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The Master's Artist: Risky Business

November 9, 2010 By 1 Comment

Today’s post at The Master’s Artist reflects on my recent completion of my rough draft and my intention and work on the revisions.

"Art is discovery. In the rough draft, I work through the characters’
emotions (as well as my own). I answer the questions: How does my
character feel about and react to all these things? How do I feel about
these ideas? In the rough draft, I discover meanings and muck through
what it means to be human. But if I stop there, my work stays in the
realm of self-expression, of emotionalism, and possibly,
horror-of-horrors, sentimentalism. I might even attempt to manipulate
or stimulate the observer so that she feels the same way I do about all
this mess."

Read the rest of Risky Business.

Filed Under: art, artists, creation, creativity, theology

I’m too Sexy for This Post

September 20, 2010 By 6 Comments

I turn on the bathroom faucet, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Whose body is this?

Bodies are complicated things. Most women, and, I would venture to guess, many men, have parts of their bodies that they don’t particularly favor and parts that they are proud of. My favorite body part: my stomach. I have a long torso, and though I’m not always pleased with other parts of my body, I’ve secretly been proud of maintaining a flat stomach.

Until now.

I look in the mirror at the growing bulbous frame, angling this way then that. Whose body is this?

But now I live in a particular time of life. Now, my stomach should grow. In fact, I’m proud of this growth.

Pregnancy both confronts me with my issues about body image as well as dissipates my insecurities. More than any other time in my life, I realize my body is not just for me.

I grew up with lessons that my body is a temple of God, and I should treat it accordingly. Mostly this meant I shouldn’t get drunk or wear immodest clothing or abuse my body with drugs or with sex outside of marriage. At some point, it came to mean that spirituality is more than a transcendental experience. It’s real, physical. It occupies the here and now. My body belongs to God and to his community–my physical touch matters to people.

Sometimes I spend too much time worrying about this body–the size of my thighs, or the pimple on my chin. I view myself critiquely in the mirror, inspecting how others might view me and might form an opinion of me based on their persception.

Then I got married, and my body belonged more specifically to my husband. This man finds me beautiful and tells me so every day. I begin to believe him at times. I am beautiful, and this applies to my body. How I treat my body affects my husband, not just in attraction, but in health. My health affects how I can serve my husband and interact with him. How I feel about my body affects our intimacy. In other words, my body, and how I feel about my body, affects our relationship.

And now I am pregnant. My body is the home of another body. My health directly affects the health of another human being. If I cling to images I see on TV and in magazines, to images I have of myself, I may, at best, be miserable in my pregnancy (and thereby making those around me, especially my husband, miserable) and at worst, create an unsafe home for my baby.

I don’t just refer to images of a thin, seventeen-year-old model in the J. Crew catalogue. I also mean the models I see on the Motherhood Maternity website, with their skinny thighs and well-shaped arms. So many maternity books and articles I read seem just as concerned with not putting on excess weight that the mother will have to lose post-pregnancy as they are with the health of the baby.

Interesting history point: centuries ago, when women in the Western world typically suffered from malnutrition and therefore had smaller frames and pelvises that made childbirth difficult and mortality rates high for the mothers, doctors encouraged women to eat very little during pregnancy to keep the babies smaller. This advice continued into the 1960s, when the pendulum swung and we moved to more of a position of healthy eating (meaning eating more for the baby) and even indulging cravings.

The pendulum swings again. I fear that these new articles, which rightfully combat the adage “I’m eating for two,” in order to emphasize lower calorie intake can create an atmosphere that indulges not pregnancy cravings but pregnancy and post-pregnancy insecurities over body image. If I were to follow the diets of some of these articles, I’d be eating fewer calories now than I did before I was pregnant, and through the years, I’ve maintained healthy, well-balanced eating habits and a regular exercise schedule.

Though I continue to exercise and, moreso than before, attempt to eat healthily (you thought I was a drill sergeant about hydrogenated oils before!), my butt and thighs are growing, probably to help stabilize me so I don’t tip over as my stomach grows (at least, that’s what I tell myself). This is part of the changes my body is undergoing in order to take care of my baby. After all, since I believe that this child in me is already a human being, then I am already a mother. It is my responsibility to care for this child how he or she needs to be cared for. I’m the mommy of an 18-week baby!

I don’t have a body. I don’t reside in a body. My body is not a separate entity from me. It is part of who I am. It is flawed like every other aspect of me because of the Fall, but it has been created by God and declared good. In the someday, when Christ returns and restores and re-creates this earth, he will resurrect and glorify this body. Perhaps like him, I’ll retain some of my scars. Maybe I’ll still have cellulite and moles. I don’t think a glorified body means a 21st-century ideal of feminine beauty. Feminine beauty isn’t only about our bodies and keeping up with the supermodels, but it does include our bodies and how we treat our bodies.

I am created by God, body, mind, and spirit. And you know what? My husband thinks I’m sexy.

Filed Under: bodies, body image, creation, health, pregnancy

Tapestry: It Is Good

August 14, 2009 By Leave a Comment

I posted my last entry at Tapestry today. It’s the third in a series on the debate between Intelligent Design and evolution between Christians. In this final post, I gave some considerations to keep in mind as we enter into the debate.

Read it here.

Filed Under: creation, debates, evolution, Intelligent Design, tapestry

Creation

November 11, 2008 By 2 Comments

"Every act of creation is first an act of destruction."
Pablo Picasso

Guernica by PicassoGuernica by Picasso

Filed Under: aesthetics, art, creation

Colossians and Creation

May 7, 2008 By 7 Comments

The sunlight sparkles on the water, speckles the path, and dances with the trees. I sit on a log bench and meditate on the memory verse for my Bible study:

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation, for all things in heaven and on earth were created by him – all things,
whether visible or invisible, whether thrones or dominions, whether principalities or powers – all things were created through him and for him. He himself is before all things and all things are held together in him.

All of this has been created by him, through him, and for him.

I look up and study the textures surrounding me: the bark–some large plates, others small slivers, the leaves–some wide mittens, others pine needles, the fish–some transparent, others spotted. Flowers border my feet–purple and yellow and white.

By him, through him, for him.

The Creator became creation and brought light into the darkness. What does it mean to sparkle with his light? The Church, a body–a body of water reflecting the son? Each of us–our lives, our art, our work–reflecting him.

We walk along the path, my companions and I, sometimes silent, sometimes in laughter. We stop and inspect roots and dragonflies and turtles.

Back at the camp, we find our places of solitude. But it is not silent. The space is filled with the warble of a cardinal, the drumming of a wood pecker, the shushing of the breeze. All creation praises him. After all, it has been created by him, through him, and for him.

In these moments, grace fills the space. Hope of the future, of a creation in perfect harmony, sneaks into the present. In these moments, my life and my art mean nothing and everything. In
these moments, the dark night of the soul awakens into a Dvorak
morning.

These are the moments of my retreat, the moments that God refreshed body, soul, and mind, the moments that my emotions overflow with rejoicing in the Creator.

By him, through him, for him.

Note: This post is part of a group writing project with The High Calling blogs. For other retreat posts, go to Success Creeations.

Update: I’m an idiot. A fact my readers well know. I forgot to tell you all this cool information about this post! The fact is that Laity Lodge is sponsoring this contest. If you can write a post today about retreats, you’ll be entered into a drawing for a free, yes, free retreat at Laity Lodge.

For those who write a blog (but don’t win), you can 50% off at Laity Lodge.

For my readers, 25% OFF FOR YOUR READERS – Anyone who reads your blog
can register for 25% off. When they call to register, they need to ask
for “the HighCallingBlogs.com discount.”

For more info, go to Chris Cree’s blog, Success Creeations.

Please, no comment from the peanut gallery.

Filed Under: camping, creation, nature, retreat, solitude

Beautifully Unuseful to God

April 7, 2008 By 20 Comments

I find it amusing that today’s word of the day (from the Merriam-Webster daily email) is "luftmensch" (pronounced LOOFT-mensh). It means "an impractical contemplative person having no definite business or income."

In other words, me.

I especially find it amusing considering my blog topic for today.

The Transforming Culture symposium presented the six plenary questions in what felt like a story (as a friend said and I affirm). The first plenary session was done by Andy Crouch. (Side note, for those going to the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing later this month, I believe he’ll be speaking there.) He addressed the question, "In what way is art a gift, a calling, and an obedience?"

In other words, it’s the call to adventure, the beginning of any story.

I cannot begin to give you his entire message, but I will tell you what it generally impressed upon me. Please keep in mind that what I talk about today on my blog is not a transcript of Andy’s session, it’s my interaction with it. For more of his words directly, I’d suggest pre-ordering his book, Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling. Baker said that they will have a book coming out based on the conference itself. Also, as soon as I find out where we can get the audio files of the conference, I’ll let you know.

Back to the session. Andy went through the creation account in Genesis in order to understand culture. He developed the idea that creation was not just utilitarian but also beautiful, that, in fact, some of the aspects of creation (i.e. gold, opal) hold their real value in beauty alone. These aspects reach their full potential when they are discovered and cultivated by the gardnerers. Speaking of these gardeners–our gardening comes from and mimics God, the culture-maker or cultivator.

As gardeners, we cultivate, or create art from the beauty God’s given us.

It’s a gift.

This art is unutile. It is unuseful. It is itself, without any attachments to utility or pragmaticism, worthwhile.

This is the beginning of my story. Crafting stories, or story-telling, is a gift from God. It in itself is beautiful and worthwhile. Do you know the freedom I have in this? While evangelism or social justice are not bad things in art (although they are often badly done), I don’t have to submit to them. My stories are beautiful stories because they echo the voice of the Storyteller.

As Andy said, my stories are beautifully unuseful to God.

They are like incense lifted to God. They are like a cheetah running and running because he can, because God created him to run. They are like honeysuckle weaved around a fence that has no other use other than to be pleasing to the eye, delightful to the nose, and surprising to the tongue.

What do my stories have to do? Be beautiful.

Andy pointed out that there are two things artists do that requires a vision of life as a gift: (1) play and (2) pain (enter into pain).

This statement affirmed me. It’s okay that I like to play with Play Doh. It’s okay that I dance around the house for no reason other than my favorite song just came on. It’s okay that I have to pause the movie because I’m crying too hard to continue. It’s okay that a squirrel dead in the road breaks my heart.

Besides affirmation, it also firmly plants us in art in a world that is at once created beautifully, corrupt, redeemed, being redeemed, looking forward to redemption. One without the other is less than. Play without pain leads to art that is too easy, comfortable, willing to let us settle for a life that has no ultimate hope because it too easily finds hope in the fading. Dare I say it is sentimental? Pain without pain leads to art that is masochistic and without grace.

Andy’s bringing together of these two aspects reminds me of my vision of art as baptism: immersing itself into Christ’s death and emmerging in Christ’s resurrection. As little Christs or the Body of Christ or the Church, we incarnate His redemption and love and suffering for the world.

This is our call as Christians.

This is our call as artists–a call to create beauty without being afraid of brokenness. A call to champion the "unuseful" in our world (and here, Andy meant people that the world considers "unuseful").

God doesn’t love us and delight in us because He has to or because He needs us. He loves as an outpouring of Himself. We are beautifully unuseful to God.

My art is beautifully unuseful.

So must my love extend to the beautifully unuseful.

Filed Under: aesthetics, beauty, creation, creative, incarnating Christ, transforming culture

A Cup of Creativity

October 19, 2007 By Leave a Comment
To get your weekend going…

Yesterday I went back to the English classes I guest taught last week to hear the stories they wrote. The eighth and ninth graders used the hero’s journey to structure their stories, most of them taking the bones we created last week and fleshing them out, a few going down a different path. Let me tell you, those kids stepped up. We had psychadellic horror (Mich, Chris–you guys would’ve been so proud), a more Catcher in the Rye feel (with a scruffy beagle), a Disney bent story, a mafia tone. We had it all. One girl had perfect dialogue and character development. Another did an amazing job with her POV. One guy–the horror guy–well, we’ll have to watch for him. His descriptions, tension, and flow almost made me jealous.
And the sixth graders with their Halloween stories–scary, gory, and with humor. All creative.

Here’s my point–when do we unlearn creativity?

I taught junior highers at a church for a bit. Loved it. At one point, I taught a series on the life of Jacob. From the beginning, I told them that at the last session, they would teach me. They could use whatever method they wanted to embody the story. It’s church. Not required. I didn’t expect much.

I was wrong.

These kids, ever single one of them, not only worked hard to prepare something, but they all displayed creativity in different ways–song, drama, powerpoint, drawing. And they got the point of the whole series. They understood.

As adults, we stop being creative. We’ve told ourselves one too many times that we’re not creative, that fingerpaints isn’t good enough, that creativity is for a few people who are left-brained (or is it right-brained? I can never keep that straight!). Or we’re too busy. Who has time for creativity? By the end of the day, about all we can do is flop on the couch with a remote.

So I have a challenge. (Chal-lunge! What movie is that from? Where some sumo-type guy walks around saying, "Chal-lunge!") Actually, it’s two part.

Part one: go to SoulPerSuit to register to win a coffee cuff. I shouldn’t tell you this because if you register, then I have less of a chance to win one, but Erin (of They Hang Like Paper Lanterns notoriety) is one of the coolest people I know. If she could bottle some of her creativity, it would sell like iPods, and you need to know about this particular product she’s handmade.

Part two: color in a coloring book or use fingerpaints or sculpt with Play-Doh or doodle with fun gel pens (the sparkly ones are the best). Personally, I have recently discovered an obsession with yarn: fuzzy yarn, sparkly yarn, ribbony yarn, yarn that looks like Mardi Gras, yarn that feels like kitten fur, yarn that has reminds me of dreadlocks. So I’m spending the weekend knitting. I’ll color some too. Report back on Monday.

You know what I think? (Well, you must have some curiosity on the subject seeing as how you’re reading this blog.) Since all of us have a piece of the image of God embedded in us, we all have the capacity for creation and creativity–not that we can create from nothing, conjuring up dust into humans, but we can all create. The question is, will we?

Filed Under: creation, creative, imagination, imago dei

I'm Only Human

March 8, 2007 By Leave a Comment
Blogging gives me an ideal spot for airing out all my pets and peeves. And I can get out all those crazy wonderings, the ones that usually get me those, “um, where’s the straight-jacket?” looks. Today I’ll do a little of both.
Pet: Someone messes up and as explanation claims, “I’m only human.” The account of creation in Genesis, whether you believe it to be a literal 6 days, stretched out 6 days, done through evolution or what have you, asserts several points. First, God is sovereign over His creation. Second, humans are special and primary in this creation (rather than an accident, after thought, or result of a sexual encounter, as the creation stories from other religions allege). Third, that God created humans in His image, and He declared them good. Yes, absolutely, in the Fall and every time I fail to love God or love my neighbor, I taint that image. But it’s still there. So “I’m only human” is something to live up to, not something to fall back on. Jesus is the only one to walk this earth and be truly human. Someday, whoever depends on Jesus for their right-standing with God will learn what it means to be truly human, with perfect bodies exuding the image of God, in harmony with God, each other, and nature. So, no, don’t tell me “I’m only human” when you mess up. Tell me you acted a little less humanly.
Peeve: Whenever someone sees some sampling of good in the world, someone who puts themselves in a dangerous position to save another sort of thing, they sigh and say, “He must be an angel.”
What?
How bout this? He must have actually let his Imago Dei (image of God) shine through. He must have just for one moment lived up to what he was created to be.
There is a verse that says that we need to be hospitable and caring of others cuz you never know when you are entertaining angels. Note: we need to be nice because we might have angels in our presence, not the other way around. The angels are the recipients. Other references to angels include messengers, sword-wielding warriors fighting demonic forces in a realm we don’t see, and those that serve in the presence of God. None of this is baby butt-cheeks playing a miniscule harp with curls framing a pudgy face.
Here’s what I think: as long as we say it was an angel, we don’t have to set that as a standard to which we should attain. Just like my flute students. If they preempt the whole thing with, “I can’t,” they think they have a way out and they don’t have to practice. (Little do they know with whom they deal!)
So to the crazy wonderings: My dad said once that he believes that when Jesus calmed that storm, he was being truly human (rather than demonstrating divine powers). In the beginning (I love those words. They mean story time.), man was created as caretaker of the world, over the world, naming things and caring for them and keeping them in check. Humans should be able to calm storms. Of course, because we are fallen and corrupt and decaying and would use that power for our own agenda (or should I say, we do use that power for our own agenda), we can’t calm a storm. Or walk on water, or fly (except in planes). So in that day when God restores everything to good, will we be able to walk on water and fly? I mean, in Rev. 21 and 22, it says the city is a mile high. How else will we get to the top?
Okay, I’ve rambled enough. So here’s to fairy dust and Superman and caring for the least of these.
Filed Under: angelology, anthropology, creation