soupablog

stations of the cross

two of my stations of the cross from last year.
i miss that harmony guitar.
photographed by reallivepreacher

Station 10: Jesus is Crucified (detail on right)

Station 14: Jesus is Laid in the Tomb (detail on right)

i'm available by commission to finish the other twelve.

Folk Art

File under beautiful. In the wonderful tradition of Howard Finster, there's Grandma Prisbrey. I had forgotten about her beer bottle village until I rediscovered this ironic cathedral in an LA Times article this morning.

FOLK ART: In 1956, Tressa “Grandma” Prisbrey began constructing the buildings, scouring a local dump for the bottles, beer cans and other tossed-out items to fashion into walls and sidewalks. (Los Angeles Times) November 23, 2008

Preview of Sunday's show [updated]

^ Peace: SOLD  11/23 ^

 

^ Credo: SOLD  11/20 ^

____________

 

^ Chrysostom: SOLD  11/23 ^

^ Arbor Vitae: SOLD  11/23 ^

^ A Benediction of Sorts: SOLD  11/21 ^

____________

[plus, a lot of the giclée prints of earlier work sold as well. but there's still more available at Viva between now and January]

Paul Soupiset Sketches in "An Illustrated Life"

"An Illustrated Life" is shipping advance copies. With any luck, mine will arrive downtown at my studio tomorrow. see how many of my sketchbook pages you can find in this promo video artfully compiled and narrated by Danny Gregory:

Integrity and the Path of Least Resistance

Hello and welcome to the one thousandth post here at soupablog.com.  Ta-da!

Thanks for letting me have fun with the campaign-season-inspired emotional buildup. Sorry if this post lets you down; if it does it only proves the point I was making about election-style hype.

This is one of those posts I’ve stopped and started writing numerous times over the past week, not because of its quasi milestone status but rather because here I wanted to drive a stake in the ground, clear the air, and start afresh, for my own health and for yours.

But before I do so, I’d like to sincerely thank all of you who have entered into conversation with me here at soupablog. These comments have spilled over into my ‘real life’ in so many enriching ways; I couldn’t begin to count. Dozens of emails, letters, lunches, coffees, and late night conversations about theology and thought, faith and doubt, art and music, design, politics, and myriad other threads have left me encouraged, provoked, breathless, strengthened, challenged and convicted.

I’m convinced this little blog has got some of the best readers in the world. Some of you are loyal strangers, some are family, some are lurking co-workers, some are in my tribe, and others are lifelong friends. And each of you knows different facets of the real me.

And it is for this reason I want to write tonight about integrity. I want to unpack my feelings about my own integrity because the more I insinuate myself into broad conversations with a wide variety of people — and the more technologies allow these widely various peoples to be in conversation with each other [1] — the more we — the more I — leave room for ambiguity and misunderstanding.

From birth we all desire to be understood. We learn there is powerful potential energy stored up in vocabulary and syntax and grammar. We communicate with sentences and paragraphs and hand gestures and facial expressions and emoticons and color and symbol. Each time we gain a new communication tool, we potentially become more understanding and more human (this evening I sat down and taught my twelve-year-old son the difference between imply and infer — it’s a great distinction to apprehend earlier rather than later).

But it’s the misunderstanding — or the propensity to misunderstand — that I want to explore, for when meaning is obscured or misunderstood, one’s hard-fought reputation — one’s integrity — goes on the line.

This weekend, Abe Levy, a local religion editor for the San Antonio Express-News, interviewed me for an article he was writing on religion and politics. He had contacted me once a few years prior when he was looking for emerging churches in San Antonio, but as I recall, I declined the interview at the time. But this time I felt compelled to action, to insert myself into the conversation.  But I also had an equal-but-opposite reaction: palpable fear of being misunderstood, of being misquoted, for I knew the feelings of frustration and violation upon being misquoted a few years earlier in the San Antonio Business Journal. That’s another story for another time.

I called and left a message with Mr. Levy.  I was willing to go on the record but I had some real misgivings about being misquoted or misrepresented.  When he called I voiced those fears but he quickly allayed them.

The interview commenced, and the whole experience was rather white-knuckled for reasons of integrity: I knew going into the interview that I’d sort of be fulfilling the interviewer’s desire to find a “moderate evangelical voting left-of-center this year” who would go on record about congregational discussions of politics, or the lack thereof, whether from the pulpit or elsewhere. And I knew my words would be typeset and published in the local newspaper of record and read daily by relatives and old friends whom I love and who would self-identify as being very conservative Christians. Many of those relatives and friends would probably, incorrectly, presume that I too would (still) self-identify as very conservative.

But by granting this interview I’d be clearly stating my intention to vote for Barack Obama — so this would be a coming-out of sorts in their eyes. Although I consider myself a moderate (progressive on some issues, conservative on others, willing to vote either side of the aisle for matters of faith) I knew some could read my words and perhaps feel betrayed or bewildered, confused or disappointed.

Here’s the awkward little snippet from the article. I’ll deconstruct it a little, below.

“Such political activity caused Paul Soupiset to move away from conservative Christian churches, he said, because his former church, in voter guides and from the pulpit, put pressure on its members to oppose abortion and homosexuality. Now, he attends Covenant Baptist Church on the North Side, which, according to its pastor Gordon Atkinson, avoids discussion of politics from the pulpit and other official church settings.

‘My friends and conversation partners about faith sort of reject the far right and the far left and there's sort of a more winsome middle ground to be had,’ said Soupiset, who is voting for Obama. ‘For example, I can state clearly that I'm probably pro life but to me, how that phrase has been defined has been narrow and insufficient. Life's not just about the abortion issue but about being pro-people who are living imprisoned or met with the short end of justice.’

When I read it for the first time in print, I panicked, focusing not on the broad brushstrokes of the interview which were good, but rather on the finer points which weren’t: In my mind, I had once again been misunderstood (or else my over-editing during the phoned-in interview actually, inexplicably, produced some of these words which is even more alarming). My face went red, flush with anger. I felt betrayed.

First off, the opening sentence implies a cause-and-effect relationship that just wasn’t there. I didn’t communicate and/or certainly didn’t mean to communicate a move away from conservative Christian churches simply because they shoved voter guides in our faces; rather, leaving behind the frustration/intrusion of so-called pro-life voter guides only made the leaving a little easier. Our family left, rather, for many reasons, largely because we were trying our best to follow Jesus and because we felt his Spirit was blowing in a new direction and we wanted very much to be about following Him into the inner city and to be available there for His use.

Secondly, the author missed the point I was trying to make — my point was and is that the gospel is so much bigger than the abortion and homosexuality issues, yet that’s what evangelicalism is focusing on. I have more of a problem with the conservative church wasting so much of its precious resources, sharpening their knives, polishing their armor and battling these two Big Issues, when so much more pressing, more real, Kingdom work is at hand, such as changing the circumstances which foster rampant teenage pregnancy in the first place.

Third, the word “probably” in the middle of the second graf was particularly irksome (especially following the phrase “state clearly”) — this had to have been some kind of internal monologue type blunder while reviewing my words, collecting my thoughts and backing up to get a fresh start at the next statement. I have clearly stated before that I consider myself pro-life and anti-abortion, but also that the conversation is not as cut-and-dried as others have made it. Complexities abound.

Next, I simply kicked myself for giving the interview in the first place. My friends and family wouldn’t — couldn’t — know the Jesus-underpinnings of my beliefs that necessitated that change in my beliefs (orthodoxy) and actions (orthopraxy). They wouldn’t know that following Jesus meant rejecting the current war and researching peacemaking, rejecting fear and embracing hope (both eschatological and social hope), rejecting the pursuit of wealth and opening myself up to a preferential position toward the poor.

And finally, I remembered what it was like to be a conservative. I remembered the visceral hatred I felt toward progressives. That smug AM talk-radio feeling. Heck, I wouldn’t have given myself a fair shake. I feared when people read my little part of the interview they’d take on the tone of the gentleman from Concordia Lutheran in Abe’s article (which was published on the September 28):

“Yeah, maybe we're only looking for conservatives, but I'm sorry, that's all we have at the church,” said [John], a founder of Salt and Light at Concordia and former chair of the Bexar County Christian Coalition. “We know — do I dare call them heathens — are going to support their candidates. So we know we have to find conservatives, and where are they? They're in church.”

If my following Jesus out into the world means being mislabeled a heathen, was I up for it? I was experiencing feelings similar to sitcom character George Costanza when his worlds collided in Seinfeld, Episode 118 [2]:

[Inside Jerry's apartment -- Jerry sits on the couch listening to George.]

GEORGE: Ah, you have no idea of the magnitude of this thing. If she is allowed to infiltrate this world, then George Costanza as you know him, Ceases to Exist! You see, right now, I have Relationship George, but there is also Independent George. That's the George you know, the George you grew up with — Movie George, Coffee shop George, Liar George, Bawdy George.

JERRY: I, I love that George.

GEORGE: Me Too! And he's Dying, Jerry! If Relationship George walks through this door, he will Kill Independent George! A George, divided against itself, Cannot Stand!

(Elaine enters)

GEORGE: You're Killing Independent George! You know that, don't you?

George’s existential crisis had to do with a different kind of integrity issue. Not to get too Jungian about it, but he was maintaining two personas, living one reality around his friends and an entirely different reality in front of his girlfriend. This duplicity produces tension. Like a rubber band stretched taut around two poles that are slowly diverging, eventually something’s gotta give.

What different kinds of Pauls am I projecting? Husband Paul? Designer Paul? Contemplative Paul? Musician Paul? To some friends, like my amigo Jeff, I am simply ‘more progressive’ than he is. He’s voting for McCain, I’m voting for Obama. No big deal. In fact, because of this difference we sit around after a night of playing music together and have wonderful theological conversations wherein theories find currency, iron sharpens iron, and the deep roots of our friendship get watered. To many of my other friends and co-workers, I am simply ‘more conservative’ than they are.  Again: no big deal. I might have a more provincial view of many issues, but maybe I learn something from them [3]. And at the end of the day we’re both enriched.

I’m growing increasingly tired of keeping up appearances. I’m going to do what I can to peel back the veneer and truly be me. This might be a little rough at times for all of us. If you’re right of center and need to call me a liberal so that I fit more easily into your worldview, so be it. I won’t be offended. If you’re left of center and need to distance yourself from me because I’m not progressive enough with you on all your issues, so be it. I won’t be moved on some things.

Let’s circle this back around to soupablog and its next thousand posts. What’s that gonna look like?  I wouldn’t expect too much to change. Hopefully the next 1,000 will be full of creativity and wit and observations.

My goal will still be to look at art, faith, design, music, architecture, politics, and my own family’s adventures through the lens of the gospel of Jesus Christ. If that’s too spiritual for you, then so be it. I won’t get offended. If your view of Christ and culture doesn’t allow for gospel-transformed culture, then so be it. I won’t get offended. But in order to know the real me, you’ll need come along on his little journey.

One of my readers, someone very close to me, recently took issue with a posting I had put up about the current presidential race. They suggested that by introducing politics into my blog, I was “changing the emphasis, changing the discourse, changing from a pleasant walk in the park to the cacophony of The World.”

I gently take issue with this description, and hope this reader doesn’t mind my anonymously quoting them. Here’s my take on this. As an artist who is a follower of Jesus, a huge part of my calling is to prophetically lean into current situations (such as the war) in order to artfully, creatively bring about change and to speak truth to power. This includes the art I create and the artifacts our culture creates — I plan to be right there in the middle of the cacophony of the world: in the world yet not of it [4]. Some of our best art comes from the margins, from places of real hurt where salvation is something real and imminently needed; I want a Christ “seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go / looking for the places only they would know”, and for the same reason, I want to follow him there, too.

That’s where I’ll be, god-willing, trying to figure out my place in this world. I’ll engage and then reflect right here on the virtual pages of soupablog. You’re all invited along for the ride. Family, friends, co-workers, strangers.

Thank you for reading.
— Paul R. Soupiset, San Antonio

footnotes:

1.These would include commenting on a blog, engaging in a threaded discussion on Facebook, tagging, rating, forwarding or engaging in other so-called Web 2.0 behaviors. A current example: when my friend T.J. launched into a spirited discussion on the abortion issue on Facebook this week, I replied and in doing so became involved in a multi-person conversation with his aunt across the country, an old church friend of his who relocated to another state, and other strangers, all of whom I’ve never met.

2. Transcribed by Dan Coogan http://www.cooganphoto.com / Originally posted on The News Guys(Mike's) site http://www.geocities.com/tnguymFrom

3. From these folks I’ve learned, for example, about immigration and the gospel. I’ve also grappled with my previously hard-line stance on labor unions after having seen the plight of a worker through the lens of the gospel. These are just top-of-mind examples.

4. I reject the isolationist, suburban gated-community temptation to be removed from (not in) the world, for life is not a sanitized walk in the park; if it is, Christ’s incarnation would’ve played out a much different way. When we try to protect ourselves from the world, we miss the lepers and the orphans and the needy. We miss out on living as well. My dad's been a huge encouragement on this fornt recently: he just wrote an essay about his interactions with hurricane ike survivors.

noted, without comment

Time Lapse and Topo Maps

topography from Huba Gancsos on Vimeo. HT to Kent Kingery

i went to a netzer shinding tonight.

for about a week i had facebooked a 'maybe' as to whether i'd be able to make it to the netzer co-op and its shindig (worship/food/table/fellowship experience) tonight. turns out i was able to attend, and boy was i happy to have gone. i brought the girls with me as well, and it was good for their soul and spirit.

i've posted the iphone photo gallery (sorry, 2 megapixel graininess) herein.

the netzer co-op is an intentional community with its epicenter in downtown seguin, texas, not far from texas lutheran university. its denizens seek a life in Christ, times of shared word and table, artistic alt.worship, and a balance between inward (contemplation and worship) journey and outward (missional engagements with the poor, for example) journey.

since shortly after its inception, i've been blessed to call these folks my friends, and surprised that i've found a place in their community as guide, mentor, elder, and spiritual director, the latter distinction neither by certificate nor official training but with fear and trembling.

it was great taking the girls to a shared meal with a new community, to let them see their friend 'mister tim,' michael and bri leading a group in worship; to sit at the feet of brianna while she painted; to listen to jeff and tim playing simple worship songs. good for them to see reiley and t.j. from covenant there as fellow guests and participants. the gathering was taking place in the unfinished space above the chiro-java coffee shop. what started as a dream for the netzers more than a year ago, to sink roots at this location, is coming to fruition. the quite-affordable group housing they're looking at is only a block away!

there were three eastertide stations corresponding to Christ has died; Christ has risen; Christ will come again. abigail was very interested and engaged at the stations; we prayed together and i helped her hammer a nail into a wooden cross after discussing the symbolism; at the second station we helped each other light a votive and add it to the growing points of candlelight' the third station had the collage i had made (the one which tim used in chapel on wednesday) and asked us to consider what we should do next.

i left feeling hopeful about the next generation of Christ-followers, including the twentysomethings i left behind in seguin, and my passel of pre-tweens as well.

we proclaim this mystery:

Christ has died; Christ has risen; Christ will come again.

cadbury cannonade HT to Bets

Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals + Ryan Sharp Snippet

It came in today! My advance copy of Jesus for President, the new Shane Claiborne + Chris Haw book for which I contributed 40 or so watercolor illustrations; designed by my friends Holly and Ryan over at SharpSeven. I'm really geeking out over how cool it turned out, thumbing through it like a little kid. It's cool to finally see the other contributors' work (several artists, photographers) and see how the whole thing comes together.

Please consider buying a copy.

It's four-color throughout, but somehow the price is less than $12 over at the big box place. I'm sure VivaBooks will sell it as well.

Here's an illustration I did, which you can see closer when you buy the book:

file under: filet'o'fish'o'war

Here's designer Ryan hard at work with his other love. This is fresh footage BTW:

audience of 1

recently i've been wrangling little video segments for a national emergent cohort video that's going down. being sick and all, i couldn't quite get the whole cohort together — just wasn't up for the logistics. it's hard enough to get everyone together when there's content, let alone when there's none!

so i went down to ruta maya and filmed myself talking into the camera. i'm sure people were lookin' at me strange. then i enlisted TJ and Tim to do the same (luckily from the confines of their own homes, etc., so no awkward onlookers -- my job was to get an establishing shot of where the cohort usually meets.

but it is strange, nonetheless, talking to one's self when the camera is rolling. i get all deer-in-the-headlights and lose my train of thought. i envy the ron burgundys of the world who can just go to town in front of a video camera.

i'm not that guy.

if you go to the everything must change tour anywhere in the US, there's a good chance you'll see me say a few words.

-- that's all for now. gotta run. - soup

photo by kemp davis, unrelated.

a lifeguard tower for the riverwalk: a parable of liberation

We had fun this afternoon while some servers were being rebooted.

If you were in in the middle of downtown San Antonio today, perhaps driving by Soledad Street in a taxicab or walking along the scenic Riverwalk, you might have seen two designers carrying a lifeguard tower around downtown, with an entourage of laughing creatives in tow.

In the office of Mark, our senior designer, stands stood a nine-foot-tall lifeguard tower, a leftover prop (presumably from a Corona photoshoot from days gone by). The way I understand the story, when our photographer friend Kemp was cleaning out his old studio, the lifeguard stand was returned to Mark, and it has stood watch over his office for the past few months. A monolith in white.

For months we've talked about sneaking the tower down to the Riverwalk and just leaving it there standing sentinel over the placid no-swimmers-allowed watercourse as a sort of visual prank. Perhaps adding a "swim at your own risk" sign.

Mark was out for the afternoon. Today was Liberation Day for the lifeguard tower.

I don't know how it happened or who decided what we were doing: it all happened so fast. First we busted some of the wood off of it to fit it through the doors. We moved quickly. Steven brought the tools. Joanne brought her own brand of brawn. I brought the pseudo karate chop. Let me tell you, the sound of splitting wood in the middle of an office building certainly is an eyebrow-raiser.

Safely out the door, we set it upright in our lobby just to take a parting snapshot in situ, and Steven hopped up top for the photo you see on the left. We talked about leaving it at the Riverwalk, but knew it was probably against a number of city ordinances.

We decided instead to walk it over and present it as a Christmas present to our friends at Ruta Maya Coffee Co., but also decided to at least take it down to the water's edge to do a quick photo or two.

Carrying it down the steps right outside our offices, we instantly remembered this perfetto landing at the base of the rock stairway where some planter or birdbath had probably once lived, and we knew that its footprint would just barely support the lifeguard tower — at least for a few moments while we stood and smiled.

We hoisted it into place and basked in the glory of the Riverwalk tower, the way camp kids revel in counselors' boxers atop a flagpole.

Snapped a few photos, then carried it on to its new owners, our friends at Ruta.

Walking it back up the stairs to street level was fun and aerobic. The it was a hard left, heading southbound on Soledad until we hit the Ruta Maya parking lot. Here's our friend Kata, moments after receiving the — err — present. Luckily, she loved it, and it fits the quirkiness of the coffee house perfectly.

two videos i directed from 12 years ago

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person.
Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
— Oscar Wilde.

Ah the '90s: In honor of chris' wedding, here's a music video and a companion interview video i filmed of his band Love Coma twelve years ago — disclaimer, 12 years ago I was in my mid-20's, the technology of doing your own video production on a Mac was in relative infancy (with this many transitions and funky after-effects, you had to render your work over a weekend using a standard 1996 desktop Mac) and come back in on Monday morning to verify what you thought you had done); rendering, filming, editing, computer animation (yep, I did that too), and cro-magnon post production. i think i blogged this elsewhere once, but after the first day of filming the video we found out the female dancer in the video was a ... em .... you know, female dancer.

Young and naïve was I.

Interesting note for locals: In the interview, about 3 minutes in, you can see the shell of the old Alamo Cement plant in the video, prior to its becoming Quarry Market. 

Austinchange and McLaren recap

Austinchange.org and Brian McLaren hosted a series of conversations in Austin yesterday revolving around his new book EVERYTHING MUST CHANGE. Some links from Bob Carlton… The Austin American Statesman had some great coverage:

Here
Here and
Here

Per Bob,  "These initial blog posts represent the breadth of POVs from some of the 600 people who came to one or more of these 4 events:"

Rick Diamond
Jacob Vanhorn
Clifton Stringer
Charles Whitmire

a simple labyrinth

I imagined tonight a labyrinth course that one could journey upon with eleven stations and six elements (each would be visited/considered twice). My theology herein may not be perfect (as if) and it's still a seed-idea, but maybe:

1. Mirror
After praying silently for a few minutes, you are ready to begin. As you embark on your journey, pick up the mirror placed near the entrance. Study your face. Thank God for your life, for your very breath. Exhale onto the mirror and watch the vapor condense onto the glass. God is present with you on your pilgrimage; as close as your breath. Now set aside the mirror: on this journey you must decrease; God must increase. Continue in silence.

2. Word
A little further along, you see a bound copy of Holy Scripture. Open to the bookmarked passage from Mark's Gospel; ask the Holy Spirit to guide you as you read. You do not seek to master the text, but rather seek to be changed by the text, as you meditate over the passage several times. Pray that God would open your eyes as you continue the journey in silence.

3. Choir
On your journey inward to God's Table, you stop in front of an audio player. There are two chants on the playlist. Listen to the first chant marked "Veni Sancte Spiritus" — participate by quietly singing along with the choir if you are comfortable doing so. The Latin words are an invocation or sorts, asking the Holy Spirit to come and fill us. You may find it easier to sit down while the selection plays.

4. Light
When you arrive at the next station, there will be a small table full of votive candles. As you continue in prayer, take and light a candle for your journey, representing the light of Christ, the Word of God. Worship blends Word and Table. Continue your journey towards the center holding the lit candle.

5. Confessional
In this, the last station before you reach the Table, you have an opportunity to be completely honest with God, about your iniquities, your sin-nature, your fears, your failings. Take the paintbrush and create an image representing the thing or things serving as a barrier between you and God. His forgiveness is at hand.

6. Table/Eucharist
[the communion elements are made available here at the middle of the labyrinth: the actual feast should be tailored to the eucharistic tradition of the facilitating group.] Individuals should take as much time as they want in adoration/contemplation, for here, Christ is present.

7. Artifact
Return to the painting you made earlier. Since encountering Christ, has your perspective of the painting — of your burden — changed? Why or why not? Ask yourself whether you're being called to repent of an earlier sin, or to lay down a burden that you no longer need to carry. Continue along your outward journey a little lighter.

8. Light
As you return to the table, place your candle in the votive holder — let the light from your journey blend with the other candles already there. Spend a moment contemplating the community of faith surrounding you, where you live and worship. Continue in your journey out into the daily rhythms of life knowing you are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

9. Choir.
On your journey outward from God's Table, you again stop in front of the audio player.  Listen to the second chant marked "Alleluia" — participate by singing along with the choir if you are comfortable doing so. Consider the words ("God be praised"). Afterwards, continue your journey prayerfully.

10. Word
Here again is the bound copy of the Bible. Open to the bookmarked passage from Mark's Gospel; ask the Holy Spirit's continued guideance as you read. You do not seek to master the text, but rather seek to be changed by the text. As you meditate over the passage several times, thank God for the change that's already happened in your life today; and ask for God's strength to continue to change, to proclaim the gospel, to be the hands and feet of Jesus to a hurting world.

11. Mirror
As you trade this journey for the next one, look into the mirror you earlier placed on the ground. Study your face. Thank God for Creation, for this journey, this pilgrimage-in-miniature. God is present with you on your outward journey as well: as close as your breath. Be on your way.

Amen

        - paul soupiset
       september 26, 2007

sprachgefuhl

sprachgefuhl \SHPRAHKH-guh-fuel\ noun
: an intuitive sense of what is linguistically appropriate
Merriam-Webster's Word of the Day [link]

lentenblog moleskine 030507 holy traffic

my friend Autumn Dawn is in Uganda for three weeks, serving as medical advisor to UCE, a Ugandan not-for-profit that focuses on HIV prevention via abstinence education. She's there with some other friends, Bobby and Downie, who live there in Kampala. She's supposed to be blogging here about her trip. Godspeed, Autumn Dawn.

Bet some pastors wish they had numbers like this.

BBC story excerpted via

"At least 18 million people have bathed in the river Ganges in northern India on the main day of the Ardh Kumbh mela, festival organisers say.

Thousands of Hindu holy men began the plunge near the town of Allahabad at dawn. Crowds were bathing until late into the night.

It is thought to be the largest gathering of humanity on the planet.

Pilgrims believe that bathing at the confluence of three of Hinduism's holiest rivers washes away their sins...."

ap photo

my heart is full.

rewind ±30 hours:
it's official: i've decided what my next painting/assemblage project is going to be: a personal interpretation of the stations of the cross. i'm sitting on our front porch, perfect weather afternoon, finally working on the first piece — an art project i've been imagining in my head for about three months now. finally giving life to an idea is loads of fun. white enamel paint under the fingernails. jason will joke about this later at barry's house:

fast-forward ±3 hours.
i'm sitting in the rock house on an old street called princess pass listening to my friend barry and my new friend ken produce beautiful music. it seems parachronistic. to be in a parlor. with three generations' worth of people. listening to jazz vocalizations. over piano at a dinner party. hushed conversation. clinking of glasses. and piano. sorry: for; the! extra, punctuation.

rewind ±8 hours.
i'm watching my son play basketball. but the thing is: he's doing really, really good. and he's my son. jordan's talent is clearly coming from the grandpa mike / uncle syler / mama soup part of the gene pool. he fast breaks. he dribbles. he shoots. he scores. who is this kid?

shuttle forward ±24 hours.
i'm eating a sandwich in a dining room in austin. i'm doing some consulting work for a growing church here. and i realize i've grabbed the wrong moleskine journal! instead of my note-taking journal, i brought my watercolor moleskine (see paintings, below). my mother-in-law is loving on my kids while i'm in this meeting. it's great to have grandparents in san antonio and austin and DFW. they love the kids well.

shuttle back ±2 hours.
the bread and the cup. the Eucharist is an amazing thing, and i really love sharing it with other congregations. josh and jeremy alder introduced a new ritual to our community. we take the elements and distribute them to one another. i am once again reminded of robert e. webber, calling upon 'performative symbol'...

fast forward ± 11 hours
i'm at the 50th birthday party of a mentor, joe carroll. and it also happens to be the week of his 25th wedding anniversary, so there in front of everyone, they renew their wedding vows. it was very cool and very warm. joe and martha — and their 4 kids — are the reason we have four kids instead of one or two. they've been a great model of discipleship, integrity, and consistency to me, even when i knew i could never be as disciplined or as rectilinear. it takes both types, in line-work as in life:

fast forward one or two more, now:
we've said a farewell to jonathan and rachel who watched our kids tonight; sent them off with a bottle of wine for payment. my parents are keeping little emma tonight, since amy works tomorrow. all this selflessness. recipient, recipient, recipient. read a fascinating e-mail trail from my community. weakness and strength abound in every group, i'm thinking. that's what bill said today in austin as well. what a great community i'm part of, and what a beautiful life. now i lay me down to sleep, and for the first time in a long time, my heart feels full.

good night, moon.

T-House, D, MM, and Blue Star Arts

devin—he's the tween-aged long-haired artistic-looking brunet right behind the stroller in the photo—devin is one of our community's budding young artists*. he's enrolled in say sí, an arts program in southtown blue star arts complex where he and his fine family make their home. in any case, he has a really nice photographic diptych on display as part of "dualities"—the gallery's fotoseptiembre exhibition. it's a hand-tinted photo juxtaposing a digitally-affected version of the same photograph. very nice. i wasn't doing stuff this cool when i was a pre-teen. it's a really cool program, and there's lots of good stuff on exhibit down at blue star this month. anyway, we went down to check out first fridays, and look (above!) at how many trinity housers came out to represent.

*speaking of budding young artists, tonight (while i was working on a fedex deadline for a potential new client of mine), twentysomething photographer and trinity house denizen mark menjivar had an art opening at the guadalupe cultural arts center also as part of fotoseptiembre. (this shot is called reunion on the right) — he's working hard to carve a niche as a local photographer "at the intersection of art, faith and social justice." he's part of three exhibitions this month:

Waiting ... Images from South Texas | Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center; San Antonio, TX | FotoSeptiembre | Two-man show with Will Langmore


Witnessing, Still | Centro Cultural Aztlan; San Antonio, TX | FotoSeptiembre | Group Show

San Antonio African American History Alive: A Photo Exhibit | Carver Community Cultural Center; San Antonio, TX | FotoSeptiembre | Photographic Restoration & Audio Stories

stuff + cats = awesome

crafty cassie spotted a great site: http://www.stuffonmycat.com

Hoy (Oy!)

This evening I once again picked up The Book That Will Not End, that is: Gustavo Gutierrez’ A Theology of Liberation, which I’ve been “reading” since winter. “I don’t know why I don’t just finish the thing,” I said to myself. It’s easy to talk to oneself when one’s wife and kids are out of town. So I read. In bed. From 4 to 6. Then I drove to Orderup and ate and read from 6:30 to 9. Then I came home, hopped into bed to finish The Book That Will Not End and was momentarily startled out of my skull by the cannonade volleys following the nearby performance of the 1812 Overture at Ft. Sam Houston’s Memorial Day shindig. I swear, for a millisecond I believed San Antonio was under some sort of attack. Boom! (I wish I could have heard the orchestral part) Boom! (but I could only hear the interstitial…) BOOM! (and then three more, and then more) Boom! BOOM! boom! and then the Blat-a-Blattatt of Fireworks followed.

Ah, but what did I do earlier in the day? If I told you I worshiped in church, you might think I was talking about Trinity House. That wouldn’t be wrong, but not what I meant:

You see, I had been wanting to return to the McNay Art Museum in order to see Villa America: American Moderns, 1900-1950. My temporary bachelor status afforded me the luxury this afternoon. And like Beuller's Cameron in front of Seurat, in my book art gallery = sanctuary. I went and I took my time, lingering over brushstrokes, contemplating compositional choices, even noticing the frames of the pieces for a change, and then lazily basking in the beauty of Marion Koogler McNay’s 23-acre treasure, the centerpiece of which is a Spanish Colonial Revival mansion realized by “fabled” architects Robert and Atlee Ayers — all this, mere blocks from my home. And I rarely take time to go.

How appropriate that an exhibit of Modernism starting more-or-less from the fruits of the Armory show would come to rest for a while in McNay’s home, for the Armory show was said to have certainly influenced Marion’s personal artistic path.

Villa America. Great show. Demuth, O'Keeffe, Philip Evergood, Grant Wood, Walt Kuhn, Wyeth. Get thee…

If you go, consider checking out my faves: here are ten paintings from Villa America that either captured my imagination, provoked me, or left me with more questions than answers, which is a good, good thing:

 

 

     Walt Kuhn
    Roberto, 1946 
    oil on canvas
    40 x 30 inches

    Ben Shahn
    Death of a Miner, 1949
    tempera on paper
    14 1/2 x 21 1/2 inches
    (poorly hung with bad lighting,
    you might have to search for
    this one; it’s stuck in a corner)

    Theodore J. Roszak
    Man at Machine, 1937
    oil on canvas
    24 x 40 1/8 inches

    Theodore J. Roszak
    Rectilinear Study, c. 1934-5
    painted wood and metal
    7 x 8 5/8 x 3 7/8

    Gerald Murphy
    Doves, 1925
    oil on canvas
    48 5/8 x 36 inches

    Naum Gabo
   Constructed Head No. 2, 1916
    galvanized steel
    17 1/2 x 17 x 17 inches

    Robert Henri
    Edna Smith, 1915 
    oil on canvas
    41 x 33 inches
    (was a scandal in 1915)

    Jared French
    Evasion, 1947
    egg tempera on gesso panel
    21 1/2 x 11 1/2 inches
    (to me speaks of institutional church
    and power and shame? who knows)

    Max Weber
    Two Seated Figures, 1910
    oil on board
    47 1/2 x 24 1/2 inches

  Grant Wood
    Return from Bohemia, 1935 
    crayon, gouache, pencil on paper
    23 1/2 x 20 inches

 

Ah, but what did I do even earlier in the day? Ate lunch at Karam’s on Zarzamora with my church family. What did Cliff call the Trinity House twentysomethings this morning? The Youth Invasion. :) I’ve come to really love this congregation. One of our couples is getting married on Saturday. Weddings. Beautiful. Sacramental. (see, I have been reading Gutierrez.) Speaking of Beauty, I’ve also been reading Elements of Design: Rowina Reed Kostellow and The Structure of Visual Relationships. Which also deals with Beauty in a more spiritual way than Reed’s contemporaries realize. Or at least let on.

Ah, but what did I do even earlier in the day? Helped facilitate worship at Trinity House. Where we talked about mission. And our commitment to the Kingdom work outside the walls of the church. Here’s where the Gutierrez text comes in handy. I agree with much but not all of his points. You know, that’ll need to be another blog post for another day.

Off to finish The Book That Will Not End.

1997 revisited

Eat Here and Diet Home.

Earl Abel's is closing tomorrow. So while Amy was at work tonight, I took the 4 kids in for one last supper (saw quite a few people I knew as well). Confession: I temporarily broke my Lenten fast for the occasion. [Cheese enchiladas, rice and beans.]

A San Antonio landmark since 1933, the drive-in-turned-24-hour-diner-and-fried-chicken-joint is being razed to make room for high-rise condos overlooking Brackenridge Park. The Express-News:

Theater organist Earl Abel opened his first namesake eatery on North Main Avenue after the Great Depression put him out of work. He later opened a handful of other locations, including the Broadway restaurant — the chain's sole survivor. Earl Abel's fried chicken, mashed potatoes and homemade pies have sustained generations of customers from thrifty downtown workers to Alamo Heights bluebloods.

Seemingly trapped in a time warp, the wood-paneled and red-wallpapered dining room has been the site of countless business lunches and family breakfasts. It gained further notoriety in 1986 as the place where U.S. Rep. Henry B. Gonzalez slugged a fellow diner for calling him a communist.

It was a place with history. Ensconced history (like the Earl Abel's / Colonel Sanders story).

Who can forget the routed, lacquered plaques over the service counter, to which I will quickly pay tribute: hand painted gilt signs that read, variously: "Eat Here and Diet Home;" "Eating Food Keeps You Able; Eating Here Keeps Earl Abel;" "It was a brave man who ate the first oyster;" "It's tough to pay $1.25 for a steak but 50¢ steaks are tougher;" "Wanted! Customers; Experience unnecessary;" and my favorite, "Seville, Dair Dago; Tousin Busses Inaro; Nojo Demstrux; Summit Cows in Summit Dux."

Why did I make the pilgrimage, such a corn-ball thing to do? The food was always mediocre, the coffee too weak; yet I'm nostalgic. Cliff and I were talking about this last week; he says his generation (we're only 10 years apart) doesn't go in for the nostalgia thing the way my younger generation does. I can only speak for myself. Part of it for me was making my peace and saying farewell to the kitsch  neon signs and '50s typography and '60s Art Deco exterior. Part of it for me was in some weird way to honor my grandmothers — one living and one deceased — who liked the restaurant and all it embodied. Part of it was expressing solidarity with the folks who worked there, the lumbering waitresses with nicotine fingers and the nervous Latino bus boys and the octogenarian cash register ladies with their tethered bifocals. They will perhaps retire or perhaps be jobless for a season, while time and the American Empire roll ever forward and development company Koontz McCombs tears down an institution to make way for … high rise condos. God save us.

photo sources [1] [2] [3]

Shakers and Catholics are similar:

Shakers and Catholics are similar:

i was leafing through an old journal (the previous post is the reason why), and i came across this cartoon.

camping mocks the homeless. john hodgman mocks the hoboes. :)

li'l posts (catching up slowly)

a transcript of William Underwood's commencement speech at Baylor University on December 17

Like you, I have lots of recurring “I gotta do that someday” items firing off in my head. Today, for example, I finally googled C.B.G.B.’s to find out what their name and sub-moniker stood for. And as a reward, I got a whole history.

welcome, chelsea, to the blogosphere.

i got a whole lotta catchup blogging i need to do, but don't have time right  now. Christmas break was eventful, fun, and i'm happy and sad to be back in work mode.