Tag — art + spirituality
Church of Art: Linford and Karin
Hello Everyone. If you all will get settled down in to your pews, we’ll begin our service.
Today’s sermon is brought to you by Linford and Karin of Over the Rhine. May the work of their hands and the meditation of their hearts bring you through the darkest night. Amen? Amen.
Click to play: New Redemption Song from Snow Angels
From Linford’s Thanksgiving letter:
“I took a walk last night after dark beneath the stars and was reminded of what I wrote as a younger man:
And the sky. The sky is an upside down cobalt blue breakfast bowl of stars newly spilled and milky and we feel our eyes sting in the chill air. And we begin walking in the same direction and I realize there are so many things I’d love to tell you because now there is no longer need for words.
The younger version of me: I was often overwhelmed with how to respond to the unwieldy gift of being alive in this beautiful, heartbreaking world. I didn’t know where to begin.
But eventually I came to believe that music was as good a response as I was ever going to come up with. What better way to try to say thank you? Was there ever going to be a more nourishing ritual than gathering a group of people together in a room somewhere where we could make music over the course of an evening and have a conversation of some kind? Lean into the imaginary harness, and bend the world ever so slightly toward the hopefulness we longed for?
I know of no better time of year for music. The dark evenings are growing ever longer. The night air helps us make ghosts with our breath. We’re going to find some warmly lit stages and offer our songs to the close and holy darkness. It’s not the same without you.”
Church of Art: Bluebird
Hello Everyone. If you all will get settled down in to your pews, we’ll begin our service.
Today’s sermon is brought to you by the late Charles Bukowski.
My blessing for you today is this:
May you approach the complexities of life with clear and honest eyes, while still letting your bluebird sing.
Amen? Amen.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
You Might Also Like:
There’s a Bluebird in my Heart, from The Long Surrender by Over the Rhine
Church of Art: Rothko
Hello Everyone. If you all will get settled down in to your pews, we’ll begin our service.
Today’s sermon is brought to you by the late Mark Rothko. May the work of his hands and the meditation of his heart remind you that wonder hums always in the curve of your ear. Amen? Amen.
Mark Rothko, Untitled. Chicago Art Institute. (detail)
You Might Also Like:
The Rothko Chapel
Biography, Mark Rothko
BBC: The Power of Art
SYTYCD: Are you an Armchair Critic?
The intersection of Art and Spirituality is my favorite corner. I’ve been able to spend quite a bit of time there lately and my tired soul is getting filled back up, Up, UP.
Dance is the art form that’s feeding me the most—so much so that The Hubs just accused me of being a dance addict. (Guilty as charged.) So You Think You Can Dance is back on which means I can watch Sonya Tayah choreograph, and Melanie Moore dance. The competition for “America’s favorite dancer” has it’s obvious shortcomings –dramatic announcements, choices based on “good television” rather than artistry, and worst of all, the hot tamale train. And yet, in the U.S. it has brought dance to our attention like nothing before. Before SYTYCD, America’s dance vocabulary consisted of MTV hip-hop and the occasional trip to the ballet for The Nutcracker. Now millions of viewers are learning about ballroom, contemporary, jazz, broadway, and all kinds of street dancing (“whacking” anyone?). Not to mention the occasional foray into Bollywood, demonstrations of Thai dance, and even an ill-fated attempt at Russian folk dancing.Learning to appreciate different art forms expands the scope of our charts and the depth of our souls. Through SYTYCD we are indeed becoming more expansive. And because SYTYCD is a competition we are simultaneously learning to be an Armchair Critic.
Critique can be a valuable tool. It can hone your art and improve your skills. It can also take you out of an artistic moment and leave you sitting in the critic’s Herman Miller.
(If the video isn’t working for you, try clicking here.)
I recently watched this performance choreographed by Stacey Tookey. I thought it was lovely, and I watched each dancer with rapt attention. But when the judges spoke later about it’s depth and impact, I realized I had only seen it in critique-mode. Because this is a a competition I was watching each dancer, looking for good lines, impeccable timing, authentic emotion. The piece was designed to be seen as a whole, to be experienced as a moment – not as a tool for honing my dance critique skills.
By watching this piece in an analytical frame of mind, I traded true beauty for the fictional role of “Clever Critic.” I left the corner of Art and Spirituality, and in doing so I missed what could have been a transcendent moment.
When we take on the role of The Critic, we remove ourselves from the position of Withmate. We are no longer journeying with someone, but instead we are directing their course. When critique is asked for explicitly, it is helpful. Indeed these dancers would not be at such a high skill level if they had not been offered critiques. But when The Critic is our default position it harms both ourselves and those whom we are picking apart.
As I approach dance in the coming weeks, I intend to do so with a wondering and learning heart. I intend to look at each piece as a whole. To engage in the story. And to spend as much time as possible sitting on the front stoop at Art and Spirituality.
What about you? What helps you quiet The Armchair Critic so you can “Be Here Now?”
Behind the Mic: Shawn Ledington
In our last (for now) post on Art + Spirituality we get to peek inside the life of Shawn Ledington, artful soul, nature lover, and “soft” Unitarian Universalist. (I love their creed.) Shawn blogs at Live Laugh Write and writes letters to her daughters at Between the Lines. Today she steps Behind the Mic and is gives us a peek into how Art + Spirituality intersects in her life. Shawn, step right up!
Q: How does your love for nature, and your practice as Unitarian Universalist support your artistic self?
I guess, in a little way, this is my coming out. I was nervous to write this post at first because of the still lingering stigma that attaches itself to non-believers. But, after really meditating on it, I realized I am just as spiritual as those who consider themselves religious.
The earth, nature and the amazing energy that flows between human beings when they are connected drives my spirituality. And, thankfully, age has proudly allowed me to sink into this Truth and hold it and nurture it and understand it. As a writer, I especially enjoy writing about that human and nature connection.
In response to the Art + Spirituality lesson in Magpie Speak, I said:
”The closer I am to nature, the more spiritual I feel … the more spiritual I feel, the more I create quality, free-flowing ideas. I love letting my mind wander in creation and dreaming up new ideas. That’s about as close to God as I can get. It’s very organic and intimate.”
I love to see my twin daughters, now 4, running in the rain, digging in dirt and just exploring the Earth. I love to see them connect with other people and want to do nice things for them because it feels good. I love seeing them play with kids in their inner city preschool class who do not look like them and who do not live like them. I love that one of my girls asked for her hair to be in braids like her friend Anaya.
This is our truth. It’s rather messy and chaotic and not at all by-the-book but I think it’s pretty awesome.
In 2004, as newlyweds, my husband and I became members of a Unitarian Universalist, proudly. I am more an atheist than a believer though I do not profess to know or have the answers. I’m a seeker — of all things humanity. UU provides me with a vast range of other seekers who share a love of the world the way it is right now — all of its richness in diverse humanity. Plus, it’s loaded with artsy people like me. Sundays involve lots of poetry and earth-based services like walking a Labyrinth, checking out trees or bringing favorite flowers for a special flower ceremony.
Just two weeks ago, our daughters learned in their Sunday religious education class about what it would be like to not have legs, to not be able to smell or to not be able to see or to not have hands to eat their food with. UU has been a very good home for my family for its Universalist approach. I’m a Big Picture Thinker. I get lost and messy in small details but scanning the horizon, watching it’s beauty unfold is energizing for me. I love realizing that my spiritual world includes many who are not like me, who do not worship like me.
I do not for one second take being here on this Earth for granted. I look up at the sky and am amazed. But I have no desire to understand how we got here or where we will go after. I just love being here now. I love seeing it’s flaws and trying to improve upon them. But mostly I love seeing its beauty and relishing in it. It’s so Big. It’s Wondrous! My brain explodes with new ideas after a walk in the deep woods or along a body of water.
If I can give this gift of joy to my daughters, I feel I will consider myself a successful mother — and a Creative Soul.
Where does Art + Spirituality intersect for you? How does your faith-practice (or lack there of) come into play? We’d love to hear from you. Comment away!
To join us where this discussion began, sign up for my free Eseries, Magpie Speak: a new language for soulcare. To read all the interviews at Magpie Girl, just click to see who’s been Behind the Mic. And tune in next week when visual artist Lisa Congdon steps right up. See you then!
Behind the Mic: Evelyn Dufner
Our discussion about Art + Spirituality is on a roll here amongst the Magpies. Last week we heard from novelist Elissa Elliott. This week The Artist’s Way workshop coordinator Evelyn Dufner steps behind the mic to give us her take on Art + Spirituality. Evelyn, step right up!
Q: How does Art + Spirituality intersect for you and your work?
This topic certainly raised my gleaming artistic antennae. I haven’t see the question posed before, an yet once I read it it was like pointing out that water is wet!
Religion (pootah) left a bad taste in my mouth when I was young, but I have never ceased to be spiritually connected. Although I innately understood that there is always an element of the divine, when out of my energy emerges something creative, I hadn’t quite connected the two. Creation is what keeps me from dissolving into the depths of existence with no connection to self — and being connected with self really does feel like a connection to the greater universe of energy.
I immediately think of the moment I realized GOD was more than everyone said she was, and when my relationship with my own spirituality emerged. I must have been 5 or 6 years old. My parents had planted a Weeping Willow tree in the front of the house, which had become colossal by my standards. It’s branches hung over me like a large protective womb, and as I sat one day, agonizing over the turmoil in my life, scared and uncertain, I did something I often did — I buried my hands in the grass and soil around me. I sat there, a breeze moving through the branches, and I could FEEL God. I knew all that I was, all that I am, all that I was to be, was ok in that quiet spot. My sense of self emerged from moments like these, connected to what was spiritual, and connected to myself. I did a lot of drawing under that tree, and crying, and playing. Church was just a place, but this is where I connected and allowed my creativity to begin moving through me.
I believe when I look behind the lens at the world, draw and paint, write, or play with wire and bead, that I am nurturing my spiritual connection. The messages that evolve in my work are gifts of my own growth, perspective, and deeper needs expressed. If I can be observant and listen to the inner beauty expressed through my creativity I discover the messages of my own soul, and feel the connection with all that is bigger than me. The creative journey is essential to my survival, my growth, and I know deeply that it is critical to continue to stay in tuned with myself.
To learn more about Evelyn’s journey with art + spirituality, join her at her blog Mindful-FUN-da-mentals, or join her at her collaborative photoblog, Spirited Sisterhood of the Traveling Posts. and if you are lucky enough to live in the Greater Orlando area, you can join one of Evelyn’s Artist’s Way workshops.
To join us where this discussion began, sign up for my free Eseries, Magpie Speak: a new language for soulcare. And tune in next week at Behind the Mic for another example of the intersection between Art + Spirituality. Thanks for being here!
Behind the Mic: Elissa Elliott, Novelist
One of the on-going explorations here at Magpie Girl is the connection between Art + Spirituality. The Magpies are adding to the giant pool of wisdom by talking about it over at Magpie Speak. It’s been enlightening to see how this intersection works for different creative souls.
While reading some of the Magpie Speak comments, I was particularly struck by novelist Elissa Elliott’s take on Art + Spirituality. Ronna Detrick, spiritual director at Flock, wrote recently about how there’s no going back when you make an important ”ah ha” connection. Elissa’s story illustrates this powerfully motivating reality. Her experience also demonstrates how telling our stories is an incredible way to Stand in Your Own Power.
Today Elissa gets behind the mic to expand on how she lives with Art + Spirituality. Elissa, step right up!
Q: How is Art + Spirituality interconnected for you, and how do you see that coming out in your work as a writer?
Art and spirituality are inextricably linked for me. I never intended for them to coincide, but given that my spiritual journey is traipsing along after my writing, they’ve started to merge into one beast. As I write, I realize there are questions I have, there are paths I’ve not explored—that I want to address in my writing. I think it was Mark Twain who said, “I read to know I’m not alone,” and I would apply this to writing. “I write to know I’m not alone.”
In the spring of 2006, my agent wrote me an e-mail. Our correspondence looked like this:
Agent: What about Eve?
Elissa: You’ve got to be kidding me. The Eve?
Agent: Yep. Do some research. Tell me what you think.
Elissa (after doing some research): Oh no! The way I want to tell it, I’m not sure my family and friends will read it.
Agent: Just write the book.
So I did. I come from a fairly conservative Christian background (although I’ve moved away from this considerably as an adult), and after deciding, early on, that the Adam and Eve story came from an earlier myth, I realized I was in trouble. Add to this decision the fact that Biblical and non-Biblical scholars pretty much agree that Adam and Eve lived about 4000 B.C. But, oops, there’s a plethora of archaeological evidence before that date. What to do, what to do? Were Adam and Eve the first Hebrew people? Did God (if there is a God) create pockets of people, and we only know about these two? Is the Adam and Eve story simply that—a story (similar to Jesus’ parables in the Gospels)? The Hebrew scribes didn’t write these stories until much later, and when they documented them, they used earlier myths and changed them in two ways (they did the same thing with Noah’s Flood): they make them monotheistic and they made them moral.
How could I make everything gel, in a realistic way? I had to stay true to my research, whatever that meant.
Maybe you’ve wondered, as I have, how Eve, who has been both revered and scorned through the centuries, really lived her life, really lived with Adam. Maybe you’ve wondered why she has shouldered the blame for eating the infamous piece of fruit, when Adam willingly partook with her. Maybe you’ve wondered why she was made for Adam and not with Adam. There’s a huge difference in how we say it, isn’t there?
While doing the research for Eve, I wanted to experience her naively, personally—as though I’d never met her before. I wanted to think about her as a mother who ached with love for her children—one of whom murdered the other. A wife, burdened with the same marriage hang-ups we’ve all experienced. A woman, thrown out of the Garden of Eden without any explanation.
If you know anything about the story, there are no daughters mentioned in the religious texts, so I had to make them up. Hence, Eve: A Novel
As I neared the end of the novel, I still had God, but I had radically changed my view of Him or Her (why don’t we have a decent pronoun to use for this?!) I began to wonder how accurate the scribes’ views of God were. I began to wonder what He/She would look like, stripped of organized religion and all the labels we’ve plastered on Him/Her. That God would be much bigger, much grander than I could ever imagine, and how might I go about learning about this God?
Currently, I’m working on the story of Noah’s Flood, which has been a challenge, because if you think the research for Adam and Eve was sticky, Noah’s Flood is doubly so.
My greatest desire in my art (for my art) is to create questions, so that collectively, we all might inform our own lives by talking to others of different faiths (and of no faith).
_______________________________________________
Want to hear more from Elissa? She can be found at her blog Living the Questions, and you can dive into the pages of her book, Eve: A Novel
Living the questions a lot these days? Join us at Flock, a small online community dedicated to “finding a spirituality that fits.” Sign up today for our introductory offer (more than half-off the standard membership price.)
Need a little inspiration? Looking for some good advice? Artists and Coaches get interviewed most Mondays at Magpie Girl. Want to be behind the mic? Send me an email telling me why Magpie Girl readers need to hear from Y.O.U. Thanks for being here.
