Tree of Life

Hello friends!

After this past Saturday's CTS commencement ceremony, it would appear I'm officially a seminary senior (you know, assuming I passed all of my classes). Some days that is exciting, because I wonder what my next adventure will be. Some days that is very (very) intimidating, because I wonder what my next adventure will be.

Anyway, that's all beside the point. One of the classes I took this past semester was called The Bible and Visual Art. Think art history class through a seminary point of view. We started way back in the day with Greek and Roman sculpture, talking about the different ways in which people portrayed divinity. We looked at imagery in lots and lots of Christian worshiping spaces and elsewhere, from cultures all over the world, and finally got into some modern religious art. It was a kick awesome class. Bonus: at the end of the semester we had the choice between writing a paper, or creating a visual project (and writing an explanation). If you know me well enough to be reading this, you probably know I chose the latter. As usual, I didn't exactly have a 100% plan when I started this art project, but I think the end result was pretty cool.

I liked the idea of trying to bring together the assorted cultures and styles we'd studied, into one single symbol. My brain landed on altar crosses -- the ones that often sit up front in a sanctuary on the Table. And, as usual, my brain also landed on cutting up some recycled stuff, and using images from nature (shocking, I know). So I made a cross out of some cardboard (a feat that ended surprisingly well, given that I don't have near the amount of patience necessary for measuring things), and got to decorating it. Here are some pictures, if it suits your fancy to take a gander. I named this little friend "Tree of Life."

Aztec imagery, courtesy of acrylic paint, some old CDs, and modeling clay made from cornstarch, baking powder, and water. The things on this side of the cross were all symbols important to native Mesoamerican spirituality, and were adapted by missionaries to fit in Christian teachings too. Mirrors represented a connection to a different dimension or world. Corn was a sacred substance, subsequently used to make human forms of Jesus that were hung on ceremonial crosses. The Nahuatl people were also taught to say the equivalent of "tortilla" instead of "bread" in the Lord's Prayer. The sun was also a highly divine image, said to keep the universe functioning through the blood of human sacrifice (the latter of which, as the missionaries taught, could end since Jesus was sacrificed on behalf of everyone once and for all).

Byzantine imagery, brought to you by acrylic paint, puffy fabric paint, and 100% genuine diamonds, rubies, and emeralds (definitely not plastic gems from the craft section of Wal-Mart...). Indicative of the imperialization of Christianity, emperors would send fancy-pants crosses to other religious and political leaders, both displaying their wealth/power and their connection to divinity.

Painted ceiling of old catacombs and churches, à la acrylic paint and watercolor paint. Simple stars indicate the heavens, and the wavy lines denoting the sky are intentionally ambiguous in their similarity to images of water.

Inspired by a church door featuring Old and New Testament images (acrylic, watercolor, and puffy fabric paints). From top to bottom: Genesis 2, Abraham and Isaac, Jonah, the Last Supper, the crucifixion, and the resurrection. 

Allison imagery (Nat Geo magazine clippings and my trusty glue stick). Tree trunk and other wood pictures make up the vertical part, and you'll find leaves and other plants going horizontally. The middle is, apparently, a photo of two galaxies colliding. I liked the idea of this really captivating event that was eye-catching and at the same time mysterious, a little scary, and something that ultimately is way bigger than we could ever understand. I'm talking about the galaxies, but it seemed rather fitting for the middle of a cross, too. 

Water imagery on the cross's base (acrylic paint). It's meant to be on the move -- ripples spreading out from the cross like I hope they are from the Church today. 

...and that's all she wrote! (Actually, it's not. I wrote five pages about this project, but I won't subject you to that.) I'm thankful to be studying in a place that gives me room to explore biblical texts and Christian communities by playing with my art supplies. Now...onward into the summer!

Love,
Allison.

A Coffee Filter Creation Story

Hey friends,

One of my classes this semester is called "The Earth Is the Lord's: Ecology, Theology, and the Church's Witness." (Which is quite the name...I usually just call it Earth Class.) For this particular class, one option for our midterm "exam" was to turn in journal entries responding to class readings and discussions. We'd spent some time on the idea of creatio ex profundis, and I wanted to respond to that with a journal entry that involved more than just words.

First, a little context: creatio ex profundis states that creation happened out of chaos (as opposed to creatio ex nihilo, which says creation happened out of nothing). Take a look at Genesis 1:1-2: 

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. (NRSV)

I've also been taking Hebrew this fall, which despite its tendency to frequently overwhelm me, has actually been one of my favorite classes. The Hebrew word used here for "wind," ruach, can also mean breath or spirit (and probably some other things that aren't on my flashcard...). 

I'm a visual person, if you didn't know, so ever since these class discussions I'd been trying to figure out what that creation out of chaos might look like. As I mulled it over,  it always seemed to be this churning mess of dark blues, greens, and purples, maybe with the smallest sparks of brighter color or light, out of which and over which the ruach would emerge, an equally messy and captivating presence, but full of more color and light. This ruach would snake its way in and out of the void, gently and mysteriously calling together creation. 

So I dug around my apartment (and my friend's recycling pile) to come up with supplies for my art project. The “canvas” I used is some recycled cardboard, on which I painted the background with blue, teal, and black paints (and some of my trusty blue glitter glue). Then I used Sharpies for the Hebrew and English writing (which are both Genesis 1:1-2). The “breath” itself is made of three coffee filters that I dyed with water color paints before crumpling, twisting, and gluing them to the cardboard. Splatters and drops of blue, black, and gold paint make up the final layer. 

Here are a couple pictures of my artistic endeavor. Here's to hoping I'll find more excuses to throw paint around and get school credit for it...

The colors are a little darker in real life, but you get the idea.

Love,

Allison.