Sorry for the lack of a post last week - I've been really busy finding and then starting a job after finishing my Master's at the same time of preparing for and then taking part in an art exhibition! Which is what I wanted to write about today. Last week I had my first ever art exhibition. It was in central London and I exhibited with a group of 10 other people on the theme of Utopia. We all explored the theme from a sociological standpoint and a theological standpoint, and the conversations that grew out of this were incredible. I can't wait to do it again! This was my biggest piece in the exhibition: Measuring at 1m x 1.2m, it's also by far the biggest piece I've ever made! It's called Utopia: A Necessary Impossible Possibility.
My idea here is effectively that Utopia is something at the centre - at the core - which we’re searching for and yearning for, which is beautiful but impossible to fully grasp, impossible to reach and get to and put our hands on, and a mystery. But still it directs us. Around it, all the other aspects of ourselves and our lives float and mingle: some of them beautiful, others scary, others ambiguous. But they are directed into and towards the Utopia. As a Christian, the Utopia of a perfect God, and a perfect place where that perfect God will make all bad things disappear: well, I don’t understand that fully. It is impossible to fully grasp and reach, but it shapes how all the other aspects of my life fit together, flow and mingle. In the decisions that I make, I try to make them point towards that Utopia. Even though I know that I cannot fix the world and all its problems, I try to make decisions that do good, as if I could (even whilst knowing I can’t). In that sense, I am trying to bring into view something that is beautiful to others, and good, and impossibly wonderful, and mysterious. Something Utopian. Something like God.
0 Comments
Quite a while ago I was telling one of my friends the story I'd tried to tell with my Elijah painting, and she got super excited and asked if I'd paint the story of the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4. Months later I finally sat down with her and asked what it was that the story said to her - I wanted her to tell me the story from her perspective, and hear what it was I was going to paint.
She told me a story of someone who was relatable - as a person, but also as a woman. She told me a story about someone Jesus accepted and spoke to and revealed God to, knowing all that she'd done and said before, but accepting her regardless of it. She told me a story about a Jesus who drew people together, despite their differences in ethnicity, in customs, in opinions... So this is what you may see above, perhaps among other aspects of the story you bring to it as well. Re-read it, take a look - see what meaning expresses itself as you dialogue with the text, with the art, and with yourself. The background of this painting was actually originally part of a mini series of paintings I made exploring Communion. It had the yellow-brown of the bread, the red of the wine, and the blue of the water with which Jesus washed his disciples' feet. The preacher that morning had talked about Communion as a confrontation for change; a confession for peace; and a community for God. And part of that resonated with what I'd heard my friend telling me about this story of this woman at the well. She met Jesus, and there was confrontation, but not to wound - to change. And despite the social distinctions and differences, Jesus made a community for God through his discussion with her and her sharing of it. As I added the pearlescent blue on top of the blue of the foot-washing, the words of John 4.14 rounded my head: "The water I give becomes a fresh, bubbling spring within". And I thought how with Jesus, something so menial, something only a servant would do, becomes so life-giving. And so exciting! God changes things! God changes H E R, and God changes me! I just didn't want to have to feel like I was fighting any more - I didn't want to have to think about what I was making, what I wanted to say - I had no words or thoughts or feelings - I felt like my prayer was blank - my prayer was not blank. Do you ever feel as if you don't know the words to pray? For me, this came because it felt like everything was just coming against me - one thing after the other - and I just shut myself down. Getting mad at the world felt pointless and feeling nothing felt better than feeling sad or pointlessly mad, so I shut myself off and just got on with going through the motions. I did my reading, wrote my assignments, went cycling, led groups, saw my friends, and life went on. But the one person you can't put a fake smile on for is God. I mean, there are no doubt some of your friends who will have noticed too, but they'll often permit your pretence for a time. I feel like God doesn't. God wants me - ALL of me - not the perfect me I pretend I am, so that others don't know I'm hurting or that I fail or that... I don't even know! Maybe I just want to look good to other people; even to myself! I want them and me to think that I have everything under control.
So given that I had shut myself down inside my head, I didn't know how to pray to the God who knew I was being fake. But then I saw this artwork on Instagram, by various people, where they make the paint more flow-y and kind of mix it but kind of don't and it does really cool things. And I wasn't really sure why, but it really appealed to me. Now, my examples above are nothing like what I wanted them to be, or the ones I saw on Instagram (unsurprisingly given my 5 minutes of learning how to do it, and cheap make-do supplies from the local shop) - but actually, that kind of became the point. As I sat down and mixed up my paints, and poured them, and mixed them, and tipped them, and watched them interact, and saw them change even as I left them to dry I found that my prayer was far from silent, and God was far from silent in response. I didn't want to keep pretending I was perfect - and I didn't want to keep thinking that I had to be! I didn't want to keep feeling like I had to fix everything that was wrong in the world to not be a failure! I wanted to live like I was free, not because I had planned and executed the most daring and elaborate prison break known to humankind - but because God made me free and loves me without any frills! And I learned that no amount of planning what I wanted the paint to do could force it to do it - I couldn't plan or foresee how the different colours would interact, just like I can't plan or foresee how the many interlocking, complex processes in this world interact. Maybe I should stop thinking that I should. And I learned that where my plans with the paint had failed, there arose a colour that would've otherwise been absent from my painting - a beauty that was only there in the "failure." Maybe I should stop calling them "failures". In my life, I try to live so that others see God through me. Sometimes I do that better than other times, but it's what I attempt. And I learned that maybe there was a God-ness (a something of God) in the instances when I stopped doing well, or looking amazing, or attempting perfection, that others would only see if I showed them those parts of me too. A colour that would be absent if everything only ever went my way. Maybe I should stop trying to present the "perfect" me. Prayer is more than words. Even more than conversation. Prayer is a relationship between myself and God that is ever-growing, ever-deepening, ever-changing, ever-the-same yet ever-new. And if words aren't enough for you right now? If words don't fit? Pray with something else! Communicate your heart and allow God to communicate God's heart back to you. Let God teach you again! |
Like the Facebook page to keep up-to-date with blog posts!
AuthorI'm a recent Cambridge Theology graduate now studying for a Masters in Biblical Studies and blogging about all sorts of things! I'm interested in faith, Church, theology, social action, the great outdoors and being creative, and all of those things - along with many more - come through in my posts!
Categories
All
Archives
April 2020
|