of altars and annie

last night was the first time that i hung drawings and watched strangers (and friends) look at them. the most common comment from folks i know in cali: i didn't know you could draw! (there was a common tone too) i lost count of how many times i heard that. i was pleasantly surprised when two different strangers actually wanted to have a discussion about the work. this must be what it is like to be an artist.

even more exciting (many thanks to amy, reena and interplay for this opportunity) was the chance to work with three other lovely lady artist and two sacred bodies to create art. reena beautifully described the intention of the project as re/claiming our bodies' sacred beauty by dedicating these bodies to the liturgical year. i painted my friend corey as an altar to Pentecost and my friend erin as epiphany. the paint was unlike anything i ever worked with, and that was a challenge. i have also never painted on a living canvas. but doing so was a conversational process. the sacred bodies i was painting were as important to the process as i was. to paint Pentecost i came without a plan and had corey, in his fab way, read/preach the story of Pentecost from acts as i began to paint. we had a grand time. we transformed his body, transformed our understanding of God and even reached out to the holy spirit (i think i felt the holy spirit reaching back). it was freeing for both of us. erin was exceptionally gracious. she was asked just yesterday to participate and agreed on the spot. she filled in for someone who dropped out at the last minute. she took seriously her role and helped me work it out.

looking at my drawings on the wall, and spending the evening making, living and breathing art, i felt like i was getting reacquainted with a part of myself that has been sitting on the shelf for a long time. i adore working with the figure. i absolutely loved figure drawing. i could spend hours and hours and hours on my feet, forgetting time, looking, watching, waiting, and drawing. being in front of an easel, or sitting with a sketchbook in my lap, makes me feel at home no matter where i am. it is the residence of my soul. in so many ways, it feels as if it was what i was born to do.

today, i got to experience the work of one of the masters of the figure. her love affair with artwork with the figure makes mine look like a crush. annie leibowitz can express the world in the crook of a neck, the wrinkles in a face, the evidence left behind in space that figures once occupied. her picture of bloody hand and footprints in a school where Tutsi schoolchildren were massacred in Rwanda was a portrait even though no figures were in it. the way the love for her children and partner were expressed in the way she framed them was incredible. the adoration and relationship she had with her parents was evident in the joy and sorrow she recorded on their faces. annie leibowitz has had a long and prolific career, and she has made the most of it.

last night, someone asked why i was in seminary and not making art all the time. the answer is really that as much of me wants to be a minister as wants to be an artist. the challenge i get from seeing someone like annie's work is to work at both.