Art Blog

From Sky To Ground

2012-02-08T10:34:42Z

‘Cause we’ve been seen
As blessed not mean
So we fling it around
From sky to ground.

We are blessed by the good thing
You are the good thing
We fling the good things
We fling the good things.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): "Golden Eagle" by Ryan Lee Smith

Words above: from "Fling It" by Spirit Journey Youth, a Native American Episcopal Youth group from Northern Arizona working on their faith journey step-by-step (an Outreach program of the Diocese of Arizona since 2000). Read "Fling It" here. Read more about Spirit Journey Youth here.

Note: Kaze Gadway works with the emerging leaders of the Episcopal Church within the Native American community of Northern Arizona. She says: "They are youth of promise from twelve to twenty."

Alchemy

2012-01-22T21:18:05Z

I often include sacred music in my collages. Though I’m not a musician, the patterns and the variety of shapes on the page please me and imply a song. The repetition of a praise song in whatever cultural context, whether it’s in the studio, during a medical procedure, or singing together with a congregation often leads to "glory door moments" and helps me see the "thin places" where "patches of Godlight" illumine my life.
Image above (and on front-page mastheads): "Alchemy" by Virginia Wieringa, part of ECVA's most current exhibition, "Imaging The Sacred Art Of Chant."

Words above by Virginia Wieringa.

Silence

2012-01-07T23:14:06Z

No one told me
Silence goes so deep.
It burns away the empty things
It demands response.
It demands surrender.

Image above: “Purity, Chant Series” by Sheila M. Conner.

Words above from "Silence" by Jeremy Blackwater, a member of Spirit Journey Youth: an Episcopal Native American youth group in Northern Arizona. You can see some videos from Spirit Journey Youth here.

Note: Kaze Gadway works with the emerging leaders of the Episcopal Church within the Native American community of Northern Arizona. She says: "They are youth of promise from twelve to twenty."

Oh Let There Be Light

2011-12-25T03:33:01Z

Images above — Top (and on front-page mastheads): "Bearing Good News" by Christina Saj. Bottom: "Madonna and Child" by Ruth Councell.

Words above by Ken Arnold from his poem, "Koku."

We Are Near

2011-12-16T04:19:00Z

December 17
O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
reaching from one end to the other mightily,
and sweetly ordering all things:
Come and teach us the way of prudence.

December 18
O Adonai, and leader of the House of Israel,
who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush
and gave him the law on Sinai:
Come and redeem us with an outstretched arm.

December 19
O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the peoples;
before you kings will shut their mouths,
to you the nations will make their prayer:
Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

December 20
O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel;
you open and no one can shut;
you shut and no one can open:
Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house,
those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

December 21
O Morning Star,
splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness:
Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

December 22
O King of the nations, and their desire,
the cornerstone making both one:
Come and save the human race,
which you fashioned from clay.

December 23
O Emmanuel, our king and our lawgiver,
the hope of the nations and their Saviour:
Come and save us, O Lord our God.

Images above (and on the front‐page mastheads) by Linda Witte Henke: "The Great O Antiphons." The works in this collection were created with cotton fabric, cotton batting, and synthetic felt that was dyed, painted, screen‐printed, stenciled, and stamped, then embellished with appliqué, improvisational stitching, hand embroidery, and found objects (metal hardware and plastic stars); 176 inches wide by 41 inches high, installed.
Words above from the Church of England's "Common Worship" liturgy (“The Advent Antiphons,” starting on page 58 in the PDF link.)

The Art Of Advent

2011-12-03T15:59:09Z

This year for Advent, ECVA and Curator Ana Hernandez called artists for its latest exhibition “Imaging the Sacred Art of Chant.” Their responses were inspiring, and in her Curator’s Statement, Ana creates a pedestal from which to view each individual entry, as well as the exhibition as a whole.

Ana writes: “Music and art are two among the many on-going dialogues we have over the course of our lives. Whether with people or issues, the beauty of the arts in life’s dialogue is that they teach us to see and not merely look, to listen deeply. This is especially important when we’re faced with the unpleasant, painful, or perplexing. Music and art help us to negotiate the gnarly aspects of our lives; they bear us up, help us to pay attention, change what we can, and love what is.”

You are invited to visit the exhibition, and to read Ana’s complete statement HERE.

Images above: Top (and on front-page mastheads): “Imaging the Sacred Art of Chant” by Jim Curtis; Middle: “Be Thou My Vision” by Kathy Thaden; Bottom: “Serenity 1” by Gary Gorby.

Words above: from Imaging The Sacred Art of Chant Curator’s Statement, by Ana Hernandez.

Flowing Through Light

2011-11-21T02:36:42Z

Halogen lamps
burn like
birthday candles
coming too fast
in the dark.
The glow and
the wishes
push the night
to the side
of the road,
and watch it
spin its wheels
in the cold, wet
ground that has not
yet frozen.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads) by Nancy Denmark: “Flowing Through Light.”
Words above by Steve Brightman: “Push The Night.”

Being In The World

2011-11-07T14:30:29Z

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

Images above (and on front-page mastheads) by Ann Fontaine. Top: "Jesus Is The Boat - a place of safety even in the storm." Middle (and on front-page mastheads): "Hunger for Fall in Wyoming and Cambridge MA." Bottom: "A meditation on migration."
Words above: “Who Has Seen the Wind?” By Christina Rossetti.

Look For The Birds

2011-10-17T23:28:42Z

Now
Let's look for birds!
The tall iron branches
in the forest,
The dense
fertility on the ground.
The world
is wet.
A dewdrop or raindrop
shines,
a diminutive star
among the leaves.
The morning time
mother earth
is cool.
The air
is like a river
which shakes
the silence.
It smells of rosemary,
of space
and roots.
Overhead,
a crazy song.
It's a bird.

Luminous ease!
Invisible
power
torrent
of music
in the leaves.
Sacred conversations!
Clean and fresh washed
is this
day resounding
like a green dulcimer...

You can't touch them.
You can hear them
like a heavenly
rustle or movement.
They converse
with precision.
They repeat
their observations.
They brag
of how much they do.
They comment
on everything that exists...

Images above (and on front-page mastheads) by Jeanelle McCall. Top (and front-page mastheads): "Misty Haze." Middle: "I Feel Good This Morning." Bottom: "Woodpecker, cyan plate."

Words above from “Ode to Bird Watching” by Pablo Neruda, translated by Jodey Bateman. Full text HERE

Shelter

2011-09-28T20:17:20Z

"We all need many forms of shelter, a place of safety and comfort, from external, and internal, elements and storms. Let these stones be a shelter from your internal storms. Let them be a place of peace and stillness."

Image above and on front-page mastheads: "Sheltering Stones" by Angela Rockett.

Words above by Angela Rockett.

Thirty-Eight Tears

2011-09-20T22:35:48Z

In the early Fall of 2008, I was invited to take part in the “States, Dates and Place” art exhibition at Ancient Traders Gallery with other Native artists in Minneapolis. The theme of the show was the Native response to the State on Minnesota’s recent celebration of its 150 years of statehood.

I was both honored and humbled to be asked, since I was not raised in Minnesota, and my tribe the Oglala Lakota’s recent history is tied to the next state over, South Dakota, where I was raised. It didn’t take me long to find a chapter in this state’s history to portray. The hanging of 38 Dakota Warriors on December 26, 1862 in Mankato Minnesota is a chapter that is one of many tragic ones in Euro-American and Native Peoples relations. It is still painfully felt and remembered in my Dakota brothers’ and sisters’ hearts and minds.

Having a B.S. in American History, with a special focus on the socio-political history of my Oyate the Oglala Lakota and Native American history, I have always known about this tragic story in America; one that is, sadly enough, rarely told or quietly forgotten. When I was invited to be part of this show I knew exactly what I wanted to create and how to portray this story. I remember reading once that executions were presented as a public spectacle, having a circus-like atmosphere. It is true that from the wild-west hangings to the lynchings of black Americans, executions were a cheap form of entertainment. In the case of the 38 hangings, we might consider it the modern-day equivalent of the blockbuster. To put to death all 38 in unison is still mind-boggling, frightening, and is probably a world-record.

I have found that the role of the Episcopal Church in this story is largely left out today for reasons I have not yet explored adequately. As an Episcopal Priest and a fourth-generation Episcopalian, I could not leave the church out. I chose to use my image of the first Bishop of Minnesota, Henry Benjamin Whipple. He is a major figure in church history and was a huge player in Minnesota history. The terrible treatment of the Dakota and Ojibwe peoples by the federal government and settlers culminating in the war, and followed by the executions had affected Whipple and I believe defined the rest of his ministry. I asked the questions: “What was his role?” “Was he a hero or a villain?” Should we consider him culpable in the executions or was he a saint? He had a meeting with President Abraham Lincoln asking him to right the wrongs committed against the Dakota and Ojibwe peoples. Lincoln reviewed the evidence and reduced the number of the condemned from 303 to 38. As a man of the cloth, should Bishop Whipple have lobbied harder with Lincoln to have all 303 sentences commuted? I wonder if he could have tried harder. It may surprise many to learn that of the 38 executed, 37 were baptized (some by the Episcopal Church). And contrary to popular belief, as they walked to the gallows they sang a Christian hymn in the Dakota language and not a “death song.” Might we now consider them to be Christian Martyrs and Saints?

I titled the painting The 38 Tears of Bishop Whipple. The miniature nooses on the painting are real and are adhered to the canvas. The nooses form drops and were highlighted by adding a bit light blue to enhance the notion of tears. Once, I was asked by someone how I felt while I made the nooses. There is one thing I couldn’t imagine and that is what the person or persons were thinking when they tied the 38 nooses for the actual hangings. Were they elated? Were they paid or was it voluntary? Was there a feeling of sweet vengeance? I could only guess, but my own feelings ebbed and flowed with both disgust and horror.

Seven or eight years ago when I lived and served in the Diocese Los Angeles, I began teaching a class on Art and Spirituality and the marketing Native American Indian Art. From these two experiences, coupled with my own art-making, I found that individual minds are opened by art. Art can transform the individual. When Native artists create art that is not necessarily tribally themed, non-Native viewers often voice surprise. In this process some stereotypes fade away. I try to respond authentically to what I feel called to create in art. I hope that whatever the resulting piece is, that it causes the viewer to think. In my painting I leave it to the viewers to interpret for themselves what it says to them. Are the tears Whipple’s own from mourning? Or are they the tears of God raining down upon him?

In 2012 we will be remembering “The 38” on what will be the 150th anniversary of the mass hanging. Today a few of us in the clergy are beginning a process of reconciliation between both Native and non-Native peoples in Minnesota and in the Episcopal Church. As Episcopalians we cannot sit back and do nothing, as it is part of our history that needs to be addressed and understood more clearly today. It is my vision, as both artist and priest, that only good things will emerge as we do this work of reconciliation together.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): “The 38 Tears Of Bishop Whipple,” by Robert Two Bulls. (The painting is owned by Marilyn Wall of St. Paul, MN.)
Words above by Robert Two Bulls. You can read about The hanging of 38 Dakota Warriors on December 26, 1862 in Mankato Minnesota here.

Under Abraham's Tent

2011-09-08T17:07:30Z

Today more than fifty percent of the world’s people are affiliated with religions that trace their roots to Abraham… and yet the “promised land” — where Sufi dervishes whirl in ecstatic communion with the Beloved, where Jews daily celebrate their ancient heritage, and where Christians make their pilgrimage — is more readily known as a place where the Abrahamic peoples seem unable to coexist in freedom, dignity, and love.

Through art, we have a unique opportunity to remind one another of our common ancestry; to begin to visualize a more harmonious and unified world. With the hope that art can help to heal these painful divisions, Episcopal Church & Visual Arts (ECVA) is delighted to announce the launch of the exhibition Under Abraham’s Tent, curated by Bowie Snodgrass, Executive Director of Faith House Manhattan.

“Each piece of art in this exhibition,” says Snodgrass, “is a prayer or meditation on all that God embraces under Abraham’s tent… This collection calls for harmony among all God’s children, joyous in our diversity, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, connected in a long lineage and a kaleidoscope of colors, traditions, and prayers that all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

Images above: Top — "Our Father, Abraham" by Linda Hunter; Middle (and on front-page mastheads) — Photo Collage by Wilfredo Benitez; Bottom — "And I Will Bless You" by Barbara Desrosiers.
Words above by Diane Walker, ECVA Exhibitions Director

On Holy Land

2011-08-29T23:39:32Z

“Go on you, get out of here,”
The storekeeper shouts wid a sneer
Old man stumbles widout a say
Resigned to it day by day.

I go on to him and say “what’s up?”
Don’t have a plan, just talk some stuff.
He looks past me, eyes rolling round,
Tries to talk, can’t make a sound.

How do I say what I feel?
Something deep, something real.
Want to say, “you all right,
You child of God in His sight.”

He’s filled wid crap filling his ears
So much garbage, he can’t hear.
Want to do something good,
But he sees a kid, one of the hood.

Nothing to say, no wisdom to share,
I walk with him, it’s all I dare.
The silence with us just grows strong
We do nothing but walk, it’s seems so wrong.

We reach the alley, his home tonight.
I look around like from the height.
“Thank you,” he says “That couldn’t be fun.
Walking with me like you my grandson.”

I say good night and shake his hand.
Respecting him on holy land.

Images above and on front-page mastheads: by Mary Jane Miller — new work from the series “Line, Blue, and Halo.”

Words above: "A newOld Man" by Nathan Blackwater, a member of Spirit Journey Youth: an Episcopal Native American youth group in Northern Arizona. You can see some videos from Spirit Journey Youth here.

If We Dare To Listen

2011-08-15T14:52:54Z

We are living in a time of ecological devastation, in which our materialistic culture has had a catastrophic effect on the ecosystem. Our rivers are toxic, the rainforests slashed and burned, vast tracts of land made a wasteland due to our insatiable desires for oil, gas and minerals. We have raped and pillaged and polluted the earth until it is in a dangerous state of imbalance we call climate change. If we dare to listen, creation itself is now calling to us, sending us signs of its imbalance. We can see these signs in the increasing floods and droughts, feel it in a land that has been poisoned with pesticides, and those whose hearts are open may hear the cry of the world soul, of the spiritual being of our mother the earth. It is a cry of need and despair, that humanity who was supposed to be the guardian of the planet has forgotten its responsibility and instead desecrates and destroys the earth on a global scale.

For centuries it was understood that the world was a living being with a soul, and that we are a part of this being. Once we remember this in our minds and in our hearts, once we hear the cry of our suffering, dying world, our prayers will flow more easily and naturally. We will be drawn to pray in our own way. There is the simple prayer of placing the world as a living being within our hearts when we inwardly offer our self to the Divine. We remember the sorrow and suffering of the world in our hearts, and ask that that the world be remembered, that divine love and mercy flow where it is needed. That even though we continue to treat the world so badly, divine grace will help us and help the world˜help to bring the earth back into balance. We need to remember that the power of the Divine is more than that of all the global corporations that continue to make the world a wasteland, even more than the global forces of consumerism that demand the life-blood of the planet. We pray that the Divine of which we are all a part can redeem and heal this beautiful and suffering world.

Images above (and on front-page mastheads) by Gretchen Durst Jacobs. Top and front-page mastheads: "Riverside, Looking West" — Middle: "Grant, Bridge" — Bottom: "Clifton Gorge"
Word above: "Praying for the Earth" by Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee.

A Calm Illumination

2011-08-02T19:49:21Z

Thy golden Light came down into my brain
And the grey rooms of mind sun-touched became
A bright reply to Wisdom's occult plane,
A calm illumination and a flame.

Thy golden Light came down into my throat,
And all my speech is now a tune divine,
A paean-song of Thee my single note;
My words are drunk with the Immortal's wine.

Thy golden Light came down into my heart
Smiting my life with Thy eternity;
Now has it grown a temple where Thou art
And all its passions point towards only Thee.

Thy golden Light came down into my feet,
My earth is now Thy playfield and Thy seat.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): "Last Light Of July" by Scott Fisher.
Words above: "The Golden Light" by Sri Aurobindo, 8-8-1938, (revised 22-3-1944)
Reference: # 89 in "Les poèmes de Sri Aurobindo" (bilingual edition)
also in "Last Poems" - 11, published by Sri Aurobindo Ashram - Pondicherry.