26 September 2008
05 September 2008
02 September 2008
Silence, Solitude, and Swearing.
I was invited to give the devotion at the faculty meeting for the School of Arts and Sciences today, because of my experiences last summer at the English L’Abri. The text of the devotion follows below:
_________________
I went to L’abri with a somewhat specific set of questions, and as I found out happens to many people during their time there, I soon discovered that those questions simply opened up into much larger questions… and it became clear that none of them would really be answered. but as one of my favorite songs by my favorite band, Over the Rhine, reminds us, “we need questions, forget about the answers…”
In my 2nd or 3rd day at l’abri, my mentor invited me to join a reading group that was going through Henri Nouwen’s “Reaching Out.” As a huge fan of Nouwen, I was familiar with this book, but had never read it. Turns out it was exactly what God wanted me to read while I was there, and it prompted exactly the right set of questions for me, even if they would be questions without answers.
If you have not read it, the book talks about three movements of the spiritual life: from loneliness to solitude, from hostility to hospitality, and from illusion to prayer. It was the first movement, from loneliness to solitude, which was a critical theme for this time in my life… after all, I was about to turn 30 as a single man. For the first week of my time at L’Abri, I spent a lot of my time reading about my questions, studying about my questions… before it became clear that in order to struggle with my loneliness I needed to be alone and stop filling the time with seemingly healthy distractions like reading and studying. And for the first time in my life, I actually did desire to be alone, because it was a beautiful place to be alone… The 17th century manor house sits on a large patch of land, with many quiet fields surrounding it. My favorite place to spend time was inside the small chapel beside the sunken garden, which had been converted from a stable house warming room.
Three hours of the day at L’Abri are set aside for study, so for three hours at a time, I would sit in places like that chapel, journaling, praying, listening, and generally struggling with the attempt to have solitude… something that is awful difficult to find if you are as good at distractions, busyness, laziness, and sleeping as I am. I didn’t know what I was expecting… some kind of voice-from-heaven experience… I don’t know. A little bird, a busy little wren, did keep me company every time I was in there, however. And I did hear from God, but I have no idea how to talk about it because a cynical kid of my generation is still too afraid to use trite words that sound like Christianese.
But one day, when journaling some hard questions and angry frustrations, God responded. I would read from my journal from those days, but I swear a lot when I’m talking to God. I think he’s okay with it, he’s never stopped me from it and I figure he knows it’s going through my mind anyway. He does want us to be vulnerable after all, and sitting there in that space for 3 hours a day, I felt the vulnerability of His Presence. And that’s when I heard the words that were clearly not from my internal monologue: “have courage, I can sustain you.”
I wish I could say that an amazing peace descended upon me… I wish I could say that I learned how to be still and make the time for solitude every day. But the reality is much more human than that. I have struggled with this experience ever since. But in those hours in the chapel in the garden, I was reminded of the need to listen… to be still… to listen for questions, or answers, or neither… I learned that what some call the silence of God is really a wonderfully frustrating mystery to experience.
I had brought a book of poetry with me to L’abri that summer entitled “God’s Silence” by Franz Wright. So I’ll close by reading my favorite poem as a prayer and a reminder to us. So listen and pray with me:
Introduction, by Franz Wright (2nd half):
I am here to learn
to bear
the beams of love,
what else
Bells
through the leaves, I am here to endure the
bells tolling
underground
Like you a guest, a ghost
Everything will be forgotten
And either I am too alone
or I am not
alone enough
to make each moment
holy
(No one bats 1.000, friend
no one
bats .500)
And I heave heard God's silence like the sun
and sought to change
Now
I'm just going to listen to the silence
till the Silence
_________________
I went to L’abri with a somewhat specific set of questions, and as I found out happens to many people during their time there, I soon discovered that those questions simply opened up into much larger questions… and it became clear that none of them would really be answered. but as one of my favorite songs by my favorite band, Over the Rhine, reminds us, “we need questions, forget about the answers…”
In my 2nd or 3rd day at l’abri, my mentor invited me to join a reading group that was going through Henri Nouwen’s “Reaching Out.” As a huge fan of Nouwen, I was familiar with this book, but had never read it. Turns out it was exactly what God wanted me to read while I was there, and it prompted exactly the right set of questions for me, even if they would be questions without answers.
If you have not read it, the book talks about three movements of the spiritual life: from loneliness to solitude, from hostility to hospitality, and from illusion to prayer. It was the first movement, from loneliness to solitude, which was a critical theme for this time in my life… after all, I was about to turn 30 as a single man. For the first week of my time at L’Abri, I spent a lot of my time reading about my questions, studying about my questions… before it became clear that in order to struggle with my loneliness I needed to be alone and stop filling the time with seemingly healthy distractions like reading and studying. And for the first time in my life, I actually did desire to be alone, because it was a beautiful place to be alone… The 17th century manor house sits on a large patch of land, with many quiet fields surrounding it. My favorite place to spend time was inside the small chapel beside the sunken garden, which had been converted from a stable house warming room.
Three hours of the day at L’Abri are set aside for study, so for three hours at a time, I would sit in places like that chapel, journaling, praying, listening, and generally struggling with the attempt to have solitude… something that is awful difficult to find if you are as good at distractions, busyness, laziness, and sleeping as I am. I didn’t know what I was expecting… some kind of voice-from-heaven experience… I don’t know. A little bird, a busy little wren, did keep me company every time I was in there, however. And I did hear from God, but I have no idea how to talk about it because a cynical kid of my generation is still too afraid to use trite words that sound like Christianese.
But one day, when journaling some hard questions and angry frustrations, God responded. I would read from my journal from those days, but I swear a lot when I’m talking to God. I think he’s okay with it, he’s never stopped me from it and I figure he knows it’s going through my mind anyway. He does want us to be vulnerable after all, and sitting there in that space for 3 hours a day, I felt the vulnerability of His Presence. And that’s when I heard the words that were clearly not from my internal monologue: “have courage, I can sustain you.”
I wish I could say that an amazing peace descended upon me… I wish I could say that I learned how to be still and make the time for solitude every day. But the reality is much more human than that. I have struggled with this experience ever since. But in those hours in the chapel in the garden, I was reminded of the need to listen… to be still… to listen for questions, or answers, or neither… I learned that what some call the silence of God is really a wonderfully frustrating mystery to experience.
I had brought a book of poetry with me to L’abri that summer entitled “God’s Silence” by Franz Wright. So I’ll close by reading my favorite poem as a prayer and a reminder to us. So listen and pray with me:
Introduction, by Franz Wright (2nd half):
I am here to learn
to bear
the beams of love,
what else
Bells
through the leaves, I am here to endure the
bells tolling
underground
Like you a guest, a ghost
Everything will be forgotten
And either I am too alone
or I am not
alone enough
to make each moment
holy
(No one bats 1.000, friend
no one
bats .500)
And I heave heard God's silence like the sun
and sought to change
Now
I'm just going to listen to the silence
till the Silence
30 August 2008
Self Portraits
Since both Photo 2 and Photo 3 are working on self-portrait warm ups, I thought I'd send along this link that Allison Oh brought to my attention:
Self Portraits
- from someone at University of Maryland, I wish I could attribute authorship but I didn't see any information.
Great breakdown of approaches to self portraiture as signature, as projection, as self-study, as fantasy, as narrative, and as metaphor.
Self Portraits
- from someone at University of Maryland, I wish I could attribute authorship but I didn't see any information.
Great breakdown of approaches to self portraiture as signature, as projection, as self-study, as fantasy, as narrative, and as metaphor.
17 July 2008
“On The Road” – Soth and Friedlander
(a free Third Thursdays event at Minneapolis Institute of Art)...
I just had my rear kicked and handed to me on a beautiful silver gelatin platter… I feel simultaneously inspired and depressed after walking through the massive (!!) Lee Friedlander retrospective at the MIA… hundreds of prints (too many? There was no way to spend enough time), 8 rooms full of his early jazz color portraits, classic self portraits, street photos, nature work, “work” work (people at work…)… so much work… but I must say, Friedlander often gets pegged in my photo classes as “the quirky snapshot street guy” but this retrospective gives you a much deeper insight into the amount of compositional skill and technical mastery Friedlander has. His prints are flawless and incredibly rich… and rather than seeing his style as “accidental,” I am now pretty convinced it’s just a confidence in his eye and his voice that allows him so much freedom to look “quirky” and casual.
And as if that show alone isn’t enough to make you cry, in the room next door is a collection of 26 massive prints from Alec Soth’s “Sleeping by the Mississippi.” The MIA is the first museum to purchase the series as a body of work, and it’s appropriate, considering that Soth used to work at the museum during the time that he went on his multiple Mississippi travels, before his rocket to fame in 2004.
(Trivia note-- he worked in the Prints collection… in fact, he worked there at the same time that I was working there, in 1999, when I worked with the summer kids programs… shame that I didn’t get a chance to meet him then… not that either of us would’ve had a reason to run into each other… )
click here to learn more and to check out some videos on the MIA website about Soth's working method.... it's always cool to see a photographer at work.
Having just finished a 2nd version/edition of my Northwoods Journals book, I am made all the more aware of the influence both of these photographers have had on my work… and I’m all the more intimidated and humbled by their work.
I just had my rear kicked and handed to me on a beautiful silver gelatin platter… I feel simultaneously inspired and depressed after walking through the massive (!!) Lee Friedlander retrospective at the MIA… hundreds of prints (too many? There was no way to spend enough time), 8 rooms full of his early jazz color portraits, classic self portraits, street photos, nature work, “work” work (people at work…)… so much work… but I must say, Friedlander often gets pegged in my photo classes as “the quirky snapshot street guy” but this retrospective gives you a much deeper insight into the amount of compositional skill and technical mastery Friedlander has. His prints are flawless and incredibly rich… and rather than seeing his style as “accidental,” I am now pretty convinced it’s just a confidence in his eye and his voice that allows him so much freedom to look “quirky” and casual.
And as if that show alone isn’t enough to make you cry, in the room next door is a collection of 26 massive prints from Alec Soth’s “Sleeping by the Mississippi.” The MIA is the first museum to purchase the series as a body of work, and it’s appropriate, considering that Soth used to work at the museum during the time that he went on his multiple Mississippi travels, before his rocket to fame in 2004.
(Trivia note-- he worked in the Prints collection… in fact, he worked there at the same time that I was working there, in 1999, when I worked with the summer kids programs… shame that I didn’t get a chance to meet him then… not that either of us would’ve had a reason to run into each other… )
click here to learn more and to check out some videos on the MIA website about Soth's working method.... it's always cool to see a photographer at work.
Having just finished a 2nd version/edition of my Northwoods Journals book, I am made all the more aware of the influence both of these photographers have had on my work… and I’m all the more intimidated and humbled by their work.
10 July 2008
"Hey Hot Shot" winners
Jen Bekman gallery in New York, a great place to keep an eye on emerging photographers, just announced the winners of this year's "Hey Hot Shot!" competition (which I recommend to everyone to enter next time it rolls around)
Juliane Eirich - my favorite... immediate haunting memories of my Minnesota childhood nights come to mind... From the series "Snownight:"
Derek Henderson - from "I Go Down to the River to Pray:"
Kate Orne - stunning lighting... from "Brothels and Fundamentalism:"
Visit the "Hey Hot Shot!" site to see more.
04 July 2008
101 Photoshop Tips in 5 Minutes by Deke. Hilarious.
If you've ever sat through one of my digital classes, or had to watch any kind of photoshop dvd demo, you'll appreciate this.
30 June 2008
Corey Arnold
I have to thank my friend Leah Dankertson (roughhewnlog.blogspot.com) for introducing me (reintroducing me? this guy seems familiar) to Corey Arnold's work... a fisherman/photographer:
These first few ones are from the "Human Animals" series:
And a couple from "Arcticness":
okay, postscript... I know why he's familiar. He went to high school with Natalie Anderson. Cool.
25 June 2008
09 June 2008
Ezekiel Namukangula
This is Ezekiel Namukangula, my Ugandan "son."
He's 12, and in grade P4 at Namirembe Primary School in Kampala, Uganda, where he recently became the sanitation prefect. He's originally from a tiny rural village called Belmeze, and he's a relative of a man at my church, Sam Sebabe. Sam and his wife Ruth are responsible for 50+ children in their extended family who have become orphans due to AIDS. Through a refreshingly grassroots effort at our church, I'm able to send him support every month that I know goes 100% toward his school, clothing, and medical needs. In return, I get amazing letters that quote scripture and make me cry.
I will finally get to meet him in January when a group of us will head out there to take care of various needs such as non-profit organization business, the building of a new house, and photo/video documentary (that's me).
thanks to Louie Huesmann for the photos.
31 May 2008
Life would be better as a musical.
I have always wanted life to be this way... breaking out into random 80's power ballads...
yes, this is how I'm spending my summer so far and I love it.
29 May 2008
Justin's Holiday in Cambodia
For those who are interested, you can follow Justin Craft's adventures in Thailand and Cambodia via his blog... "Holiday in Cambodia"
21 May 2008
"Grace is Where I Live" John Leax
re-reading one of my favorite books, John Leax's collection of essays... though writing as a poet, it speaks well to all artists...
from "Holiness and Craft:"
As I write, the poem I am writing is always in the future. When I have finished writing, it is behind me. It is in the past. Only as I am writing it, as it is in the process of becoming, is it in the present. And only as it is in the present, is it my concern. Compare this to salvation. Salvation is a process occurring in all three tenses. It is future because it will not be complete until Christ returns. It is past because Christ accomplished it on the cross. It is present as I give myself to Christ. Here, as in the writing of a poem, my concern is with the present action. What is past is related to the present only as the present brings its meaning into being. What is future is related to the present only as it is imagined and desired in the present-- that is, as it is part of the present.
Holiness and craft come together at this point: the moment of the poem is also the moment of salvation. Both occur in the present. I make my way as a poet and as a Christian by giving attention to being in Christ and in doing in him the work before me. Quoting Thomas Merton, "it is in the ordinary duties and labors of life that the Christian can and should develop his spiritual union with God."
While hoeing his garden, Saint Francis was approached by a villager who had his own idea about how a saint should spend his time. The villager demanded of Francis, "What would you be doing if you knew the Lord would return this afternoon?" Francis replied, "I would be hoeing my garden." I think this is the meaning of "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself," (Matthew 6:34).
from "Stewardship and Witness:"
Language is the soil in which the message grows. Poets care about the message, but they must first be stewards of language. The message is like a seed. It must fall into the ground and die before it can be born into a poem.
Just as the sacrifice of soil for the crop of one year is ultimately destructive, so the sacrifice of language to the demands of the message is destructive. Like so many other things in life, we must give up even our truth to keep it. Any other course will use up the soil in which we nurture it and guarantee that the future will be impoverished.
Just as I serve the soil so that my garden will remain fertile and grow good crops, when I write I serve the language so it can bear the message I've learned. Curiously, as I seek to make stewardship my concern, my vision clears, and I speak more precisely the presence of Christ in my world.
From "Story, Place, and Marriage:"
A sentimental attachment to place is, like a sentimental love, stupid and useless- a hindrance to genuine relationship. A sense of place is not sentimental: it is practical and necessary. The mistake is to consider place provincially. While a sense of place is based on local knowledge, it is not limited to local knowledge, it includes a range of places.
...What is one caught in the forced mobility of our urban culture to do? The answer, I believe, lies in story.
...though I may be out of my place, beyond the limits of my local knowledge, I am not out of my story... "
from "Holiness and Craft:"
As I write, the poem I am writing is always in the future. When I have finished writing, it is behind me. It is in the past. Only as I am writing it, as it is in the process of becoming, is it in the present. And only as it is in the present, is it my concern. Compare this to salvation. Salvation is a process occurring in all three tenses. It is future because it will not be complete until Christ returns. It is past because Christ accomplished it on the cross. It is present as I give myself to Christ. Here, as in the writing of a poem, my concern is with the present action. What is past is related to the present only as the present brings its meaning into being. What is future is related to the present only as it is imagined and desired in the present-- that is, as it is part of the present.
Holiness and craft come together at this point: the moment of the poem is also the moment of salvation. Both occur in the present. I make my way as a poet and as a Christian by giving attention to being in Christ and in doing in him the work before me. Quoting Thomas Merton, "it is in the ordinary duties and labors of life that the Christian can and should develop his spiritual union with God."
While hoeing his garden, Saint Francis was approached by a villager who had his own idea about how a saint should spend his time. The villager demanded of Francis, "What would you be doing if you knew the Lord would return this afternoon?" Francis replied, "I would be hoeing my garden." I think this is the meaning of "Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself," (Matthew 6:34).
from "Stewardship and Witness:"
Language is the soil in which the message grows. Poets care about the message, but they must first be stewards of language. The message is like a seed. It must fall into the ground and die before it can be born into a poem.
Just as the sacrifice of soil for the crop of one year is ultimately destructive, so the sacrifice of language to the demands of the message is destructive. Like so many other things in life, we must give up even our truth to keep it. Any other course will use up the soil in which we nurture it and guarantee that the future will be impoverished.
Just as I serve the soil so that my garden will remain fertile and grow good crops, when I write I serve the language so it can bear the message I've learned. Curiously, as I seek to make stewardship my concern, my vision clears, and I speak more precisely the presence of Christ in my world.
From "Story, Place, and Marriage:"
A sentimental attachment to place is, like a sentimental love, stupid and useless- a hindrance to genuine relationship. A sense of place is not sentimental: it is practical and necessary. The mistake is to consider place provincially. While a sense of place is based on local knowledge, it is not limited to local knowledge, it includes a range of places.
...What is one caught in the forced mobility of our urban culture to do? The answer, I believe, lies in story.
...though I may be out of my place, beyond the limits of my local knowledge, I am not out of my story... "
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
