More than we know

I’m rereading a favorite book. More than a book, as my eyes fall on it’s pages like an old friend, I’m reconnecting with who I forget that I am. Falling back in love, committing to the dangerous life that is the artist’s. Maybe just to the life that is real, that we all can reach for and loose ourselves in the pursuit of. The kind of loss that gives you back what you most desire and never even dared dreamed of. So as I hear these words again you may find many of them shared as I bring them in and try to give them a home . . .

“Obedience is an unpopular word nowadays, but the artist must be obedient to the work, wether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child. I believe that each work of art, wether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says, “Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.” . . . But one does not have to understand to be obedient. Instead of understanding – that intellectual understanding which we are so fond of – there is a feeling of rightness, of knowing, knowing things which we are not yet able to understand. . . When the artist is truly the servant of the work, the work is better than the artist . . . When the work takes over the artist is enabled to get out of the way, not to interfere. When the work takes over, then the artist listens. But, before he can listen paradoxically, he must work. Getting out of the way and listening is not something that comes easily, either in art or prayer. Before I can listen to God in prayer, I must fumble through the prayers of words, of willful demands . . . until I have worked through self I will not be enabled to get out of the way . . . We must work every day, wether we feel like it or not, otherwise when it comes to get out of the way and listen to the work we will not be able to heed it.” – from Walking on Water : Reflections on Faith and Art by Madeleine L’Engle

To be a servant is humbling, but it makes clear your duty. To give birth is incredible pain, danger and fear but it brings the glories of new life. If my role is birth giver and servant then confusion melts away. If the work knows more than I, there is no room for ego and neither is there a place for insecurity. I can have confidence in the work, my trust lies in He who is all truth and beauty. The most I can do is put down what He opens my eyes to. That is the least I can do in this magnificent story He has written. Rest is found in the fact of His authorship and I must be diligent to put pen to paper or whatever He spurs my heart to do. It is my duty and I may not understand where I will be led. All I know is that window light is calling and I must attempt capturing it’s loveliness on a friend’s deep tresses. Or that there are words inside my heart that need a place to be scrawled down and seen. And even humbler, there are socks which must be arranged in clean piles, an installation of the art of everyday. To birth the moment of a child’s head on your breast even when a million other tasks are clamoring. To let God’s grace wash over all the mistakes, when the brush goes wild and crazy and only His love can wipe the canvas beautiful clean. That is the realest kind of art.

And we all are artists, His children created to take after our Father. His creativity bursting wild with joy to make this world and still careful to craft the handiwork of each atom beyond what we can fathom. Him placing us here to love with the mad intensity that knows loss and betrayal and can choose to cling to the one they adore. We cannot breath without this love and in this story painted with the bold colors of life and death, our Father is all Goodness. Tears and laughter, houses built, babies born and lovers held testify to the truth of our story. Each act, another mark made in what is truly art. And so I search out, I learn . . . how to hold the light in a box . . . how to place the artifacts of life on a screen . . . and I try to step out of the way and let it be more than I know

(Thank you to my friend and her lovely boys for having dinner with me in the upstairs room of a favorite restaurant, around a big wooden table with evening light streaming in and my camera clicking away! Her boys are so sweet and fun. They were so into interacting with the camera and can go from really deep to super silly and back again which was so interesting for me to explore with me lens. I see the beautiful art of her family she is creating. I don’t know how to portray that, all I know is how to grab a glimpse of boys so in love, climbing on their mama’s lap and dancing round her as we walk to the car. I will share the photos I took as we left in another blog post soon! 4-5-12 . 85mm . LR + VSCO . evening window light)