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nicora-gangi_2013-air-6_memories_popout.jpg Loading Video . . . Resident Artist Nicora Gangi's final work for 2013 deals with the theme of "Memories" and responds to Ecclesiastes 9:5-7 as part of a collection inspired by each of the year's six themes. Ecclesiastes 9:5-7 Memories By Nicora Gangi Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, 2013 Artist in Residence 2013 20 x 14 inches Paper Collage on Strathmore Paper & Adobe Photoshop Mixed Media Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The living know that they are going to die it is a thing yet to come and therefore provision may be made for it. The dead know they are dead and it is too late they are on the other side of the great gulf fixed. When life is gone, all this world to us is gone with it. There is an end of all our acquaintances with this world and the things of it . While the dead were still alive they were intimately acquainted with it. It does not appear that they know anything of what is done by those they leave behind. There is an end of all our enjoyment in this world. They don't regard their toil any more but all they acquired must be left to others: they have a reward for their holy actions but not for their worldly ones. The things of this world will not be a portion for the soul . The grave is a land of forgetfulness; the memory of those that are laid there is soon forgotten. Their place knows them not, nor does the lands they called by their own names. The person and their actions die together. In that place we shall never be the better for our friends (their love can do us no kindness) nor ever the worse for our enemies, their hatred and envy can do us no damage. Those things which affect us now and demand so much of our attention will end there. By wisdom make the best use of life and manage wisely what remains. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Nicora Gangi was educated at Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York, USA (BFA 1974 and MFA 1976). She was a Professor of Art at Syracuse University for 29 years. Gangi has been awarded many Grand Prize and First Place awards and grants. She has been and continues to be published in numerous artist’s books on pastel paintings. She has lectured regionally and nationally as a visiting artist at universities and artist’s guilds. She is represented by: Edgewood Gallery (Syracuse, NY), and Gangi Studio (Winter Garden, FL ). Website Nicora Gangi About the Artist The Mountain of the House of The Lord I See Him but Not Now So Shall Your Descendants Be This One The Body without the Spirit | 1 The Body without the Spirit | 2 The Body without the Spirit | 3 The Sealed Ones Peace with God The Everlasting Protective Love of God Our Father When the Lord Gives Us The Land I See Him but Not Now The Mountain of the House of The Lord Paneled and Ruins Series The Harvest Spirit of God-The Spirit Hovering Lies Fool Dance Your Truth from the Great Congregation Psalm 18 Sound of Their Wings Psalm 16 Kiss the Son EAST, WEST, NORTH & SOUTH AT HIS TABLE Nicora Gangi Other Works By Nicora Gangi created a collection of mixed media works in response to scripture and the six themes of the year as a 2013 Artist in Residence. Explore her works created throughout the year: Spirit of God – The Spirit Hovering Light and Darkness (February 4, 2013) Fool Fools (April 13, 2013) Dance Dancing (June 13, 2013) Lies Lies (August 22, 2013) The Harvest Harvest (October 17, 2013) Memories (This piece) Memory (December 12, 2013) Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Creative writer Seth Villegas explores the aftermath of the old prophet's lie in his short story, "The Old Prophet Stands," based off of 1 Kings 13. 1 Kings 13 The Old Prophet Stands By Seth Villegas Credits: Curated by: Rebecca Testrake 2016 Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link When reading the Bible, certain stories tend to stick with you. The story of the “Man of God from Judah” in 1 Kings 13 has stuck with me for a long time. As an aspiring Christian leader, this story has always bothered me. I still have trouble seeing why a person in a position of influence would deliberately mislead someone else, especially in a religious context. The story that I have written in response to this story contains many of my own reservations about the old prophet. Perhaps that is how the story ended up being one focused on generational reconciliation. While I am sure that is not all this story is about, it has to end for me with the reunification of father and son in the actual roles that they inhabit. Within the current Christian sphere, there continues to be a tension between the generations of people that makeup the church. 1 Kings 13 seems to show just how much damage one generation can do to another. But I also think it also shows just how much the younger generation yearns for support. In the end, we need one another. As Jesus himself said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Seth Villegas is a creative writer and arts organizer living in the greater Pasadena area. He grew up fascinated by stories, most notably the mundane and fantastical stories told to him by his father. He wrote his first short stories in high school and has continued to write regularly ever since. In college at Stanford University, Seth took every creative writing class available to him, including a seminar taught by Pulitzer Prize winning author Adam Johnson. He feels that he best expresses himself in prose, though he sometimes works in poetry and drama. In his current work, Seth seeks to articulate the tension between pain and possibility. For Christians, these possibilities are rooted in a hope in God. This is not an easy hope, however, because we must still acknowledge our pain and our failures to find it. His stories try to draw out these themes in the lives of his characters. Seth is currently finishing up his master’s degree at Fuller Theological Seminary and hopes to pursue doctoral studies in the area of theology, science, and technology. Website Seth Villegas About the Artist Seth Villegas Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. View Full Written Work The Old Prophet Stands by Seth Villegas An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. Once they get to the city square, the young man helps the old man down off the donkey and onto a stone platform, one perhaps as old as the city itself. Standing halfway between the temple and the city gates, the old man raises the staff over his head to address the crowd. “Test the prophets! Is that not what we are told in the To’rah? Test the prophets!” says the old man. His voice rings out but his raised arm shakes. The bustle of the people appears undisturbed. The old man sees that the young man is watering the donkey from a nearby well. “Does the prophet’s message not stand? Shall you continue on as if he were never here?” The old man notices the people of the Book strolling through the crowd from the direction of the city gates. They wear long gowns and tassels. Their attention is focused forward as they pass between the well and the stone platform. “Do not act as if you do not know of whom I speak,” the old man continues, “the man of God from Judah, the prophet who rebuked the king in his own chambers!” One of the men of the book turns toward the platform and spits on the ground. The donkey screeches. The young man pets the donkey’s neck, looking up at the men of the Book. “He knew the Lord spoke,” says the old man. He raises his voice as the men of the Book near the far side of the city square. “I lied to him just as you continue to lie to your king! “But I am guiltier than you,” he continues, “because I pretended to be what he most wanted in a hostile land: an ally, a colleague, a kindred spirit…a father.” The men of the Book enter the temple. A section of the crowd follows them in. “His prophecy was not just to protect him from you nor even from the king, but to protect him from me,” he says. “Me, the man he should have been able to trust.” The old man looks at the younger man, but the younger man does not return his gaze. The younger man continues to pet the donkey. “When had I changed so much that I could not longer recognize a move of God when it was before me? But as the donkey and the lion sat next to the prophet’s corpse, it was a sign against me just as it is now a sign against you. “Priests! I have no temple; I have no courts. King! I have no armies; I have no crowns! But let me now be a sign against you for this prophecy shall come to pass: should you continue as you are, your kingdom and your house cannot stand.” The old man tries to raise his staff again, but instead it breaks his fall as he drops to one knee, his face wet and hot. The younger man pushes through the crowd of gawkers that has gathered around the old man. Once he gets to the platform, the old man stops him with a raised hand. “I cannot bury anymore prophets,” he says, looking at the young man. He manages to stand. “I cannot bury any more of my sons. The cost…is too high.” The younger man urges the old man down from the platform. The old man stumbles again as he reaches the ground. The younger man holds his arm out and the old man takes it. They walk together through the crowd to the well and the donkey. The young man helps the old man onto the donkey. As they leave, various people come to the younger man to ask if he and the old man would like to stay the night. But in each instance, the younger man looks back to the old man and declines. The old man says nothing. The two travel together through the night, away from the city back to their small village. Along the way, they stop at the tomb of their ancestors to offer a prayer. They finish the final leg of their journey as father and son. Close Loading Video . . . An old man rides into the city on a donkey. A staff rests across his lap and a young man leads the donkey through the city gates. Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . As the third work in a collection curated by Shann Ray, featuring the works of Vanessa Kay, Mary Jane Nealon and Shann Ray; this short story by Alan Heathcock explores theme of "Light and Darkness" from the perspective of Isaiah 61:3. Isaiah 61:3 Cheer By Alan Heathcock Credits: Curated by: Shann Ray 2013 Short Story Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I watched a documentary about a man who lived as a prisoner of war for a number of years, each day bound in a little hut, very little daylight, very little human interaction. How did he survive? He survived by the strength of his inner life, and that made me contemplate the fragility of our bodies versus the power of everything that is us that is not our bodies. The garment of praise overcoming the spirit of despair in this case is the recognition that our strength cannot not be diminished by physical means, as that place of truth that resides behind our eyes cannot be touched or slapped or maimed. Instead of a prisoner of war, I decided to use a cheerleader as the vehicle for this story because I felt people often separate themselves from the exceptional despair of the world, as if that POW has nothing to do with them and their lives. But if a cheerleader could be touched by despair then it could touch anyone, which, of course, is as true as anything else I could write. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Alan Heathcock ’s fiction has been published in many of America’s top magazines and journals. VOLT, a collection of stories, was a “Best Book 2011″ selection from numerous newspapers and magazines, including GQ, Publishers Weekly, Salon, the Chicago Tribune, and Cleveland Plain Dealer, was named as a New York Times Editors’ Choice, selected as a Barnes and Noble Best Book of the Month, as well as a finalist for the Barnes and Noble Discover Prize. Heathcock has won a Whiting Award, the GLCA New Writers Award, a National Magazine Award, has been awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, and is currently a Literature Fellow for the state of Idaho. A Native of Chicago, he teaches fiction writing at Boise State University. Website Alan Heathcock About the Artist Alan Heathcock Other Works By As the third work in a collection curated by Shann Ray, featuring the works of Vanessa Kay , Mary Jane Nealon and Shann Ray ; this short story by Alan Heathcock explores theme of “Light and Darkness” from the perspective of Isaiah 61:3: and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. Related Information View More Art Make More Art The other girls shot their fists in the air, kicked high, went seamlessly through the routine. Shell couldn’t remember the cheer. Her mind was a mess. View Full Written Work Cheer by Alan Heathcock The other girls shot their fists in the air, kicked high, went seamlessly through the routine. Shell couldn’t remember the cheer. Her mind was a mess. A buzzer sounded from the scorer’s table. The boys broke their huddles. Shell knew all those in the green uniforms: Lester and Billy James and Harold and John Censia and John Defenthaller. She’d kissed the lips on three of these faces. The other girls clapped and shouted, now off the court and by the double-doors. Shell ran from center court, bumped through the green jerseys and towards the cheer line, and Mrs. Marlene shouted her name, then grabbed her elbow and dragged her from the gymnasium. “What’s going on with you, Shell?” Mrs. Marlene asked. Shell touched her own lips. “I don’t know.” “You on your moon?” “Moon?” Mrs. Marlene glanced downward. “ Your moon ?” Shell shook her head. “You sick?” “No.” “You’re just acting so strange.” “Oh,” Shell said. “Well…” She looked back into the gymnasium. The teams positioned themselves for the jump-ball. She knew she couldn’t say what was on her mind because cheerleaders don’t speak of such things, but she couldn’t shake the woman’s face, darker than her own and scarred from acid. Her husband had thrown acid on her. Shell didn’t know why the husband had done what he had, because she couldn’t bear to read to the end of the article. Why didn’t matter. People always wanted to know why . Shell had seen the woman’s face, the blood and bone where the skin was gone, even her bold eyes shot through with red. It all terrified Shell. She shut tight her eyes and closed her hands into fists. Why, why, why… “Good lord, girlie,” Mrs. Marlene finally said. “Whatever it is, you’d best go shake it off.” *** Shell walked the vacant school halls. At the end of the building farthest from the gymnasium, a cold breeze wafted out from an open classroom. Shell turned into the cold, pushed in through the open door. The room smelled of formaldehyde. She switched on the lights and there were rows of high tables with burners and sinks. A skeleton by the blackboard wore a red and white cap. A far window was tilted open. Wet snow blew in from the darkness outside. Shell crossed to the window. On the ledge by the window sat a terrarium coated in frost. She stuck her face in the frigid draft, lifted off the terrarium lid. One lone frog–no bigger than her fist, yellow spots on its brown body–lay on a bed of glistening cabbage. The frog didn’t struggle in her grasp. It was cold and hard, very much dead, its eyes black pebbles flecked with gold. Its slick skin was beautiful, sparkling almost, the muscle of it hind legs so gracefully curved. What a magnificent creature, Shell thought. “How do you work?” she said to the frog’s tiny face. *** The frog’s miniature organs were the color of burlap. It wasn’t at all as she’d imagined. It had been an impulse, a strange inclination that had overcome her, and Shell stood, scalpel in hand, and thought cutting the skin of a living creature should be more difficult. How does a frog ever live a day with such thin skin? How does anything live a single day? She could hardly imagine it had once hopped and croaked and eaten flies. Maybe it thought, too. Of course it did. It had to know pond water felt nice, flies tasted good. But this thing, this lifeless fragile thing on the table was so different. Shell pictured herself on the table, just her body, her delicate skin and organs. Just a thing . Sometimes people are things to each other. Then Shell remembered the woman’s scarred face, a face of ravaged clay, like something melted, and she sobbed then her body shook and she began to weep because she never wanted to be a thing to anybody, or to treat anybody like a thing , and she left the frog flayed on the table and quickly shut the window and dashed out of the classroom, arms pumping, her sneakers padding on the hall’s checkerboard tiles, faster, faster. *** The fieldhouse steamed with sweat and breath warmed in the guts, the noise of hands clapping, feet stomping bleechers, air forced out of lungs and into screams. Boys running, jumping. John Defenthaller drove to the basket, leapt and dunked the ball. He landed and pumped his fists and howled. The crowd howled. Shell wiped her sweaty brow, set a palm against her thumping heart. There’s such a difference between something alive and dead, Shell mused, and in that moment she understood that difference as mostly being everything that is you that is not your body. That’s what makes you alive. That thing in you that says to howl, to want and love. That thing no one can touch or harm. You’re never a thing if people know that part of you. Shell felt herself stirred, potently aware of that thing brimming behind her eyes, what her mother might call a soul, and an eerie accompanying feeling of her body being nothing beyond bones and blood and skin. Mrs. Marlene came beside her and put her arm around Shell’s shoulder. “You okay, girlie?” Shell smiled, nodded, and ran off clapping to join the others. Close Loading Video . . . The other girls shot their fists in the air, kicked high, went seamlessly through the routine. Shell couldn’t remember the cheer. Her mind was a mess. Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Actor and sound designer Matt Bittner presents an intriguing musical exploration of the meal Zacchaeus shared with Jesus, and the change it had upon his life. This work is in response to the theme of "meals" as inspired by Luke 19:1-10. Luke 19:1-10 Fellowship, Food, and Redemption By Matt Bittner Credits: Written and recorded by Matt Bittner Artist Location: Ridgewood, Queens Curated by: Aaron Kruziki 2014 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link When I first began to think about this project, I was attempting to view modern day meal experiences through a biblical lens. For example, a question I asked myself early on: “How can I somehow extract the beauty of the gospel (or the trinity, or Love) through the picture of a shared meal?” Then I thought of a small portion of a sermon I had heard during Lent. The speaker, as part of a larger theme, briefly examined the significance of Jesus sharing meals with people. He spoke of the act not as some spiritual gesture (or as a physical gesture wherein the spiritual world was magically accessed) but as the real life, every day, human event of sitting down to talk and eat. That event is necessary. So, I imagine, because Jesus knew this, much of his time of uplifting, teaching, nurturing, and redeeming was spent sitting down to talk and eat with people. After all, when we eat, we truly rid ourselves of all pretense of being anything other than simple humans with needs. And only then (it seems) can we begin to practice the world-toppling exercise of seeing others as simple humans with needs too. I then reinvested in the project with a different approach: to find a biblical example of a shared meal as it ought to be. Suddenly the story of Zaccheus, which I’d known seemingly forever, took on a new meaning. There is an embittered, unloved outcast working selfishly to fortify himself against a world of which he is so wholly terrified and with which he is so wholly angry. He hears tell of a man that selflessly gives himself to a world with which he is so wholly in love and by which he is so highly esteemed. The outcast pushes himself to his physical limits just to catch a glimpse of what it must be like to truly live in communion with others. When Jesus spots the lost soul alone in a tree, he calls him down. Not to offer a sermon, not to lay hands on him, but to ask if Zaccheus would like to experience true community through hosting a group of people and eating with them. (I understand that the text does not clearly state that food was part of the deal, but culturally it would have been implied.) Zaccheus finally experiences the wonderfully simple reality of communion. The result? He does not suddenly have friends thronging to his house. Nor does he begin to preach. He doesn’t even leave his home to follow Jesus as so many did at the time. He instead subverts a lifetime of fear with a brave leap into generosity. He begins a new life of love and community. This is the story I hope to have captured with this song. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Matt Bittner is an actor and sound designer based out of Ridgewood, Queens. He has composed original music and designed sound for collegiate, regional, and NYC theatrical projects. He holds an MFA in acting from Rutgers University and his musical education comes primarily from church and participating in choral groups in school. He is currently performing in Much Ado About Nothing — the first of this year’s Free Shakespeare in the Park productions. www.mattbittner.com Website Matt Bittner About the Artist Matt Bittner Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . This video art work by artist and priest Regan O'Callaghan explores the edges of faith and the liminal space between the holy and the mundane in response to 2 Peter 2:18-21. 2 Peter 2:18-21 Fonisoun By Regan O'Callaghan Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts 2018 Site-specific Video Art Performance Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The scripture from 2 Peter is a reminder to be aware of false teachers. Their words are a façade. As a priest in the Church of England I am aware of the power of spoken words. They can build up or break down, enlighten or deceive or simply bore and fall onto stony ground. As an artist I am thankful there is another way to explore the indescribable mysteries of faith, a creative alternative to verbal expressions and proclamations. As an outward sign some priests wear the clerical collar, which is meant to denote their role and their responsibility in sharing the Word of God. But it is also just a strip of cheap plastic which when worn to tightly restricts and suffocates not only the wearer but also the listener. But wonderfully in the midst of religious grandstanding and performance, sometimes the living word can be seen, heard and experienced in the mundane, simple events of every day life. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Regan O’Callaghan is an artist who lives in London, England. Originally from New Zealand he moved to the United Kingdom in 1993 where he studied art and religious studies including the technique of icon painting. In 2001 Regan was ordained into the Church of England. He combines his religious ministry with art leading many art projects and workshops as well as painting a number of commissions including an icon for Saint Paul’s Cathedral London. He believes in a ministry of encouragement where art is the facilitator. Artist Statement "The nature of my practice is based on the application of contemporary and traditional techniques and the morphing of different religious themes and symbols in painting, installations and video. All my work explores ideas of ritual, the sacred and profane with the intention of drawing the viewer into challenging realms of order and chaos, apophatic and cataphatic, light and dark." www.reganocallaghan.com Website Regan O'Callaghan About the Artist Regan O'Callaghan Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

! Loading Video . . . Focusing on the idea of "perception," we are pleased to feature two works by painter Paul Trapp, "Substantiate" and "Behind". Paul paints images of ordinary objects and places derived from empirical observation, however, he employs various strategies to alter or distort the observed spaces. 1 Corinthians 13:12 On Perception By Paul Trapp Credits: Artist Location: Illinois Curated by: Charis 2010 24 x 24 inches (both works) Acrylic on panel Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link (The artists words are in italics. Additional commentary from Spark+Echo Arts drawn from conversations with the artist.) I want to know more about our sensory experience of God's creation, and how we can use our imaginations to experience this world in new ways. I think we take for granted what is right in front of us, so in my paintings I try to counteract this inactive approach to seeing. I use planar space to distort common objects to show that although things may appear to be ordinary, they are not. I not only depict what my eyes see but I also paint spatial anomalies in my work that do not happen in reality. I contrast representational and planar painting space because it is foundational or "common" to the picture plane — like objects are to this world. For, a new perspective on common experience only requires an active curiosity to see one's surroundings as unique, magical, and new. (Paul Trapp) Paul says that this body of work "investigates perception and the phenomenological concept of intentionality" or, "how an object is seen as apposed to how it is mentally approached." Paul quotes Joseph Campbell where he notes that there may be a conflict between what a (Christian) artist sees and what he or she may believe: "People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think that's what we're really seeking. I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances with our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive." (Campbell, Joseph. "The Message of the Myth." The Message of the Myth. TV mini-series with Bill Moyers. PBS. 1988.) Connecting the Real with the Ideal We are reminded of Paul (the Apostle)'s well-known chapter about love that he wrote to the Corinthians. Though most people – able to cite the reference or not – may be able to quote, "Love is ___, love is ___, ‚..." there is a seminal passage in that chapter that we draw in reference to Paul (the artist)'s thoughts on perception: 1 Corinthians 13:12 "For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." Perhaps the Apostle Paul was pulling from his philosophic background, drawing a reference to what Plato muses on regarding the ideal nature of things. We see in Paul Trapp's paintings both the ideal and the real, parts of the whole – a vibrating connection between what we know to be rooted in this world and what we find in moments of beauty and transcendence. I parallel the visual aspects of my work (representational and planar space) with the concepts involved in my work (perception and intentionality). This contrast is intended to raise questions concerning subjective experience in the objective world, and to suggest that actively observing objects in daily life leads to a new awareness of daily surroundings. Ultimately, I use this visual conflict to create an unexpected visual experience where something new can be discovered within something familiar and to bring to consciousness the experience of seeing. (Paul Trapp) Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Paul Trapp was born in Madison, Wisconsin and has studied at Minnesota State University and in Florence, Italy. Currently he teaches at Illinois State University. His studio work investigates perception and the phenomenological concept of intentionality. His work has been shown in Washington, New York, Italy, and Malaysia. His work is in the collection of Penang State Museum & Art Gallery and Bethany Lutheran College. Website Paul Trapp About the Artist Paul Trapp Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . There are a lot of ways the world can end. Robert Hass—a poet I love so much that I once fell in love with someone largely because they studied with him in college—once wrote: all the new thinking is about loss in this way, it resembles all the old thinking I lost my father 8 months ago, almost to the day. Find the complete progression of the work linked below. Revelation 9:10-20 Revelation 11:3-7 Isaiah 8:11 Proverbs 4:23 Artist in Residence 2017: Lily Maase Part 2 By Lily Maase This album contains some strong language, references to violence, and allusions to drug use, and may not be suitable for all audiences. Discretion is advised. Credits: Composed, Written, and Performed By Lily Maase. 2017 Curated by: Spark & Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2017 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link June 12, 2017 There are a lot of ways the world can end. Robert Hass—a poet I love so much that I once fell in love with someone largely because they studied with him in college—once wrote: all the new thinking is about loss in this way, it resembles all the old thinking I lost my father 8 months ago, almost to the day. Decades ago I lost my mother—and by extension, my younger sister, who was my mother’s favorite—to mental illness, and to this date I have yet to marry or have a family of my own. So in the years between my childhood and today my father had slowly become my whole universe: the man who taught me to walk, to drive a car, change a set of guitar strings, who showed me how to value myself enough to walk away from heartbreak; who resolutely held me up when I thought the misogyny I encountered in music school and in my early days as a career guitarist was going to break me; who brought me back into the arms of Christ when I was ready; who became first my mentor and then—at long last—came to regard me as a trusted and capable peer. There are a lot of ways the world can end. My world ended on October 1, 2016. There was no reason for his passing. I had spoken to him earlier that day and he was happy, healthy, fine. Looking forward to a gig that weekend. Had a busy day, had to get off the phone, he would talk to me early next week if not before. The next time his face popped up on my caller ID, there was a police officer on the other end, asking if I knew some guy named Steve. He had gone to bed that night, and that was that. He never made the gig. There are a lot of ways the world can end. I buried my father and packed up his guitars and drove them back to Brooklyn, and when I got there I returned to an old job as a DJ, to defray the cost of his funeral (my father was rich in many things but money was not one of them). This is how I found myself face-to-face with a man nearly 15 years my junior, who was out of his head on god knows what, who had decided for some reason that I belonged to him. This was the weekend before the election, and at the time it seemed there was an end in sight. But by the end of the evening, our current president’s name had been invoked, my hand had been smashed in a doorway about a dozen times, and—to make a long story short—the following Tuesday I cast my vote in a neck brace, drove myself home from the polls somehow, and went to bed for what turned out to be quite some time. When my father died all the strength left my body, and after I was attacked I discovered I didn’t have any resources left over for myself. The road to recovery was—and still is—longer and harder than I expected. I started spending more time at home and I’ll be damned if I didn’t discover that my man (of Robert Hass fame) had been keeping a second girlfriend in another state. So the world had already ended, and then it turned out it ended two more times before all was said and done, and then we all lived through the election together and the world as we know it really DID end. We live in a new world now. The reality is, we have probably been living in this new world for quite some time. If all the old thinking was about loss, this new thinking is about losing harder, faster, and with less grace. I wrote at the outset of this project about the idea of circles, and about the keeping of lists. That the literal experience of something happening in the world around us is often mirrored by the struggles we have within. So, what happens, when the world ends and you are somehow still just…here? There was a moment, having lost so many things both personally and on a global level, where I certainly prayed for the easefulness of death. The old thinking is gone. But the new thinking is maybe just the old thinking all over again, only accelerated to a breakneck pace. In a lot of ways, I think those of us who are perplexed by the current state of affairs in this country and in the world at large seem to be struggling with this one a bit. Are we being challenged, or destroyed? Are we truly concerned for others, or only for the others that most resemble us? Are we growing as a society, or are we suffocating our civilization because we have already grown too much? When I think about the two pillars God appointed to bear witness to the end of the world, I marvel at how incredibly tired they must have been. I wonder if they asked their Father, at some point, if somebody else might be better suited to bear their load. So I wrote this for my father mostly, but also for the olive trees, the glowing lanterns I have always imagined as being daughters of the Lord. For who else but two women could be strong yet supple enough to bear full witness to the final days of life on earth? Read: Release Me lyrics The message that I take from this is twofold: that God never gives us more than we can handle, and that neither witness was asked to bear this weight fully on their own. It’s taken the better part of a year to begin to get my fighting spirit back, and in another year or so I’ll hopefully have my strength. I am a new person now. In truth I liked the old person quite a bit, so I’m still not sure how I feel about all this. It is hard, sometimes, to be tough enough to navigate this new terrain. There are a lot of ways the world can end. But where one thing ends, another begins, whether we want it to or not. This is why we have faith. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Lily Maase is a rock, country, jazz and classical guitarist raised in New Mexico, educated at the University of North Texas, and living in Brooklyn, New York. She is contributing writer for Premier Guitar Magazine and has contributed to Guitar World and Guitar World’s Acoustic Nation, who recently lauded her as a “master guitar teacher.” She is the founder and owner of Brooklyn GuitarWorks, a workshop-oriented center for guitar and bass guitar education located in Williamsburg. Lily is the lead guitarist, musical director and bandleader with the Rocket Queens all-female tribute to Guns N Roses and the Suite Unraveling (Tzadik). She is the lead guitarist with Gato Loco, and is endorsed by Godin Guitars. Her playing has been featured by Vans.com, Maxim.com, Guitar World’s Acoustic Nation, Teen Vogue, and Elle Magazine. Website Lily Maase About the Artist Artist in Residence 2017: Lily Maase Part 1 Artist in Residence 2017: Lily Maase Part 3 Artist in Residence 2017: Lily Maase Look Out Below Lily Maase Other Works By Follow Lily's project's development throughout the year by reading her previous first , third and final posts. 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suarez_final.jpg Loading Video . . . Many interesting things have been revealed since my last post. I have spent most of July and August intensively rehearsing and researching. It has truly been a joy to collaborate with performing artists Carol McDowell and Rebeca Hernandez. It has also been a joy to be the Studio Artist in Residence at 1450 Ocean-Camera Obscura. It is sadly so rare that I’ve had the opportunity to come to a work on a daily basis. It has truly deepened my point of view. Below are photos of the studio and our view! Find the complete progression of the work linked below. Ruth 1:16-17 Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 3 By Christine Suarez Credits: Curated by: Spark & Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2015 2015 Dance Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link September 7, 2015 Many interesting things have been revealed since my last post. I have spent most of July and August intensively rehearsing and researching. It has truly been a joy to collaborate with performing artists Carol McDowell and Rebeca Hernandez. It has also been a joy to be the Studio Artist in Residence at 1450 Ocean-Camera Obscura. It is sadly so rare that I’ve had the opportunity to come to a work on a daily basis. It has truly deepened my point of view. Below are photos of the studio and our view! We are preparing for a performance on August 29. This manifestation of the work I have designed in part as a site-specific piece and in part as a lecture-demonstration. The actual location and construction of the studio has informed this choice. As you can see from the pictures the studio is mostly windows. Everyone that comes into the building sees us in the studio rehearsing. Also there is a path along the other side of the building where curious folks watch us rehearse from the other side. Throughout the piece I am curious about how we see the performers – our vantage point – and how what we are seeing is framed -literally and figuratively. Since our rehearsal process has been basically “transparent” I wanted the piece to display our process. That is why I am viewing the work in part as a lecture-demonstration. I am narrating the piece: telling the audience the story from the Book of Ruth, sharing our rehearsal process, and talking about our interpretation of the story. We have continued our physical work with the Ruth and Naomi paintings. We have begun to manipulate the material in interesting ways. We have talked at length about how Naomi and Ruth reconfigured what a family looks like and how a woman is supposed to behave. We have been using that idea of reconfiguring in application to our choreographic material. We have also been playing with patterns in space to represent how these two women navigate the cultural structure, which they lived – how they both continued on with their lives together though with great uncertainty. We have also been experimenting with some improvisation structures to embody different aspects of Naomi and Ruth. More soon! And please if you have any thoughts or responses, I welcome them! Email me at info@suarezdance.org. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Christine Suarez is a Los Angeles-based choreographer, performer and educator. Born in Caracas, Venezuela and raised in Baton Rouge Louisiana, Christine made her first works of choreography to the Grease soundtrack. Since then she has created eleven evening-length dance-theater works, numerous site-specific and community events and close to a dozen dances for the theater and film, along with teaching, creating and performing at school sites all over the U.S. While living in New York City from 1994-2006, her work was presented at various venues including Danspace Project, P.S. 122, HERE, Joyce SoHo and Dixon Place. In 1998 she founded SuarezDanceTheater, a not-for-profit, ensemble of dancers, actors and musicians. SuarezDanceTheater examines the unexpected – creating dance-theater in unexpected places with unexpected people about unexpected subjects. Christine and company were Artists in Residence at Tribeca Performing Arts Center from 2003-2006. Her work has toured nationally and internationally to over 20 cities. Her work happens in theaters, houses, parks, Churches, galleries, sidewalks and beaches. She collaborates with multi-generational performers along with parents, children, veterans, high school students and teen mothers. Since relocating to Los Angeles, she has been invigorated by making dances in unexpected places. Wet Spots (2008) was a site-specific performance about female orgasm that she created in collaboration with a multi-generational cast of women. The Los Angeles Times called it “ingeniously crafted…poignant…hilarious.” She has organized community dance participatory performances in parks, beaches and classrooms in partnership with city governments, community based organizations and schools. She has also been touring Wet Spots: Solo to Tallinn, Estonia, Movement Research at Judson Church (New York City), The Garage (San Francisco), Emory University (Atlanta, GA), The A.W.A.R.D. Show! (REDCAT). Most recently she premiered her new evening length work MOTHER . at the Motion Pacific at the Santa Cruz Fringe Festival and Highways Performance Space in Santa Monica, CA. As an educator, Christine has worked at public schools all over the New York City and Los Angeles area. She has been a guest teacher/choreographer at California State University San Marcos, California State University Los Angeles, Emory University, Indiana University, Southeastern University of Louisiana and Louisiana State University. She holds an MFA in choreography from UCLA’s World Arts and Cultures Department and a BA in Theater and English Literature from Emory University. She is a government contractor co-creating a dance program for Veterans at The School for Better Living, a psycho-social research initiative a the West Los Angeles VA Hospital. She also works as a teaching artist with the HeArt Project. She has been awarded grants from the Center for Cultural Innovation, Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, Puffin Foundation, Meet the Composer, the Association for Hispanic Arts, JP Morgan Chase Regrant, the Field and the 92nd Street Y Harkness Dance Center. She is honored to be a Hispanic Scholarship Fund/Cheech Marin Endowed Scholarship Scholar and recipient of the Hispanic Scholarship Fund McNamara Family Creative Arts Projects Grant. (Photo by CedarBough Saeji) www.suarezdance.org Website Christine Suarez About the Artist Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 2 Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Part 1 The joy of our heart has ceased; Our dance has turned into mourning. Artist in Residence 2015: Christine Suarez Christine Suarez Other Works By Follow the developmental journey of Christine's project by reading her first , second and final post written over the course of the year. Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Dancer Helen Hale created this beautiful and contemplative dance piece in response to the theme of eavesdropping and Genesis 18:9-15. Genesis 18:9-15 One Long Adagio with Antenna Up By Helen Hale Credits: Artist Location: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Curated by: Elizabeth Dishman 2014 Dance, film Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I imagine Abraham and the three men/the Lord picnicking at a distance. Maybe their vantage point is the opening image of this video, of the tree, far away. I imagine the Lord asking, “Where is your wife Sarah?” and Abraham saying, “There, in the tree.” I am curious about the way in which the Lord announces the promise of a son to Abraham, and not to Sarah. Rather than getting the news directly, she overhears it as she’s listening outside. God even asks Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh?” And only addresses Sarah when she denies her laughter, saying, “Yes, you did laugh.” For a long time I read into this passage a lack of intimacy, a kind of chiding, from the Lord to Sarah, but as I’ve paddled in the pool of this scripture I’ve come to imagine the Lord engaging in a romance with Sarah from a distance—an exchange of knowing looks from across the room. He doesn’t really need to ask anyone why Sarah laughed. He full well knows. He’s been anticipating her response to this absurdly unexpected news. In my interpretation, Sarah, in her moment of surprise and incredulity says, “What? After I am worn out from miles and miles and miles and years and years and years of dancing this adagio in the hot sun will I now have the pleasure of this mist on my face?” Furthermore, as it turns out, the Liszt composition I chose for the sound is entitled “Consolation.” I am certain Sarah needed much consoling along the road to ninety. My first name is Sarah, after this Sarah. Wildly enough, while working on this piece, I have received absurdly unexpected news that a door in my life that I thought was closed forever has been re-opened. Coincidence? Fulfillment of a promise that I’ve been moving toward while so often thinking it had disappeared, mirage-like, in the sweltering Heat of Life? Throughout Sarah’s long slow dance, the Lord so patiently awaits her arrival, and she so patiently moves towards Him with great longsuffering. He prompts her to laugh, and as she laughs, He joins her! –Sharing an undeniable joy from which new life is born. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Helen Hale is a choreographer and performer, and the director of Helen Hale Dance. Her work has been presented by The High Museum of Art, The Museum of Contemporary Art of Georgia, The Galleries at Moore, The Hambidge Center, Dance Truck, Dashboard Co-op, The Lucky Penny, BurnAway Magazine, MINT Gallery, Art on the Atlanta BeltLine, and WonderRoot Community Arts Center, among others. Helen received a BFA from Temple University (PA) in 2009 and has performed with companies and choreographers around the country including Kun-Yang Lin/Dancers, Staibdance, Dishman + Co., PushPush Theater, Tahni Holt, Team Sunshine Performance Corporation, Duende Dance Theater, Meg Foley/Moving Parts, Troupe Hellas, and Ground Delivery Dance Theater. After a long period of research and collaboration with musicians and visual artists in Atlanta, Helen has returned to Philadelphia where she is currently reworking her one-woman show, Sanity Ceremonies, performing with Kun- Yang Lin/Dancers, and seriously committing to creative playtime in developing a new body of work with collaborator, Maggie Ginestra. Website Helen Hale About the Artist Helen Hale Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . The Spark+Echo Band brings to life the wild imagery of Isaiah 6 in their lively song Ruined, featuring nimble flute and piano underscoring Isaiah's text. Isaiah 6 Ruined By The Spark & Echo Band Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts 2010 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Six winged angels flying to your lips with a live coal, ravaged fields and ruined cities‚ÄìIsaiah 6 is full of dramatic imagery. It's a vivid story filled with uncertainty and atonement that takes some time to sink in. This is the text that inspired "Ruined." The recording is from the Spark+Echo Band's debut album. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection The Spark & Echo Band is a family outfit of songwriting-storytellers led by husband and wife duo Jonathon Roberts and Emily Clare Zempel. Their music brings forgotten poetry and wild stories from the Bible to life: visions of sparkling wheels in the sky, hunger and thirst, and legends of love as strong as death weave with memorable melodies and captivating rhythms. Drawing from a classical background, influenced by the pianism of Rufus Wainwright and Ben Folds, and emulating Paul Simon’s narratival techniques, Spark & Echo sings epic tales of love and adventure. The duo has collaborated on three full lengths albums (Spark&Echo, Inheritance, Cities Project), one video album (In the Clocktower), in addition to many theatrical collaborations, this very nonprofit, and two children. They live in beautiful Beacon, New York, with all of the above. Website The Spark & Echo Band About the Artist White Robe What a Day Deep Calls to Deep Yo Sé Do You Love Me? Where Can I Go? How to Be Free Flesh Lifeblood Artist in Residence 2015: Spark & Echo Band Take to Heart The Wheels Frogs Inheritance The Spark & Echo Band Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

bookends_karen-swenholt.jpg Bookends_Wide-3-books_karen-swenholt.JPG Bookends_Wide-shot__karen-swenholt.JPG Bookends, "Radiohead" (detail) Bookends, "Not Listening" (detail) Loading Video . . . Sculptor Karen Swenholt brings her personal faith journey and an appreciation of the life and work of Edvard Munch to her reading of Zechariah 7:11 to produce this emotive work, "Bookends." Zechariah 7:11 Bookends By Karen Swenholt Credits: Curated by: Laurel Justice 2018 14 x 17 x 9 inches Terracotta, Bibles Sculpture Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link For me, life was a cacophony before I believed in God. It did not make sense. It was noise. I could not hear the melody lines, the beat, the structure—the point of it all—until I met God. Then harmony and peace were possible for me. With Bookends , I analogize God and His word to music. Radiohead hears God, responding to His music rapturously, snapping his fingers and gesturing with his right arm in response to beat and melody. Not Listening stops his ears and turns away. One would think the joy of Radiohead’s response to the music might intrigue his brother, but not so. Ironically Not Listening stops his own ears, claiming Radiohead also hears nothing and accuses Radiohead of delusion for apprehending the existence of God. In the world of Not Listening , Radiohead is mad. As I worked on Not Listening , I was struck that his facial structure resembles that of the figure in The Scream by Edvard Munch . Munch’s parents were committed Christians. His mother died young of tuberculosis, leaving him a beautiful plea/prayer in writing that her child find God. Munch’s early adulthood was very painful with bouts of drinking that verged on madness. He painted The Scream during that time. What is The Scream afraid to hear? That a God that controls the universe let his mother die? Isn’t it safer then, not to believe in God at all? That is why the torso of Not Listening is slashed. It reveals the man is hollow of life. He has been wounded. May God have mercy and reveal himself to the Not Listenings in the world and heal their wounds. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Karen Swenholt is a figurative sculptor who lives and works in Northern Virginia. After attending MICA and California College of the Arts, she continued studies at New York City’s New York Studio School and the Art League in Virginia. Influences from the West Coast’s Bay Area Figurative Movement combined with the emotional power of abstract expressionism from her East Coast studies and origins to form the foundation of Swenholt’s work today. The rough painterly surfaces of her sculptures contrast with their grace, conveying emotion and movement. Karen Swenholt is presently the artist in residence at Convergence in Alexandria, Virginia. Her work can be found in many public and private collections including Cairn University in Philadelphia, Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C and churches across the U.S. and abroad. www.karenswenholt.com www.facebook.com/karenswenholtart Website Karen Swenholt About the Artist Heart for a Stone Karen Swenholt Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Emily Rose Hazel's work reflects on her experiences in Ghana while responding to the theme of "Harvest" and the passages of Exodus 16:2-4, 11-16, 31; Numbers 11:7-9; 1 Kings 17:1-16; Matt. 6:11-13, 25-27; and John 6:1-13 as she builds a poetry collection responding to every theme from the year as a 2013 Spark+Echo Artist in Residence. Exodus 16:2-4 Exodus16:11-16 Exodus 16:31 Numbers 11:7-9 1 Kings 17:1-16 Matt 6:11-13 Matt 6: 25-27 John 6:1-13 Give Us This Day By Emily Ruth Hazel Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, 2013 Artist in Residence 2013 Poetry/Spoken Word Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The initial inspiration for this poem came to me more than eight years ago, when I was traveling in Ghana. While there, I had the opportunity to attend performances of several classic plays I had seen in the United States (including The Sound of Music and Grease). I loved seeing the different ways these stories were translated through another culture. That got me thinking about ways of reframing the familiar, looking at the same concepts through different cultural lenses. At the time, I was trying to eat vegetarian, which proved to be a challenge in Ghana. My nearly-daily diet consisted of rice and beans, sweet plantains, and life-changing pineapples and mangoes. My friends insisted that I try traditional Ghanaian fufu. In West and Central Africa (as well as parts of the Caribbean), fufu is a staple food, prepared by boiling starchy vegetables such as cassava root, yams, and/or plantains, which are then pounded until they have the consistency of dough. The traditional way to eat fufu is to pinch off a small portion with one's right hand, dip it into an accompanying soup or stew, and swallow it without chewing. It's a filling dish, and I was glad I tried it, although I returned to my standbys. Around then, I had a conversation with a Ghanaian friend about the phrase "Give us this day our daily bread," a line from the New Testament passage commonly called The Lord's Prayer. We were talking about how this verse wouldn't hit home in the same way for people for whom bread is not a staple food. Half-jokingly, my friend said that the Ghanaian cultural translation should be "Give us this day our daily fufu." That was the germ of the idea for this poem. I was reminded of that conversation when my exploration of biblical passages on the theme of Harvest led me to words about bread.Recently, my career transition to freelancing fulltime as a writer has had me thinking about miraculous provision, as in the biblical accounts of God providing manna—a mysterious, edible substance that covered the ground like frost each night when the Israelites were wandering in the desert. This was their "daily bread." While most of us would prefer to be promised a lifetime supply of bread upfront, often we aren't promised a year or even a month's worth, but simply a day's worth. That measure of uncertainty presses us to trust beyond what we can see and to be expectantly present in each day we are given. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Emily Ruth Hazel is a poet, writer, and cross-pollinator who is passionate about diversifying the audience for poetry and giving voice to people who have been marginalized. Selected as the Honorary Poet for the 25th Annual Langston Hughes Community Poetry Reading in Providence, Rhode Island, she presented a commissioned tribute to the Poet Laureate of Harlem in February of 2020. She is a two-time recipient of national Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prizes and was awarded a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship for a residency at The Hambidge Center in 2014. Her chapbook, Body & Soul (Finishing Line Press, 2005) , was a New Women’s Voices finalist. Emily’s work has appeared in numerous anthologies, magazines, literary journals, and digital projects, including Kinfolks: A Journal of Black Expression and Magnolia: A Journal of Women’s Socially Engaged Literature. Her poetry has also been featured on music albums, in a hair salon art installation, and in a science museum exhibition. Emily has written more than twenty commissioned works for organizations, arts productions, social justice projects, and private clients. Currently, she is developing several poetry book manuscripts and writing lyrics for an original musical inspired by the life of the extraordinary singer and Civil Rights icon Marian Anderson. A graduate of Oberlin College’s Creative Writing Program and a former New Yorker, she is now based in the Los Angeles area. EmilyRuthHazel.com Instagram: @EmilyRuthHazel Facebook.com/EmilyRuthHazel Website Emily Ruth Hazel About the Artist Artist in Residence 2013, Emily Ruth Hazel Word of Mouth In the Wake of the Storm Circling the Waist of Wisdom Give Me a Name Homecoming Runaway Undressing Prayer Emily Ruth Hazel Other Works By Explore the other works composed throughout the year in Emily's poetry collection, created as a 2013 Artist in Residence. Explore her works created throughout the year: “In the Wake of the Storm” LIGHT AND DARKNESS (JANUARY 21, 2013) “Circling the Waist of Wisdom” FOOLS (APRIL 26, 2013) “Homecoming” DANCING (JUNE 27, 2013) “Runaway” LIES (AUGUST 8, 2013) “Give Us This Day” HARVEST (NOVEMBER 14, 2013) “Undressing Prayer” MEMORY (JANUARY 6, 2013) Artists in Residence Spark+Echo Artists in Residence spend a year developing and creating a major work in response to Scripture. Click on their names to view their projects. Current Artists in Residence Spark+Echo Arts seeks to develop and support communities of artists who engage with and create in response to the Bible. Due to the impacts of COVID-19 and some internal changes, we decided to pause the Artist in Residency for a year so that we could regroup our resources. Our hope is to continue offering this opportunity in 2021. Previous Artists in Residence 2020 Sapient Soul, Marlanda Dekine (Poetry + Spoken Word) 2019 Lancelot Schaubert (Short Story) 2018 Elias Popa (Installation Art) 2017 Aaron Beaumont (Music), Lily Maase (Music) 2016 Ebitenyefa Baralaye (Visual Art), Chris Knight (Film), Lauren Ferebee (Theatre), Stephanie Miracle (Dance) 2015 Benje Daneman (Music), Jason DaSilva (Film), Melissa Beck (Visual Art), Don Nguyen (Theatre), Christine Suarez (Dance), The Spark & Echo Band (Music) 2013 Nicora Gangi (Visual Art), Emily Ruth Hazel (Poetry) Related Information View More Art Make More Art Give us this day, however you slice it, thick or thin—let this be enough, at least until the sun, golden as an egg-brushed Chinese bun, rises again. View Full Written Work Give Us This Day by Emily Ruth Hazel Give us this day, however you slice it, thick or thin—let this be enough, at least until the sun, golden as an egg-brushed Chinese bun, rises again. Bring us the Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday bread of life, the ordinary comfort that we crave: the constancy of cooking rice, the routine of rolling tortillas. Give the French their measure of heaven alongside every meal. Give Italians their pasta, Ethiopians injera, and Jamaicans coco bread. Give Pakistanis their chapatti and Southerners their biscuits. Give us couscous to satisfy the ache in our bellies, naan to mediate the fire in our mouths. Sustain us one calendar square at a time, through days that boil us down and pound us like cassava root until whatever stew we are in, we are like dough in your hand, as soft and stretchable as fufu. The days and years we wander in the wilderness, dependent on a promise, moving toward what seems to be a mirage of milk and honey, speak over us a grace that is more than words. Let even the winter sky be generous: let us wake to frosted flakes on the ground outside our windows, like the cereal you sent your children in the desert, the answer to their stomachs’ complaints itself named after a question— What is it?—Manna, silently arriving as faithfully as morning dew, in between dinners delivered as a hard rain of quail. Stories tell of divine provisions appearing in pairs: rolls and sardines, one boy’s lunch, feeding thousands of listeners on a hillside; ravens carrying bread and meat to a ravenous prophet riding out the drought in a rocky ravine; a widow’s last portion of flour and oil lasting as long as her mysterious houseguest stays. Listeners, prophets, and widows, we are hungry for surprises. Give us eyes to see potential in the smallest offerings, the driest seasons, the almost-empty jars. In the urban oven, when summer’s heat hovers and we are desperate for relief, may we be grateful whenever we breathe in— instead of the odor of ripening garbage— the scent of something holy: a bakery’s aroma reaching several city blocks. After praying for hope we can harvest, may we not be too preoccupied to notice, as we pass the community garden, the sunbursts of zucchini blossoms and the lazy, yellow squash lolling on the ground, primed for the picking. May we consider the sparrows that swoop across sidewalks, their fearless pace unchanging as they fly through chain link fences. These tiny birds gather what they must to build their nests, eat the seeds of found fruit and disperse them, need no silos for storing tomorrow’s concerns. They put no stock in corporate politics, are not consumed with working toward the next promotion. Sparrows have no pension plans. They simply trust there is always a picnic ending somewhere, a blanket of blessing ready to be shaken out. Give us that much faith, a thin space we can squeeze between our fingers. Give us, too, a taste of Wonder, baskets of leftovers, crumbs of miracles scattered like new constellations. Fill our empty pita pockets. Multiply our multigrain. Braid our lives together like a loaf of challah bread, and lead us not into temptation to rush the delicious. Help us be present with each other here in this day you have given us. When we gather, let us linger; let us learn to chew more slowly so as not to miss the flavor in the moments we share. Let us do this in remembrance of you, the carpenter boy next door turned man of sorrows, fisher of souls— like us, always waiting for the next bite. Close Loading Video . . . Give us this day, however you slice it, thick or thin—let this be enough, at least until the sun, golden as an egg-brushed Chinese bun, rises again. Download Full Written Work