeling her this morning at 5:20 when I titled this piece. Mary Magdalene is in dark distress as she tries to find the body of Jesus, missing from the tomb. Her darkness persists until Jesus calls her name. In that act,  Mary Magdalene recognizes Him as well as herself. 

     Wishing you the light of understanding your true self this season!

Note: I created the panels above for Faith Lutheran Church, Lexington, KY in 2000. There are four panels representing the four Gospels. Perhaps I will have the occasion to talk about the other two panels which depict Matthew 20:1-16 and Luke 1:46-55.  Photos by M.S. Rezny