Magdalene

The work I've been doing lately in my studio art classes has been full of images of devotion. I wasn't really intending it to become such a devotional series, but it developed into that. In acrylic painting class, I painted a cubist depiction of Mary Magdalene in the desert (based roughly off the portrait of Donatello's wooden sculpture of the same subject). I was so incredibly drawn to the sorrow in her eyes and expression. My painting reflects that, I believe. In my inner soul, I loved her sorrow because it reminded me of my own. A soft, subtle sadness that blooms with a strange beauty when subjected to pressure. It's not a portrait of agony. It's a self portrait, in the sense of the heart. I didn't realize that what I had been painting was a reflection of my heart; in truth, I wasn't even sure why I felt compelled to paint her.

When I became Christian, I identified myself with Mary Magdalene bathing Christ's feet with tears. I realized my shortcomings and could do nothing but cry and offer up any service I had, meager as it was - and is.

It's difficult to write this and show a piece of artwork that cuts to such a deep part and pain of myself. One of my professors said once that any portrait depicted by an artist is a self-portrait. That holds true for this painting. The first impression it makes on people is sorrow. I am compelled to say that is the same for my heart in this place. I'm not entirely sure why, and I don't think it's a bad sorrow.

I'm suddenly reminded of a character from J.R.R. Tolkien's Silmarillion. Nienna, one of the Queens of the Valar, was written as one who dwelt alone and wept. Her name actually means "She Who Weeps." She wept for the suffering of the newly-born world, and taught others (such as Gandalf) pity and patience. She rarely went into the city of gladness, but spent her time in the Halls of Waiting, comforting the spirits of Elves and Men who were waiting their fate.

There's something to both Mary Magdalene's sorrow and the continual weeping of Nienna. I'm not quite sure what it is exactly, and I'm not entirely positive I have the temperament for such a beautiful sorrow. I would like to have it, though.

Quotes I didn't want to lose

Do you not know that we are planning a wedding feast? Have you forgotten that, Churches of North America? You are wedding planners! What wedding would lack music, art, poetry, dance or delectable foods? Start preparing, begin to breath in the aroma of grace; we need the best artists, poets, dancers, musicians and architects. Become an artist of the Kingdom, preparing for the Feast of grace.

-Makoto Fujimura

Since the invisible One became visible by taking on flesh, you can fashion the image of him who you saw…I do not worship matter; I worship the Creator of matter who became matter for my sake, who willed to take his abode in matter, who worked out my salvation through matter.

-John of Damascus

Statement of Purpose

The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. -The Westminster Catechism

Today, I've been pondering my purpose as an artist. Why do I feel the urge to create? How can I adequately express this to others? If I were asked to state my purpose as an artist, how could I succinctly state my passionate life endeavor?

I started off by reading and wondering over different artist's statements. Some artists might say their work reflects their desire for social justice. Others would say they make art to illustrate the dichotomy of this or that in our society. Others state their work is merely a study of light and reflection, or something along those lines. While these are all valid (I suppose), I couldn't force myself to pin my work to one category. So I began searching for an over-arching theme not only in my artwork, but in my life.

The main item that urges me to create is the Lord of inspiration: God. So I then turned to the teachings of Christianity for an answer, since I believe myself to be a Christian before I would profess to be an artist.

I wrote out my purpose to be: "to spread the gospel of Love -- of Christ".

I realized underlying themes that strike me as central to my main purpose (though not as supreme as my purpose), so I began a flowchart that categorized my desires as an artist. Underneath my purpose, I wrote "to be a catalyst of change in today's society".

As I continued my day working in the studio, I began to slowly form a deeper, broader sense of my purpose. Spreading the gospel is a strong part of this new statement; however, standing by itself, it failed to portray the ultimate sense of existence I hold in my heart.

After much deliberation (and much more to come, I suspect), I have come to the conclusion that my chief end is "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."

When I stand on stage in church on Sundays, the way I've most felt the Spirit move through my painting is by realizing that the act of creation is an act of devotion to God as creator. Just as He painted the sky with a laugh and a flourish of his brush, so I attempt to paint my color-poor landscapes with the same laugh and flourish. Through creating, I glorify God and enjoy Him. Through this, I can feed the spiritually starving; I can spread the gospel of Christ just as much as a sidewalk evangelist. Through this, people can be healed physically and spiritually.

I'm still learning what it's like to be a sacred artist. I feel like I'm just learning how to maybe walk...well, maybe crawling right now. At least now I have a purpose I can look back at and re-orient myself whenever I get overwhelmed with the artworld or theology.

Sacred Discipline

I'm getting closer to achieving in part -- at least -- a closer idea of what it means to combine the essence of the sacred with the discipline of art. I can feel the shift happening in my mind and in how I view objects and colors. In church, we paint non-representational paintings that don't have strong compositions at all. They're painted in 30-40 minutes, and it's obvious. Sometimes one of us breaks through with a truly affecting painting, but usually not. I'm on the search for consistency in truly prophetic, truly good art -- not just one side of the spectrum with a few hits in the middle.

An example of an intensely prophetic painting would be of me looking at a tree and wanting to paint it. A completely prophetic standpoint of painting that tree would be to paint the pure essence of the tree. So the end artwork would have colors and forms that - to me - define what "tree" is to me spiritually. Perhaps "tree" would symbolize stability and growth, then I would paint using bluish-greys and stark red-oranges with lines that flowed upwards. It wouldn't look like a tree at all, but to me it would demonstrate the essence.

Now, if I wanted to simply paint a tree, then I would. It would end up looking exactly like the physical tree: brown, green, limbs, bark, grass.

The problem with both ends of the spectrum is that they're undefinable to the person. If I saw the prophetic painting, it might speak to me, but it wouldn't speak "tree" unless God willed it. If I saw the disciplined painting of the tree, I would immediately register what it was, but it wouldn't hold any deeper significance that affects my behavior.

What would it look like to combine these two intensities? I am constantly in pursuit of the center of the spectrum...which may lie on a completely different level. God likes to make it that way sometimes.

So how does one combine these two? The prophetic/sacred and the discipline of art and drawing?

I don't know exactly. But I'm on the way there, it feels. My creative mind is growing and stretching and cooling and heating all at once; it's like a shift in seasons but with more intensity. I feel the way I felt when I was very young and the first cool autumn day made my blood race and all I did was run as fast as I could around the playground during recess. I never grew tired, I never stopped running. Artistically, I can run for miles and miles and still be grinning.

For now, I'm getting closer to feeling around and understanding the shape and scale of the spectrum I'm standing in. I pray that Christ is seen in my artwork, above all. Whether it's sloppy paint or a beautifully rendered portrait, it's nothing if He isn't looking through it.

Verticality

I realized how drawn I am towards vertical compositions and forms. Anything tall and slender and stretching, I am immediately inspired. I've always loved tall trees, or tall things in general. I like seeing slender trees stretching branches as far as they will go upward. Mountains bursting through clouds and soaring higher and higher always make me want to first climb, and then paint them. In my figure drawing class, my favorite poses are ones with the back stretched as far as it can go up. There's something refreshing about a stretch in a form; whether it's a human figure or a tree pushing with the wind.

Perhaps I am so drawn to these forms because of their symbolic meaning. Stretching forth denotes a push of one's all. If I were to hold my arms up to the sky and stand on my tip-toes, I would be worshiping my Father in heaven. I would be praying something like "not my will but Yours be done". A stretch -- a movement entirely devoted to God. There's nothing in a vertical stretch that should denote anything half-hearted.

Maybe that's why I love vertical forms.

To Drown and Live Anew

One of the worst ways to die (in my opinion) is by drowning. Your lungs are full of liquid, your limbs are flailing for life, the surface of the water taunts you with light and air just above it's surface. I've never once felt even the nearest sensation to drowning, but my imagination can get a little crazy with the thought.

Water is so mysterious, too. If it's deep then you can't see the bottom, but you know there are predators beneath the surface. Or, at least, slimy scaly things that try to nibble at you and scare you senseless when you're just trying. to. get. to. shore. I have an odd fear of swimming in really deep water because of the unknown beneath my feet. It's frightening, I love it, and I'm scared of it.

And for months now, I've been dwelling heavily on the spiritual idea of drowning.

I drowned today, metaphorically. I went into church and asked the Spirit for discernment. After one song of worship, I immediately felt this presence behind me that I recognized as a strength I feel whenever I paint on stage. The people, the congregation of God, bathing in the Holy Spirit, feel like a gigantic tidal wave behind me. It's so amazing to feel it so tangibly and yet not see it with my eyes. The wave feels like it's suspended right above my head, hovering and waiting. It feels like a mighty wall keeping my back held straight. When I feel the Spirit's presence like that, I feel normal and steady because He is my security.

And today, He did something a little crazy.

It collapsed. My security collapsed.

It was as if someone snapped an invisible thread, and a bucket of cold heavy water slapped onto my skin.

And all of a sudden, I was spiritually drowning.

I gasped for air, I lost my physical balance, and I no longer felt steady or normal. I wrote in my journal, "my body had no meat in it." And that's the best way I can describe the sensation. Whereas before, I was a tangible person with a body; but after the wave collapsed over my head, it was as if all the molecules in my body separated and were suspended by delicate threads inches away from where they were supposed to be. It was as if God tore me apart, to piece me back together.

I started prophesying and praying over others, feeling tears seep out of their eyes. I knelt down to the earth, amazed and entirely humbled.

Today, I realized how much I love to drown. Because when I drown in the Holy Spirit, I become alive. My mortal eyes close and my spiritual senses awaken. My lungs get used to the water, and I can breathe deep of His Spirit.

I drown to breathe anew.

Created as Children of Color

Peace by Marc Chagall. Stained glass.

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city."

Hebrews 11.13-16

For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.

I want to hear people speaking like they are seeking a homeland. I want to meet more people who look at more than just the physical earth. I want to be inspired by children of God who laugh and say that there is a city being prepared and that is it their homeland. I want to meet other travelers like me, who know they are merely vagabonds wandering from one realm to another that they have been seeking and desiring.

My Father is preparing a homeland for me, and I am waiting on the shore to see the sails of His ship on the horizon. I don't belong on this island - I belong on His ship, destined for our homeland.

Sometimes we forget to shake off the material nature of this realm. Unfortunately, we get desensitized and acclimated to the gray and we forget that we were created as children of color. Right now, we are in a world of gray. But we weren't lovingly created to be gray!! We are here to eagerly watch the horizon and remember the colors from which we were birthed. Shake off the dust of the gray and seek the heavenly country.