Scissortail Art Center focus

The focus of the Scissortail Art Center plan is on the plastic arts. The reasoning behind this, I believe, is sound. The church (both as an organization and as individuals) has given more attention to music, drama and literature over the past couple centuries than to painting and sculpture. That’s not to say that the attention was adequate or even appropriate in the way it was doled out, but the plastic arts are lagging when it comes to proper appreciation in the Christian context.

Regardless, the long-term idea for the Art Center does incorporate literature and music, at least in theory. Recently I’ve wondered if the focus should be opened up to all of these arts (drama just doesn’t fit into the scheme of the retreat in my head, no offense to our friendly thespians) right away.

This may, practically speaking, be advantageous financially. It may work towards soliciting more applications and interest early on (assuming this is needed). Hmmm . . .

On having goals

This post has been drafted for months now, and I just haven’t come up with a better way to put these ideas. So, here they are.

In the past six months or so I’ve realized how little in life I’ve set and attempted to complete any kind of long-term goals. In some ways I’m just not a very goal-oriented person when I think about it, but when I think about it some more I can be very driven, and being a goal-setter seems a natural extension of this mindset.

In some ways I haven’t had to think about long-term goals up until now. There was deciding on a major before college, changing majors during college (which was actually a somewhat painful deliberation) and then less than a year after graduating before becoming involved with Mission Data International. Once we were serving (or attempting to serve via support raising) with M-DAT we did have one long-term goal in mind, but it didn’t seem to be something we needed to labor over so intently since we were, in our human thinking, on the right track to achieve it at the time.

Since then we’ve been derailed, or at the least been diverted onto a side track. This change in direction seemed to be doubly affirmed when our house in Arkansas sold ten twelve months ago. I was hoping, even after having to put it on the market, that I’d find some supplemental part-time work in town (Siloam Springs, that is) before the house would sell. God had other plans though, and he’s set those plans into motion — even if we don’t know what they are for certain yet. The house sold in two weeks and a month after that we were moving into a somewhat crazy, at the time, downtown living arrangement.

And maybe, at least in part, all of this thinking about goals creeps up on a person when they enter their 30s.

Now the wife and I have set a long-term goal, a big goal that seems in many ways insurmountable in the Scissortail Art Center. This pursuit is a thrilling idea for me and also feels necessary. I will probably set other nearer term goals related to my own sculpture, maybe language learning and reading as well, but at the moment I have a deep-seated felt need to establish and work towards a larger and enduring idea.

If we build it, will they come?

I’ve mentioned my desire to gauge the felt need for a retreat a few times now. It seems to me this is an important aspect (read in part “responsible aspect” in the context of a future nonprofit) of the planning process.

Lately I’ve wondered exactly how important this is (even though, responsible aspects aside, I’d still like to be able to somehow quantify the felt need). So I have a question for you:

If we build it, will they come?

Is it a step of faith to move forward on such a large project without being able to say, “I have the names of 150 people who want to be residents at the center.” Or is it foolhardy, akin to building a tower without a plan?

The artist retreat has a name

Image from Seabamirum's Flickr photostream.

Thank goodness!

Now I can stop calling it “my idea” or other such nonsense. During our third official meeting to talk about the retreat, the wife and I decided on the name Scissortail Art Center. I’ve registered domains and will let you all — whoever you all are — know when a website (probably just built with WordPress.com at first) dedicated to the project is up.

On a related note, I chatted with a friend, also interested in art and missions, via Facebook a week or so ago who affirmed our reasoning for establishing a retreat like this on the Great Plains, for their ability to foster a contemplative spirit. Mind you, he hasn’t ever lived on the Plains (to my knowledge). He grew up in New York City, moved to Florida and presently lives in the Ozarks of Arkansas. Still he drew the line between wide open spaces and said contemplation.

1,350 mile weekend

Just another brief update. This past weekend I drove back to Northwest Arkansas, for the first time since moving from there nine months ago, via Harveyville, Kansas. My wife stayed in Harveyville for yarn school at the Harveyville Project where she furthered her spinning technique and learned how to dye fiber.

I put in some hours at Mission Data International‘s HQ and visited with friends. I talked with occasional contributor Matt Pearson over breakfast about the idea for an artist retreat and the potential of the Hazelton Mfg. Co. building as a location for said retreat. He had some good ideas I’ll have to add to our brainstorm before they slip my mind.

On the way back I was able to meet up with the b.a.l.m. crowd in Lawrence, Kansas for a Sunday morning brunch. We ate crepes and quiche (made with emu egg) and then talked about our work and lives as [aspiring] artists (I had to leave early to pick Hannah up from the retreat).

Chances were decent for us to see some storms on the drive, but for the most part it was overcast and rainy. I did catch this image of just south of Lawrence Saturday evening.

Oh, and we took the puppy with us and she did very well on her first road trip. She even had another puppy to play with for a couple of days.

Moving ahead

I had drafted this post a couple weeks ago to start out saying “Today we signed a contract for a little house here in Grand Island.” That was supposed to be Friday. Instead, closing has been delayed until Monday because an appraiser couldn’t spell. We moved in anyway with an early occupancy document since we’d already arranged for help moving.

This post isn’t about the house, but since this blog often deals with architecture and living spaces I’ll elaborate just a little. Keyword here is little, 720 finished square feet bungalow built in 1940 with a very usable full basement. It’s not something we’re in love with, but it’ll do Donkey, it’ll do. It was the best home we’d seen for the money in a few months of looking: Newer roof, AC, water heater, electrical, some flooring. It needs paint but I can take care of that in my sleep. Kitchen also needs to be updated.

There are a number of practical reasons that make this move into our own place a good one (and, yes, we’ve thought of renting, but it’s just not as cost effective or practical considering both my wife’s and my creative pursuits). One of those is our puppy, another is our own kitchen in light of my wife’s dietary needs.

But the reason I’m most excited about, and this may not make sense to anyone else but me (which is OK), is that it’s marking time, marking a moment in time when we begin to move forward in earnest on the artist retreat idea. Moving forward on the retreat isn’t directly related to buying this house, but I hope this space becomes the place that leads to the retreat.

Google changes name to Topeka, embraces the Great Plains

Google has changed its name to Topeka. From the Google Topeka Blog this morning:

    Early last month the mayor of Topeka, Kansas stunned the world by announcing that his city was changing its name to Google. We’ve been wondering ever since how best to honor that moving gesture. Today we are pleased to announce that as of 1AM (Central Daylight Time) April 1st, Google has officially changed our name to Topeka.

    We didn’t reach this decision lightly; after all, we had a fair amount of brand equity tied up in our old name. But the more we surfed around (the former) Topeka’s municipal website, the more kinship we felt with this fine city at the edge of the Great Plains.

Google has realized that flyover country isn’t just a vast expanse of flat, boring farmland. This is great news for my proposed artist retreat here in in the Midwest. An important part of that idea has been validated by the owner of the world one of the most important companies in the country.

Community revival and the artist retreat

Last weekend I came across a property in Hazelton, Kansas that seems like it would work very well for an artist retreat. It’s a very large building that was most recently either a farm implement or oil well supplier from what I can tell. The 1948 concrete structure — from what I can tell it would be best described as Mid-Century Modern — seems to be a organized maze of a five bedroom living space nestled in the midst of a series of garages and open spaces.

It’s exciting to find properties like this in light of the retreat idea, especially ones that seem within some kind of financial reach (best scenario would be if the property was donated to the effort, probably after we receive 501(c)(3) status although not necessarily). My wife will tell you I become obsessed when I find certain spaces that serve certain functions, which is probably a fair assessment.

But this post isn’t about the building in Hazelton. It’s about the community of Hazelton.

Hazelton, Kansas is a very small community (roughly 130 people) about an hour southwest of Wichita. It’s the type of place most people can’t ever imagine moving to, the type of town that’s dying off in America. From what I can tell in Google Maps, most of the downtown buildings (about 10 of them, seemingly well kept) are vacant. A water tower stands over a green space and what appears to be a water treatment facility lies east of its guard; a highway and railway pass by to the west.

This isn’t the kind of place I would expect to end up in, although the vacant schoolhouse idea could also land the retreat in a similarly tiny town. However, as happens when new ideas present themselves, I’ve found myself daydreaming of what Hazelton might become with an infusion of the arts.

How could the retreat I’m imagining help revitalize this small community? Granted, it’s not going to be the kind of economic boon many of these rural places generally hope for. It won’t be a factory with 50 jobs, but it might (on the high end) employ five people part-time. Instead I’m wondering how an arts related institution can give back to the place that it’s in, large or small. In the case of small, in the case of Hazelton, Kansas, the impact could at least appear more significant than in a larger city.

In my daydream, the retreat is able to employ a few part-time employees (eventually). It hopes to help put the presumably vacant downtown buildings to some good use, even if it’s not installing regular businesses. Maybe one of them becomes a community space available for birthday parties or community wide Thanksgiving celebrations or occasional gallery spaces for movies, music, theater and other art exhibitions. Maybe one of them is transformed into a place where a person with a passion for food cooks a monthly meal for anyone who wants to come. I’d like to see a bonafide park — I don’t think there is one from what I can tell, again from Google Maps — and sidewalks with decorative streetlamps along Main Street from the highway to downtown (donated to the community by the retreat, if God were to ever bless the retreat with such ability).

Adding: Of course, in this day and age of the internet, those buildings could be used for for profit businesses. They would probably be inexpensive to rent for storage for internet sales (thinking of the eBay boom, which is pretty much past now anyhow). Maybe one of them becomes a gluten free bakery that ships breads across the country. These aren’t the strongest ideas related to the point of the internet enabling far flung locations to succeed, but they’re what come to mind off-hand.

My wife was dreaming of creating a library for the community if it doesn’t have one. I would hope to turn the roughly 10 acres around the building into a public, park-like space with a walking trail — preferably one that’s tied to the rest of the community in some form or fashion) — sculpture garden and tennis court (which is already on the property).

This line of thinking is new to me, probably because most of the time (though admittedly not all) I imagine the retreat being on a farm or acreage outside of a city. This enticing piece of property is fostering this new line of thinking. Regardless, for any of the things I’ve brainstormed to happen we’d want to start by garnering interest from the residents. In many ways I’m thinking like a community planner here, a facilitator with the best interest of the place and its people at heart.

Is there a best location for an artist retreat?

During the course of conversation with certain other interested types, one of the things that comes up again and again is that of the proposed location of this proposed mission mobilizing artist retreat.

Midwest or Great Plains

  • Contemplative (see Kathleen Norris’ Dakota: A spiritual geography)
  • Cheaper land and property, generally speaking
  • Central location (instead of obligatory coastal/metro location)

I touched on this in my last retreat related post, but it seems to be worth bringing up again.

I was clear in the last post that part of the reasoning for the Great Plains was possibly personal bias, although I’m still sticking to the reasoning above for the time being. My wife and I both find Norris’ observation very compelling. From her book Dakota:

    Like all those who choose life in the slow lane — sailors, monks, farmers — I partake of a contemplative reality. Living close to such an expanse of land I find I have little incentive to move fast, little need of instant information. I have learned to trust the processes that take time, to value change that is not sudden or ill-considered but grows out of the ground of experience.

I suppose there is a chance I’m reading a little too much into Norris’ meaning here (the book is still packed and I can’t reference it beyond the above quote). I’d love to have the chance to ask her to elaborate on the tie between big skies and a contemplative life at some point, but I haven’t had the chance to do that. And in the mean time I will rely on my wife‘s certified super-power: reading comprehension.

I think I’ve said before that there are admittedly other natural settings that also foster contemplation, and that these places can be different for different people — which is the impetus for this post. I’ve chatted with several other people, artists and catalysts, who think the Rocky Mountains are the best place for artistic inspiration. Others suggest the wooded Ozarks, and we probably all know someone with an affinity for the beach. Is one place better than another?

Can there be a consensus? Or are multiple retreats, as I posited in the last entry, the best option?

Does there need to be a consensus? Or are artists simply eager for time and space to create regardless of location?

As an artist,

is there a particular natural setting
that best fosters a contemplative spirit for you?

What is it and why?


On a sidenote, I’ve probably dug myself a hole of sorts by using the word “inspiration” at all. Inspiration is not the same as contemplation. The point of this particular artist retreat, while in large part is to give artists the opportunity to have extended periods of uninterrupted studio time, is not necessarily to provide inspiration.

More on the feasibility of an artist retreat

Some months ago now my wife suggested I look up Randy Elrod on Twitter. Randy, a Christian man, seemed to talk regularly about an art retreat he was affiliated with. So I did look him up.

The retreat in question is called Kalein. Don’t ask me how to pronounce it. If I recall correctly, I attempted to ask him a few questions via Twitter about the retreat center, but wasn’t very satisfied with the answers. This, of course, may be a problem with the chosen mode of communication. Regardless, I revisited the Kalein website this morning in the course of an email conversation and it got me to thinking about some retreat related things again.

While the website isn’t very clear about what Kalein actually is (or if it’s actually up and running yet as a physical place; it does already have a board of directors, but also still lists start-up costs), it’s described on the About page in terms very similar to my own idea:

    “Kalein exists to provide a place to encourage and equip gifted artists of all genres (i.e. songwriting, screen writing, sculpting, fashion design, culinary arts, painting, writing, cinematography, communication, comedy, etc.) and leaders to discover, develop and discipline their dreams.”

    “An esthetically pleasing and solitary refuge where respected and recognized master teachers provide personal training, encouragement and mentoring to small groups of leaders and artists.”

Mr. Elrod also lists, as I eluded to above, start-up costs for the retreat center. They come to approximately $2.7 million dollars. I did similar math a couple of years ago and came up with a very similar number. Working out the idea from the ground up is not an inexpensive proposition.

The little house we hope to move into in April.
It’s only 720 square feet on the main level though,
not large enough to share with an artist in residence.

Recently my wife suggested we think about starting out in our own house (when we get a house large enough for such an idea). Another more economically feasible idea, it seems to me, is to look for an existing farmstead or acreage, something I’ve mentioned before. The other day I saw this in our local newspaper’s classifieds:

    Reduced to $249,000. or possible lease with purchase option. Acreage 12.5 acres. 1.5 acres of bluegrass, w/ underground sprinklers. 3,500 sq ft. home, 4 bedrooms 3 baths, 4,000 sq.ft. Heated Garage.

Of course, we can’t afford $250k at the moment either without a lot of help, but it’s a lot more personally attainable than $2.7 million. The location isn’t my favorite, but it could work and would be plenty large to get going. And I wish it were a 4,000 square foot barn and not a “garage”, but again, it would work.

Another thing Kalein has me thinking about is the number of somewhat similar ideas floating around out there right now. My wife and I are fans of collaboration, partnerships, when they present themselves, and if at all possible we want to avoid unnecessarily duplicating other efforts. There is a limited quantity of both manpower and funding in the faith-based nonprofit realm. We hope to work within the larger Body of Christ as efficiently as possible. If someone else gets around to founding a comparable retreat center before we do that’s just fine and dandy. However, comparable is the key word here. From what I can tell, my idea — the wife and I really need to come up with a name for this thing so I don’t have to call it “my idea” anymore — still bears a number of unique facets that I believe warrant a unique effort. The three facets that most readily come to mind are the longer stays, the strict focus on the tactile or plastic arts (which the church seems to have a harder time with than music, writing, drama etc) and a focus on getting these artists plugged into cross-cultural missions work.

This morning was the first time I realized that there might also be validity in multiples. I like the Great Plains for a location. My wife and I understand and believe in Kathleen Norris’ assertion that the Plains foster a contemplative spirit. We might be somewhat biased though, having both grown up on these flat lands. They are our roots. Other people might might prefer the beach or the mountains for inspiration or meditation (even though Norris argues convincingly for the Plains, despite growing up in Hawaii).

And could it be that multiple smaller retreats scattered around the country could also be more financially feasible, for the artists and the organizers? Artists wouldn’t have as far to travel, and organizers might have less managerial overhead. I haven’t thought this through all the way yet, but it seems like YWAM’s DTS model which has persisted for quite a while now.