From an art blog I'been reedin'

[That's me in the yellow shorts filmin' away]

http://viaaffirmativa.com/2007/07/09/the-value-of-the-work-of-our-hands…/

"theber Says: September 7th, 2007 at 1:43 pm
It looks like this conversation has largely run its course, but I’m going to comment anyway because I came here today with this very question in mind. I well remember the “souvenier video” from my first week as a camp counselor many years ago. All week I had fought real bugs and imagined bears, herded unruly campers, answered unending questions, looked for lost shoes, and helped scared kids go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I couldn’t wait for them to go home so I could have a weekend off. Then I saw the video: our week, artfully set to music by a young, underpaid videographer. I was there for all that stuff, but I’d never seen it like that: friendships around the campfire glowed with tenderness, zip-lining over the icy lake was high drama, and winning at capture the flag became a soaring triumph. I still needed a meal and a good night’s sleep, but suddenly I wanted to come back next week and do it all again. I think good art is like that. It shows me more truth about my daily life than I can see while I’m living it. It shows me the glory of the eternal things I take for granted, and the weight of my daily decisions. The life of a saint in a fallen world, not to mention the redemption story itself, is ultimately a grueling perseverence to an exhiliarating come-from-behind win. A finished product that exactly fulfills its purpose - be it Handel’s Messiah or that “well-made pair of jeans” - is an object lesson my heart can read that tells me the story isn’t over, and the end will be grand. Art helps me persevere in faith."

Nice to be a part (as camp videographer this past summer and likely the next ) of something that affects lives both inside and outside the camp.

I'm seriously contemplating heading back out there this summer. With the possibility of resigning my position at the school to make more time for creative work.

This Christmas season has been so far exceptional for pottery sales. The new line is in it's second year and has really come into it's own.

I'm so tired and two more days until the holiday.

When sitting is standing

This past weekend I went to a local dinner theatre.
The play was horrid.
The actors all did fine jobs, but the content left me sick to my stomach.
I did not stand for a final ovation.
This was part of a the Christmas party of the service club I am a member of.
Most of the people raved. I thought it was empty and hopeless,
and supposed to be a comedy. Seemed more of a tragedy though...
This is not a very good review, perhaps I'll work something up
but I'd rather just forget it.

I'm Now.

In the previous post the layout caused the words "I'm now"
to be separated from the block of text,
which stirred thoughts about how un-now I tend to live my life
God in his wisdom has given me the fine gift of being able to imagine
yet I spend that wealth imaging far too often those things which are yet distant possibilities.
Living so far forward of "now" endangers the species which is the production of my past dreams.
The production of the sketchbooks full of drawings and plans and diagrams for artworks
somehow "now" must become both the bearer of the past dreams and future schemes.
marked down by and in the work of my hands as one with creative gifts.

An artwork shows both the work of the past, and the possible future of it's improving on the artist
Such scope.
And to dream of bringing old God laden hope to people through it.

well less talk now more action.

Something about posting

I'm now contemplating the effect writing has on my life.
There seems to be this initial effort barrier to be overcome,
which seems quite insurmountable, but when passed allows my entrance
to a land of intense delight and freedom.

Currently I have stories on the go about:
Pirates/Businessmen
Shepherds
Rappers
Dragons
Surfers
and Medieval legends.

Each time I slide up to the computer or pick up pencil
that wall faces me
takes a great deal of strength to break down, and clamber over the rubble
once on the other side however, the strides are long and the country wide.

I'm experimenting with forms of writing.
New exercises and styles of prose and poetry.
Some of these I'll share in future.
Today I just need to move my fingers for my mind
wierd how that causes things to unwind.

Blessings.

Something about posting

I'm now contemplating the effect writing has on my life.
There seems to be this initial effort barrier to be overcome,
which seems quite insurmountable, but when passed allows my entrance
to a land of intense delight and freedom.

Currently I have stories on the go about:
Pirates/Businessmen
Shepherds
Rappers
Dragons
Surfers
and Medieval legends.

Each time I slide up to the computer or pick up pencil
that wall faces me
takes a great deal of strength to break down, and clamber over the rubble
once on the other side however, the strides are long and the country wide.

I'm experimenting with forms of writing.
New exercises and styles of prose and poetry.
Some of these I'll share in future.
Today I just need to move my fingers for my mind
wierd how that causes things to unwind.

Blessings.