I am who I am

Told you I’d be writin’ with a mug in hand.  Here is a shot of me now.

Lately I have entered into many discussions about what it means to be an artist and a Christian.  Several professors on campus have written lengthy responses, all of which have hugely inspired me.

For me, the response begins with the terms.  Christian and artist.  I am not usually one for picking apart details, but I think the use of those two words together have major ramifications.  I prefer to not label myself as a Christian artist.  For one thing, my art doesn’t have a soul.  For another, crosses, a portrait of Christ, fish, and footprints on sand are rarely, if ever, in my work.

I am a Christian.  I am an artist.

When talking with my stepdad, Mark the Wise (just made up that title…I hope he reads this post ), he often likens it to Tolkien.  J.R.R. Tolkien didn’t intend for Lord of the Rings to have such powerful spiritual metaphors.  He wrote the story as a children’s book for his kids!  But, man there are some powerful metaphors of spirituality in that story!  That mentality of simply doing your work and letting your faith permeate as it will feeds my art.  I don’t have to force Christianity into my work.  It will be in my art because my fingerprints are on my work, and my faith defines me.

Hear me out, I’m not saying using a cross, a portrait of Jesus, or rope sandals in a piece of art in wrong.  C.S. Lewis, Tolkien’s pub mate, was exclusive in his metaphors of Christianity in his fictional tale, Narnia.  That is the world Lewis liked to camp out in.

I am saying risk.  Risk to discover who God has made you to be in your line of work.  Don’t sell yourself short by thinking you have to fit in this narrow genre of “Christian” such and such.  What does that even mean?

I am an artist that falls more along the lines of Tolkien because that is how I am built.  I am a Christian who happens to be an artist, and an artist who happens to be a Christian.  What God does from there, oh man, is an ocean of mystery and excitement.  God can do anything, even with ceramics.

I leave you with a quote that greatly inspired me this week:

“‘To fit into patterns of evangelism, artists have often compromised, and so prostituted their art.  But Handel with his Messiah, Bach with his St. Matthew’s Passion, Rembrandt with his Denial of St. Peter…worked for the glory of God.  They did not compromise their art.”

-H.R. Rookmaaker, Art Needs No Justification

Results

Results can easily define my day.  Finishing my morning run, going to class, attending chapel, arriving to meals at Saga (Wheaton’s cafeteria extrodinare).  How often the portions of my day become boxes to be opened, closed, and placed in the vault of my mind.  All too quickly relationships become a checklist, and learning becomes a grade.  I am aware of this tendency even after a few days of class.

May it not be!

A deeply wise woman once told me, God doesn’t care about the result he cares about the journey.  What a counterintituitive way to think in our consumerist, material driven society.

Ceramics has taught me something about journey.  A finished piece is a period at the end of a long sentence of thrill, discipline, struggle, and passion in the conceiving and making.

Getting the appetite goin’…

Here are a few promised shots (overdue) of what’s been happening in the studio the last few weeks.  The first shot is a series of “bird” plates I am working on.  The second shot are cups/teabowls I threw that are in the process of drying for their first firing.

Fall 2009

Butt bones

Monday was a big day.  For the first time in six months I got to touch clay.  It was glorious!  I so enjoy being back in the studio, getting to hang with clay, and it’s also been a treat to work for my Ceramics professor.  What a gift a few weeks to simply do what you love can be.

To say the last few days have been affirming may be the understatement of the month.  I have gotten to work in the studio about three hours each day and have yielded 25 cups/mugs, three plates, and I’m working on a platter and a casserole dish.  I wasn’t really planning on gettin’ down and dirty quick, it just happened!  (I’ll attach pictures of some work in progress soon).

As for my butt bones, I never knew they could hurt so much!!!  Hours on a wooden chair in front of the wheel comes at a price.  Totally worth it!  Just don’t laugh too hard if you catch me limping around.

The Process

“As hard as it is to believe that the dry desolate desert can yield endless varieties of flowers, it is equally hard to imagine that our loneliness is hiding unknown beauty.  The movement from loneliness to solitude, however, is the beginning of any spiritual life because it is the movement from the restless senses to the restful spirit, from the outward-reaching cravings to the inward-reaching search, from the fearful clinging to the fearless play.”  -Henri Nouwen (Reaching Out, pg. 13).

Have you ever felt that life suddenly comes together when you are about to leave?  Like friends, daily events, and quiet moments have an extra amount of beauty and joy?

That has happened to me these last few weeks.  Certain areas of life that previously frustrated me now seem like a sweet breath of life.  A book I am reading with a friend I didn’t connect with, I now treasure.

Also, areas I enjoyed before, now feel more marvelous.  I couldn’t ever trade a breakfast filled with deep, rich conversation (and a few dirty words) with my Mom.  Or, looking at the (few) stars seen in the metroplex with a friend.  These moments won’t ever be replaced or re-lived.

I don’t think these times are meant to create restlessness.  I don’t think they are supposed to make me live forever in this place when I move on.  I notice friends that are constantly caught in the future or past live life hoping for these unique moments.

Maybe these experiences need to simply remind me, God is working.  I get a glimpse, a sweet, full, rich glimpse of all the ways God is moving.  And, he will continue to move.

Maybe there will be lonely moments when I move to the next season.  Maybe I won’t see such sappy sweetness for a while.  Maybe I will.  It doesn’t mean life isn’t so sweet in a different state, nation, or time as now.

Live in the now.  As the good ol’ “Dead Poets Society” says, “Carpe Diem!”

I have chewed Henri Nouwen’s words written above for the last six months.  I have gleaned many thoughts from that quote, in many different areas of life.

Man, the dry desolate desert sounds fascinating on paper, but it rips on the soul in real life.

In connecting this quote with a next step in life, maybe resting in the process is the key.  Life is a process.  Next steps in life often feel like a desert of loneliness.  Usually we can’t yet see what the desert will yield.

How freeing and incredible the process of the desert yielding harvest.  How worth it when that desert blooms, and the sap of perseverance yields a forest of beauty.

There is pain in loneliness.   There is also pain in sitting and learning of solitude.  But, the beauty.  How wonderful the process of learning solitude.  A restful spirit.  A joy-filled life.  I long for that.  That long process often feels full of weeds, and to drink in a quick breath of an “easy fix” (that doesn’t often work) seems so tempting.  But when we actually wait, face ourselves and learn solitude, how worth it!

I hope fearless play in your life and mine!  Whatever the next step, laugh during the process.

Control

I have no control.  Not in my life circumstances, in relationships, in anything really.  Absolutely everything rest’s in the palm of God’s hands.

Fall 2008

Every one of us is a control freak in some way.  That need for control in our lives is a root of depravity.

The beauty of growth lies in letting go, and gaining the joy and life we long for.  It is easier to see the “greater way” of releasing our desire for control when life is going well.  For me, it is difficult in such times as I am now facing when life begins to transition and unknowns are brought to my attention.  I begin to fear, and then I find my fingers reaching for control.

A need for control is often based in fear.

The picture included in this post is a pot I made this last fall in a wood-firing class.  Wood-firing is a fascinating process.  Firing pieces in the wood-fire kiln we used usually took about 18 hours.  Some wood-fire kilns can take days.  There is a romance to constantly stoking the fire with wood for 18 hours straight.

Wood-firings are one of a kind.  The wood ash and fire moves across the pieces in the kiln telling the story of the firing.  That story will never be told again.  How hot the wood burned, the kind of wood, the amount of pieces taking up the space, all of that plays a part in how the fire and wood ash move in the kiln.  The artist has little control in that whole process.  They have a choice.  Either they can fear their lack of control, and buy high-tech supplies to make sure every part of the kiln is equally hot, calculated, and controlled.  Or the artist can do their best in preparation, faithfully stoke the fire, and embrace the romance of the unknown.

The pot in that picture has no glaze on it.  It is solely sealed by the wood ash which turned into a glaze when it reached a certain temperature.  The color variation is the result of the firing.  The color is more pinkish-orange where more wood ash deposited on the piece, and the temperatures were hotter.

I can’t ever re-create that piece.  How great!  When I chose to embrace my lack of control in a wood-firing, I was freed to enjoy the ride.  Some pieces in that firing didn’t turn out how I hoped, but they all told a marvelous story.  I am a better artist and person because I released control and simply embraced my lack of control.  Plus, I learned a whole lot more when I wasn’t so focused on “my” way.

That piece is teaching me something about life right now.  Enjoy the ride.

P.S. Uncle Chuck, this is the piece I was telling you about.

A glance at the past…

Fall 2008

With the addition of the “Ceramics” tab, you can see a few works from the last two years.

Gratefully most of these pieces have made their way into a home.  If you see a piece you bought, feel free to lay claim in a comment!

Would love to hear any of your thoughts as you gaze through the work.

Enjoy!

Let’s dig in!

I love clay.  I love people.  My art reflects my passion for both.  I primarily focus on functional wear (for now), because it brings a piece of art into one’s daily life and community.  Functional pots allow interaction with all senses.  I love that.  Don’t get me wrong, other media’s are great too, and they may surface every now and then on here.

Most of my ideas for artwork come through observation and reflection.  I welcome you into my raw sketches of thought, and I would love to hear what you glean.  I hope you enjoy some snap shots of work along the way as well.

Alright, time to get our hands dirty…