Final Notice
The Art of Staying Engaged in the Age Of the Outrageous
It started with a simple Voxer conversation with my friend, and fellow Artist,
. While sharing some private thoughts about life, art, and the state of the world, I could not help but notice the way my heart raced. We commiserated over all the things we cannot control, and talked about how to keep showing up in this outrageous time, and I said something off-hand about the fact that come-what-may, there WILL be art. I planted those words into the air, my tattered little flag in the quicksand of this moment in time, and didn’t think much of it, until I heard Susan’s response. Our conversation continued, and before the end of the day, Susan had launched a line of inspiring, creative wearable art into the world.Art as resistance.
Art as a means of resisting despair.1
Art as a way of staying engaged when it would be easier to bar the windows and doors to your heart.
The month of February felt like the month that refused to end. It felt like the month had a vendetta and refused to relent until the last of the beatings had been meted out. February’s prayers were mostly, God, help! and Jesus, Jesus, Jesus—which is a perfectly solid prayer when the words won’t come and your heart sits like a stone in your chest. I wrung my hands for a number of days and then one morning sat down at my art table remembering that when I am lost in the art, I am not able to obsess about the upside-downess of the world.
Swiping red paint across a vintage rolodex card, I remembered that not only will there be art, but there will be hope, too. There will be prayer, and creativity, and inspiration, and joy, and color, and freedom of expression, and worship.
The truth is, there are some things that the world, the government, the culture and even your neighbor, cannot take from you. The real trick is remembering this when the rhetoric runs hot and the tensions rise. But while these things can’t be taken from you, you can give them away without meaning to.
Final Notice
I shared on Facebook the other day that I am taking an extended break from social media for the season of Lent, and intend to use some of that “quiet” space to discern whether or not to return to those spaces at all. I’m weary (and leery) of the games and algorithms and the well documented fact2 that as users, we are being used, and since I cannot change the TOS3, the only real option for me to decide if these are compromises I am willing to (keep) make(ing). I’ve wrestled with this for actual years and I’m honestly tired of thinking about it at all.
What I didn’t expect to see when I shared my angst, was the number of friends who said that they’d miss my words and art in that space. I am not sure what to do about that…or how that will impact my decision, but if you’re a Facebook friend whose reading these words now, know that I hear you, and my heart is full for having received that kind encouragement.
What does this mean?4 I don’t know but I feel like in 43 days, I will have new-found clarity. At least, I am praying as much.
Lent officially begins on Wednesday, March 5, but I’m closing out my apps now and deleting them from my phone. I’m sorry to confess that if that little icon is clickable on my phone, then I am likely to click it, even when I don’t want to.5 Such is the hold that these 2D interactions have on my heart.
In my last post, I told you that my words for the year are intention and attention. So far, my efforts to engage with both of these words has been a struggle of truly ridiculous proportions. Lent is my favorite season of the church calendar because of the depth of the intentionality that this season invites. The slow, deliberate meditation on the life and death of Jesus never fails to re-orient me in the world, and in my own faith, and my interactions with God, and this year, right now, I need this re-orientation. I need the contemplation and meditation that the scriptures invite. I need that Words of Jesus in my hands, in my head, and in my heart.
Art & Lent
I started my current Rolodex project to help me take just 5-10 minutes a day to make art, because making art is one of the ways I navigate my faith. It’s also one of the ways I remember to breathe. During Lent, I’ll keep making art, and I’ll keep sharing here on Substack, but I won’t be posting these thoughts or glimpses on other social media channels for now. When my schedule clears a bit at the end of March, I’ll open up a couple more Art workshops, so keep an eye out for those.
In the meantime, if you’re feeling a little unmoored by current events, if you’re feeling a little estranged from God, or your neighbor, or yourself—and if you just need a few quiet moments to take a deep breath, grab a pen, some markers, paint, crayons—whatever you have on hand—and make something (anything!) for just 5 minutes. Then do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. And if you’re new to the practice of Lent, perhaps this is the year to discover the beauty of surrender, and the un-cancelable promise of Jesus’ redemption.
Do you observe Lent? What practices are sustaining you in this current season? Where are you finding hope?
As always these posts (and their inevitable type-o’s) are crafted by me, without the use of AI. Congrats for making it to the end of this post—this one’s a rambler. Thanks for reading and supporting my work.
“Terms of Service”
This was how I captioned this on Instagram and it garnered some traction so I’m sharing it here in case it helps: “Ok, so this little Rolodex card took me 10 minutes (not 5), but I had the minutes and I felt better after making it. Nothing was solved by my making this card, none of the grand, existential questions squeezing my chest were answered, and no clarity was gained in the moment, but creative exercises are life-changing nonetheless. If you come to the art table or to the page or to the potters wheel insisting on a grand revelation every time, you will miss the subtle transformation that unfolds quietly in the repeated act of simply showing up. If you’re turning over cards looking for answers, and trying to speak your will into the “universe”, you’re wasting precious energy believing lies. Creativity is a practice. That means you show up, do the work, make the things, and trust that being present in those moments is where the seeds are planted. There’s no shortcutting the process. There’s no formula for revelation, no guaranteed outcome. There never is with practice. The practice is the point. Outcomes are God’s business. Stop messing around with the profane and get your hands dirty. Say “no” to evil that corrupts beauty and Truth.”
Every time I think about my own hypocrisy, I always think about this passage in Romans and feel a little more human and a little more comforted in my struggle.
You inspire my heart today💗 Thanks for sharing Hugo(he's named for Victor Hugo)-who knew that funny little collage would lead her🤷♀️
I am OBSESSED with this rolodex project!! and the No sweatshirt!