The Spectrum Blog

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

By Alexander Carpenter

T. S. Eliot reading his poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."

Comical creation

By Andrew Hanson

Art: Interview with Rod Crossman

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

The latest issue of Spectrum, which is already in the hands of subscribers, features Rod Crossmans’ abstract painting, “First Man,” on the cover. Born in South Dakota and raised in Upstate New York, Crossman now lives in Indiana, where he makes a living creating paintings and as a professor and Artist in Residence at Indiana Wesleyan University. Crossman’s paintings have been published on the covers and in the pages of the best sporting magazines, books, and journals. His work has been exhibited and collected worldwide, including at the Smithsonian, Chicago Art Institute, Woodson Art Museum, Ward Museum, High Museum and some of the most elite galleries. In addition, he has designed trout, turkey, upland and duck stamps for several states. His artwork ranges from landscape and nature artwork to abstract paintings, such as the one that appears on Spectrum’s cover. According to Crossman, “First Man” is a painting that “explores the idea of polar opposites in color, value, and materials and the way they complete each other.”

Recently, I interviewed Rod via email. Here's our conversation on art and the sublime:

Would you mind sharing a bit about your background and how you came to be an artist? Has art been a lifelong passion for you?

I have always been drawn to those things that surprise me. My mother was able to help nurture a deep appreciation for the beautiful… a sunset, flower, a good story…. Our home contained very little “art.”  Our family was economically very poor, but rich in love.  I do think my curiosity and deep appreciation for beauty was formed in the tension of this crucible.

Your body of work covers a wide range of styles—realist landscapes, sporting art, etchings, abstract paintings, American Indian subjects, figures, and even film. How is it that you came to embrace so many diverse styles of expression?

Exploring such a diverse range of subjects and style creates another type of tension or conflict. The possibility of a shallow reasoning or research exists. Artists also seem to be pushed into one area or style because of marketing pressures that come from publishers, galleries and collectors. It happens in every kind of art… music, theater, writing, etc…. My question is why? Why does it have to be that way?

What are your influences, artistic and otherwise?

As far as work goes, my major influence is the design I see in creation. Lately I’ve been inspired by the work of Industrial Designer Ross Lovegrove, photographer Gregory Colbert, and Dutch artist Theo Jansen. I’m also researching the idea of sustainable growth. Being a responsible citizen and steward of our natural resources has become a more important issue in my life.

What kind of physical space do you paint in—do you create your nature paintings on location or from memory? What is your creative process like?

I work in a large converted Quaker Church that was abandoned a century ago. Originally it was the first Quaker Meeting House in this part of Indiana during the early 1800s. It overlooks a small stream and is a constant source of inspiration. I paint from life, memory, and a blend of both. I like to experiment with ways of applying paint. Lately I’ve been experimenting with a blend of digital and traditional painting on the same platform.

You say that you’re “interested in moments of ‘Wonder’ and ‘Awe’—the magical ‘state of being’ that leaves us vulnerable to the idea there is something more important in universe than ourselves.” Is this sense of wonder one of the themes you explore in your art? Do you have a sense of what that “something more important” might be?

I agree with the author David James Duncan. He suggests that to live without a sense of awe and wonder might not be a “sin” in the spiritual sense but that it surely is one artistically. I also think wonder and awe helps keep us from becoming too infatuated with our own self worth or being deceived into believing we are in control of our world. The antithesis of pride is a humble spirit. This humble spirit makes it possible to love others more than we love ourselves. I believe in God the Creator who has known and loved us from the very beginning of time. In Genesis Chapter two, it says he created all sorts of trees for the Garden and made them “ pleasing to the eye.” That implies he created them for our pleasure—a sublime thought: to be loved by the one who created all things is a thought too deep for words. This love comes with a call to love others more than we love ourselves. This love does not give us the right to live without “seeing.” Understanding that love allows us to “see” the  “Holy” in everything, from a tiny water drop to the ocean.

Of your painting, “Revelation” that that hangs overhead in the lobby of a building on the Indiana Wesleyan University campus, you said, “We are both a physical and spiritual being, but often our spiritual eyes are shut, making it impossible to see the invisible yet eternal things around us.” Do you consider yourself to be a Christian artist? If so, what does that term mean to you?

The whole idea of “Christian artist” is kind of a gnarly one for me. Am I a “Christian artist” or an “artist” who happens to be a Christian? Does my faith identify me or my calling? We seem to need labels—it helps us feel like we belong to the club. When we paste that label somewhere visible, it’s a free pass to the club meeting. I tend to think that’s a dangerous way to figure out where or who we belong to. Should I put a cross behind my signature to let people know I’m a Christian? That kind of action can suggest I’m not ashamed, or it can be a visual testimony, but for me it can be an easy form of evangelism. I prefer a personal evangelism that is born out of earning a right to be heard. The best way to do that is by loving one another.

Bonnie Dwyer’s editorial in the current issue references something you pondered in your blog: “Will God hold us responsible for the questions we don’t ask?” This would seem to point toward our moral responsibilities as human beings. What is art’s role in this?

Art can bring understanding and meaning to those things that there are no words for. It’s one of the reasons human beings have always needed it. When I stand in front of Michelangelo’s Pieta, it’s like being able to stand at the very edge of the universe and see thousands of galaxies. Scripture says “ the heavens declare his glory.” Good art can do that too. It can also be good worship and good stewardship. I think it can bring pleasure to God. It’s perhaps visual evidence of our love. Art can encourage and enhance worship, thoughtfulness, and it can usher in revelation and encourage social change through changed hearts.

Do you believe art has an impact in today’s society, which has been described as fragmented and lacking coherence? How do you feel about the idea that art can or ought to bring about social change?

I want to feel the pleasure of God. One of my favorite verses is 11 Chronicles 16: 9: “The eyes of God roam throughout the earth, looking to strengthen the one who is devoted to him.” I keep throwing my art out there, making it the best I can, trusting God will see it and know how much I love. Then His strengthening will allow me to love the world in a way that makes it a little better place to live.

Both of your sons are serving in the military—one of them in Iraq. How are they doing?

Both of my boys are in the Army. Both have been a part of the current war. My oldest son was there in the beginning and my youngest is there now. War is always tough on the families but tougher still on the soldiers. I pray every day for our young men and women in uniform. My boys are doing ok but need your prayers. Thanks for asking.

Visit Rod Crossman's website.

The kin-dom of God

By Alexander Carpenter

The future's already arrived; it's just not evenly distributed yet.
--William Gibson.

I think that this was Jesus' message as well: The kin-dom of God is here for some and is coming to more.
Not everyone experiences it yet, but more and more grasp that we, of this spot in space, create our future and it's up to each person to realize the kin-dom of God today.

The future: Theoretical physicist and 2057 host Michio Kaku speculates on the future of civilization.

is here? The final scenes of Stanly Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 6

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Identity: Owning My Spiritual Territory   

“Where thou art, that is home.” —Emily Dickinson 

Last week, we completed part 5 of our spiritual journey through art. We have now taken survey of the landscape of our spiritual journeys, mapped where we’ve come from and where we’re going, taken inventory of what’s in our spiritual luggage, contemplated who our traveling companions are, and claimed our spiritual territory. In case you missed them, here are links to the the intro, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4. and part 5. This week, in our last installment of this series, we envision the flags that fly over our individual spiritual lands.   

Our culture is flooded with symbols. We see them in product branding, corporate logos, bumper stickers, advertising, flags, and religious icons. Consider the following examples:   

The Olympic flag: five interlocked colored rings to represent the five areas of the world joined together in the Olympic games.      

The American flag: George Washington is said to have declared, “We take the stars from Heaven, the red from our mother country, separating it by white stripes, thus showing that we have separated from her, and the white stripes shall go down to posterity representing Liberty.” For some, the red and white stripes represent, respectively, the blood of freedom and purity.   

The flag of the United Nations: a map of the world surrounded by olive branches symbolizing peace.   

Coats of arms: In European traditions, the symbolism in tinctures (colors), divisions of field, ordinaries, and charges (crosses, lions, bears, fish, dragons, etc.) are used to create coats of arms to represent family clans, or sometimes individuals.    The one above is the coat of arms of South Australia.

Family crests: The circular Japanese “kamon” or family crests often include symbols of flowers, trees, birds, or lucky symbols. The one above is the family crest of the Miura clan, my ancestral Samurai family linked to Emperor Kanmu, the 50th imperial ruler of Japan. Miura means “three bays,” and the crest seems to indicate three bodies of water. 

The Christian flag, which includes the most universal symbol for Christianity, the cross, red for the blood of Christ, white for purity and forgiveness (“My sins have been washed white as snow.” Isaiah 1:18), and blue to represent heaven, truth, or baptism.

The Seventh-day Adventist logo: “The choice of the Church's logo reflects the core values that Seventh-day Adventists are committed to. The foundation is the Bible, the Word of God, shown open since its message must necessarily be read and put into practice. Central to that Biblical message is the Cross, and is also central in the logo. Above the Cross and the open Bible is the burning flame of the Holy Spirit, the messenger of Truth.” 

The bread and wine of the communion service symbolizing the broken body of Christ and his blood 

The tearing of the temple veil at Christ’s crucifixion

The prophetic symbols of Daniel and Revelation

A spiritual flag represents your faith, your spiritual values. If you were to fly a flag over your symbolic spiritual territory (the territory you claimed in last week’s activity), what would it look like? Joshua challenged the Israelites: “Choose this day whom you will serve,” and then declared, “As for me and my household, we will follow the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15) This was Joshua’s “verbal flag,” his public statement of his faith. 

1. Consider the symbols, colors and shapes of flags and family crests and their significance in your spiritual journey. For example:  What colors represent your spiritual territory? What do those colors symbolize? Courage? Faith? Grace? Compassion? What shapes and symbols on your flag represent your spiritual values? When others see your flag, what do you want them to understand?   

2. Make a flag that represents your spiritual territory.   

 

This is my “flag. I drew it (left-handed again) in the circular shape of a Japanese family crest, which is also the shape of the earth with its surface of water. The colors—greens, pinks, and golds—represent creativity, growth, and light for me. Emblems include a stalk of bamboo, a symbol of strength, endurance, and growth; and a white flower that represents the centrality, purity, and multifaceted simplicity-complexity of grace, which also evokes the idea of faith in a creative, compassionate God. This exercise, for me, was the most challenging of all six we’ve attempted. I found it difficult to distill into simple symbols an expression of my spirituality, but having attempted to do so, I’m all the more convinced that it’s important to be able to own one’s spirituality. “Choose this day whom you will serve,” Joshua challenged. Making the choice is the first step; understanding and being able to express what that choice means is the next—and complex and significant leg of the journey.

 

***

This is the final installment of our spiritual journey through art, but hopefully not the end of your artistic exploration. The gate has been left open. I hope that you’ll return often to consider how art can impact your spirituality, and I hope that you’ll carry what you’ve learned through art into the rest of your life. 

To close this series, I want to share with you the artwork sent to me by artist, teacher, and mentor Nancy Johnson, whose comments you may have seen from time to time on this blog. (She also happens to be my dear mother-in-law with whom I share a love of creative endeavors.) Nancy created two drawings in response to the first exercise in this spiritual journey through art, which was to create a representation of the current landscape of one’s spiritual journey.   

The first depicts a traveler on a rather dark and desolate path just past an overshadowing, sinister-looking tree. Light streams from a source up ahead. Nancy says that creating this drawing allowed her to reflect in a manner that ultimately inspired her to go on to make the second drawing:

I was completely blown away when I saw the second drawing. The rings of the circle in Nancy's artwork are filled with words and intricate drawings that represent significant dates and places, a self-portrait, a picture of Nancy’s family, depictions of artists that have impacted Nancy’s spiritual journey, and finally—what moved me most of all—dozens and dozens of names of loved ones. You’ll have to click on the image to get the full impact of Nancy’s artwork. To me, it’s a portrait of a rich life. I think it’s fitting that the circle depicting Nancy’s journey fans outward, grows larger and more intricate. The X depicts where Nancy sees herself now. Beyond the X is the future, and I can only imagine the harvest that will fill each succeeding ring of the circle.   

Nancy created these drawings in conjunction with the first exercise, but she was already projecting ahead to where I was headed in subsequent exercises. In the second drawing, she effectively maps the span of her spiritual journey up until now and casts forward into the future. She identifies a diverse community of travel companions and names the individuals in her extensive spiritual family tree. Her  drawing includes symbols that evoke a sense of her spiritual territory and spiritual luggage. Though Nancy may not have intended it thus, I think this artwork reflects the fullness and scope of her spiritual journey and the many lives she blesses along the way. I’m moved and inspired.   

Thank you, Nancy, for sharing your artwork, and thank you, readers for joining me on this six-week spiritual journey through art. May your journeys continue. May they be graced with light, artfulness, fellow travelers, and growth.   

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 5

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Discovery: Staking My Claim 

"To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul." —Simone Weil 

Last week, we completed part 4 of our spiritual journey through art. We have now taken survey of the landscape of our spiritual journeys, mapped where we've come from and where we're going, taken inventory of what's in our spiritual luggage, and contemplated who our traveling companions are. In case you missed them, here are links to the intro, the intro, part 1, part 2, part 3, and part 4. This week, we stake claim to our spiritual territory.   

God to Abraham: "Get out of your country, from your family, and from your father's house, to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you and make your name great; and you shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse him who curses you; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." (Genesis 12:1-3) 

In this week's exercise, spiritual territory is metaphor for spiritual gifts or spiritual stewardship or spiritual wisdom. What do you recognize as your sphere of spiritual influence, and thus, your sphere of responsibility? Where do your gifts of wisdom lie? What is the spiritual territory that has been entrusted to you?   

Consider several aspects of spiritual territory: 

Category: 

"There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are differences of ministries, but the same Lord. And there are diversities of activities, but it is the same God who works all in all. But the manifestation of the Spirit is given to each for the profit of all. For to one is given the word of wisdom through the Spirit, to another the word of knowledge through the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healings by the same Spirit, to another the workings of miracles, to another prophecy, to another discerning of spirits, to another different kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. But one and the same Spirit works all these things, distributing to each one individually as He will. For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ." (1 Corinthians 12:1-12) 

Scale:   

"I never look at the masses as my responsibility; I look at the individual. I can only love one person at a time—just one, one, one. So you begin. I began—I picked up one person. Maybe if I didn't pick up that one person, I wouldn't have picked up forty-two thousand…. The same goes for you, the same thing in your family, the same thing in your church, your community. Just begin—one, one, one." —Mother Theresa   

"Today, more than ever before, life must be characterized by a sense of universal responsibility, not only nation to nation and human to human, but also human to other forms of life." —Dalai Lama 

Duration: 

"You are responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose." —Antoine de Saint-Exupery, from The Little Prince" 

"I try to live what I consider a 'poetic existence.' That means I take responsibility for the air I breathe and the space I take up. I try to be immediate, to be totally present for all my work." —Maya Angelou

"Our greatest responsibility is to be good ancestors." —Jonas Salk 

Spiritual territory may be literal physical territory—your home and the lives you nurture within its walls, or your local community, or your church. Or it may be symbolic: perhaps your spiritual territory is the teaching of young children or social activism or theological scholarship. Whatever the case, responsibility begins with recognition—recognition that "The earth is the Lord's in all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein" (Psalm 21 1-2), and recognition of our role of stewardship.   

1. Consider the symbols of land and geology and their significance to the spiritual journey. What is the spiritual territory you claim? What territory has been placed in your responsibility? What does this spiritual land look like? Is it fertile? Arid? Mountainous? Next to a river? On an island? What does these geographical metaphors represent to you?   

2. Make a drawing that represents the spiritual land to which you are laying claim. 

Here's my drawing (left-handed once again), which is split it into four smaller pieces (click for full image):

On a small scale, a flat arid stretch represents what I consider to be the spiritual territory placed in my responsibility. People who are crossing parched land in their spiritual journeys often come into my life. The climbing of treacherous snow-capped mountains, I leave to the erudite. The drowning waters, I leave to those who know how to save. The lush meadows are strangely foreign to me. The crossing of parched land, however, I understand. And I know that it calls for the simple gift of water, which I think of as a metaphor of compassion and nurturing. I'm still learning to give this gift, but it is one I've received, and it seems only natural that I should pass it on.

On a cross section, I feel I am always drilling down toward the spiritual-universal level of my spiritual territory, on a level deeper and darker than what is visible on the surface. I feel my heart pulling me toward that cross section of earth, as though that's closest to the source of water that will nourish arid ground.   

Switching perspective a bit, a geographical map of my spiritual territory includes the island of Adventism connected to the mainland of the world, or humanity. I've always felt my responsibility was to the world at large more than to the island of Adventism. I wish Adventism didn't feel like an island and that I didn't have to straddle the bridge that connects the two.   

Finally, my spiritual territory wouldn't be complete without this quote from J.R.R. Tolkien: "We come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal light that is with God." It was with physical light that God opened the curtains on our literal earth and with metaphorical light that, as a writer, I explore my literary world. 

What I gained through this exercise was an awareness of where I stand, and consequently, a sense of possibilities growing out of the spiritual territory that has been entrusted to me. "My foot stands in an even place," David said, and I feel much the same (Psalm 26: 12). 

Have you made any discoveries through this exploration of spiritual territory? Leave a comment and let me know. As always, if you're brave enough to share your creations with the world, scan them in and email them to me (signed or anonymously) at sharon@sharonfujimoto-johnson.com along with a brief description of your artwork. I'll see about putting them up on the blog.

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 4

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Traveling: Living on the Road

“I am a part of all that I have met.” —Lord Alfred Tennyson

Last week, we completed part 3 of our spiritual journey through art. We have now taken survey of the landscape of our spiritual journeys, mapped where we’ve come from and where we’re going, and explored what’s in our spiritual luggage. In case you missed them, here are links to the intro, part 1, part 2, and part 3. This week, we consider who our companions are on this journey.

Travel in the Biblical stories was rarely a solitary experience. Noah traveled with his family and a ship full of animals. Abraham’s lengthy travels with his wife, Sarah, were rich with failures and victories alike. Friends Barnabas and Silas accompanied Paul on his missionary journeys. Joseph and Mary make a wearing journey together toward Bethlehem and a part in the story of salvation. Moses spent forty years wandering the wilderness with a crowd of oft-complaining Israelites.

We are not alone on our spiritual journeys either. “The Lord will guide you continually,” Isaiah wrote (Isaiah 58:11). Not only are we accompanied by divinity on our spiritual journeys, but we are also accompanied by one another. Our paths weave together and across one another like braided streams. We encounter one another on our spiritual journeys, sometimes as fellow travelers, sometimes as guides and followers, sometimes for encouragement: “For if they fall, one will lift up his companion, But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up.” (Ecclesiastes 4:10)

As you mapped your spiritual journey a couple weeks ago, perhaps you began thinking of people who impacted you along the way—perhaps an older person who took the time to befriend you as a child, parents who modeled a joyful Christian life, a college professor, a friend who is overflowing with grace, or even a fictional character who challenged you to grow spiritually. These are some of your companions on your spiritual journey. Perhaps not all of the significant individuals in your spiritual journey were positive examples, but in some way they affected the direction of your path. These are also your companions.

In college, I encountered two professors who, for me, modeled a life rich in spirituality and art. I saw in them both a genuine faith and a deep love of art, and because of these professors, I realized that I didn’t have to choose between religion and art. I began to believe that I didn’t have to give up either Adventism for the artist’s life or vice versa. My professors had answered Asher Lev’s struggle to reconcile religion and art by embracing both fully, and by doing so, they became spiritual ancestors of mine.

But I am not just on the receiving end of spiritual legacy. I am passing on spiritual legacy as well. My dear nieces and nephews come to mind, of course. They’re growing quickly and are beginning to navigate their own spiritual journeys too, and I’m aware that I’m accompanying them on their journeys and that I’m passing on to them something of my own faith. They are my spiritual descendents, and I hope the spiritual legacy I leave them is an understanding of God’s faithfulness and unchanging love.

Who are your travel companions?

1. Consider the symbols of genealogy, families, and community and their significance to the spiritual journey.

I think the visual of a family is particularly significant here. Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5). In a sense, our family trees all start with Christ.

What is your spiritual genealogy—literally and figuratively? Who are your spiritual ancestors and descendants? What role models (biblical, familial, secular, fictional) do you include in your spiritual genealogy? What I’d like us to consider here is the impact we have on one another’s spiritual journeys as fellow travelers.

What spiritual inheritance has been passed down to you? And to whom are you passing on this spiritual inheritance? Spiritual descendants may not necessarily be younger than you. They may be friends who seek your companionship on the spiritual journey; sometimes spiritual legacy is passed on and received simultaneously. They may be parents who are growing into the experience of grace.

What is your main role in this family tree? Are you a mother? A younger sister? An uncle? An older brother? I don’t mean literal familial roles, but the spiritual role you fill within your spiritual family tree. Are you the elder sister who nurtures the spiritual growth of those around you? Are you the younger sister looking for spiritual guidance? Are you the uncle who always makes time for his nephew? Are you the spiritual father in your family tree? Does your spiritual identity reveal anything significant about your journey?

2. Draw a spiritual family tree that includes your fellow traveling companions. It can be a traditional-looking family tree, or a creative interpretation.

Here’s my spiritual family tree (click for full-size image). It’s much more extensive than my genealogical family tree, and it’s a series of overlapping circles. The circles represent grandparent, parent, sibling, aunts/uncles and descendants roles in my spiritual journey. As I sat down to do this exercise, I realized that in my mind there’s a lot of overlap between the roles—hence the overlapping circles. Each of these roles represents something specific for me.

Grandparents in my spiritual journey represent “heritage”—the faith beliefs and examples instilled in me during childhood. Parental roles represent modeling—the modeling of a life of faith. I chose writers like Flannery O’Connor, Maxine Hong Kingston, and Chaim Potok to represent the many novelists and poets who have impacted my spiritual journey, and they join my real life parents and others from whom I’ve inherited spiritual values. Aunts and uncles represent “nurturing” to me, and the initials and names in this circle indicate some of those who have not so much passed down spiritual values to me as encouraged me in my quest. The quality characterizing my spiritual siblings is “growth.” The names and initials in this circle represent those with whom I am learning and growing. Finally, I’ve designated the word “grace” for the circle that represents my spiritual descendents, because an understanding of God’s grace is what I hope to pass on. In this circle are the aforementioned nieces and nephews, but also my community and the world. I don’t know exactly my role in my community and the world, although I have some inkling. I do know that each of us makes an impact. Each of us passes on something to the world in which we live. For me, I want that something to be grace. In a sense, everything I’ve learned and experienced in my spiritual journey funnels into that statement.

“Everything is interwoven, and the web is holy. None of its parts are unconnected. They are composed harmoniously, and together they compose the world.” —Marcus Aurelius

What does your spiritual family tree reveal? What are the responsibilities that come with inheriting faith and with passing on faith? I discovered through this exercise that I believe that spiritual legacy is an interconnected, complex, and colorful inheritance. In our community of faith, our influence is real and it matters. How we live our faith matters—not for what it means for us, but for what it means to those with whom we share our spiritual legacy. We can neither overlook those who have traveled with us on our spiritual journeys nor ignore the responsibility of spiritual legacy. The experience of God’s grace flows down from the hands of Christ into our lives, and it is meant to continue flowing out of our lives into the lives of others.

Are you participating in this spiritual journey through art? Leave a comment and let me know. As always, if you’re brave enough to share your creations with the world, scan them in and email them to me (signed or anonymously) at sharon@sharonfujimoto-johnson.com along with a brief description of your artwork. I’ll see about putting them up on the blog.

Next week’s activity is “Discovery: Staking My Claim.”

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 3

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Moving Forward: Packing for the Journey

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last week, we completed part 2 of our spiritual journey through art. We have now taken survey of the landscape of our spiritual journeys and mapped where we’ve come from and where we’re going. In case you missed them, here are links to the intro, part 1, and part 2. This week, we’re considering what we carry with us on the journey.

This is your spiritual luggage. What’s in it?

Luggage, in this exercise, represents the spiritual heritage that has been handed down to us, the philosophies, ideas, and beliefs we’ve collected along the way, the tools we use along the journey to forge our own paths.

I think it's very hard to be spiritual unless you have resisted the religious ideas that were first given to you, unless you resist dogma. It seems to me that great religious or spiritual journeys are just that: journeys; they are passages from one side to another. If you buy what has been given to you as dogma, you may be religious in some terms but you probably know very little about the spiritual. There are of course ways of taking journeys within one's own religion. I've always liked that Buddha, in order to talk about sin and temptation, had to pass through the city of sin and temptation. He didn't avoid it, he went through it, came out with a vision that exceeded it. That's a spiritual journey. If you stand still, you know nothing about spirituality.  -Stephen Dunn, poet

Consider these biblical references (some narrative, some metaphorical) to what we carry on our spiritual journeys:

• When Jesus sent out the 70, he directed them, “Go your way; behold, I send you out as lambs among wolves. Carry neither money bag, knapsack, nor sandals; and greet no one along the road. But whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’” (Luke 10:3, 4)
• For the rich young ruler, the message was similar: “‘One thing you lack: Go your way, sell whatever you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, take up the cross, and follow Me.’” (Mark 10:21)
• Noah was commanded to take some unusual baggage on his boat ride. “And of every living thing of all flesh you shall bring two of every sort into the ark, to keep them alive with you; they shall be male and female.” (Genesis 6:19)
• Paul bids us, “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” (Ephesians 6:11)

While I attended boarding academy years ago, I flew back to Japan every summer with two suitcases so full they barely zipped shut. My suitcases were bursting with clothes (you know how teenage girls are about clothes), books I couldn’t part with for even a couple of months, and a plethora of stuffed animals. At customs at Narita International Airport, stuffed animals popped out left and right, much to the dismay of officials who made the, in my opinion, unwise decision to inspect my suitcases. I think I packed everything I could, because I didn’t know which belongings I really wanted with me over the summer.

By contrast, fifteen years later when my husband and I traveled to France and Germany for two weeks, we each packed a backpack in the spirit of Rick Steves. We had travel-sized everything. Each piece of clothing was carefully chosen and rolled into the tiniest space possible. Everything we needed we carried on our backs, and when my pack got too heavy, my husband took some of the load.

Somewhere between academy and the trip to Europe, I grew out of a pack rat and into someone who enjoys purging excess belongings. This is true of my spiritual luggage too. I’ve shed much of what feels unnecessary to my spiritual journey, and I’m down to the bare essentials. These include faith in grace, kindness toward others, open-mindedness, and responsibility to humanity. They aren’t 28 fundamental beliefs, but they are my fundamental beliefs. I believe they’ll last me the journey. Even so, even though they’re light luggage, sometimes I still need someone to help me carry the weight.

1. Take inventory of what you’re carrying on your spiritual journey. Ponder the symbolism of what’s in your spiritual luggage.

• Is your luggage light or heavy? Did you pack light, or do you have a dozen suitcases of luggage?
• What’s in your luggage? Ten pounds of Ellen White’s Testimonies? Twenty-eight Fundamental Beliefs? A stack of old Spectrum magazines? A case of Nuteena?
• Have you been asked to carry something unexpected on your journey—an illness, an emerging talent, or an experience of grief, for example? Were you handed Moses’ leadership role, Job’s boils, or Noah’s livestock to take on the journey when you least expected it?
• How much of what you’re carrying with you was an inheritance? How much have you acquired along the way?
• What did you forget to pack? Did you forget that robe of grace, balm of Gilead, or armor of light? Did you lose something along the way that you miss—mustard seeds perhaps?
• What baggage do I need to leave behind? Have you acquired excess belongings?
• What kind of shoes did you pack for the journey? New Testament sandals? Combat boots? Running shoes? Why?

Here’s my luggage (drawn left-handed once again) and some of its contents:

I’ve packed a library—the Bible, Ellen White, and fiction. Much of what I know and believe about the world and God, I learned from these books that aren’t so removed from one another as one might expect. I’ve also packed a compass that represents my explorer’s spirit and a palette with which to express my love of the beauty, balance, color, texture, etc., all at play in the world.

I’m still searching for answers to the difficult questions—the ones that everyone always tries to answer but never adequately—and also a spiritual community. Though I’ve depicted community by a church building, my sense is that my spiritual community has boundaries different from the walls of a church building, or even a set of 28 doctrines. My spiritual community is creative, alive, and expansive in ways that transcend typical boundaries, and I haven’t found it yet.

Along my journey, I’ve lost a child’s faith in which prayers are always heard. I want to believe that prayers are always heard, but sometimes I just don’t know. By choice, I’ve left behind most of my black and white film, because the world is more colorful and complex than black and white photos can represent.

I’m still carrying too much luggage though. I need to empty my carrying case of guilt, because I have grace instead. I need to rid my luggage of unnecessary boxes in which I like to place people who have received my stamp of disapproval, because they too have grace. My luggage will be lighter that way, and more joyful, and I’ll go farther in my travels.

“Bon voyage!” Jesus bids. “For My yoke is easy and My burden is light,” he says (Matthew 11:30). Not only that, when I am lost, he carries me. In the Parable of the Lost Sheep, when the good shepherd finds the one lost sheep he “lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing” and carries it home. (Matthew 15:5) I am meant to thrive along the journey. “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)

2. Make a drawing that represents what you’re packing for your spiritual travels. You may want to divide your belongings into four piles: what’s in your luggage, what you forgot to pack, what you’re looking for, and what you need to leave behind.

What does your luggage reveal about you, the spiritual traveler? This exercise is about taking inventory, and if necessary, allowing us to recognize what’s weighing us down. Perhaps you'll be reminded of what's most important to you in your spiritual journey. Or, if there are belongings you need to get rid of, perhaps you'll take this opportunity to mentally unpack them from your luggage and leave them behind. Perhaps you'll decide to take the time to open your luggage regularly to see what you can learn about your spiritual journey.

Discovery often comes to us slowly, after all. I'll leave you to ponder this quote from Rainier Maria Rilke:

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer."

Are you participating in this art journey? If so, please leave a comment and let me know. And as always, if you’re brave enough to share your creations with the world, scan them in and email them to me (signed or anonymously) at sharon@sharonfujimoto-johnson.com along with a brief description of your artwork. I’ll see about putting them up on the blog.

Next week’s activity is “Traveling: Living on the Road.”

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 2

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Choosing a Direction: Mapping the Journey 

“The great thing in the world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving.”
—Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Last week, we completed part 1 of our spiritual journey through art—taking survey of the landscape of our spiritual journeys. I hope the exercise was meaningful to you. In case you missed them, here are links to the intro and part 1.   

Now that we have recognized and documented the current landscape and season of our individual spiritual journeys, let’s take a look at the big picture. Where did your spiritual journey begin? Where have you been since then in your quest? Where do you want to go? How do you get there? What are the obstacles in the way? What else lies along the path in this journey? 

Consider these biblical stories of travel: 

The book of Exodus tells the story of the Israelites wandering through the wilderness for forty years—from slavery to the land of milk and honey. 

In Genesis 6-8, Noah and his family travel through torrential rains and heaving waters for forty days and forty nights before the ark came to rest.   

Genesis 12-25 tells of Abraham’s journey through family drama, famine, doubt, and faith to find “the land I will show you” as God put it.   

In the New Testament, the apostle Paul travels extensively as a missionary, enduring persecution and imprisonment.   

I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.  ~Lillian Smith 

Travel isn’t always a physical act. Here are few familiar biblical metaphors that come to mind:   

“Do not enter the path of the wicked, and do not walk in the way of evil. Avoid it, do not travel on it; turn away from it and pass on.” (Proverbs 4:14-15)   

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it. (Matthew 7:13) 

“Good and upright is the Lord; therefore He teaches sinners in the way. The humble He guides in justice, and the humble He teaches His way. All the paths of the LORD are mercy and truth, to such as keep His covenant and His testimonies.” (Psalm 25:8-10) 

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105) 

“‘Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.’ They immediately left their nets and followed him.” (Mark 1:17, 18) 

1. Ponder the path of your spiritual journey on a map. If it’s helpful, jot down brief answers to the following questions before you start drawing.   

Are you journeying along a well-traveled highway or a lonely mountain road? 

What is the pattern of your spiritual road? Straightforward from point A to point B? Winding and circuitous?   

At what pace do you travel? Is arriving most important to you? Or do you prefer to meander along the scenic route? Have you gone in circles?   

Are you following a set of directions or are you seeing where the journey will take you? 

What landmarks mark your spiritual path? Baptism? Life landmarks like marriage, divorce, deaths, births?   

What’s your destination? Heaven? Perfection? Spiritual peace? Grace?   

Have there been times when the path was unclear to you, but in hindsight, you see clearly that a divine hand was leading you?   

2. Consider common elements used in map-making and how they’re relevant to the map of your spiritual journey.   

Are there boundaries—religious, cultural, geographic, or otherwise—on your map? Have you crossed any of these boundaries? Who created these boundaries?   

What physical features appear on the map of your spiritual journey? Railroads? Foot trails? Bodies of water? Caves? Glaciers? What do these features represent? Does a lake represent danger? Does a river present a source of knowledge? To you, is a cave a mine of hidden wealth or a treacherous risk? Is there an area marked “Danger! Do not enter!”?   

Where is your spiritual home on your map? Is it a physical place? A doctrine? The Adventist church? Have you found it yet, or are you still looking?   

3. Create a map that represents your spiritual journey.   

Your map can be as literal or symbolic as you choose. It can be detailed like a topographer’s map or as simple as a child’s drawing. Consider where you’ve come from, where you are now, and where you’re headed in this map.   

Here’s my map. (I’m drawing left-handed again, and it’s really hard to write small! Really, I promise my handwriting is usually much more legible.)

My map is vertical, because I envision life as a vertical growth pattern—at least ideally, that’s the way it should be. It’s fairly chronological. I was born SDA and fairly sheltered, which is symbolized by the stone walls at the bottom of the map. My baptism, depicted as a bridge over a river in Japan, is a transition of sorts into an individual spiritual life. But there is a sign early on that warns, “Not well-traveled!” And indeed, my individual spiritual journey thus far has not been on the main highway of Adventism. Chaim Potok’s My Name is Asher Lev introduced me to the complexity and struggle of a creative spiritual life. My spiritual path in college bypassed the prescribed “religious” circle, but it was moving straight forward. During my year in France, I found my own faith. Not too long ago, there were the white water rapids of a long illness and church turmoil, but a life raft of love and grace carried me across. And then, the revelation: the “gondola of grace!” Imagine: it’s been here all along. I wish I had known. I wish more people knew!   

The pattern I see in my map (though probably not clear from my scribbled drawing) is that many of the milestones in my spiritual journey have been moments of complication—of an integration of my spiritual beliefs into the expansive and complicated world in which we live. I believe the trend in my spiritual journey is away from a separation of the secular and the spiritual and toward a holistic life. On another level, I’ve been steadily moving away from boundaries and theories to something similar to the Dalai Lama’s statement, “My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.”   

What does your map say about you? Do you notice any patterns in your spiritual life? This exercise is not just about seeing the big picture of our spiritual journeys. It’s also about forging new paths toward a thriving spiritual maturity. We can’t change where we’ve been on our spiritual journeys. That’s part of the terrain we’ve covered, part of our history. But what about the journey to come? Each day, we’re charting the map of our individual spiritual journeys through the choices we make—but not alone. The Prophet Isaiah wrote, “The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your soul in drought, and strengthen your bones; you shall be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.” (Isaiah 58:11) “For this is God, our God forever and ever; He will be our guide even to death,” David reminds us (Psalm 48:14). 

Are you participating in this art journey? If so, please leave a comment and let me know. I'd love to hear if it was a meaningful experience for you and what you may have learned from the activity.

As always, if you’re brave enough to share your creations with the world, scan them in and email them to me (signed or anonymously) at sharon@sharonfujimoto-johnson.com along with a brief description of your artwork. I’ll see about putting them up on the blog.   

Next week’s activity is “Moving Forward: Packing for the Journey.”   

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Part 1

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

“The soul never thinks without a picture.
—Aristotle

Last week, I invited you to embrace your identity as creative being, made in the image of the Master Artist and to join me in a six-week exploration of spiritual journey through art. Over the next six weeks, we’ll contemplate symbols and metaphors of spiritual journey through simple art activities. Rest assured—you don’t have to be an artist or even artistic to participate. In this journey, an open-mind and sincere effort will be infinitely more valuable than artistic talent. Really. In case you missed it, here's a link to the intro.

“Dare to err and to dream. Deep meaning often lies in childish play.”
—Johann Friedrich Von Schiller

I’ve prepared these activities for Sabbath afternoon enjoyment by one or by many, but chances are, you’ll feel compelled to share what you’ve created, so consider inviting your significant other, a good friend, your kids or grandkids to join the journey too. After you’ve created your individual sketches, have a show-and-tell to share what you’ve learned.

Each week, we’ll focus on one aspect of the spiritual quest:
1.    Survey: Observing the Land and Its Seasons
2.    Direction: Mapping the Journey
3.    Movement: Packing for the Journey
4.    Traveling: Living on the Road
5.    Discovery: Staking My Claim
6.    Identity: Owning My Spiritual Territory

What you need:
-a pen, pencil, a box of crayons, colored markers, tube of toothpaste or whatever you want to draw with. (If you’re absolutely terrified of drawing utensils, you may take a pair of scissors to pictures in magazines and catalogs. But I encourage you to just try scribbling and see what happens. )
-a piece of paper, the back of a napkin, last week’s church bulletin, or anything else you can draw on
-an open, reflective mind

Ready? Here we go, dear readers.

Part 1. The Survey: Observing the Land and Its Seasons

“We must accept life for what it actually is—a challenge . . .
without which we should never know of what stuff
we are made, or grow to our full stature.”
— Ida R. Wylie

This week, we take survey of the spiritual land in which we find ourselves and recognize what season it is in our individual spiritual journeys. Where do you find yourself today? What is the terrain of your spiritual life? The climate? The season? Is it a scorching Nevada desert in the dead of summer? A Southeast Asian monsoon? A beautiful early spring in the countryside? What are the blessing and challenges of the spiritual place and season you find yourself in? Consider the following Bible verses that use metaphors of place and season:

“He has fenced up my way, so that I cannot pass; And He has set darkness in my paths…. My hope He has uprooted like a tree.” (Job 19:8, 10)

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul….” (Psalm 23: 1-2)

“For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth: The time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” (Song of Solomon 2:11-13)

“Oh, that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.” (Jeremiah 9:18)

“Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.” (Psalm 125:1)

1. Contemplate the symbols and metaphors of place and what they mean to your spiritual journey.

• Does your spiritual life feel like a climb up a steep and rocky terrain right about now?
• Or have you recently come through a treacherous valley to those green pastures of Psalm 23?
• Perhaps you find yourself at the edge of the Grand Canyon—at the brink of both possibility and danger.
• Or perhaps you are in the safe and familiar front yard of your childhood home.

Where are you in your spiritual life? Choose a place that represents where you see yourself right now in your spiritual journey. Visualize its terrain and what it signifies about your spiritual journey.

2. Contemplate the symbols of climates and seasons and what they represent in your spiritual journey.

• Is it springtime in your spiritual life? Is the new grass a vibrant, thriving green? What is sprouting and coming to life? What are the flowers in bloom, and what do they represent? Is it raining? Flooding?
• Is it summer in your spiritual life? If so, is it a dry summer or a humid tropical season? Is the sun beating down on you mercilessly and drying up the ground? Or is it gently warming the terrain of your soul?
• Is it autumn in your spiritual life? If so, what is coming to harvest? Are the leaves turning brilliant colors? Are the leaves falling away and decaying? What do they represent?
• Is it winter in your spiritual life? What lies dormant? Is something at rest this season so that it can come to life in the spring? Is it biting cold? Crisp and clean? Is a sheet of snow covering a muddy landscape?

Choose a season that represents the climate of your spiritual terrain. Visualize symbols that represent that season for you. Those symbols could be raindrops, flower petals, falling leaves, snowflakes, weeds, or anything else that’s meaningful to you.

“We see the brightness of a new page where everything yet can happen.”
—Maria Rilke Rainer

3. Pick up those drawing utensils and that piece of paper now. Scribble something that represents the landscape and season you’re experiencing in your spiritual life.

It doesn’t have to look like a masterpiece, but it ought to be honest. The process of discovery is significantly more important than the end result. In this exercise, you’re documenting where you see yourself today in your spiritual journey, and this act, I anticipate, will be revealing. Though it’s a simple act, putting pen to paper in this way forces us to walk right through the walls of our comfort zone. It reveals where we have perhaps been blind.

David wrote, “Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.” (Psalm 51:6) In the moments when you hold that pen in your hands and are drawing your spiritual landscape and climate, you are facing “truth in the inward parts.” There’s no turning away from it, as your hands, eyes, mind, and heart engage in putting pen to paper.

I did this exercise with a group of friends a few summers back, and at the time, I made a collage of a tropical island and palm tree with a thought bubble that said, “Vacation doesn’t last forever; the real world and responsibilities await. I must go home soon.” I chose that landscape, because it represented how easy it is to become lazy in summer. I felt I needed to be more responsible and intentional in my spirituality rather than coasting along.

By contrast, one friend drew a stark winter landscape depicting a mountain, snow, and two lone flowers representing her significant other and herself. “I feel we’re coming through a long, cold winter, with only the slightest bit of hope of spring,” she said. “His flower is a bit higher on the mountain, because he’s ahead of me.”

This is the drawing I did just recently. (By the way, I’m drawing left-handed even though I’m right-handed, because I didn’t want to have any perceived advantage as someone who has dabbled in art all her life.)

In this drawing, I’m standing on a mountain after having made a treacherous climb. The truth is, after the tropical summer of my drawing several years ago, I encountered the mountain of prolonged illness, the near-disintegration of the church I’d called home for seven years, transition to a new home church—all of which was trying on my spiritual life. I chose to sketch the skies in a colorful blue though, because throughout this treacherous climb, God’s grace and the compassion of those who love me were evident and always surrounding me. I feel like I’ve come over the top of that mountain now, and I’m looking ahead to where I want to go. I’ve come full circle through the seasons, and it’s summer again—but I’m not on vacation.

Perhaps you’ve come to a place of peaceful respite in your spiritual life, and recognizing this brings you to gratitude. Perhaps you’ve been pretending that it’s a lush springtime in your spiritual life when in reality drought has set in. Or perhaps you’ve fallen into a canyon and are struggling to climb out. Wherever it is you find yourself, taking survey of the landscape is the first step to discovering where we want to go from here.

If you’re brave enough to share your creations with the world, scan them in and email them to me (signed or anonymously) at sharon@sharonfujimoto-johnson.com along with a brief description of your artwork. I’ll see about putting them up on the blog.

Next week’s activity is “Choosing a Direction: Mapping the Journey.”

Art: Spiritual Journey Through Art - Intro

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

"We need to get more people commenting on your art posts." That's what Bonnie Dwyer, editor of Spectrum, said to me when I dropped by the office earlier this week. Thing is, I'm pretty sure I know why my art posts don't generate too many comments, and it's perfectly fine by me. Nevertheless, Bonnie has encouraged me to blog about the thought process behind my art posts, so, dear readers, here goes:

When I was originally asked to blog for Spectrum, I thought long and hard about what I could write about on a regular basis. In the end, art was the obvious choice. Art is how I became involved at Spectrum, after all. (Remember the redesign of the magazine nine or so years ago and how we started featuring artwork on the cover?)

In addition, I've loved art all my life, and I want art to thrive within my community of faith. Unfortunately, I don't think we talk about, or explore, art nearly enough as Adventists. I'm "painting with a broad brush" here, but art for Adventists is largely confined to stained glass windows and Harry Anderson paintings--both of which I love, for the record. I want for us to move beyond the obvious so that the experience of art is expansive, transforming, and ultimately, actually meaningful. So that's why I blog about art.

Although my art posts don't often induce a slew of comments, I know you're reading them, and that's really my main goal anyway. Yes, I would love to see active conversation about art, but it's not all about the dialogue. It's also about listening and pondering in the quiet of your own mind. It would probably be easier for you to take a position on these art topics when sides in an issue are clearly delineated. In that model, there are clear choices, and you could choose either side of a fence, A or B, black or white. And, consequently, you might be more inclined to pick a position and post a comment. But I'm not telling you what to think about art. Just think about art. I'm simply giving you an opportunity to be aware of art on your own terms, to be open to experiencing it, and to listen to how it changes you.

I'm also aware that the word "art" itself scares a lot of us--let alone the idea of forming ideas about it in relation to spirituality. "I'm not an artist!" you might say. "That's out of my area." But we're all creative beings, made in the image of the Master Artist. We live in the paint strokes of His masterpiece, in the crevices of His collage. Art is all around us in the form of shapes, colors, patterns, and texture. We draw on divine principles of design, balance, and beauty in the clothes we choose, the homes we decorate, the cars we drive, the lay of the land and its buildings. Art is all around us, and it has the potential to change us in powerful ways, spiritually. I really believe that, and I really want art to become a more integral and vibrant part of the Adventist community and of our individual spiritual lives.

So, that's why, for the next six weeks, I'll be posting a participatory series called "Spiritual Journey Through Art." Each week, I'm going to invite you to embrace your identity as creative being, to pick up a blank piece of paper and a pen, and to scribble as you explore your own spiritual journey. Think of it as a summer course: Art and Spirituality 101. And no, you don't have to be an artist to participate. You just have to be willing. Trust me on this.

Wherever you are in the world, reading this blog, I hope you'll participate. If it draws you out to share what you've learned and join the conversation on art on this blog, wonderful. If it simply allows you to explore art and spirituality in the privacy of your own life, in your own home, in a way that's meaningful to you, that's wonderful too.

Join me on this journey!

Time for the boss: Happy Fourth

By Alexander Carpenter

Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U. S. A."

Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that's been beat too much
Till you spend half your life just covering up

Got in a little hometown jam
So they put a rifle in my hand
Sent me off to a foreign land
To go and kill the yellow man

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man said son if it was up to me
Went down to see my V.A. man
He said son, don't you understand

I had a brother at Khe Sahn
Fighting off the Viet Cong
They're still there
He's all gone

He had a woman he loved in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms now

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I'm ten years burning down the road
Nowhere to run ain"t got nowhere to go

Art: Ways to Explore Sacred Spaces

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

Photographer Blaine Ellis: "In the tradition of sacred architecture, light has become a symbol of the transcendent, a metaphor for the unknowable. Sacred space becomes a visual theology, a sculpture in light...."

What is sacred space to you? A religious building? A starry night sky? Your local hospital's chapel? A garden? Consider these ways to explore sacred space.

1. View Ellis' photographs, which capture light in doorways and windows of sacred spaces.  

2. Explore an online atlas and guide to more than 1,300 sacred sites.

3. Browse articles published by The Institute for Sacred Architecture, a non-profit organization with the purpose of discussing issues related to contemporary Catholic architecture.

4. View Building Faith: Sacred Architecture, a six-part film series that explores the role of architecture in six religious faiths.

5. Read The Hermeneutics of Sacred Architecture by Lindsay Jones (Harvard University Press), a two-volume investigation of religious architecture and the human experience.

6. Learn about different types of labryinths, find walking labryinths across the U.S., or print out finger labryinths.

7. Read Patrice C. Brodeur, Ph.D., and Susan F. Morrison's article for Harvard University's "The Pluralism Project" about the challenges of  "Sharing Sacred Space" across denominational, linguistic, cultural, and financial divides.

8. Peruse author/public speaker/consultant Scott Berkun's account of leading an architectural tour through New York City focusing on sacred spaces.

9. Walk part of The Art Line, an envisioned line of walkable, interactive, outdoor artworks stretching across America along the 39th Latitude.

10. Read The Return of Sacred Architecture: The Golden Ratio and the End of Modernism by Herbert Bangs, which has been called "a superb clarion call for a restoration of beauty, integrity, and above all, sanity in modern architecture."

11. Find and visit sacred spaces in your community beyond your local church building.

12. Visit sacred spaces in your travels this summer.

Art: Seeing Beyond Sight

By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson

What does it really mean to see? What would the world look like if you could not see?

Tony Deifell put cameras in the hands of visually impaired teenagers and taught them how to take photographs in a literacy-through-photography class. The result is Seeing Beyond Sight, a 152-page art book that showcases an astonishing and sometimes challenging view of self-expression and creation.

Explore Seeing Beyond Sight here.

Obey Your Thirst

By Tim Dunston

When I was in Africa a few years back I saw a billboard that reminded me why I need to carry my camera with me more often. It looked like your everyday Sprite advertisement--green bottle, slogan, all larger than life--but, underneath the green bottle wasn't a picture of Kobe Bryant, or Lebron James, just these words:

"Want to succeed in life? Drink Sprite."

I didn't know if I should laugh or borrow an axe and chop it to pieces. I didn't do either, in fact, I didn't do anything. Really, what can you do when marketing hijacks art?

"But a picture of a Sprite bottle is hardly art," I can hear you say to me. And you'd be right. It's not art. "Then why bring it up?" I hear you ask. I bring it up because revealed in that billboard is the essence of marketing. We have learned to have so much fun with marketing--as many of us watch the superbowl for commercials as to see the game--we forget that its essence is deceit. The slogan on the billboard had nothing to do with the product being sold. It was meant to take advantage of the anxiety we feel. Don't get me wrong. It's not a bad thing to obey your thirst, it will often lead you to meaning. But even when we buy their product, even if we drink it, we find it doesn't really satisfy. Not the way we wish it would.

So, what do we do with that anxiety? If we can't buy our way out of it, how do we exchange it for meaning? For starters, you can put down your remote, stop channel surfing and pick up your paintbrush, or camera, or microphone. Art has the power to save us from that anxiety, marketing only has the power to make us spend.

"You really think art has power?" I hear you ask. Well, art is a bottomless well, always has been. It has been there in every generation, in every period of history to help bring us back from the brink, to quench the deepest thirst. When we create, we reveal a divine playfulness that draws us toward something more deeply human. That is the power of art. It re-humanizes us, it reawakens meaning in our lives. And the beauty of art is that there is even more re-humanizing power when we share it.

Often when we think of art, it's as a painting or a poem, but art is so much more than just works of art. It's a way of life, a way of living. When we reawaken the parts of us that play and create, not only do we produce works of art, but our everyday, mundane existence becomes art--we become living works of art. Art has this power because the essence of art is the revealing of truth, and it is that revealing that gives art the power to save.

So, back to the earlier questions. What can we do when art is hijacked? And what do we do with the anxiety we feel? Same answer to both questions. Ultimately, I'm glad I didn't chop down that billboard. Since then I've learned that creating is a more powerful form of change than destroying. But, on to the answer. I've got just two words for you. Create. Share.

There's power in art, there's even more when we share it.