ART STATEMENT IN THREE PARTS
2018-2020
Flashes of quotidian light along the frayed edges of my distraction
illumine fragments of a deeper life.
PLACEHOLDERS
“See perfection in every thing around you.” Agnes Martin
The flotsam and jetsam of our lives wash up
Serve as placeholders
for our hearts
along the margins of our lives.
Seeds, nails, feathers, broken sticks
bits of glass and
odd flakes of rust
decorate the gutters and creases
of our city streets,
overlooked.
It is not
the presence of great objects
that lift the soul.
It is
humble objects
that quiet the eye.
Placeholders
for our hearts
along the margins of our lives.
REMNANTS AND RESIDUALS
Reliquaries of Cultural Residue
Reliquaries were created in medieval times for the preserved remnants of Apostles and Saints.
The merest finger bone of one who was known to be holy was held sacred,
and a box or container of some sort was fashioned to house it so it could be venerated by all.
Today, our level of violence, towards each other and the planet itself, is unprecedented,
leading many to look around in despair, and begin to wonder where all the holiness went.
Are there no more saintly bits for us to treasure?
But beachcombers and dumpster-divers alike testify that the bones of saints are evident in the everyday detritus of our crucified world.
Holiness is in fact ubiquitous in the rubble of our destruction, in the residue of our culture.
For holiness is inherent in all things, however insignificant.
A Buddhist story:
It was the job of a young monk to rise early every morning to sweep the temple, and he was growing weary of the work. So one day he set aside his broom, approached his master and said to him, "We hold that the Buddha nature is inherent in all things, even in the smallest speck of dust, but if this is so, why must I sweep the dust from the temple each day?" His master replied, "It is true that the Buddha nature may be found in all things, and you do well to take note of it. Our job is simply to make it more apparent. Please keep sweeping."
I find myself called to be a sweeper in the temple of the world. My purpose is to help make the holiness in all things more apparent to all.
As I sweep I find bits and pieces of brokenness in every corner. I pick them up. Like a child,
I find stones, shells, pinecones, feathers, and yes, even bones, and I pick them up. And treasure them, like a pilgrim in a medieval church.
I look at them. They are hard to see, so I hold them up as best I can for a better view.
I find the longer I look at them the more apparent the holiness becomes.
WHEN I WALK
When I walk
I pick things up
I pick things up
I pick things up
When I walk
I pick things up
I pick things up
To see
When I walk
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
When I walk
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
To see
2018-2020
Flashes of quotidian light along the frayed edges of my distraction
illumine fragments of a deeper life.
PLACEHOLDERS
“See perfection in every thing around you.” Agnes Martin
The flotsam and jetsam of our lives wash up
Serve as placeholders
for our hearts
along the margins of our lives.
Seeds, nails, feathers, broken sticks
bits of glass and
odd flakes of rust
decorate the gutters and creases
of our city streets,
overlooked.
It is not
the presence of great objects
that lift the soul.
It is
humble objects
that quiet the eye.
Placeholders
for our hearts
along the margins of our lives.
REMNANTS AND RESIDUALS
Reliquaries of Cultural Residue
Reliquaries were created in medieval times for the preserved remnants of Apostles and Saints.
The merest finger bone of one who was known to be holy was held sacred,
and a box or container of some sort was fashioned to house it so it could be venerated by all.
Today, our level of violence, towards each other and the planet itself, is unprecedented,
leading many to look around in despair, and begin to wonder where all the holiness went.
Are there no more saintly bits for us to treasure?
But beachcombers and dumpster-divers alike testify that the bones of saints are evident in the everyday detritus of our crucified world.
Holiness is in fact ubiquitous in the rubble of our destruction, in the residue of our culture.
For holiness is inherent in all things, however insignificant.
A Buddhist story:
It was the job of a young monk to rise early every morning to sweep the temple, and he was growing weary of the work. So one day he set aside his broom, approached his master and said to him, "We hold that the Buddha nature is inherent in all things, even in the smallest speck of dust, but if this is so, why must I sweep the dust from the temple each day?" His master replied, "It is true that the Buddha nature may be found in all things, and you do well to take note of it. Our job is simply to make it more apparent. Please keep sweeping."
I find myself called to be a sweeper in the temple of the world. My purpose is to help make the holiness in all things more apparent to all.
As I sweep I find bits and pieces of brokenness in every corner. I pick them up. Like a child,
I find stones, shells, pinecones, feathers, and yes, even bones, and I pick them up. And treasure them, like a pilgrim in a medieval church.
I look at them. They are hard to see, so I hold them up as best I can for a better view.
I find the longer I look at them the more apparent the holiness becomes.
WHEN I WALK
When I walk
I pick things up
I pick things up
I pick things up
When I walk
I pick things up
I pick things up
To see
When I walk
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
When I walk
Things pick me up
Things pick me up
To see
