Grace Happens

2006-08-01T12:04:00.000-07:00

Sarah didn't tag me but I decided to answer this one anyway.

1. One book that changed your life: Wendy Shalit's A Return to Modesty

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: C.S. Lewis' Till We have Faces - I'm on my 20+ reading.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island: Till We have Faces and George McDonald's Phantastes

4. One book that made you laugh: Recently, Dave Barry Hits below the Beltway

5. One book that made you cry: Bernard Cornwell's Enemy of God. I couldn't sleep one night and bawled my way through the account of the murder of the main character's child. I think the Bailey's was somewhat to blame as well.

6. One book that you wish had been written: 'Everything you've been led to believe about sex is a lie'

7. One book that you wish had never been written: Anything by Brian McLaren and his hereticall cohorts

8. One book you’re currently reading: McDonald's Evenor (out of print)

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: Herman Melville's Moby Dick (I really should read what my husband is going to write his dissertation on.)

2006-02-20T15:02:00.000-08:00

In honor of Sarah's Crunchy Con Manifesto, I present...

The Coffee Con Manifesto

1. We are coffee conservatives who stand outside the coffee drinking mainstream; therefore, we can see things that matter more clearly.
2. Modern coffee drinking has become too focused on money, power, and the consumption of caffeine, and insufficiently concerned with the content of our individual and social drinking experience.
3. Mega coffee chains deserve as much skepticism as mega retail chains.
4. Real atmosphere is more important than slick marketing and brand recognition.
5. Coffee houses that do not include good company, good glassware, and good taste—especially in the choice of beans — do not fundamentally appreciate coffee.
6. Small, Local, Fresh Roasted, and Unique are almost always better than Big, Global, Pre-Packaged, and Ubiquitous.
7. Flavor is more important than convenience.
8. The relentlessness of franchise-driven consumer coffee-ism deadens our senses to authentic truth, beauty, and wisdom.
9. We share Russell Kirk’s conviction that "the institution most essential to conserve is the family [coffee hour.]"

2006-01-23T20:16:00.000-08:00

Well, I did it. Of my own free-will (hah-hah), I stepped foot back into an Orthodox Presbyterian Church. The last time I visited one, it was at my father's behest (he was visiting) and within 5 minutes of the service ending, an ill-mannered young man somehow managed to sniff us out as 'not entirely Reformed' and proceeded to try and drag my husband into a doctrinal sparring match. Too many of their young men are that way. Apparently, diplomacy is not necessary when you're sure you're right. It's funny to me that such a fastidious and reserved group of people should entirely abandon good manners when it comes to doctrinal disagreements.

And they were surprised when I married the son of a Baptist minister.

This time, however, the minister, with whom I have a passing aquaintence from my past life as a Presbyterian girl, was quite polite. He knew already about our 'not entirely Reformed' state (I must be on some special prayer list somewhere) and managed to get through quite a bit of small talk without mentioning it at all really. My father wasn't kidding when he said this guy was decent fellow. We're even invited over for lunch next week. Could this minister have been raised Baptist?

I'll guess we'll go back, even though it was a bit of a drive. It's a small church, eager for new members and maybe even willing to put up with a couple of NER types like ourselves. Who knows, I might even give them a chance to win me back.

2005-12-05T15:13:00.000-08:00

I'll confess, sometimes I just don't get Sarah. She is forever complaining about how ugly the modern world is. I must not be as refined in my tastes, because most of the time, I just don't see it. I remember in college when she tried to introduce to me the evils of aluminum siding. Until she pointed it out, I never noticed a difference between the aluminum and regular wood siding. Now, all I notice is that the aluminum siding is cleaner and has less paint peeling off it.

Is our modern life really so devoid of beauty?

Maybe, I just learned to be visually entertained in different ways. Sure, strip malls are gaudy, but, when the sun is setting, I can't help but admire the erie glow of all the different colored signs. Highways are monstrous, except when the archs of concrete curve above you a bisect the blue sky. My apartment building was obviously thrown together in a matter of weeks and I have a cabinet and bookshelf that are so off-level that you can see it with your bare eyes from a great distance. It's awful, but not without its charm. There's a character to it in a world of sameness that is so entertaining.

If the whole world was beautiful all the time, would be appreciate it as much? Growing up in the city, I guess I learned to see beauty where I could. Morning glories growing out of a crack in a cement sidewalk was breathtaking. They repainted in 'El' and I have to say, I miss the rusted shades of brown that flaked off the old faded green paint. It was far more interesting than their attempt at 'beautification.'

Maybe it's the blue collar streak in me but I really resent some government snob helping me out because I apparently have not taste.

2005-07-25T11:08:00.000-07:00

Anica's boyfriend called me a ludite. I have never been called a ludite before. Am I a ludite? My admant refusal to acquire a cell phone is what prompted the label, but I don't eschew cell phones because I abhor technology. I eschew cell phones because I think they are annoying, intrusive and (largely) unnecessary. Oh, and did I mention costly? Why would I pay money for people to interrupt whatever I'm doing with an obnoxious "dee dee do de, dee dee do de, deedy do de do?" If I want someone to talk to me, I'll plant myself near a phone and engage in activites I don't mind being interrupted.

My response to the ludite comment was that cell phones have no adventure in them. Arranging a rendevous in the mall back in bad old days was so much more exciting. "Okay, I'll meet you by the fountain at 2 o'clock sharp. Let's synchronize our watches." Now, you just call the person every twenty minutes and ask, "Where are you now?" It's like they're homing beacons or something.

Bleh.

BTW I would officially like to say that I found the boyfriend (in spite of the luddite comment) to be a decent fellow.

2005-07-25T07:15:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't think I post enough (if there are such people - all, I hear is crickets), I thought I would let you in on my other blog-like projects. One is a conversation about art between Sarah and I called Arrivals. This is serious blogging, not for the faint of heart.

2005-07-15T09:08:00.000-07:00

You Are 79% American

You're as American as red meat and shooting ranges.
Tough and independent, you think big.
You love everything about the US, wrong or right.
And anyone who criticizes your home better not do it in front of you!

How American Are You?

Yeahaw! At least I did better on this one that that political quiz that said I was (gasp!) a moderate.

2005-02-21T07:24:00.000-08:00

Ecclesiastical breadcrumbs

I've been away for some time, off on a detective hunt of sorts. It all started with a weird feeling that came over me at church when something was mentioned about the reunification of all denominations and borrowing worship elements from these other churches. It was followed a few weeks later by some even stranger talk about "postmodernism," "postcolonialism," "interactive experience," and a book called The Church on the Other Side by Brian McLaren. Determined to find out where all this was coming from, I immediately went home and looked up the book on Amazon.com.

This is when I started to follow the breadcrumbs in earnest. According to Amazon, customers who purchased The Church on the Other Side, also bought these books:

- The Emerging Church by Dan Kimball
- A New Kind of Christian: A Tale of Two Friends on a Spiritual Journey by Brian D. McLaren
- A Generous Orthodoxy: Why I Am a Missional, Evangelical, Post/Protestant, Liberal/Conservative, Mystical/Poetic, Biblical, Charismatic/Contemplative, Fundamentalist/Calvinist, Anabaptist/Anglican, Methodist, Catholic, Green, Incarnational, Depressed-yet-Hopeful, Emergent, Unfinished CHRISTIAN by Brian D. McLaren

The phrase "emerging" or "emergent" appeared a couple of times on the page. I then searched for "emergent church" on Metacrawler. This led to a wealth of web pages on the subject, not the least of which are Emergent Village and EmergingChurch.org. Apparently, there are a whole slew of churches out there getting in on this postmodern, tradition borrowing "conversation" (as they call themselves.)

The "conversation" is not without its critics, notable among them is Chuck Colson founder of Prison Fellowship. It appears it started with this article in Christianity Today in which Colson speculates whether postmodernism is "on life support." The apparently rubbed Brian McLaren the wrong way, so he wrote a response on his website A New Kind of Christian.com. Colson obligingly replied.

Ironically, my church is now recommending a book for all to read entitled The Present Future: Six Tough Questions for the Church by Reggie McNeal which begins with "The current church culture in North America is on life support."

I'm still investigating (The Church in the Other Side sits next to me half read) but mostly I wonder why everyone is so concerned about the death of these passing movements rather that the Death that really matters.

2004-12-30T06:21:00.000-08:00

The 600 x 800 pixel universe

It has come to my attention that someone somewhere might have said something somewhat related to me.

Big deal.

The beauty of a blog is that it is a soapbox, not an open forum. If I wanted to get in a dialogue with strangers, I would go find one of those deplorable online messageboards where puny minds pontificate in pathetic attempts to persuade the unpersuadable. Nor do I wish to waste my time here writing a sound and well thought-out defense of my philosophy on the universe. Frankly, I think my energy and words are better spent painting my toenails and discussing Faulkner with my husband.

In my little 600 x 800 pixel blogging universe, I will say what I want the way I want and ignore anything outside of it that I wish. I just having fun, dang it, so deal with it.

2004-12-29T06:46:00.000-08:00

I'll slap him myself, thank you.

I would like to officially reassert a woman's right to slap (literally or figuratively) any man that makes obscene comments or gestures in her general direction. I've been reading an enlightening tome gifted to me by Miss Hempel entitled WHAT OUR MOTHERS DIDN'T TELL US: Why Happiness Eludes the Modern Woman by fellow harpy Danielle Crittenden. In her book, Ms. Crittenden makes some very pointed comments concerning the nature of recent sexual harrassment lawsuits:

"Yet what is remarkable about so many of these complaints...is not the seriousness of the male behavior being punished but its mildness. A woman no longer needs to show that her refusal of a man's advances caused her to lose her job or stymied her promotion in a firm, merely that his actions caused her discomfort...This isn't to say that genuine sexual harrassment doesn't occur and that it shouldn't be punished when it does. But when women are taking men to court for an unwanted compliment, something has truly broken down in the sexes' ability to deal with each other."

In other words, "we must now turn to the courts to redefine the limits that were once observed socially and ask judges to level the face slap we once could confidently administer ourselves." Are we women so incapable of standing up for ourselves when men are just being boors that we have to go to a federal agency for protection? Honestly, I'm a trifle insulted by this. I was able weather a sexual proposition made by a complete stranger when I was 15, but apparently as a woman, even as an educated one, I'm not even expected to be able to handle a well-meaning, if bungled, attempt at a compliment.

Are there real jerks out there? Of course. The solution? Put them in their place. If my grandmother was able to keep men in line with full arm slaps, cutting retorts and (my favorite) the look of death, why not avail myself of the same arsenal and alleviate our already overburdened judicial system?

2004-12-27T06:36:00.000-08:00

Otherwise known as a Screaming Harpy

I've pretty much had it. A recent forum obsession has led to a unpleasant discovery: there are a lot of idiots out there. Harsh, I know, but what really gets me is all those people who decided to do (or not do) something and then go looking for absolutions from a bunch of strangers on the internet. Yes, I completely disagree with you but if you didn't want to hear it, why did you ask?!

I hate debating with those who don't want to listen. Thus, I've decided to get onto this little virtual soapbox and become at ridiculously dictatorial as I wish. I will even make somewhat of an effort to be polite: Dear Sir, while I respect your right to an opinion, I must say that yours is insufferably stupid, etc.

I mentioned my new resolution to Miss Hempel, she was quite excited, mostly because she hoped I would dish out my first bitch-slap to "Tiny Tim" Sandefur. While this might be entertaining and I reserve my right to pummel him in the future, I have instead use this first post to introduce:

Hoarkplatt!

Say it with me now, "Hoarkplatt!" What is Hoarkplatt? Well, it sounds like a cat throwing up on your living room carpet in the middle of a dinner party. It means something like, I would answer that but quite frankly what you've said is so absurd (and you know it) that I'm not going to waste my breath.

Let's try it in a conversation:

TT: Human beings are most emphatically not “communal beings.”

SH: Hoarkplatt!

There, how does that feel?

2004-06-03T20:03:00.000-07:00

What am I here for again?

I painted again today. It's been a few months and I feeling a little rusty and stupid but it's coming back. The intuitive nature of creation is somewhat creepy to me at times. The right brush weighted with paint seems like an extension of me; a part of my arm; something I was born with. The smell of oil paint is as familiar and comforting in the way I imagine a mother's perfume or her best cooking might be. In the midst of painting, for a few moments, I'm truly happy, truly passionate, truly in love with what I do. Before and after seems so much more full of dread and dissatisfaction.

Recently, my father-in-law joked that God never made him good at anything but preaching because if He had given him any other talent, he'd never choose to be a minister. I guess I feel much the same way about art though that's hard to live with. I'm sharp enough to do other things but they can't help but feel mundane and pointless next to act of creation. I know why God put me here but quite frankly, sometimes I wish He had asked a little less of me. What I was born for is not just a job or a career - I live and breathe my art in much deeper way. It's inescapable no matter how hard I try.

2004-06-02T12:32:00.000-07:00

The Avid Cyclist: Day Three

Somehow this has gone from a blog about art to a blog about cycling. I think this has something to do with my sad level of artistic output about which I confess to feeling some guilt. Regardless, I still have a few things to say about cycling.

For instance, I recently found out that President Bush rides a Trek mountain bike. This is pretty exciting because Matt and I now have serious bikes to aspire to should our level of avid ever outstrip our Huffys. Seems silly to pick a brand based the President's preferences, but as I understand it, the bike was a gift from the Trek's president. If the Trek president contributed more than just a bike, buying from them in a round about sort of way supports the Bush campaign.

Now, I'm off to check Ebay for all the Trek bikes being sold by upset Democrats.

2004-05-25T10:12:00.001-07:00

Avid Biker: Day Two

First off, Matt insists that I stop saying "biker" or he will get a tattoo. "Cyclist" is the appropriate term, he says. Alright, "cyclist" then. We went riding on Sunday and it was great except for the blisters on my fingers and a sore tush. Thus, I have gone in search of the proper accutrements for a the avid cycler.

First up: a helmet. Bell is best or so I hear and I was excited to find that make one in "Ice Lavender." Lavender is good. Matt and I drove to an Outdoor outfitter called REI where we promptly discovered that we are not of the "outdoor outfitter" level of avid yet. I think we barely pass for Target level avid. The difference: about 70% more dollars for everything. I just couldn't justify $36 cycling gloves yet, even if they had cushy gel grips.

What I do need is a cushy seat! Ouch! I think I might have outfitter level tush.

2004-05-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

Introducing the Renaissance Tan Line

Today I went to the Scarborough Renaissance Festival in Waxahachie, Texas. I went sporting my newly created wench outfit - replete with a red velvet corset, green wool skirt and a white, puffy sleeved, off-the-shoulder muslin shift. I returned with a painful (albiet amusing) sunburn consisting of a square neckline and back (from the corset) and cute crescent burns on each shoulder (between the corset straps and my sleeves.) It is quite possibly the oddest burn pattern I've ever seen. We adults wander into the sun so infrequently that it is easy to forget little things like sunscreen. Mores the pity, as I will now be sporting these newly created tan lines for the rest of the summer.

2004-05-14T21:58:00.000-07:00

The Avid Biker Emerges

For plenty of good reasons, Matt and I have decided to become avid bikers. Here is an account of day one:

1) Matt decides that today is the day he will get our bikes into ship shape.

2) He goes out on the balcony and attempts to pump air into the tires of my bike.

3) He returns from the balcony and announces that there is a leak in the bicycle pump hose.

4) We drive to Target and purchase a new bike pump.

5) Matt goes out on the balcony and attempts to pump air into the tires of my bike.

6) He returns from the balcony and announces that the tube inside one of my tires was torn because my rim strip broke.

7) We drive to Bill's Bike Shop and purchase a new tube and a new rim strip.

8) Matt goes out on the balcony and attempts to pump air into the tires of my bike.

9) A tremendous explosion is heard from the balcony followed by a long silence.

10) I go out on the balcony to discover a completely mutilated tire and tube and a mostly deaf husband.

11) We decide to become avid bikers tomorrow.

2004-05-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sarah wants to know where I went. Here I am! Life after graduate school is pretty much the same as life after college - sort of numb and disconcerting and a total people vacuum. You go from having a very distinct goal and being surrounded by tons of people to starting all over and finding yourself quite alone in you apartment. This has persuaded me to get involved in some sort volunteering or something, both in search of purpose and people. I swear, if I were a pet, I'd be one of those ones you can't leave alone very long because they start chewing on themselves out of loneliness.

I started a process to get a teaching certificate, but ran into several road blocks. This got me thinking to myself, do I really WANT to work for people again? Can one actually make a living making art instead? I posited this question at the lunch table some time back and was met with blank stares. Apparently, this was a very stupid question. Of course not. No one (except Sarah) does. So what are we spending our money on?? What kind of life is it if you can't pursue the thing you love?

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about: painting, happy people, funfetti cupcakes, warm spring days, squeaky finches, anything that has to do with weddings - the things that interest me, things I love. Can you surround yourself and make a life with just these things? How do you live? Where does the money come from? So many questions....

2004-03-28T20:07:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted in weeks for the one simple reason: I had a show to put on. Well, I suppose, for artists we have a show to "put up" but I had an oral defense too and that was definitely put on. The good news is the show looked great, orals were easy and I now have a Masters degree in Art. The bad news is that now I have to figure out what to do next. It's like I suffer from some sort of near-sightedness when in school - I never imagine it will ever end. I hate this place but find myself wholly unprepared (at least, mentally) for the next step. If I even know what the next step is. It's probably a job. Now if I could only figure out what to do....

2004-03-11T07:28:00.000-08:00

My exhibition is coming along well enough, though I did have about an hour of panic yesterday while moving walls. It's very frustrating not being able to do things on your own. I think this whole experience has made me surprisingly self-sufficient, so much so that depending on other people makes me a little crazy. If I was only a bigger person, I could move those stupid walls myself, or at least be some good on my own. Today, I brought my own ladder.

The work looks better that I imagined it would after all my agst in the midst of its creation. I still can't give the stupid graduate school experience a whole lot of credit for things, but at least, the work I made doesn't embarrass me.

Well, back to work.

2004-03-01T09:26:00.000-08:00

Within the very throws of the last painting I need for my show, I find myself in a desperate state of procrastination. It occurs to me that I might actually miss the place when I leave. I'm not sure if that's the whole of it, but there's something to the thought. I've developed a sort of grumpy, preoccupied melancholy that I can't seem to shake nor find right cause for. Weird things set it off. Mainly, it starts in conversations where someone thinks they're agreeing with me and I know that they're actually agreeing with whatever they already thought but I can't seem to rouse myself to clarify. It feels lonely, which is odd, because in a few weeks I'll go away and be a lot more alone than I am now. I hate this sort of pre-graduation withdraw I seem to prone to. I hate it more because it keeps me from being able to think well when I paint. Everything mushes around on the board and I suddenly wonder how I ever managed to dreg up enought talent on the previous 9 paintings to make anything that looked like anything. It's like I've suddenly gone art stupid. Well, I guess I had better stop procrastinating and give it another go. At the rate I'm going each square inch of painting requires about 10 minutes of blind staring before I can even start.

2004-02-25T20:20:00.000-08:00

Lest I rant indiscriminately, I feel the need to make comment upon the non-ugly, meaningful art made in the last century. Micheal mentioned a few artists (see comments on Feb 23) and I'll deal with them one at a time, starting with Lucian Freud. I must admit a great bias on my part toward figurative art, making Freud an artist of some interest to me. Dealing with my own current concerns, I can't help but admire his luscious use of paint first and foremost. In an age saturated with photographic imagery, there seems a certain necessity to justify and exploit the nature of one's medium, which Freud has certainly done. At the same time, this also causes me to hesitate. There is a terrible self-consciousness to the modern act of creating, as seen in Freud's technique, his composition, the general feeling of his work. There's a need for that "edge" that makes you different from your forebearers (both cronologic and thematic.) Freud doesn't allow one to sit comfortably with his work like the figurative artists of the past. His figures are exploited and vulnerable to the point of making the viewer feel downright itchy in their own skin. I suppose, this is the genius of his work but it leaves me a little sad to see the human body as just so much crumbling flesh. That, of couse, is my fatal flaw - I am too much of a idealist. I want artist to attempt to seek some meaning beyond the form and process of a physical world. I have a lot to think about, I guess. Until tomorrow....

2004-02-24T08:38:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I really wonder why I ever put up with studio visits when they almost always leave me wishing I had opted for something more enjoyable and enlightening...Like, chewing off my own foot or something. Perhaps, my predominate problem with the modern art world is that there absolutely no rules to go on. If you paint something that gives the appearence of illusionistic space are you suddenly bound by it's rules? What if you deliberately make the depth of field shallow? Shouldn't that be just fine too? Who has the right to tell me otherwise? At this rate, any haphazard mark, mistake, intuitive work, whatever, could be just as valid any intentionally made. If contemporary art is so concerned with process, why should I ever go back and fix anything just because it's not quite right, not quite round and the depth of field is shallow? They can't even prove to me that I didn't do it on purpose. Maybe, it's an internal intention coming out. It's enough to make one find a dark corner to rock back in forth in.

2004-02-23T14:11:00.000-08:00

I hate modern art. It's terribly unfashionable to say this, I know, but let's be honest - no one else really likes it either. At best, they endure it because it's supposed to be so sophisticated and intelligent. At worst, they simply go along so as to prove themselves sophisticated and intelligent. Maybe, that's the same thing. I, for one, can't stand this Emperor's New Clothes charade any longer.

THE ART IS UGLY AND DOESN'T MEAN A THING.

Meaning and beauty are passe, of course. Only small minded artists make good looking art that actually tries to SAY something. I would like to raise a toast to the "small minded artist." If we can't make the world more beautiful or say something significant, what good are we anyway?

There's so much more to say about this, but I'll save that tirade for another day.

2004-02-20T20:56:00.000-08:00

I laugh at Sarah for doing this...and here I am. I don't know what's gotten in to me. The internet is definitely one of those things you need to stay away from on a Friday night.