art, pastors and the church (o my!)

as a [practicing] artist and follower of christ, i am always interested in the relationship between what i consider my primary calling and the community i am part of.

here is a video by craig detweiler where he shares his thoughts about the role of the "arts pastor":

a wonderfully impassioned speech -- it makes me want to do an arts rant of my own! (and i just might)

there are several things that i like about this video -- chief among them, the role of the [arts] pastor to simply pastor/ shepherd ("release/ unleash") the artist in the local congregation. and not only the artists, but everyone's inherent creativity. i also like the references to serving the local community/(-ies), not only by releasing the congregation's song in the community but also telling their story (stories?) in an artistic or creative way. this is part of what i consider a primary calling for the artist (christian or non): serving.

the second question - does the church set the artist free? - was more problematic for me. yes, the church was a patron of the arts in times past, but the church also was a patron of excellence. i think that part of the church's role as a patron also necessarily involves an ability to distinguish and determine (perhaps even discern) what work or which artists are worthy of patronage and support. the question i have is: why exactly was the church the main patron before? what was the impetus behind its patronage? status? power? didacticism? evangelismo? i think we sometimes gloss over the intricacies and context of that particular history of the church and its role in culture. certainly, the church did play a major role - after all, what is often referred to as "the cultural mandate" is part of our calling as fully alive humans - but it is complicated. so why were "the arts" (and there is a history in various aspects of the church for all artforms: music, dance, literature, drama) a focus? and how does that play out now? and what does it mean that the church was a locus? what does that mean for us as part of a community (or communities)?

the last section and its repeated emphasis on beauty was also quite generative. dostoevsky said that "beauty will save the world". beauty as a theological concept is a driving force for much of the theology of art, and there is a moral component to the idea that is crucial to our activity as artists, let alone christians. further, in the last 10 years or so, the notion of beauty is increasingly invoked and explored in contemporary work (and often, oddly enough, in conjunction with notions of spirituality), and no longer ignored or ridiculed. there's something important about beauty. it has a moral rigour to it. i especially like craig's question:how can we create moments of beauty, truth and splendour that cause us to pause? and, presumably, ponder. reflect. open ourselves up to the possibility and capacity of art to move us.

i do wonder, however, about the emphasis that somehow the 21c is purely a "visual century" and of rushing headlong to embrace every form and expression of that visual culture. in his other do you see? video (this one is #2) craig speaks of slowing down. perhaps the inundation of images (depending on your source, we are bombarded with anywhere from 4,000 to 20,000 images a day) is more a matter of incessant demand rather than simply the visuality of our time. how do we/ can we/ will we create or facilitate that place of [visual] rest? i think it's more a matter of finding and presenting the right image(s) for the right purpose (the idea of "fittingness" being another way to look at beauty) than embracing our culture's proliferation of images (iconophilia) or abandoning them altogether (iconoclasm). i mean, images are powerful - they are not, nor have they ever been, neutral. which reminds me, i need to keep reading iconoclash.

anyway, certainly lots of grist for the mill...

international artist day (october 25)

yes. that's right. someone lobbied for october 25th (picasso's birthday) to be recognized as international artist day. and it's working.

which begs the question: do we need our own day? why? what purpose does it serve? are we that fragile? are we that deserving? what would justify artists "having their day"? it all seems to be a little "look at me - i deserve to be noticed" (oh, and buy some of my art, too!)...i mean it's a list of things to do to celebrate/ support artists:

• visit a gallery and explain why you're there
• purchase a piece of art to support an artist
• visit an artist's studio
• take an artist to lunch and explore their world

very nice. but how does that make us matter (if, indeed, the arts matter)?

i say, let's turn the tables. how will we, as artists, serve our public(s) -- i.e. contribute to society -- on that day?

let's go to the public and share our work, process, passion. let's move outwards. let's reach out. i think international artist day should be purposeful. it should be more than self-aggrandizing and self-celebratory. let's mess up how people perceive artists. let's help them understand us. let's rebuild the bridge between art and people. let's reconnect art and life. let's engage with community.

and then we can celebrate international artist day as something that is more than just about ourselves.

well -- that's one way to walk on water

this is an installation i just discovered by artist michael cross called bridge. i think it's amazing, but then i think a lot of things are amazing. actually, what i really think is that i wish i had made this. it's lovely. the piece was installed in a church, and obviously there are a lot of resonances because of that context. its genesis was the artist's recognition that he needed a 'new kind of bridge' (he wanted to experience the sensation of standing in the middle of a lake, presumably for the emotional/ spiritual sense of [wonder?] that would generate).

what i find so compelling about this piece is not so much the references to faith (and, like peter, walking on the water with jesus) but the way it literally and physically incarnates the idea -- it makes the sometimes rather abstract notion of faith something palpable. the artist comments that numerous people had a difficult time trusting the piece i.e. they had no faith to walk on the water. in order to experience the piece fully, you had to start walking. which is, actually, the point, regardless of where you approach the piece from (physically, spiritually, whatever). there's a very real tension between fear and faith.

i wish i could have walked on the water -- even if only for a few steps...

day of the living marionettes!

on saturday my family and i went to see the cashore marionettes at the banff centre. here's the blurb:

A performance by The Cashore Marionettes is a celebration of life. The Cashore Marionettes redefine the art of puppetry through exceptional artistry, grace, and refinement of movement. The performances, stunning in their intensity and simple beauty, have thrilled audiences in Europe, the Far East and across North America. The classic and well-known Simple Gifts expresses themes of beauty, joy, and the wonder of life.

and it lived up to expectations. in fact, the performance surpassed them. it was absolutely engrossing and wonder-full. the boys are still talking about it and, naturally, so am i.

there were a series of short pieces. from the opening piece with a passionate and aged violinist to the final piece, called simple things, about a boy and a kite, we were all transported into an amazing imaginary space. there were other stories of course: a monk discovers a small treasure, a young girl is distracted from her homework by the toys in her room, a mountain climber reaches a summit after much toil and trial, a guitarist cranks his electric guitar to 11, a mother lulls her child to sleep, a horse escapes his pen and explores the countryside, a homeless man looks for a reason to hope, a last-minute replacement trapeze artist conquers his fears.

sure - the marionettes were beautifully made (carved and painted by joseph cashore hisself), but what was truly astounding was the level of articulation of the marionettes and the truthfulness of the characters and their movements. they were alive. wondrous.

there is something about the power of stories and the simplicity of a single character to move people. yes, the lighting was dramatic and yes, the music was moving. and yes, it was interesting when joseph broke the "4th wall" and entered into the performance (which also, oddly enough, didn't destroy the illusion that these characters were independent creatures, with a life of their own). and yes, it was interesting to hear about his passion, commitment and even obsession for his work during the q&a session afterwards (he has invented and created his own mechanisms for manipulating the marionettes).

ultimately, however, you could tell that all he really wants is to convince you of a story. and he wants that story to move you.

kseniya simonova's got talent

i submit, for your consideration, a powerfully moving performance piece that masterfully demonstrates the power of art. i was in tears as the piece progressed (and i didn't even have the additional element of the music). a thoroughly engrossing 8 minutes plus of profound art.

simply put, the video is astounding. it depicts, in sand, the suffering of ordinary people caused by the invasion of ukraine by the german army during world war two. regardless of my feelings about the "TV talent show/ competition" phenomenon (i think they enable short cuts to fame and fortune rather than an embrace of the process of working on your craft and developing as a true artist - regardless of medium), ms. simonova justifies the genre.

to paraphrase karen stone:

we use words to explain and teach, but we use images to move people: