Defending Thought

I know it sounds insane, but in the last several years I have actually felt the need to defend intellect as I have witnessed a groundswell of bad will toward use of the brain, complete with the assumption that intellect contains no "heart".  I cannot separate heart and mind taking a cue from Jesus who taught that as we think with our hearts, so we are. 

Likewise, I agree with Richard Blackstone who indicates that as we think, so we create: 

"As a master creator here on the plain of manifestation you understand that all of your creations have their genesis in the thoughts you think. The beauty of thoughts is that if you are thinking a thought that doesn't serve you it can always be changed."

Now that's good thinking. 

What Remains

Never confuse the importance of heart or intellect.  They work in sync with the soul and are equally important for true perception.  We know that in the South, a soulful land that knows the painful struggle of holding on to identity when all causes appear lost.  In the middle of destruction we have been taught to ask what really matters, a question that can only be answered by use of heart and right thinking (as Jesus would say, thinking with the heart). 

Lately I have been thinking with the heart and asking some questions about the passing of time.  Inevitably, seasons change and we do, too.  We may wonder what lies beneath who we are today.  What have we lost, and what have we kept?  We generally keep the same eyes as windows to the soul.  The same laughter; the same tears.  The same heart; the same mind.  The same light; the same dark, and many, many memories born of each.  

All in all, the same soul remains - tethered, free or freely tethered. 

My generation has freely given way too much heart and intellect.  We have shared our thoughts, opinions, emotions, sentimentalities.  We have shared our bodies like salted peanuts in a bar.  We have socialized, fraternized, intellectualized, compartmentalized and idealized.  We have all given, taken, used, abused, amused ourselves and begged to be excused for all this sincere fun.    

But has another soul ever really known yours? 

Self Portraits...Me and Van Gogh

I should like to do portraits which will appear as revelations to people in a hundred years' time.
-- From Vincent Van Gogh's June 3, 1890, letter to his sister

Besides the luminous glory of the night sky, Vincent van Gogh painted many images of the eyes that beheld that night - his vulnerable, intense eyes revealed in self portraits.  What is so interesting about these self portraits is that most (22) were painted during two years from 1886 through 1888 shortly before he killed himself in 1890.

Study some of Van Gogh's self portraits at Jason Wu's Princeton blog.  I see a fatigued longing, almost pleading, in his eyes; I wonder what feeling resided behind those eyes and what he was trying to reveal ("revelation to people a hundred years' time").  Did Van Gogh know he would choose to embrace death shortly?  Was he capturing the eyes of a creator who would soon unite with Creation?  Is this the face of the end of struggle, the face of resignation, or the face of ongoing struggle in which a man looks for a reason or the strength to continue fighting the pain of life?   Are these the eyes of the stranger on earth, the subject of Van Gogh's 1876 sermon based on Psalm 119 : 19.  That sermon included the following:

"Much strife must be striven
Much suffering must be suffered
Much prayer must be prayed
And then the end will be peace." 

Anyone who has ever stared into a mirror and wondered who they are and what self resides behind those eyes, might glean an understanding of  Van Gogh and his self portraits.  .  . musings of another  stranger on the earth longing to be at home somewhere, wondering if it was time to find the peace of repose, balancing that need against the vibrant passion to continue integrating the light, color and form of this brilliant world.  Was this the struggle we see in those eyes? 

With no further clarification than the images, I suppose Van Gogh accomplished his goal.  Each will see a different revelation, but most all will agree that these eyes haunt almost 117 years later. 

I am in the process of beginning a self portrait for an upcoming Call.  I am deciding if it will be acrylic, watercolor or digital.  But regardless the media and more importantly, what will my eyes reveal 100  years from now?  What will yours reveal?

Nasturtiums and Friendship

This is a painting by my friend, Brie Dodson, and I am the fortunate recipient of this little jewel.  I told her that it would always remind me to take the time to smell the sweet things in life.

Brie's work may be seen at her studio, Hunt Country Paintings. 

Digital Signatures

I have a tendency to fail to sign my digital art work, and I must correct this shortcoming.  When I produce work for my parish I recognize it as a gift for God, so I always make an effort to keep my ego in check.  When I produced the bulletin I would credit the bulletin cover art on the inside to protect my copyright or the copyright of the artist whose work appeared on the cover (and to provide some education concerning the symbol or image used).  But if an artist does not create the inside of the bulletin, I have found that the art is seldom credited or copyright protected.  For postcards I credit the art in small letters on the address side (which is sometimes accidentally covered by the mailing label), and newspaper ads are not credited at all.  This used to be ok, but it is not ok anymore.  So a digital signature on artwork is a must.  

For years I have made excuses for the church's overall lack of appreciation of art.   As an artist I have had trouble understanding this; aren't most of us worshiping in beauty that was crafted years ago by hands now inhabiting the grave?  As people enter and stutter at the beauty of Episcopal churches, we cannot fail to see beauty's impact.   Progress is being made through organizations like ECVA and CIVA, yet still many local churches do not see it as a ministry, much less a bridge to God.  

I think that some churches do not appreciate art because the local nature of the institution is highly protestant and anti-image.  Others are just missing the heart and head to comprehend that beauty is the direct reflection of God and that art is a ministry.   This selfishness or carelessness is akin to that of gardeners who do not plant oak trees after the age of 50 because they will not be around to see them in their glory.  It doesn't particularly matter if this tradition of beauty ends because they won't be around to see it anyway.  And some churches are just filled with dark energy rather than light, and demons hide from light because, afterall, isn't Christ "Light from Light"?  Is the glorious body of Christ paraplegic, distorted or crippled?   Sometimes the mouth keeps working when the rest of the body fails.

Percy Dearmer was right when he predicted that if unencouraged, artists would take their talents elsewhere besides the church.  I won't go so far as to say that The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost, as revealed in my art for my parish, just caught the last train for the coast....I will say that I now approach it differently. 

Which leads me back to why digital signatures are important.  Yes, we produce our gifts for God.  But we also produce them for each other in the form of the body of Christ.  Let those who have ears hear; let those who have eyes see.  But just because some are blind, it does not mean that it should be free of copyright protection unless the artist chooses.  

A wise friend once told me, move where the waters part, to which I add, move with a signature.  

Synesthesia & Synchronicity

Oh my goodness, 7's really are golden yellow, and R's are red.  Mondays are blue, and Wednesdays are black.  I have always known this and tried to describe it to a few people, but no one ever got it.  I thought it was overactive imagination or extreme love of color (I joined the Episcopal Church, in part, because it is color coded).  Instead it was synesthesia all along - a neurological overlapping of senses so that one associates color with letters, numbers, words or music or perhaps tastes or smells sounds.  It is nice to have a word to apply to a lifelong reality I never found another person to understand.

Synchronicity happens to me often, and many people do get that.  It is the "God winks" concept; I like to refer to it as "Ask and the door will open; seek and you will find" concept.  Then again, I pray for synchronicity because it feels very much like the hand of God showing up in my tiny, unimportant world.  It is not at all unusual for me to find what I am looking for or wanted to know by what would appear to be happenstance.  Or I will say something riding down the road and hear the very concept repeated in some group setting a few days later (odd stuff, like 'yellow is NOT mellow" and, boom, someone says something like yellow is not a relaxing color after all when you got together to discuss English literature).  I also have lots of books on the most unbelievable range of topics through which I flit haphazerdly, depending on my mood.  It really is an altogether wonderful way to live, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in creativity and spirituality. 

Recently I had a bad day brought on by some deliberate cruelty I would just as soon not describe.  On that day I ran across synesthesia and realized what a wonderful little gift God gave me.  Several days later I picked up a book I flip occasionally and opened it at one of the three marked spots.  I had not read this before; do not know why the blue bookmark was there; suspect it was there from several years ago marking a section I had read.  I glaced down and immediately picked up the word synesthesia.    I didn't know that was there.  I was surprised and delighted.  A theme runs through my pain.  What is God telling me?  Why is this concept appearing in multiple places?  Can I smell concepts like fear, truth, lies?  I suspect to some extent many people can.  Can I see my own prayer?  Can I wait in the dark until the colors appear? 

Think Quickly

The Association for Psychological Science  reports that a study entitled "Manic Thinking: Independent Effects of Thought Speed and Thought Content on Mood", co-authored by Emily Pronin of Princeton University and Daniel Wegner of Harvard University, concludes that when people are made to think quickly, they report feeling happier, being more energetic, more creative, more powerful, and more self-assured. 

Which might lead one to think that being manic has its benefits. 

Claiming Art of Today

In a sacred Buddhist text entitled The Book of Tea,  Japanese art historian and curator Okakura Kakuzo explained the  philosophical and aesthetic background of the tea ceremony.  It is a treasure of provacative thought covering much more than tea (link to text can be found in Inspiration/Historical References).  There he wrote:

"The claims of contemporary art cannot be ignored in any vital scheme of life. The art of to-day is that which really belongs to us: it is our own reflection. In condemning it we but condemn ourselves. We say that the present age possesses no art:--who is responsible for this? It is indeed a shame that despite all our rhapsodies about the ancients we pay so little attention to our own possibilities. Struggling artists, weary souls lingering in the shadow of cold disdain! In our selfcentered century, what inspiration do we offer them? The past may well look with pity at the poverty of our civilisation; the future will laugh at the barrenness of our art. We are destroying the beautiful in life. Would that some great wizard might from the stem of society shape a mighty harp whose strings would resound to the touch of genius."

One might be surprised to know that this was written in 1904.   

"[W]eary souls lingering in the shadow of cold disdain" reminds me of VVG's  "wisp of smoke"  and mine and Jackson Browne's pretender. 

I suppose t'was ever thus.

Art As Plug-in

I came across the following quotation by John A. Hiigli:  

" Indeed art is fundamental : to science, mathematics and to language.

Unfortunately theorists, educators, parents and administrators have

not fully understood its importance, relegating it to a secondary role,

or that of an add on. "

I have been amazed at the number of people who secretly paint, sketch, write poetry...people I never would have imagined expressing their thoughts in such a manner.  I have now started searching for these kindred souls, and I find them because I am an excellent "chatter" and have my mother's gift for asking a dozen questions before you realize it. 

 Every now and then I run across one of these closet artists, and I have come to believe that art is, indeed, a plug-in one might add to his or her identity only when forced.   Sometimes I wonder if the artistic dimension is kept secret due to lack of confidence; or is it lack of audience?  I tend to think the latter is more likely the reason.   

Maybe I don't run in good circles - I don't know - but I find that the reality of artistic expression is often a matter best kept close to one's chest because the reaction - no, that would actually be the lack of reaction - is too painful.  Art?  Condescending smile accompanying no interest...isn't that nice she has a little hobby...the society in which I live has an attitude that art is something that is a little bit of a waste of time, maybe something one does when "real life" does not intrude.

And what is this "real life" that is of primary importance to the soul of the society in which I live?  I'm not sure.  Probably the visible life of  "The Pretender" (he who, when the morning light comes streaming in, gets up and does it again).   Going to work, watching TV, buying groceries, paying bills, keeping the grass cut, raising children, obssessing over children, being polite and very similar to everyone else.  

I feel sorry for closet artists.  Everyone may know the color of their shutters, the make of their cars, the state of their marriages, the ages of their children, but no one will ever know their interior seasons of red or blue or the shimmer of light knocking around in their souls.  But then again, no one will get close enough to  quinch their spirit.  Vincent Van Gogh said it this way:

"There may be a great fire in our hearts, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke."

Jackson Browne and I say it this way:  "Say a prayer for the pretender, who started out so young and strong only to surrender."