At long last

I’ve been quite distracted this past week. It’s been the culmination of the end of the semester in my art class and a furious attempt to produce another “Rembrandt Parables” podcast.

I’m pleased to announce that the next podcast has been posted on the “Rembrandt Podcasts” page of this blog. I everyone enjoys the story. You may notice a change in podcast format. Someone mentioned they weren’t able to download the first story onto their iPod. I hope this version allows people to download the story.

Enjoy!

On weirdness and pomegranates

Is it my imagination or is world wide weirdness on the rise? I was bumping around the internet when I discovered this headline on a news website: “Unconscious Man Found Lying Dead on the Floor”. I had to wonder how they knew he was unconscious. A couple of days later I was watching TV and saw a toothpaste commercial that featured a dentist named Dr. Fang. Perhaps Dr. Pain wasn’t available.

Along those lines, I’ve come to the conclusion that pomegranates are not a lazy fruit. It takes a certain level of commitment to purchase a pomegranate. It’s not as convenient as siting back and mowing down on an apple. Pomegranates take perseverance, commitment, determination and patience. In the world of self-indulgence and self-gratification, pomegranates are a test of character.

In this brief moment of weirdness, let me offer one more thought. There are two kinds of people on the world: those who think there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don’t.

P.S. I wrote this post while watching TV. Just as I published it this announcement was made: “House Hunters International is going global!” Perhaps its just me, but that not only seems redundant, but I think its saying the same thing.

The nexus of painting and writing

Language is the medium. Words are the values. The imagination is the canvas. The artist applies layers of meaning with skill and precision; writing and rewriting until the masterpiece conforms to the intention of the artist. Or perhaps the artist conforms to the intentions of the masterpiece.

The words lay dormant on the page until confronted by the reader. Silently they lay in wait, like strokes of paint, reading to leap into the mind’s eye and tantilize the reader. Great writing, like great art, doesn’t entertain. It engages the viewer. The masterpiece lures us in and together we commune. The masterpiece whispers complexity and truth. We are invited to participate, to reply from our experiences and complexities. We moved beyond language into a union of the soul.

Trifles and other things that keep me from writing

This has been a thoroughly frustrating week for writing. I had planned to rework a Rembrandt Parable, then record it as a podcast. All that changed when I reread my story for an audience Sunday night. There are few things so terrifying as reading a story for a group of people and discovering I have to improvise several sections. The tepid response validated my suspicions.

The several attempts to settle down with my story were thwarted by the myriad of trifles that impose themselves on our lives. I was finally able to sit down with my story for a few minutes this morning. It still hasn’t met with my satisfaction. So, the struggle continues.

Namesake

A few years ago we decided to purchase a car. When I applied for the loan I discovered the existence of another person in town who shared my name. I also learned that my namesake has a very poor credit history. In order to secure the loan I needed to sign an affidavit promising I wasn’t the other person.

Just this week I met someone who actually knows my namesake. I learned that this other person actually stole from his own mother. He has a criminal record and has established quite a notorious reputation in the city. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that reputation has unintentionally splashed on me. I wonder if there are people who hear my name and automatically associate me with this other scoundrel. A good name is valuable. How unfortunate would it be if my reputation was tainted because of someone whose only connection to me was a name.

It’s very disconcerting.

Daniel’s honesty

I’ve been spending my devotional reading in the book of Daniel. Once you past the great stories surrounding Daniel and his three friends you come to Daniel’s apocalyptic visions. I’ve always struggled with visions of the end times, mostly because I have no idea what they mean. Perhaps even more frustrating are those folks who are more than happy to explain them.

What I find so refreshing with Daniel is that he shares my confusion. After one vision he confesses that he doesn’t understand what it could possibly mean. The other vision bothered him so much that he kept it entirely to himself. It’s refreshing to discover a Biblical character who is so honest. I think it would serve the modern church to embrace his example. Why do Christians insist on explaining everything in the Bible, especially concerning passages that lack clear meaning? (I’m specifically referring to those that point to the future.) Acting with authority is not the same thing as owning it. Perhaps an honest, “I don’t know” would be more of an appropriate response than some convoluted explanation that is based on an interpretation that lacks any substantial foundation. It’s better to be honest than to appear right.

But would you put it on your wall?

I’ve taking this painting class at the local community college. So far it’s been a great learning experience. The greatest challenge I’ve faced this far is translating my imagination onto the canvas. I’ve also learned the truest test of art appreciation. Most people, when examining someone else’s work, will say how much they like it. I don’t want to claim that most people are being disingeuous when they say that, but flippant praise does seem to be the norm. I’ve discovered that the truest praise the willingness of someone to hang your work on their wall. That means they think enough of your work to make it part of their daily experience. And, just in case you’ wondering, no one has done that with my work. Not yet, anyway.

The craft of writing

The other day I was watching a PBS documentary entitled Craft in America. It showcased the talented crafts folk who were preserving and even reviving a wide variety of crafts that in modern times have been overwhelmed by the monotony of automation. I was particularly enthralled by a weaver in California named Jim Bassler. Weaving itself doesn’t interest me. What attracted my attention was his attitude toward his craft. The greatest value of his art was the process, not the final product. He enjoyed the intricacies of weaving. While the actual textile was the focus, he wasn’t in a hurry to finish it. That approach freed him to produce incredible textiles. He could take his time to experiment and perfect his technique without feeling the stress of a deadline.

I found this perspective surprising and liberating. I don’t write for a living. As things progress it appears as though I never will. Perhaps I should refocus my craft, enjoying the process and worrying less about the completion. The more I think about it, the more I’m drawn to the idea. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that my best work would be produced when I’m at my most passionate and at ease? Writing becomes less of a commodity and more of a craft. Once it reaches that point, each story becomes a work of art. That is when writing becomes meaningful.

Contentment before thanksgiving

I recently saw a TV commentator who encouraged people to pause and give thanks, especially when we consider those less fortunate. That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone phrase thankfulness that way. It makes me wonder why we need to compare ourselves with the less fortunate to feel thankful. Its as though thankfulness is contingent on the state of those around us. That seems to reflect arrogance more than thankfulness.

It seems to me that genuine thankfulness requires contentment. We need to be thankful because what we have is sufficient. It’s enough. Thanksgiving isn’t about what happens to us but how we respond to life. It’s proactive instead of reactive. Its an approach to living, a life style that can not be confined to a single event or yearly celebration. We are thankful because we are content. It isn’t until we acquire contentment that we can appreciate thankfulness.

All that being considered, I wrote a brief list of a few things for which I am thankful:
door knobs, copper pipes, acrylic paint, a really fine ink, watch gears, bird feeders, eye glasses, coffee, novels by G.K. Chesterton and P.G. Wodehouse, paper, smoke detectors, WIFI, history, weaving, yellow raspberries, time, creativity, helvetica font, colour, islands, elevators, dogs, hope, faith, reason, wood flooring, pillows, mystery, football

A new Rembrandt offering

I’ve changed the story on my second page. This is the latest Rembrandt parable. I hope you enjoy!