A few years back I began reading a compilation edited by Jeremy Begbie titled Beholding the Glory. I haven’t finished all (or even most) of the essays, but one thing from one of them I did read really stuck with me, a most simple point that had yet to be brought to my attentive attention despite growing up in the church.

That point is this: God affirmed the worth of creation, though fallen and out of His favor, by sending Jesus to Earth in human form. How wonderfully plain and straightforward.

Not long after I read that essay I picked up a book by Randy Alcorn titled Heaven. This theologically rich but down to Earth look at what the Bible says about Heaven further affirmed the value of a physical Creation. This may come as a surprise to a lot of Evangelicals. A large part of Alcorn’s Scriptural exploration debunks common and perpetuated myths about the afterlife such as getting your wings, playing harps on clouds and the oft-despised, never-ending up in the sky church service.

Alcorn suggests — based on a myriad of Scripture — that the New Jerusalem will be right here, on the same dirt you and I trip over today. Further, he points to the possibility that art we make in the here and now will be on the “New Earth.” In C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, in The Last Battle, the followers of Aslan step through a door into Aslan’s country. The children see, on the other side of the door, their home, while Narnia behind them — on the other side of the threshold resting on the same ground — is swallowed up in darkness. They see their city, their countryside, their own houses. Alcorn points to Lewis’ illustration as the best way to describe, with such brevity, what he understands about the New Heaven and the New Earth from the Bible. Thus, if we subscribe to Alcorn’s understanding, though this fallen world will be necessarily purified, restored, aspects and objects of our lives here and now will carry over into the new world, the New Jerusalem.

There’s much too much in this book to go into any further here, suffice it to say that it made sense to me, was backed up by the Bible I believe in and shows the value that God places on His Creation, despite its fallen state. As an artist, this is an incredible point of view. It is a burgeoning hope in the face of political corruption, greed, famine and so much sorrow that we see on a day to day basis. God knows about this tyranny, deception, disregard and pride so symptomatic of man’s fall from grace.

Incarnation: And yet, He still saw fit to tread this dirt.

Restoration: And still, He plans to restore this soil on His return.

As a tactile artist, as someone who is innately driven to create physical objects, palpable environments, these observations mean the world.

Adding: Anglican bishop NT Wright was interviewed by Steven Colbert this week, where the bishop says again what Alcorn wrote in his book. Via ThinkChristian.

On the morning bike ride I noticed new signage on the old Daddio’s building in downtown Siloam Springs. I’ve been told this building was, in its distant past, a bank. More recently it’s housed a coffee shop and pizza parlor if I remember rightly, although in the five years I’ve lived in Siloam it hasn’t functioned for anything more than storage.

The signs read as follows:

This is one of the downtown partnership buildings which I mentioned last month, a collaborative effort between the Houston family and Drake Renovations, as you can tell from the sign in the window of the building.

I also stopped at the farmer’s market for some local produce on my way home this morning. I arrived a little early; some of the vendors were still setting up. The market was recently moved to Bob Henry Park from the corner of University and Mt. Olive. The former location provided better visibility and a more central location in the small downtown area. I’m not sure why it was moved.

The market is a small affair for our small town of 14,000 people, but it seems have grown in the last two years. It bothers me, in the new location, that the vendors are so spread out. You can see in the photo three blue tents, peddling flowers and some produce, about half a block from the couple in the foreground. The spread goes another half block to the left with tables full of plants, pillows and — thankfully — farm fresh eggs.

This morning I purchased flowers, dill and fresh tomatoes. The advantage of local food, among other things, is knowing where it comes from. I was amused earlier this week when some government bureaucrat hollered on the news about needing new laws so that consumers know where there produce comes from, in relationship to the recent salmonella outbreak.

Carfree Tokyo linked back to me and reminded me of this James Kunstler podcast, The Tragedy of Suburbia, which I mentioned in March. I re-watched it today and thought this quote was worth sharing:

This [slide] happens to be the asteroid belt of architectural garbage two miles north of my town, and remember, to create a place of character and quality, you have to be able to define space. So how is that being accomplished here? If you stand on the apron of the Wal-Mart over here, and try to look at the Target store over here, you can’t see it because of the curvature of the Earth. That’s nature’s way of telling you that you’re doing a poor job of defining space.

Emphasis mine. I laughed out loud at the asteroid and Earth curvature commentary. Kunstler lives in Saratoga Springs, New York.

James S. Russell, Bloomberg.com’s architecture critic, reviewed a book by former Boston University president John Silber which is titled Architecture of the Absurd: How `genius’ disfigured a practical art. He didn’t like the book, and thus my reply to Russell’s review won’t be about the book. But I would like to take a few of quotes from the piece of writing, beginning with the following.

A great many people seem to take personal umbrage at architecture that fails to speak to them in a language they understand, especially if it is expensive architecture, designed by someone famous.

Doesn’t a diversity of expression make sense in a nation devoted to innovation, aspiration and individualism?

In art or architecture, umbrage is offered aplenty from many corners of the country when the viewer can’t personally connect with a building or sculpture. Depending on how the distaste is presented, I don’t really have a problem with people’s personal aesthetics — as long as they are confident in their own tastes and, hopefully, able to elaborate on them in the course of conversation. The more interesting half of the above quote is the second sentence.

To answer Russell’s question in said sentence, “yes.” A diversity of expression makes sense in America with respect to our innovation, aspiration and our ethnic variety. We are a large country with many heritages and local cultures (although I fear that large enterprising industries such as Wal-Mart and McDonald’s have done damage to local color in the states). I’m not so much on board with the fervent individualism so prevalent in the U.S., but I understand that the author isn’t necessarily making an endorsement of this as much as making an observation. Further, it seems as though communal living is making a bit of a comeback. For instance, friends of mine moving back to their hometown of Chicagoland are looking into a large building being converted into a community-based living situation (I’ve forgotten the word they’re using for the idea). Hopefully this isn’t just a fling like it was in the ’60s and ’70s, but a genuine shift in our country’s culture that leads us to be a less isolated and more interactive society.

Adding to the appearance that we’re embracing a more collaborative and open way of living is this quote from Russell, referring to Frank Gehry’s Stata Center:

Scientists themselves sought a building design that would ease communication and help break down institutional boundaries that impede research. These are crucial research imperatives that are of concern throughout the scientific community . . .

For meeting and sharing ideas, Stata seems to succeed admirably. On several visits, I’ve seen the building bustle, with its main-level internal street full of people working alone and hanging out together. Many universities would love to duplicate Stata’s buzz.

Russell goes on to observe that Silber seems unable to abide risk-taking in new construction for fear of failure. “He’s hardly unusual,” the architecture critic goes on to say. “We’ve become a nation that works, shops and learns in enervating warehouses that often do not even rise to the level of mediocrity.” I remember reading, as a freshman in college, a series of essays about Wal-Mart. Most of the essays talked about the damage the Bentonville behemoth did to local economies, but I remember one addressing the aesthetics of the buildings. It made a comment suggesting most Wal-Mart buildings were little more than gray boxes. Amusingly, an exec in the company replied to this assertion by referring to the retail giant’s stores as “handsome.”

Most, if not all, Wal-Mart buildings are not handsome. They are basically enervating warehouses. Some of the company’s newer retail locations break from the gray shoe-box mold, but I imagine they only do so with much angst. Up in Lincoln, Nebraska, Wal-Mart first wanted to build downtown, asking for two whole city blocks: One for the building, and one for parking. City planners rightfully balked at the idea. A few years later a proposal was made for a store near the mall which fell through as well. The first, snicker, “handsome” Wal-Mart in this city of more than 200,000 finally went up on the northern outskirts of town. The second location was built only a few years ago — at least a decade after the first — and boasts a brick facade with green trim, just like the buildings adjacent to it. Very few Wal-Marts use brick. I can guess, with a lot of certainty, that this was required by the city and or the developer.

The giant is beginning to make some concessions, and local culture should benefit from this if they play their cards right. I love the quote from the ill-reviewed and recent Rocky and Bullwinkle film, when Bullwinkle asks Rocky “Haven’t we been here before?” as they drive across the country. Not every community needs to look strikingly different from all others, but possessing a somewhat unique visual identity in line with surrounding culture and geography is appropriate and desirable.

Read another take on Gehry’s Stata building here. Photo by Andy Ryan from MIT’s website.

A small town in Kentucky has a program called The Paducah Artist Relocation Program encouraging artists to move to their community. From their website:

“The City of Paducah and Paducah Bank have made this project a front burner priority. The Program, still welcoming artists and arts related businesses, has transformed a down-and-out area of town into an up-and-coming, city supported arts and gallery district. Paducah’s Artist Relocation Program has brought in over 70 artists to date, is nationally recognized for using the arts for neighborhood revitalization and is fast becoming a national cultural destination.”

From what I can tell this program has already been successful, in its own rights, at least to a degree. Why aren’t other communities doing something similar — or are they and I just don’t know about them? I was under the impression at first that the city paid for relocation expenses, which is a good idea, but this doesn’t seem to be the case according to the program incentives:

• Lowertown is dual zoned for commercial and residential use. This enables residents to have gallery/studio, restaurant/café, etc. and living space all under one roof.
• 100% financing for purchase and rehabilitation of an existing structure or the building of a brand new structure.
• Basic loan package is 7% - 30yr. fixed rate up 300% of appraised value.
• Free lots for new construction as available.
• City will pay up to $2500 for architectural services or other professional fees.
• National marketing of Lowertown Arts District and Paducah.

More details about the program on on this page. A number of properties for sale in the city are listed here. I don’t know how affordable some of these structures are for aspiring artists, but enough people have taken the bait to make Paducah a surprising art destination.

Adding: I’ve made some important edits to this post, particularly correcting my statement in the first paragraph suggesting artists’ relocation costs are paid by the town.

I just ran across a very intriguing article over at Think Christian titled Church and Clustering Forces. The entry details a post written by one Pastor Bruursema from caffeine, please. The crux of the discussion centers on the need and desire for creative minds to commune. The Pastor quotes a man named Richard Florida:

“When people — especially talented and creative ones — come together, ideas flow more freely, and as a result individual and aggregate talents increase exponentially: the end result amounts to more than the sum of the parts. This clustering makes each of us more productive, which in turn makes the place we inhabit even more so — and our collective creativity and economic wealth grow accordingly. This in a nutshell is the clustering force.”

As an artist and a Christ follower I can attest to the “urge” to create and to commune with other artists of faith. People possess a natural tendency to gather together with others of similar interest, and I have to wonder if part of the reason the artists Bruursema cites express the desire to “dream, pray and create” with their peers is on account of the lack of opportunity for this within the church. They know something is and has been missing for them. The arts, at least anything that wasn’t overtly pious, have been suppressed in Protestant ranks for the better part of a century, longer than that depending on who you ask.

The Pastor concluded by saying “I’m convinced its time to create intentional space for creative clustering, invite participation and see what God stirs up.” Such efforts have begun to creep back into circles of faith across the country; some such efforts I’ve mentioned on this blog from time to time. However, I still feel the need to ask the question of readers — and of Pastor Bruursema — how do we do this?

A blurb I found nosing around YouTube where Ben Stein — who I actually saw this week at the convention in Nashville — talks about our lack of community in America:An interesting quote from the excerpt,

“And again, this is an essence of the culture: What you do in life is mostly get rich and it doesn’t matter how you do it as long as you do it . . . it’s ethical principals. It’s teaching community, hard work, study, respect for elders; if we don’t have those things a society cannot hold together . . . Fascination with Lindsay Lohan who, by the way, I see is writing her autobiography, will bind us together — I can’t, I already reserved my copy on Amazon — fascination with that will hold us together for a while. Fascination with the Emmys and the star’s dresses at the Oscars will hold us together; but getting rich quick is going to tear us apart if we don’t have a higher moral code.”

I was reminded earlier this week, after citing this article, of the geographical disparity between where many Christians (with, I’m assuming, an interest being a “counterculture for the common good“) actually live and where the cultural centers in the U.S. actually are. John Seel’s article suggests that “Boston, New York, San Jose — representing the Silicon Valley — and Los Angeles” are the the national centers of cultural influence. Seel refers us to places like Colorado Springs, Orlando and Wheaton as places with high concentrations of Evangelicals; it seems to me that we could generalize by saying that Christians typically reside in the midwest.

New York City came up, somehow, in the very brief conversation I had with painter Makoto Fujimura last year. He was convinced that I would love living in the city, despite the fact that I’ve never been there — the closest to the Big Apple my feet have trod is at the Statue of Liberty. My wife enjoyed the city during the few days she’s spent there during MacWorld some years back.

My gut level reaction to the suggestion that I move to the city, as an artist with a desire to influence culture, is one of financial reservation. Knowing how expensive it is to live in places like NYC and knowing how difficult it is to feel financially comfortable living in one of the least expensive parts of the midwest, it’s very difficult for me to imagine how we’d be able to make it in the city. This is especially true were I to try and make a living as an artist.

In some ways I’d much rather try and make a go of it in a smaller community. It seems like I would have more flexibility without so much financial pressure. It seems like quality of life would be better without the potential monetary strain of such high cost of living (granted, this may be a selfish reasoning). And there are some vibrant art communities in smaller towns — even if the quality of work in these places isn’t what it is in the American cultural centers.

But I do desire to, in a most humble way, be a part of changing culture for the better as an artist. I believe this can happen even if a person isn’t living in Boston or L.A., although probably to a lesser degree and requiring more intentionality on the part of the painter or sculptor.

Thus, in my mind, I’m at an impasse. At this point of my life I’m not exactly looking to move anyway, but the idea of being in the thick of the counterculture for the common good comes back to my mind with some regularity and, tied to that thought, the idea of moving to a big city.

Andy at Think Christian cited a stellar article (a lot of which I’m still digesting) talking about the importance of the arts to our current culture. Read the seven page essay via this link; stay tuned for excerpts that caught my attention.

“Politics reflects culture; it doesn’t direct it.

By focusing on mobilizing majorities and legislative coercion, these faith communities have alienated their opponents while squandering their cultural and biblical capital. They have failed because the convictions that underlie culture cannot be coerced. They can be proposed, never imposed. Culture changes when a society’s assumptions and aspirations are captured by new ideas and images that are developed by thinkers and artists, expounded in both scholarly and popular forms, depicted in innumerable works of art, literature and entertainment, and then lived out attractively by communities of people who are committed to them. By narrowly focusing on Washington and state legislatures, faith communities have forgotten how to assert cultural influence. Today, most Christians in America are known for self-serving power politics rather than humble service for the good of others.”

“It is a scandal that non-believers perceive Christians as just another special interest group or market niche rather than those who are drawing on the resources of the kingdom of heaven in order to demonstrate the power of truth lived with overwhelming love.”

“Our aim is not merely environmental ’sustainability,’ a hands-off policy of an unkempt wilderness, but rather creational ‘vitality,’ a thoughtful active investment of ourselves in nature’s rich inherent potential — a weeded garden in full bloom, a landscaped city filled with music and art.”

“Broadcaster Dick Staub writes,

‘The early church out-thought, outlived, and out-died their pagan counterparts. This certainly cannot be said of pop Christianity . . . . Bach, Mendelssohn, Dante, Dostoevsky, Newton, Pascal, and Rembrandt are but a few who personified the rich tradition of faith, producing the highest and best work, motivated by a desire to glorify God and offered in service of others for the enrichment of our common environment: culture.’”

“Ideas that are institutionalized have a greater potential to span two generations. These are the ideas that endure. [Randall Collins] writes, ‘Schools of thought, grounded in intergenerational network linkages, are best able to reproduce themselves when they are based in organizations with material property and a hierarchy of offices.’ Books and speeches alone do not change culture. Ideas must be embodied.”

“It is imperative to address our cultural crisis correctly. We need a generation of apprentices of Jesus who are called, trained, and prepared to be cultural gatekeepers. Simply getting a job in a culture industry isn’t enough. Simply doing something can easily lead to doing more harm than good. Asserting power as a culture warrior is ineffective and counterproductive. Going solo rather than building institutions and connecting with other networks will not lead to change. And expecting immediate results will not foster faithfulness in our generation.”

These last two quotes I found engaging and personally disconcerting. I am of my generation, I suppose, in my aversion to institutions. This is, in large part, a result of my own experiences with large bureaucracies: Phone companies, universities, observations on American government. But when I stop and think about it, some institutions I do have respect for, such as the Bauhaus and CIVA — even though I’m not for certain these are run any more efficiently.

It makes sense that building an institution is the best way to carry the seeds of cultural change, which are inherently slow to take root, into a fruitful season.

Another blurb from Gregory Wolfe’s collection of essays:  

“Like the biblical prophet, the artist is often an outsider, one who stands apart and delivers a challenge to the community. The prophets of old employed many of the same tricks used by writers and artists: lofty rhetoric, apocalyptic imagery, biting satire, lyrical evocations of better times, and subversive irony.”

“To speak of the artist as a prophet is to confer praise. But it is important to remember that even in biblical times the prophet was not completely independent of the community. Prophets might have been more free to speak their minds than the average members of society, but they were not autonomous.”

“The prophet and the artist may seek to disturb the existing order of things, but they should do so in the name of a deeper order, not in the name of their own genius. The artist will serve the community best not by worrying about either his own autonomy or the community’s immediate concerns but by remaining open to the transcendent sources of order. By keeping an eye fixed on the distances, the artist will do justice to both art and community.”