Between Square Halo Conference & Hutchmoot, endless conversations with
and others, the question of “What does arts ministry look like in my local community?” has tormented me all year. I’m not saying I’ve figured it out, but I have figured out that the answer I’m looking for is Not the answer.There are few artists in my church. While they be few, they be fierce. They’re committed. They care about the work they make and they see through the world into the next. I am inspired by their diligence. Throughout this year I’ve had conversations with all of them separately about their work, found the friendships encouraging, and proceeded to do nothing about it. Nothing until one of them, with emotional upheaval, confessed a raw wilderness of loneliness in his creative life and the need for creative community. This was more than enough of a nudge for me to take some action and form our own little Artists in the Round (AIR) gathering.
Strictly on a no-agenda agenda, I told them all the truth: I need them — these endearing weird people who see me week after week — I need them to look at my art, to give me feedback, and to hold space for my growth. I want that for them too. My propensity to hide behind a screen when sharing photography does not seem to be fruitful. The most public of things feels the most unseen. People lurk online, they don’t really engage, and I don’t ask for that engagement. Additionally, I know I’m wrapped up in being a working artist and developing personal work needs that in-person incentive.
I need them. How much of a risk could this first gathering be?
For our first AIR meeting, we all shared works-in-progress. It was wildly generative, lasted almost five hours on a week night, and led me to realize an answer to my own question: You don’t need an arts ministry, a program, an education, a framework, a “right opportunity”, a sign-up sheet, a book club, an arts book club, or much of anything else to have creative community. You just need to show up, be cringe together, share your work, bounce ideas, and be yourself. That’s it. The space and the Spirit do the work.
THE BREAD OF ANXIOUS TOIL
In preparation for this gathering, I worked on a photo series based off of Psalm 127:2 "Do not eat the bread of anxious toil, for God gives to his Beloved, even while they sleep.” I read this verse about a month ago and was struck by the the potential of a visual exegesis. What could the bread of anxious toil look like? Burnt out? Hallowed? Moldy and toxic? What are the feelings around striving and how can I showcase that through some images?
I spent some time with bread and got to know it. It’s weird — sawdusty, porous, gets ugly real fast. I hope these images both intrigue and jolt you awake when anxious toil comes crawling — there is no need, for God gives to his Beloved even while they sleep.1
Passing these prints around the AIR group, I learned a few things: each person resonated with a different image, each person pointed out details I completely missed, and then someone said she could write a poem about an image and another said he could make a beat for a song from the poem about burnt toast, and we all had a good laugh over messed up bread. Until we realized that we are the bread.
Currently toying with the concept of doing a part two of this series around provision/latter half of psalm 127:2 which will be prettier/more positive
I love this idea!!
Have you done part 2?