The Sacred Garden: Taking an Artistic Path to the Cloister Within

A recent workshop I was asked to teach at the Grünewald Guild in Plain, Washington, underwent a last-minute transformation due to low registration. Originally intended as a week-long retreat-like approach to creating art for the church while gleaning inspiration from within the heart of the Garden, the offering blossomed into a demonstration of how the contemplative creative can transform their prayer life by way of the garden gate.

My intention was to be able to share how observing and creating from inside the botanical world often leads to deeper reflection and restoration. If we can allow ourselves to have down time, and immerse ourselves in the garden, metaphorically as well as physically, we can discover, or “unhide” as Jan Richardson so eloquently put it, that which is missing, revealing a truth that we might have been seeking. Sometimes we have to fast from whatever it is that is hindering us from entering the garden and potentially finding what it is we are called to be or do.
My good fortune of having been partnered with an outstanding team of talented teachers, including artist, author and theologian, Jan Richardson, her gifted husband, musician and storyteller Garrison Doles, and the incredibly creative artist Kristen Gilje brought me great blessings as they encouraged me to “unleash the random idea generator”. Brave souls that they are, they stood back and let me roll with a new plan. My revised approach to sharing what can come from the garden grew into a feast and an invitation for all to “come to the table”.

Watch for new posts and pictures that will shed light on how a garden can be a sacred place of revelation, or how a table is a place of community, sharing and hospitality. I invite you to return to discover the spaces that exist betwixt and between the garden and the table.

The Watched Pot . . .

It takes an awful big leap of faith to plunge a newsprint and craft paper bundle of blood sweat and tears in the form of brilliantly dyed and painted silk from out of the hands of a group of spirit-led artisans into a steaming kettle.

Walking away for two hours, leaving said package to bubble and boil unattended was punctuated by the profound temptation to cheat on the designated waiting period. Frequently peaking into the vat of boiling water, my ability to see was grossly hindered by the steam; the whole scary procedure was doing absolutely nothing for my sense of security, and further accentuated my inability to stop fretting about what might happen to the beautiful silk panel.  Breathe, relax, breathe, bccame my mantra as I relinquished all control midst the boiling uncertainties now covered deep inside my old canning kettle. This was a wonderful exercise in letting go and turning the process over to God in prayer.

This is the sacred found in the ordinary, a kettle full of hopes and prayers, the Holy Spirit in the form of steam, swirling round yards of painted and dyed silk creating a richer, more vibrant palette that would ultimately become permanently bonded to each panel of silk.

The final courageous test, rinsing the steamed silk in a tub of cold water.

Brilliant colors now drowning in what 24 hours ago would have had a disastrous  result, the beautiful dyes, co-mingling purples with golden yellows would have created a marbled muddiness. This is the moment when after a deep cleansing breath, followed by a sigh of relief upon realizing that the colors are no longer renegade but fixed, a gasp of awe can be the only possible response as each panel is pulled from the icy bath. Thank you Lord, for the patience, the trust and the lessons learned at my kitchen sink.

The wisdom of the Tree of Life

Blessed is the man who has found wisdom . . . Her ways are good ways,
And all her paths are peaceful
She is a tree of life to all that lay hold upon her
Proverbs 3:18

As the work continues on the Tree of Life Project for Family of Grace Lutheran, I am thankful for the lessons I am learning at the foot of the tree. She is truly wisdom, and I gratefully accept the teachings about patience and presence that she teaches.

As I paint the tree, guided by the Spirit and present to the sensuous feel of a brushful of dye as it contacts the silk and how very little control I have over this process, it helps me see correlations to life in general.

As I honor the gift of nature that trees are to us, I am painfully aware of the whirring of chain saws in the little piece of forest we call our home. My husband and I had to make the difficult decision to remove some trees that have been threatening to fall on our home. We know that it is important to be safe, and that nature may have run her course in a different way with either fire or wind, but it is still very difficult to watch these majestic beauties come to an early end. Many have stood for more than 100 years offering protection and beauty. I find myself wondering how the Native Americans who walked this land before us would have felt about our stewardship of this place. Somehow, the spirits of these trees seem to be calling out to me this day and I grieve at the loss of them. Painting once again becomes the doorway to healing.

Creating Art Together: How One Congregation Receives the Gift of Art

Family of Grace Lutheran Church in Auburn, Washington, had an architecturally unfortunate situation in their sanctuary. A bank of windows, whose view was the local fire department, experiences a blaze of morning sunlight that was not only distracting but turned their Pastor into a silhouette of himself. “When Amazing Grace!, the congregation’s dynamic fellowship group for members age 55+, decided to gift the congregation with liturgical art, they contacted me to see if we could arrive at a solution that could engage the whole congregation.

After some initial meetings we determined these key points:

Family of Grace is an “inclusive” congregation which is informal and accepting. They wanted a piece of art that expressed mystery, was new and different, could be abstract but should be dynamic and that would exhibit some movement and changeability. After some discussion about what the key words “inclusive, family and accepting” meant, we turned to the task of deciding medium.

For this congregation Mystery addresses the stuff you can’t see, things that need to be observed, yet need some interpretation. Light comes from out of wonder, awe and mystery. Could we embrace this light in some way? The windows seemed a natural location for the gift of light, mystery and art to coincide.

A few more meetings and the idea of silk painted panels to be inserted in the eight windows in question was decided on.

The theme that emerged was the Tree of Life. Based on its description from Revelation 22:2 “In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bear twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations”, four designs were created.

The committee chose one of the four, and that design was transferred  on eight panels of silk and prepared with gutta.

The first workshop was organized and members of the congregation came to learn how art is prayer. After some discussion about the Tree of Life as a symbol, and some instruction on the process they were about to engage in, the willing participants began working on a practice piece. They created beautiful leaf designs on circles of silk which put aside any fears of  working on the “real deal”.

Less intimidated and ready to find out how God can work through the artist’s hands, they jumped in and began painting the panels.

Another workshop is planned at the end of March where we will complete the larger lower window panels. I look forward to how this project evolves. It has blessed each of us in so many ways.

Mardi Gras and a Piece of King’s Cake

Mardi Gras in our home is normally celebrated with music and dance. My husband and I enjoy Cajun and Zydeco music, and he has played in several local Cajun bands with some of our friends. Last night, circumstances made joining in the festivities impossible, so our Mardi Gras party was celebrated with King’s Cake instead. Associated with Epiphany and the pre-Lenten celebrations of Mardi Gras and Carnival, this cake is found in many manifestations, from France to Spain and for us in the States, deep in Cajun Country, in New Orleans and the plains of Louisiana.

Often the cake has a small trinket or treasure inside it, but it is the little plastic baby, sometimes said to represent the baby Jesus that we most often see here. The cake I made last night indeed has the baby in it, and it is said that the person who gets the piece of cake with the baby gets to host the next Mardi Gras Party.

King’s Cake is more coffee cake than what one normally thinks of as cake. The icing on the cake, so to speak, is a glaze decorated with three colors of sparkly sugar, purple for justice, yellow or gold for power, and green for faith.

My husband also plays in the oldest Samba band in the Pacific Northwest, and has been a member for nearly twenty years. Dancing to his beautiful music has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Cooking for him is another. With his music, and the King’s Cake, we celebrate Carnival, Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent in the most spectacular ways.

Epiphanies and New Mexico

A recent trip to New Mexico was what I imagine the pilgrimage of the Magi to have been.

My husband and I made our virgin trek to this sacred place last weekend in order to be a part of a celebration of his niece at her baby shower. It was an honor to be included and brought us closer to what her experience of the birthing process must be like for her. The stark landscape in its blanket of winter snow was unlike any I had experienced and seemed to be full of the mystery of holding opposites together in one place. Arid frostiness, cold desert afternoons and brilliant colors against shimmering ice blue were difficult to get my head around. But so is the juxtaposition of Death and Birth, Dark and Light. Epiphany is all about becoming aware of spiritual anomalies; sudden awakening glimmers of how endings and beginnings are not really very far apart at all interject their presence. Birthing new ideas, creating life while resting in the winter landscape’s stillness - gifts of the magi indeed.

The Never Ending Story

Completed Banner

Advent is a season of waiting, waiting for the coming of the of the infant Christ. And even though we know what we are waiting for, and what to expect, year after year, we wait again, as if for something unexpected. It is a sort of unending story, but one that we really never want to end.

 Remember when you were a little kid, the feeling you had after Christmas morning, when all the wrappings were crumpled and shoved in the garbage? When all the hopes of anticipated dreams culminated in the “expected”, we can feel let down, even a bit dissappointed. But with the advent story, we never cease hoping, expecting and rejoicing. The birth of Christ gives us even more to look forward to. We find in the gift of the child born on this day, the hope of ressurection.

My Banner is complete, the infant is placed in the hightest position atop its towering heights. But the story is never ending, and will continue to be told, throughout the rest of Advent, and Christmas and Christmases to come.