Barbara Nicolosi

August's Glimpses

August 1, 2008 By heather 1 Comment

Ah, yes. I know you’re so excited, and you just can’t hide it. You’re about to lose control.

The August Glimpses edition will be arriving in inboxes everywhere on Tuesday, August 5th. This issue focuses on story. I have an interview with Barbara Nicolosi, screenwriter, founding director of and teacher at Act One, and co-author of Behind the Screen: Hollywood Insiders on Faith, Film, and Culture (and that just begins the list).

There’s also a flash fiction piece by Michelle Pendergrass, "When the Bough Breaks." I’m telling you, this story doesn’t get out of your mind.

Finally, you’ll find a devotional on worshipping creatively, specifically looking at art in the sanctuary.

If you’re not a subscriber, simply fill out the handy-dandy form to your right. To find out more information about the heart behind Glimpses, click here.

See ya in the funny papers!

Filed Under: Barbara Nicolosi, ezine, film and Christianity, flash fiction, Glimpses, Michelle Pendergrass, worshipping creatively

Around the Blog–Misfit Artists, Storytelling, and Dancing

July 3, 2008 By heather 2 Comments

(1) You remember my misfit post, yes? And though I’m a part of a church that embraces me (and which I embrace), and though I have many friends, both "real" and cyberly, there’s still a part of me that’s misfitian. So how could I not rejoice in this series?

I find a kindred spirit in these misfit artists (though my work is not the quality of theirs!). They were rejected, their work declared ugly (as I write that, I realize that it sounds a little like Christ). Here’s one of my favorite lines from the post:

No simple or singular definition of their art, or their lives, would suffice: they were surprisingly varied in their personalities, political persuasions, and aesthetic dispositions, but found a common ground in their ambitions and in their brokenness.

Fujimura goes on to talk about the spiritual influences of the artists, the artists’ influence on spirituality, and what we can learn from them.

He says,

For me, even to reflect on the work of a contemporary artist is to wrestle deeply with questions of faith. For me, the role of an artist and a follower of Christ in contemporary culture is to transgress in love, learning from Jesus.

He mentions John Cage, one of the composers I studied in college (and performed some of his works). I always considered him almost more of a philosopher than musician, but I think I was wrong. I see now that you can’t separate the two in an artist–art is philosophy and philosophy is art.

Great article. You must hope on over to see it.

Other related links:

Impressions at a Museum

Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dinah

Movies and Theology–Pollock

On Aesthetics

Aboard the Black Pearl

(2) There’s a conference in Hollywood in the fall on Storytelling in the 21st Century. Let me tell you, if I didn’t already have so much going on in the fall, I’d be hopping on a plane for that one. It’s hosted by Act One. They’re asking some great questions. Since I can’t go, perhaps it’ll be interesting to bat around some of the questions here. Go to the link and come back and tell me which questions are most interesting to you. My readers are smart people, and I’d like to discuss these things with you.

(3) I saw this video at Diary of an Arts Pastor, so I know many of you have seen it. It’s a picture of the gospel. It reminded me of Philippians 2, of every knee and every tongue glorifying Jesus. It’s fun and beautiful and good. David Taylor said he almost cried at the end, and I thought (before watching it), how silly. Cry at a man dancing?

Then I watched it.

And I cried.

All I can say is, like Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember, beauty makes me cry.

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008) from Matthew Harding on Vimeo.

Filed Under: Act One, aesthetics, art, Barbara Nicolosi, dance, David Taylor, Makoto Fujimura, misfit, storytelling

Running to the top of the art museum stairs

May 22, 2008 By heather 1 Comment

Continuing on our artist’s journey, specifically in Barbara Nicolosi’s session in the Transforming Culture symposium…

Barbara talked about the terrain of the artist, namely what is beautiful. She relied on Aristotle’s definition of beauty, which has three parts: wholeness (meaning nothing’s missing), harmony (meaning related to one another in complementary ways), and radiance (meaning something is communicated that is profound, beyond language–I understood this to mean beyond language used in propositions and explanations–and personal).

She also defined what beauty is not: "cute, easy, benal, silly, sweet, facile, non-threatening." Not to say that there isn’t a place for Precious Moments and silly youtubes, but those are not what the artist is obsessed with. The artist is obsessed with what is truly beautiful.

It occurs to me, then, that beauty and Truth approach each other with these ideas. That beauty is not necessarily what is pleasing to the eye but what draws you closer to Truth. That, to some extent (and to differing extents) we have to work at it both as artists and as audience. That beauty, being obsessed with beauty, is an act of victory over the Curse.

I’ve been doing the Colossians study with Soul Per Suit, and here’s what I wrote to the group yesterday based on my reflections and meditations:

Life is about undoing the Curse. People try to extend their lives, read self-help books to fix relationship, garden and plant, fight injustice. These are good things, but they’re not enough. The curse can only be destroyed in Christ, and now, in this new life (which, as Paul said, is being restored to the Imago Dei that was corrupted at the Fall), we have victory over the Curse. We’re not trying to undo it–Christ has done that–but we’re learning to live in that victory. Christ, who is our life, is the opposite of the curse, which is death. We’re returning to harmonious relationships by submitting to each other and being kind, merciful, humble, gentle, and patient. We’re living out our defeat of death by bringing justice to the oppressed. Our gardening and art and cultivating and relationships and recreation, everything, is done because of and through that victory over he curse. Sometimes we dothe same things we did before, but this time, we’re doing them in victory, knowing that we’re participating in God’s kingdom work, not ours, knowing that He has a future that returns the earth and everything in it to beauty (Rev. 21-22). Sometimes we’re doing the opposite of the things we used to do when we were trapped by the curse, throwing off the vestiges of death–grasping at things other than life and the fullness of life. We thought those things took us to life through power or security or whatever. But they didn’t.

Art is part of this. As artists, we participate in God’s redemptive work, which not only undoes the Curse, but if you look at Revelation 21 and 22, takes us somewhere better than from where we came. I imagine that without the Curse, we would’ve cultivated the Garden, enjoying our work, discovering, creating. He continues to cultivate us, and because of that, we join Him in His creative work.

I’d do well to remember this. I don’t know about you, my fellow artists–painters, sculptures, playwrights, novelists, graphic artists, musicians, actors–but fear overwhelms me at times. Am I good enough? Is my work good enough? Of course it’s not. Of course it’s never as good as what I expect, as what I have in my head. Case in point: I wrote a short story. In my head, it’s brilliant. But it comes out on the page as rubbish. I’ve gotten extreme reactions to this story. I don’t know what to do with it. And I conclude that I’m insufficient. Someone said of Miles Davis when Miles was a rookie musician (was it Dizzie who said this?) that he’s brilliant, but he didn’t yet have the chops. He couldn’t yet do what was in his head.

Sorry, digression. What I mean to say is that in the midst of all these fears, I need to remember that I live in Christ’s victory.

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, art and theology, Barbara Nicolosi, theology, transforming culture

Belly of the Whale

May 15, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

Barbara Nicolosi had me snorting coffee. She began with this statement:

There are two kinds of people in the world–people who are artists and people who are supposed to support them. Figure out which one you are and do it with vigor.

Tell me, how can you not love this woman? When the mean old time keeper looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows, we shushed him and told Barbara to keep talking. We would’ve listened to her all night.

(Barbara, can you hear me?)

(Great, now I have that song stuck in my head.)

(Apparently, I can have entire conversations in parenthesis.)

(One more note: for those who aren’t familiar with Barbara’s work, you need to check out her website and blog. She heads up Act One Program, which trains Christians looking to go into the screenwriting biz. She’s been called anti-Jonah, encyclopedic, and dare I add brilliant? She’s also the author of the book, Behind the Screen: Hollywood Insiders on Faith, Film, and Culture.)

Her talk looked at who the artist is and how they need to be shepherded. This interests me for two reasons: I’m an artist, and I have a heart for spiritual formation, specifically for the creative minded. Let’s be honest, a lot of people out there don’t know what to do with us. I start talking and faces get this odd contortion like they do when viewing a monkey doing something unusual at the zoo. Because of this, I’ve led and written Bible studies and done talks specifically for the creative mind. We don’t think the way engineers do.

But another reason her talk had me in tears: it’s about being in the belly of the whale. It’s about feeling cornered and scared and convicted and fulfilled and dependent on God because you have no where else to go. It’s about coming to terms with who you are and what you’re supposed to do because that’s who God called you to be and that’s what God called you to do.

I’m an artist. God called me to write. He called me to be a storyteller.

I’m an artist. God called me to be a prophet and priest for the masses.

This session cleared up a lot of things for me. In seminary, I was uncomfortable with the idea of working in the church. Not that working in the church is bad, mind you, but I sensed it wasn’t my job. At the end of my time there, I went through this indepth program called LEAD that helps you determine your gifting, calling, ministry (and, um, problems, but we won’t go there). Two things they said about me (they said more, but two things that pertain to this): you need to be in the world of artists, and you shouldn’t be working for the church.

I had no idea what to do with that.

Sounds like a dream scenario, being an artist, but impossible. I forgot about it and took a job as a medical receptionist to pay the bills.

Several years later, Chris and I joined Christ Church. I fell in love with this church, and it had been a long time since I loved a church. I’m not talking about this lovely idea of loving the Church. I’m talking practical love of a church. I love this church, my church, Christ Church of Plano. Something inside of me, something that knows that God has something for me, that maybe this something has to do with being a prophet and priest, thought, maybe I should look at being ordained. Maybe that’s what God has for me. Haven’t others said that they believe I have the gift of prophecy (meaning Truth-telling, not reading tea leaves).

This session cleared that up for me. Nope. Ordaination is not what God has for me. Yes, He called me to be a prophet and a priest, but as an artist.

In the belly of the whale, we are called to die. Jonah had to die to himself, suck it up, and go to Ninevah. Of course, he never had a good attitude about the thing, but he did it. Being an artist, while I couldn’t imagine a better life, a more fulfilling life, requires sacrifice. This is our ordeal. This is Orpheus singing to Hades and Persophone in the heart of the land of death because of his love for Eurydice. This is Jack Sparrow (sorry, Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow) fighting Captain Barbossa in the cave, even taking on the curse himself. This is Jason Bourne venturing into the hotel room of his first assassination because he needed to know the truth.

Being an artist is beautiful but scary and painful. We’re going to camp on Barbara’s session for a while. She has a lot to say about the beautiful and the scary and the painful.

PS: There’s talk of being able to get the CDs and at some point mp3s of the main sessions. You can find more information here.

PPS: For more on the artist as prophet, you can read L.L. Barkat’s post, "Go Ahead Artist, Prophecy" and Gregory Wolfe’s article in Image, "The Artist as Prophet."

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, Barbara Nicolosi, transforming culture