Loading Video . . . From Psalm 93, folk singer/songwriter Kelley McRae explores the mercy of God in juxtaposition with the destruction we create. Psalms 93 Rising By Kelley McRae Credits: Composed and Written By Kelley McRae. 2016 Performed By Kelley McRae and Matt Castelein Curated by: Sarah Gregory 2016 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I really love the language in Psalm 93 that 'the seas have lifted up their voice.' And it's clear from the different translations that it's a raging sea. It's a storm. The song obviously works in metaphor and (I hope) can be interpreted in different ways. But I mainly had in mind the storms we bring on ourselves and on our children. By what we have done and by what we have left undone. It's hard to see how we might find mercy for the destruction we cause. This song comes out of that struggle. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Kelley McRae called New York City home for many years, cutting her teeth in the vaunted singer/songwriter scene and honing her craft at legendary clubs like The Living Room, The Rockwood Music Hall and the Bowery Ballroom. In 2011 McRae teamed up with guitarist Matt Castelein , and the duo traded in their Brooklyn apartment for a VW camper van and hit the road full time. Kelley and Matt traveled extensively across America those first few years, performing hundreds of shows and finding inspiration for new songs along the way. The duo has since gone on to tour in eleven countries, including shows in London, Paris, Amsterdam, and Berlin. They’ve taken the stage at renowned venues such as The Bluebird Café in Nashville and The Green Note in London, and they’ve performed at festivals like Riverbend in Chattanooga,TN, Rhythm and Blooms in Knoxville, TN and the Kerrville Folk Festival where they were named New Folk Finalists. Kelley McRae’s latest release, The Wayside , is a testament to the inspiration inherent in the American landscape, the grief intrinsic to change, and the hope that comes with stepping onto unknown soil. The Wayside , McRae says, “is the place along the side of the road where things get left behind, or where you go to rest awhile, or where you go find something you lost along the way.” McRae’s songs sip life from the tension between holding on and letting go, blooming in their rich search for truths. Released in April, 2016, The Wayside debuted at #7 on the Euro-Americana charts and hit #4 on the Roots Music Reports Top 50 Contemporary Folk chart. It has continued to impress critics: Penguin Eggs Magazine calls Kelley’s voice ‘hauntingly beautiful, echoing the best of Gillian Welch’ and New York Music Daily calls the duo ‘the real deal.’ Folk Radio UK describes McRae as ‘evocative of the finest moments of Emmylou.’ Mike Penard of Radio France says, “With hundreds of new releases each year, there are maybe ten or twenty magical moments. The Wayside is one of those moments.” Website Kelley McRae About the Artist Kelley McRae Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Musician Lucas Kwong brings out an edgy approach to interpreting Jude 1:8-13 in his new work. Jude 1:8-13 Florid-A By Lucas Kwong Credits: Written and Composed By Lucas Kwong, 2017 Guitar/bass/vox by Lucas Kwong Drums by David Cornejo Mastered by Dan Coutant Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2017 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I wanted to see if I could write a song about false teachers that had a bit of joy in it – funk, really. Joy certainly seems to be the last thing on Jude’s mind, never mind funkiness. We don’t know what exactly these teachers were actually teaching, but we know Jude was mad about it. A few characteristics of their cheatin’ ways stood out as song fodder. They “rely on their dreams,” grandiose visions of the future that, apparently, authorize them to do whatever they want. After all, they alone carry the spark of spiritual greatness! With them alone can true justice be found, the sword sundering sheep from goat! But if you confront them with the violence and greed implicit in their words, suddenly they bat their eyes and do their best John Lennon impersonation: “ You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one… ” (Not calling The Clever One a false teacher, although anyone who holds up “Imagine” as John’s best work is peddling heresy.) They’re just dreamers, you see. Can’t you let a fella dream in peace, and maybe make a few bucks in the process? They’re perfectionists. My wife and I are fans of Anne Lamott’s thoughts on the subject: “ Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. ” Perfectionism means thinking of oneself as artificial intelligence, cleansed of the messiness known as “human nature.” In this case, it’s not enough for these false teachers to be common recipients of grace. They have to be spiritual elites, insulated from the dreary business of learning from their mistakes like everyone else. Mistakes are for plebes. They resemble extreme weather. Roving clouds, wild waves, stars being sucked into cosmic whirlpools. Bring your rain jacket, is all Jude is saying. (This third feature inspired both the lyrics and the musical structure, which aspires to the unpredictability of climate chaos). Enterprising dreamers, spiritual one-percenters drunk on power, avatars of unthinking instinct: suddenly the false teachers don’t sound so ancient after all, nor do we moderns sound so immune to their charms. And yet the best remedy for Satanic wiles isn’t matching gloom for gloom, curse for curse (see archangel Michael’s example). As another flawed recipient of grace, Thomas More, said, “ The devil, the proud spirit, cannot endure to be mocked. ” If being under the thumb of a false teacher is a drag, getting out from that thumb must be a thrill. Writing this song, I couldn’t help but think of the thrill radiating from the music of the podcast Sinner’s Crossroads , a program devoted to the no-frills brilliance of bootleg gospel recordings from the mid-20th century onward. It seemed like the right idiom for calling out self-importance and pretension. As for the central metaphor, there’s a Biblical precedent of Israel using place names to rebuke oppressors, literally putting them in their place: Babylon , Tyre , Rome . For me, this converged with a storied tradition of breakup songs that substitute place names for ex-lovers: Georgia , Memphis , Los Angeles . I have nothing against Florida, but in light of its importance to one of my favorite short stories , its use here was basically inevitable. Get with the flaw! Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Lucas Kwong is a literature professor and musician. When not grading papers and researching Victorian popular fiction, he writes songs and performs around Brooklyn as part of the garage-rock two piece THE BROTHER K MELEE ( www.brotherkmusic.com ). THE BROTHER K MELEE’s releases include the compilation Seek Assembly , the music videos for tracks “ The Brink ” and “ Vengeance ” (compiled from Prelinger Archive footage ), and the single “ Stranger From the Country ,” which was commissioned for Resurrection Park Slope’s 2017 Via Dolorosa exhibition. Lucas’ writing has been published in Religion and Literature , Victorian Literature and Culture , and on Image Journal ’s blog. He lives with his wife in Brooklyn. Website Lucas Kwong About the Artist Lucas Kwong Other Works By Read the lyrics to Florid-A . Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

We Wait Judith Barcroft Loading Video . . . The movement and color in this painting, "We Wait," by Judith Barcroft capture the sense of eager anticipation in response to 2 Peter 3:13. 2 Peter 3:13 We Wait By Judith Barcroft Credits: Curated by: Michael Markham 2018 20 x 24 inches Acrylic Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I have been in the theater for over 50 years, and there is nothing more exciting and mysterious for me than that moment, waiting in darkness, as the curtain is about to go up, and reveal a whole new world! My painting of the audience waiting illustrates our waiting for what is promised; a theatrical moment in God's time! Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Judith Barcroft was in her first art show at the age of five at the Virginia Theological Seminary where her father was studying to be an Episcopal priest. Judith studied art at the Borghese Gallery in Rome and at the Art Students League of New York where she won a merit scholarship and served on the board. She won a certificate of merit for outstanding work in collage at the Salmagundi Club. She is especially interested in spiritual art, and her work illustrating Lauds in the Book of Hours will be on display at the Church of Heavenly Rest in New York beginning January 10, 2019. Judith is also an actress, having appeared in seven Broadway shows, over 100 regional productions, and 12 years of television. Website Judith Barcroft About the Artist Judith Barcroft 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 new song by Nicholas Zork reflects on the beauty that comes from struggling with the difficulties of life in response to Ecclesiastes 7:1-5. Ecclesiastes 7:1-5 Days Uncertain By Nicholas Zork Credits: Written, Composed + Performed by Nicholas Zork Curated by: Aaron Beaumont 2017 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link "[T]he day of death [is] better than the day of birth" is an odd claim to read at any time. Having recently celebrated the birth of my daughter, Emily, I found it especially challenging. But as I reflected on the passage within the contexts of both its surrounding language and the fragile, politically tumultuous world into which my daughter was born, its wisdom became more evident. In "Days Uncertain," I explore the tension between the positive possibilities at the beginning of life and a future in which little is certain except death. Ecclesiastes 7:1 implies something I have long suspected about parenting: we do children a disservice by failing to prepare them for the reality of human frailty and finitude and the inevitability of suffering. I'm an ardent optimist. And I want to raise daughters who are perseveringly hopeful people. But I've come to believe, through my own experience and by reflecting on wisdom such as that found in Ecclesiastes, that hope can truly persist only as we learn to confront life's most sobering truths. Hope without such confrontation is delusion — a fleeting prelude to recurring disappointment. So I wanted to offer Emily a welcome song that, while hopeful in a sense, was also written "in the house of mourning." Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Nicholas Zork is a singer-songwriter, composer, arranger, music director and collaborative artist. His songs, academic writing and music practices explore ways that music can resonate, embody meaning, cultivate diverse and inclusive community, and overcome social barriers. He is the musical director for TINTR ( thisisnottheradio.com/tintr ), a diverse artists’ community in New York City, with whom he has helped create collaborative concerts at Joe’s Pub at the Public Theater, Apollo Music Cafe and other venues. He is the artistic director and co-curator for Carnegie Hill Concerts, a chamber music series that features artists of different genres and disciplines in curated, shared programs, bringing people together to participate in the celebration and cultivation of New York City’s diverse community ( carnegiehillconcerts.org ). And he is a founding partner of SongLab ( wearesonglab.com ), an online music education community. Nicholas’ classical compositions have been performed by university and festival choirs, and his music has appeared in numerous television programs. In addition to frequently writing and recording with other artists, Nicholas also performs his own alternative folk-oriented pop songs. His music has taken him around the United States, Europe and to Australia. Nicholas’ EPs, “Questions I Can’t Answer” and “All We Own,” explore issues of love, loss, doubt and hope through stories — both autobiographical and imagined. Website Nicholas Zork About the Artist Nicholas Zork Other Works By Read: Days Uncertain lyrics Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . "We Were Like Those Who Dream," a beautiful video work collaboration between musician Joshua Stamper, dancer Lea Fulton, and video artist Ben Stamper responds to the theme of "Dancing" from Psalm 126:1. Psalms 126:1 We Were Like Those Who Dream By Joshua Stamper, Lea Fulton, Ben Stamper Credits: Music by Joshua Stamper Cello by Daniel Delaney Clarinet by Amy Christmas Halteman Guitar by Joshua Stamper Dance by Lea Fulton Photography and Editing by Ben Stamper Curated by: Evan Mazunik 2013 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Joshua Stamper: Part of what's always struck me about the first verse in Psalm 126 is the idea of renewed capacity to dream, to hope, to imagine--a capacity was there originally, but then lost, and now surprisingly, is being restored. I think in these situations, though joy is felt in the extreme, it's delicate; similar to the experience happening upon a deer in a field. Your breath catches and you suddenly stop, for fear that the animal might startle and run away; you drink deep this grace and beauty, but slowly...and quietly. Similarly, in thinking about renewed joy, renewed cause for celebration, renewed capacity to dream--all the usual markers are there...laughter, dancing, levity, etc., but also an awareness of the moment, a desire to take it all in. You dance slower, more carefully, because you don't want to startle the joy that you're now experiencing. Add to that, the peculiarity and strangeness of being able to dream and dance again, stretching muscles in mind and body that have been unused for so long. Lea Fulton: I'm influenced heavily by the shape of the space designated for my dancing and this other worldly setting definitely brought clarity to some early ideas for interpreting this verse through physicality. In the performing of the movement itself on location, I was asking myself a series of questions and letting the body's innate knowledge answer, or at least discuss. How does the body respond to liminality- the space between the original experience and the restoration of this experience which has become a dream? How does memory shape our body? How is our desire for God, and our knowledge of His quality of being everywhere and in every thing, shaped by our desire for our own contentment through the attainment of a personal vision? Can the body be at rest in its tension between two worlds, even when we let things slip through our own fingers? Ben Stamper: Dreams owe their existence to reality Hope is born out of displacement Displacement has to do with unwilling Placement has to do with here and there In exile, time is a weapon used to consume the generations it once brought forth Place is now as large as the body filling There are many in-betweens but one here, one there Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Joshua Stamper has been a restless composer and remarkably active collaborator for over twenty years. His work reflects a deep interest in the intersection points between seemingly disparate musics, and a profound love for the intimacy, charm, and potency that chamber music provides. He studied music composition and playwriting at Hampshire College and worked extensively with Pulitzer-prize winning composer Lewis Spratlan and Rome-prize winner David Sanford. Equally at home in the jazz, classical, avant- garde, and indie/alternative worlds, he has collaborated with hundreds of artists in both live and recording situations, in the United States and in Europe. He has worked with such luminaries as Sufjan Stevens, Danielson, Twin Sister, Robyn Hitchcock, Emil Nikolaisen (Serena Maneesh), Kevin Shea (Mostly Other People Do The Killing), and Rogerio Boccato (Kenny Garrett, Ben Allison). He worked as an orchestral arranger and session musician for Sony/BMG and for independent labels Domino, Dead Oceans, Important Records, Sounds Familyre, Smalltown Supersound, and others. In the past three years, Stamper has recorded two albums under his own name Wend and Interstitials , and his new album the skin, the sea, the sound is set for release in fall 2013. www.joshuastamper.com Lea Fulton is obsessed with stories and the re-telling of them through visual and physical media. Originally from Southern California, she migrated east 10 years ago and finds New York City a stellar place to collect these stories. Based in Brooklyn, some of her storytelling adventures have included a collaboration with Ryan Ross that culminated in a piece of movable theater performed at the Philly Fringe Festival 2008, a dancefilm collaboration "Chloes" with dancer Stephanie Miracle and filmmaker Greg King that was honored in the Dance on Camera Film Festival 2010 and a multi-disciplinary interactive dance theater piece by a group of 13 artists in an old factory in Keane Valley, NY in summer 2012. Being consistently drawn to the medium of film, Lea has choreographed music videos for electronic music artist, Nadia Ali and indie-rock group, Apollo Run in addition to performing in Animal Collective’s video for “Summertime Clothes” and The Form's "Fire to the Ground". She has also created dance with Heather McArdle, Faye Driscoll, Christine Suarez, Kate Watson-Wallace, Laura Peterson, Deborah Karp and Jillian Pena. She's currently working with Motley Dance and Alexandra Beller/Dances. She has taught a dance workshop - "Community Building through Movement"- at Wheaton College and in Mittersill, Austria at the Schloss Mittersill Arts Conference and continues to teach through the medium of yoga in underserved populations and for non-profits in NYC, including Restore NYC and Our Place Wellness Cafe. She holds a B.A in Interdisciplinary Studies from Wheaton College and is in pursuit of a Master's degree at SUNY Empire State in Movement Therapy and Trauma Studies in conjunction with a Somatic Movement Therapy Certification. Ben Stamper is fan award-winning independent filmmaker based in New Jersey.With a background in fine art and music, Ben's intuitive approach to imagery and sound has led him to a broad range of human interests, from exploring remote villages in the Amazon to the complexities of human trafficking across India. Ben is currently working on a feature documentary about an autistic artist and his transition into adulthood. www.benstamperpictures.com Website Joshua Stamper, Lea Fulton, Ben Stamper About the Artist Joshua Stamper, Lea Fulton, Ben Stamper Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Through spoken word, poetry, and music, Sapient Soul / Marlanda Dekine (she/her/they/them) engages the complexity and slippery nature of our human being-ness within the world. She values intellect and craft while enjoying the world of play and transmutation. The act of making has the power to enact transformation within the maker, those witnessing what has been made, and the larger community. Job 10:10-12:8 Artist in Residence 2020, Sapient Soul (Marlanda Dekine) By Marlanda Dekine Credits: Curated by: Spark & Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2020 2020 Poetry/Spoken Word Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link Through spoken word, poetry, and music, Sapient Soul / Marlanda Dekine (she/her/they/them) engages the complexity and slippery nature of our human being-ness within the world. She values intellect and craft while enjoying the world of play and transmutation. The act of making has the power to enact transformation within the maker, those witnessing what has been made, and the larger community. A friend of hers who often speaks publicly told them once: “If a child doesn’t get it, you should try again.” Sapient Soul has lived in the depth of big questions since she was a child, and she did not always have someone around who knew how to guide through her darkness and unknown. She continues to hone her creative gift and learn how to listen to her inner guide. Sapient Soul’s work seeks to illuminate our connectivity as human beings, sharing a planet, living through hard things, and remaining soft and intact with an ever-evolving emotional intelligence. Her hope is to awaken the living and curious child within us all. While doing so, Sapient Soul centers the Black, queer womxn experience, as it is her own. A descendant of Gullah-Geechee people, she is connected to a Black radical tradition of innovative creativity as well as international imaginings for healing and future. Sapient Soul’s background in social work and psychology influence their creative process in myriad ways. Evidenced by their most recent multi-media project, “i am from a punch & a kiss” , she designed and self-published a collection of poetry and an audio mixtape featuring sound healing frequencies, silence, and hip-hop. The work is a processing of questions regarding race, gender, sexuality, and spirituality with intentional empathy and directness for our humanity. In 2015, Sapient Soul founded the non-profit organization, Speaking Down Barriers . This effort continues to bring people together across race, class, gender, sexual orientation, national identity, and religion through facilitated dialogue and communal interaction with spoken word poetry. As an artist, Sapient Soul aims for healing and justice through facing the complex emotion of our being and working to alchemize fear and communal deprecation into joy and possibility. Currently, Sapient Soul is an MFA candidate with New York University’s Low-Residency program in Paris, France. She is excitedly working on two muso-poetic works for community exhibit during 2021-2022: Ars Poetica with Douglas Boyce (Composer) & counter)induction (Chamber Ensemble); Thresh & Hold with Anthony R. Green (Composer) and The Rice Museum (Georgetown, SC). Explore Sapient Soul’s work created as an Artist in Residence: “DIPTYCH: UNPACKING THE SELF” (April 13, 2020) Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Marlanda Dekine-Sapient Soul (she/her/they) is a poet and social worker from Plantersville, South Carolina. She is pursuing her MFA in Poetry with New York University's Low-Residency program in Paris. Learn more about their work at sapientsoul.com . Website Marlanda Dekine About the Artist 2020 Artist in Residence: Marlanda Dekine Getting Lighter Know Thyself Marlanda Dekine 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 fascinating video piece was created by theater and film artist Jen Browne. The piece is based on the theme of "strangers" and Deuteronomy 10:19. Deuteronomy 10:19 Stranger to Stranger By Jen Browne Credits: Artist Location: Brooklyn, New York Curated by: Lauren Ferebee 2014 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The word 'stranger' immediately conjures up all kinds of images for me; what I imagine a stranger to be, mysterious or mischievous or even just innocuous, a face, a body that you coexist with in your day to day life, engaging with or ignoring but never welcoming. I began considering how I embrace strangers or in many instances brush past them. Would I invite a stranger into my home for a meal? Would anybody? Interviewing strangers and non-strangers alike I found myself thinking more about the people around me and the established criteria, either conscious or subconscious, used to determine who is a stranger and who is welcome at the table. Another consistent turn of phrase needling its way into my mind was, "walk a mile in another man's shoes," the phrase was a consistent presence during my dissection of strangers and though not specifically in the Bible is very much reflected in the lessons and stories found within its pages. My hope or aim is not necessarily to go out and turn every stranger into a non-stranger but to consider possibilities, allowing more bridges to be built and conversations to be had, to stop thinking about strangers as mere shadows in the corners of our eyes, allowing us to know the strangers around us better. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Jen Browne is a Brooklyn based writer and actor and has worked with various companies throughout New York. She is an ensemble member of The Deconstructive Theatre Project, appearing in The Orpheus Variations, A Christmas Carol and Searching for Sebald (in development). She is a member of playwright collective Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Her plays have been produced by ESPA/Primary Stages, the New York Fringe Festival, the Houston Fringe Festival, the Unfringed Festival in Limerick, Ireland, 3 Voices Theatre, Purple Threads Ensemble and Learning Stages in New Jersey. Her play A Game of [Sugar] Thrones can be found on Indie Theatre Now!. She is one part of experimental video blog tinydanceconcerts. She currently works as a full time program associate as the Irish Arts Center specializing in film, visual arts and children’s programs. Website Jen Browne About the Artist Jen Browne Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . Curator Emily Ruth Hazel responds to the theme of "Water" from Isaiah 55:1-13 in this poem. Isaiah 55:1-13 2 Chronicles 7:13-15 Hosea 6:1-4 Isaiah 29:13 Isaiah 41:17-20 Jeremiah 29:12-14 Word of Mouth By Emily Ruth Hazel Credits: Curated by: Jonathon + Emily 2012 Poetry Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link “Word of Mouth” is a spoken word piece that echoes and expands upon the words of the Old Testament poet-prophet Isaiah, remixing with a contemporary spin the language and themes in the book of Isaiah. I focused primarily on Chapter 55, a passage that brims over with an exuberant sense of hope and possibility as well as an intimate sense of reassurance. Countering the scarcity mentality that is so contagious today, this passage reads as an invitation to engage with God and to live full lives that aren’t defined by our pasts or by our human limitations. Responding to this in poetic form, my aim was to reimagine how that invitation might translate in contemporary images and colloquial language, and how it could be filtered through the lens of the American cultural context to be understood in fresh ways. I wanted to capture the experiences of everyday people working in a tough economic climate. And I wanted to convey a sense of God coming alongside us—recognizing the contributions of those who may be undervalued, acknowledging the struggles we face, and affirming that change is possible, that we can live with a sense of trust and abundance regardless of our circumstances. While my work as a poet is often closely tied to my personal experiences as an individual, one of my goals with this piece was to explore a wider range of perspectives—including but also reaching beyond my own—to reflect our shared human experience. At the same time, I tried to envision God’s perspective on relationships with people. The creative risk in writing a piece that would essentially put words in God’s mouth felt weighty at times, as did deciding how to translate the tone, but I enjoyed the challenge of pushing past some of the traditional assumptions about God’s interactions with and attitude toward people. I wrote this piece with the hope that listeners would be able to find at least a part of themselves in it. Yet it is also a reflection of the speaker: as a person’s character is revealed through his or her own words, this is meant to be heard as a series of verbal paintings, a collective portrait of a surprisingly approachable, deeply relational, and radically generous God. Following the themes of Isaiah 55, I have kept the imagery of different forms of water flowing throughout the piece—although I have incorporated many other images as well. Water speaks of refreshment and restoration, which tie into the themes of thirst and hunger (physical, emotional, and spiritual) and transformation of landscapes (both natural and internal). The process of writing this piece was a little bit like reupholstering a chair: trying to preserve the beautiful, old frame (i.e., the essential concepts in Isaiah and the feeling of the language in certain places) but also taking some liberties in updating it with a contemporary color and pattern. I didn’t want the fabric of the new piece to completely clash with the preexisting parts. My hope is that the infusion of the new may encourage more people to sit in these words awhile and to appreciate the continuing relevance of the original text. “Word of Mouth” was inspired primarily by Isaiah 55, but Ms. Hazel also drew from other passages in the Old Testament with similar themes. Primary Passage: *Isaiah 55:1-13 Other Passages Incorporated: 2 Chronicles 7:13-15 Hosea 6:1-4 Isaiah 29:13 *Isaiah 41:17-20 Jeremiah 29:12-14 [Words and phrases were borrowed from a few different versions of the passage: the New International Version, New King James version, and The Message, (contemporary paraphrase, in colloquial language).] 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 In the Wake of the Storm Circling the Waist of Wisdom Give Me a Name Homecoming Runaway Give Us This Day Undressing Prayer Emily Ruth Hazel Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art Then God leans over the cubicle wall and says, Anyone thirsty? All you nine-to-fivers, View Full Written Work Word of Mouth by Emily Ruth Hazel Then God leans over the cubicle wall and says, Anyone thirsty? All you nine-to-fivers, you coffee-carrying assistants holding together corporate empires— come to the water cooler. I’ll give you something to talk about, more to take home than a paycheck. All you hardworking construction crews standing by the roadside in the shimmer of the noonday heat— come out tonight. Drinks on me! All you underpaid nannies pushing strollers in the park, sweet-talking toddlers into napping so you can gather your thoughts like laundry flung about a bedroom; and all you parents at the water fountain hoisting your children to reach that cool stream, stop and take a sip yourself. All you drought-weary farmers, you who have invested everything tending crops that refuse to grow— come outside, the clouds are hanging heavy. When what you’ve prayed for finally falls, you’ll stand in the fields with your mouths open, echoing the earth’s own sigh of relief as the soil absorbs the long-awaited rain. Come, all you teachers tying knots at the ends of your ropes, all of you buried under lesson plans and papers to correct and ruled by the rosy assumption that catching up grade levels is a simple game of hopscotch, the pressure on you like that which makes diamonds out of coal— And all you college students living on Ramen noodles and PBR, surfing the waves of adrenaline as you cram for exams, struggling to stay upright and wondering if it’s worth it— All you truck drivers saying goodbye to your families again, your headlights pushing back the dark, the radio keeping you company as you watch another midnight disappear in your rearview mirror— All of you deserve a rest. So come, put your work aside, and be refreshed: come with your glasses raised, and I will revive your spirits. I will open the spigot in the cask of the sky. Come on, all you marathon runners at the back of the pack, legs rippling as you limp up Heartbreak Hill, panting, spent, wiping the sting of sweat from your eyes— I’m over here, cheering you on, handing you water and oranges. You who depend on coffee to wake you up and cigarettes to calm you down; you who can’t afford to need favors because of your bad credit; you who are tired of standing on buses, who are on your feet eight hours a day ringing up other people’s groceries and have no budget left for food until next Friday—let your children buy milk without lunch money. Then come, pile your shopping carts high at no charge! Bring home enough to make dinner for friends. * Why labor for what doesn’t satisfy, squandering your energy on what cannot nourish or sustain you? Why waste your hard-earned cash on cotton candy—a momentary pleasure, too sweet, that dissolves on your tongue, leaving you hungrier than you were before? Why do you spend precious dough on what is not bread? I’ve seen you staring into your brightly lit refrigerators, surveying their contents as if they hold your future. I know where you stash the chocolate and the bourbon, self-prescribed remedies for stress, insecurity, exhaustion. I know what you reach for when you’re hungry for approval and something resembling intimacy; when you ache to be coupled, and when you are lost in loneliness even in marriage; when the keen edge of disappointment slices you open; when you can’t seem to wash away the residue of shame under all your failures. You kowtow to the god of your stomach, gorge yourselves and still want more. You fill up on empty calories that spoil your appetite for truth while waiting for the real meal to arrive. I’ve come to offer you something better, to serve you a different kind of comfort food. Come with listening spirits and learn from me how to eat well. Come, enjoy authentic flavors; redefine delicious. I will feed you only the finest ingredients, ripe and in season, organically grown. Come to the wedding banquet: let your soul delight in the gifts of abundance. Come hungry, and receive a clean plate every time you ask. Come shameless with your Tupperware ready for leftovers. * Listen closely, you whose ears have been clogged, your inner ears inflamed, a tiny, restless ocean trapped inside— and you who have turned on the white noise of the television, pretending not to hear me, so sure that I would hurl a harsh word at you or misjudge who you are. I understand the pain of being misunderstood: you think you know me, but when was our last conversation? How many times have I tried to reach you and you have not answered? You have felt the pulsing in your pocket and ignored it. Sometimes you listen for a second, then hang up quickly, thinking there isn’t a real person on the other end, just some recorded message that’s irrelevant to you. Or you hear a voice, and you assume it’s someone trying to sell you something you don’t want, or a prank call that you’re not about to fall for —the way you prank call heaven when you say, Oh my God— but it’s me on the line. How can you not recognize the voice of one who loves you? Even now, if you call me while the phone is still warm in my hand, I’ll answer on the first ring. If you seek me out, you will find me; I won’t play hard to get. * Come to me, you who are out of gas, you whose lives are on layaway, whose hearts have gone bankrupt, whose faith has run dry— you who have searched for yourselves as if you were lost coins in between couch cushions; and you who have tossed pennies in a fountain of hope, only to see it be drained for the season, its springs uneternal after the first freeze. You whose lights have been shut off, who have boarded up the windows of your souls as if your bodies were deserted houses— you stumble around unseeing; your glasses are useless. You bark your shins and blame me, but it’s you who have closed your eyes. Come, open the curtains over your calloused hearts, and I will pay off your back bills, restore your power, and give you new lenses to look through. * Let the runaways return to me— the parent who waits by the window, heartsick, who catches a glimpse of the child staggering home, rehearsing apologies, and abandons all dignity, sprints to embrace the one whose wandering heart has wounded— the God who goes beyond forgiveness, the God who knows how to throw a party. Come back to me, the God who leaves the light on for you, even when I know you won’t be home tonight. My offer stands even for the cruel and corrupt, the calculating buzzards—let them come and have their criminal records shredded, throw to the curb their crooked ways of getting by, the stained and broken chairs and itch-infested mattresses with which they once furnished their lives. Let them leave behind the stench of their old garbage baking in the sun and travel light as they take a new road. What can I say? If I look like a fool for spreading such a lavish feast of love before those who are bound to crush me again under their retreating heels, it is simply because I am a God who longs, like you, for something more, weak with desire to lean close, to be known. You who sit in the back and stand on the fringes, thinking no one sees you— when you turn toward me, even the slightest shift, I notice. And when you speak to me, be it a yell or a whisper, I will listen. I linger in the hallway, hoping to be let in. You open the door, then close it again, unlock the deadbolt, but won’t take off the chain. I reach for you, and my hand is caught in the hinge of your indecision. Yet I am committed to you, my faithfulness founded on bedrock— a love that is built to endure disaster, not a flimsy model of affection constructed with Popsicle sticks but a love that is high and wide, fortified, strong enough to shelter you. Your love is like the morning mist, like the early dew that disappears. Still, I wring my heart out for you, drench you in a deluge of grace while you dabble in the shallows. You talk a good line, but your words are made of lace. Your fingers are always in some other pie. But if you will acknowledge me with more than the occasional nod in my direction, if you’re ready for honest conversations, if you will humbly offer yourselves as living prayers, and turn from your unfaithful ways, then I will hear from heaven and forgive you. I will take you back, gather you into my arms: you will be my people, and I will be your God. If you let me, I will set your broken bones, clean your wounds, smooth healing ointment over all the places you’ve been burned. * I’m calling from the other side of night. If you choose me, I will bring you out of hiding— out of a life of crouching and ducking your head, enslaved by fear and cycles of destruction— out through trap doors, secret gates, alleys, and back roads. No yanking by the collar or twisting of arms. You will go forth in peace, and I will lead you— not into a beige, uninspired life, but into an adventure, the kind that keeps you guessing with every turn of the page. I will make your minds more spacious. When you cross over into free country, you’ll run with your arms wide open, leaping and shouting like children, unselfconscious. Even the wallflowers will bloom— closet dancers, those who save their singing for the shower—people from all walks of life, everyone who has tasted this freedom, joining together in a parade of praise. Mountains and hills and the birds that nest among them will burst into colorful song, all creation celebrating your return, your going forward new. You’ll hear my Spirit rustling through the trees; my breath will fill you as it fills the spaces in between the leaves. * You whose lives are like seltzer gone flat, reduced to an endless, meaningless to-do list, I will surprise you with joy that comes bubbling up from the bottom— the kind of joy that sneaks up on you like a hug from behind while you’re leaning over the sink washing dishes, or responding to a flood of business emails, water to be bailed out of your basement. And when you welcome me into the everyday mess, the peace I give you will not be the kind that sits smugly at an empty desk with its hands serenely folded, but the kind that sidles up unexpectedly in the midst of jackhammers and traffic and your partner’s latest rant and your boss’s overwhelming expectations and the children bickering in the dark when they’re supposed to be asleep and the unknown results from a blood test, the worry that gnaws on the edge of your mind. I will show you how to stand in the middle of it all, in a circle of calm, like the shade of a live oak planted in a busy intersection. * My work is a mystery to you: you can sow seeds, but only I can make them grow. The way a new life forms in the womb of a woman is to you a wonder beyond words. So how could you fully grasp all that I am preparing to birth within the hidden places of your hearts? My thoughts see farther than your thoughts, and my ways diverge from yours. My slowest thoughts drive faster than light, less than a breadth apart on cloverleaf interchanges, and never collide. My ideas fly seamless figure-eights miles above you, the infinity sign my signature in the sky. My dreams for you are far beyond what you have dared to imagine. * For the moment, your mouths are parched; you beg for water, finding none. But I won’t leave you thirsty. I am the one who knows your need before the word is on your tongue. As surely as the sun rises, I will appear; as surely as the spring rains come, after winter, I will come to you. I will open up rivers on the barren hills, the heights of desolation; I will change nature’s course and break the laws of gravity for you. I will make springs flow in the valleys, turn the desert into pools of water. Instead of stumbling into poison ivy, you will find the cooling balm of aloe. Instead of toiling like Adam after exile from Eden, only to force thorns and thistles from the ground— instead of a briar patch of curses to claw your way out of, torn and bleeding— instead, you’ll discover a field of blessing, orchards and vineyards, gardens overflowing with flowers. Where only scraggly desert scrub would grow, myrtle will flourish—each fragrant, white blossom exploding with beauty, pollen-dusted stamens shooting from the center like a spray of light. Myrtle will cure your infections, clear the airways so you can breathe again, protect the lining of your health so easily eaten away by anxiety. In the wilderness through which you’ve walked I will cultivate promise. With my bare hands I will uproot the thorn bushes, and in their place plant strong and stately trees: cypress, to stand as thousand-year testimonies, green through all the seasons; olive and acacia; sweet-smelling juniper and pine; redwoods towering in majesty, drawing your eyes to me. Cedars and sequoias will thrive, evidence of transformation in what was once a wasteland. I will write my name across this new creation just as I have inscribed your hearts, so that everyone may know whose work it is—that I, God, am the one who has accomplished this, who has bent impossibility backwards like a wire coat hanger, reviving the landscapes of your lives. Those who know you will recognize the change. Even strangers will come to you with questions, seeing in you the spark of the Spirit. * As the snow that slowly descends the escalator of the sky and does not ascend again until there is a thaw; and as the rain that showers the earth does not evaporate before it soaks in, trickles down below the surface, and waters the deepest roots; so the words of my mouth go out to the people in every part of the world—winged words sent out like homing pigeons, tiny scrolls tied around their ankles. They cannot land without leaving an impression in the sand, and they will not return to me without delivering the message of hope. My promises are never void; backed by the treasury of heaven, the checks I write will never bounce. And wherever you are, my words will run ahead of you to open the door when you arrive. From my lips to your ears, this is news to quench your soul, an invitation to be passed on. This is grace— not something you can buy bottled, but something to be shared, a cupful at a time. And as a paper cup that holds cold water is passed from hand to hand, these words are for you, the thirsty ones sitting in the back. Close Loading Video . . . Then God leans over the cubicle wall and says, Anyone thirsty? All you nine-to-fivers, Download Full Written Work

nicora-gangi_east-west-north-south-at-his-table.jpg Loading Video . . . The central light depicted in my work represents a Table laid out in the Universe, alluding to the presence of God in all of His creation and an invitation to all. Extending from and returning to this central light are four differently colored ribbons which represent the Holy Spirit. Luke 13:29 EAST, WEST, NORTH & SOUTH AT HIS TABLE By Nicora Gangi Credits: Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2017 11 x 14 inches Collage Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link We are all foreigners until we are adopted into God’s kingdom as His children, gathering from the four corners of the earth. The central light depicted in my work represents a Table laid out in the Universe, alluding to the presence of God in all of His creation and an invitation to all. Extending from and returning to this central light are four differently colored ribbons which represent the Holy Spirit. I chose this coloration after drawing upon the colors of a diamond as described in Revelation 4 . In my work, the colors of blue and purple symbolize God the Father (informed by His instructions given to the priesthood in Exodus 28:15 ) while the orange-to-red color refers to the Son of God. This reddish color connects to the pigment of the Sardis** stone, also depicted in Revelation 21:20 by the apostle John. (My piece is further inspired by a similar allusion of all nations coming to God as seen in Isaiah 2:2 .) The visual reference to an urban landscape is banked by strips that sample various foreign languages, again pointing to the expansive and diverse nature of God’s children whom He gathers at this feast in His kingdom. Encircling the ‘table’ is an orb that refers to eternity — a reflection on the nature and being of God, the permanence of our adoption, and the extension of celebration at God’s table. ** In various translations, sardis is alternatively referred to as a carnelian or a ruby. In the Old Testament, Carnelian is the stone in the breastplate of the high priest, as described in Ex. 28:15-20. The New Testament translation of Carnelian is Sardis (or Sardius), as described in Revelation 21:20. “Ruby” is often translated from either of these two gemstones. While the sardis stone has a bit of a different coloration from a ruby — yellow to orange as opposed to red — their hardness is the same and are considered the same stone according to gem experts . 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 Memories Lies Fool Dance Your Truth from the Great Congregation Psalm 18 Sound of Their Wings Psalm 16 Kiss the Son Nicora Gangi Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . In this arresting piece, the voice of Marlanda Dekine's poem challenges our patterns of oppression in echo of Proverbs 31:3. Today, without ongoing self-examination, we all—both white and of color—easily perpetuate the ongoing oppression of others. We have to understand that our current racial chasm is not an accident. Proverbs 3:31 Know Thyself By Marlanda Dekine Credits: Curated by: Lauren Ferebee 2016 Poetry Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link The Book of Proverbs has spoken to me throughout my life in many different ways. However, while sifting through its wisdom and being mindful of my personal gifts and my work, it was clear to me that illuminating Proverbs 3:31 was what I ought to do. For centuries, our nation has hidden from the oppression it has inflicted upon people who were not the founding norm—white, heterosexual, Christian, cisgender, and property-owning. Today, without ongoing self-examination, we all—both white and of color—easily perpetuate the ongoing oppression of others. We have to understand that our current racial chasm is not an accident. The many black and brown bodies that have bled onto this soil are speaking to us. It is my hope that this poem will encourage us to listen, even when it is difficult. It is also my hope that through the work of knowing ourselves, we find ourselves engaged in an ongoing, courageous commitment of working towards true reconciliation and reparation. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Marlanda Dekine-Sapient Soul (she/her/they) is a poet and social worker from Plantersville, South Carolina. She is pursuing her MFA in Poetry with New York University's Low-Residency program in Paris. Learn more about their work at sapientsoul.com . Website Marlanda Dekine About the Artist Artist in Residence 2020, Sapient Soul (Marlanda Dekine) 2020 Artist in Residence: Marlanda Dekine Getting Lighter Marlanda Dekine Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art I am free of the supremacy that drives you, binding your life. We have always been your mirror and the form of your shadow. You need us. View Full Written Work Know thyself A Poem by Marlanda Dekine-Sapient Soul Proverbs 3:31 "Envy thou not the oppressor, and choose none of his ways." __ I am free of the supremacy that drives you, binding your life. We have always been your mirror and the form of your shadow. You need us. Those who hide their guilt in giving empty gifts are afraid of proximity to themselves in the other. This other who has always known Ma’at.* The oppressor hovers under privilege, praying to the idol of themselves, “Oh, how terrible! Help us.” You build walls and shoot into mirrors of the unarmed, afraid to face yourself. When tragedy comes to awaken you, we know that some will still choose sleep. For you and those of us who become you— I pray, but I will not struggle. * Ma'at was the rule of law and moral justice among the ancient Kemet people, and the divine cosmological order within their mythology, astronomy, and astrophysical studies. Kemet is the name the native African people of the country now known as Egypt called themselves in their surviving writings. Close Loading Video . . . I am free of the supremacy that drives you, binding your life. We have always been your mirror and the form of your shadow. You need us. Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . 2016 Artist in Residence Lauren Ferebee shares the final development of her "Book of (H)ours," reflects on her presentation of the work, and looks forward to how she would like to continue the development of her piece that illuminated Proverbs 8. Proverbs 8:1-6 Artist in Residence 2016: Lauren Ferebee By Lauren Ferebee Credits: Curated by: Spark+Echo Arts, Artist in Residence 2016 2016 Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link In Proverbs 8, Wisdom says: Does not wisdom call out? Does not understanding raise her voice? At the highest point along the way, where the paths meet, she takes her stand; beside the gate leading into the city, at the entrance, she cries aloud: “To you, O people, I call out; I raise my voice to all mankind. You who are simple, gain prudence; you who are foolish, set your hearts on it. (vv. 1-5) On a cold Saturday at the end of November, right before Thanksgiving, about twenty people gathered into a small house generously donated by a friendly organization to listen to me talk for an hour. They were people intentionally invited to share an intimate experience with me, which was the book of hours I created over the last year. I invited each person individually to the performance, and they were mainly people I have met over the last year in Dallas. At the bottom of this post, you can see the intimate setup. The stage was a music stand, a stool, and a lamp. Each audience member, upon arriving, selected a hand-held instrument to use, and they marked the transitions from hour to hour with their instruments. I performed with no makeup, in a sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. I left my ideas about who I was and who I was supposed to be at the door, and I let who I was in honesty lead the way forward. It was very scary, and I still don't know if I did it "right," but I know that in that space of speaking and being listened to, I learned a lot. I have plans in the works to continue this piece. My dream is to tour it to all the places where I have community, and to share it with those communities. When I began this project in January, I had anticipated creating a large online resource. However, after much discussion with friends and evolution of my own ideas, what I realized was that this would not, actually, be in the spirit of the book of hours or of wisdom. A book of hours was a personal object, made with painstaking work, made for someone on a journey of self-discovery. The template I made for my own book of hours was my own version of that, and it was how I performed it. What I know of wisdom, what I have learned over the last year, is that it is created in the space between people, in communication and understanding. I think Wisdom herself, in Proverbs 8, understands this. As I meditated on the figure of wisdom, standing at the gate, or on the hill, I was struck by the comparable women throughout history, who have called out truth to the masses, often without response, or little response. There is nothing impersonal about it, nowhere to hide behind. To be Wisdom, you have to put your body in space, speaking words, to others. It is just that simple. To receive and ask for wisdom is a deeply personal experience, and a radical sharing of oneself with others In that spirit, I have chosen to share only a piece of what I created that night. However, in thinking about how to share with you the process that I went through, I decided the most beneficial offering I could make would be a template, which you can download here. The template is a guide to making your own book of hours. I suggest doing it with others: perhaps six others, so everyone can take on a day. I continue on my quest to make contemplative objects for others: that practice will take longer and be more time-intensive than I had imagined, but I have found each moment spent creating to be an incredible gift. CLICK HERE TO READ THE BOOK OF (h)OURS GUIDE Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Lauren Ferebee is a Texan native and a multidisciplinary artist whose primary mediums are playwriting and installation/video art. Most recently, her play The Reckless Season was selected for Stage West’s Southwest Playwriting Competition Festival of New Works, and her alternative screwball comedy Sexual Geography was a finalist for the Reva Shiner Comedy Award at the Bloomington Playwrights’ Project. In 2014, she was a juried fellow at Saltonstall Arts Colony, a semifinalist for the Shakespeare’s Sister fellowship and the first theatre-artist-in-residence at HUB-BUB in Spartanburg, South Carolina, where in addition to writing, she did community-based theatre work. Her most recent work includes Sexual Geography (developed at HUB-BUB), The Reckless Season (The Spartanburg Little Theatre/HUB-BUB), Somewhere Safer (FringeNYC 2013, Inkwell finalist), and Blood Quantum (At Hand Theatre & WET Productions). Three of her short plays, jericho, jericho , Bob Baker’s End of the World and The Pirate King are published online at indietheaternow.com , where Somewhere Safer is also published as part of the 2013 Fringe Collection. She is a member of playwriting collective Lather, Rinse, Repeat, and studied playwriting, screenwriting and television writing at Primary Stages/ESPA. Lauren also has regional and NYC credits as an actress on stage and in film, and from 2007-2010 was co-artistic director of a site-specific classical theatre company, Rebellious Subjects Theatre. She especially enjoys acting in and teaching Shakespeare and working on new plays. She holds a BFA in drama from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Website Lauren Ferebee About the Artist Artist in Residence 2016: Lauren Ferebee Part 1 Artist in Residence 2016: Lauren Ferebee Part 2 Artist in Residence 2016: Lauren Ferebee Part 3 while in a foreign land Wonders of the Deep Lauren Ferebee Other Works By Follow the previous development of Lauren's 2016 Artist in Residence project by reading her first , second , and third post. Related Information View More Art Make More Art View Full Written Work Close Loading Video . . . Download Full Written Work

Loading Video . . . The voice in this narrative poem by Ren Jackson explores the heartache and journey of praise in response to 1 Samuel 2:1-10. 1 Samuel 2:1-10 Hannah's Song By Ren Jackson Credits: Curated by: Jonathon Roberts 2018 Spoken Word Primary Scripture Loading primary passage... Loading Passage Reference... Share This Art: Facebook X (Twitter) WhatsApp LinkedIn Pinterest Copy Link I will offer this: What struck me from the start was Hannah's voice. On one level, it was fascinating to go through several iterations of the passage, i.e., God's Word, Good News Bible, Amplified and particularly The Message to see how her story was related. Then, on another, to hear how she made her promise to God, in some cases it said, vow, and her subsequent exaltation, to God, for the promise that was fulfilled. It was that exaltation, her song of praise, that resonated with me and is the core of the narrative of the poem. I wanted to explore how might that sound in a contemporary tone, yet rooted in Hannah's voice. As I continued to compose the piece, I felt compelled to include echoes of what transpires in 1 Samuel 1. I thought the reader would appreciate the context of the narrative better with a few more lines providing that referenced where and why the 'song' was lifted up. I know there are diverse examples of this kind of praise throughout the Bible. As much as I was inspired by Hannah's act of worship, it was also the tenacity, and specificity to which she spoke that captivated my imagination. There is clearly an emotional distance that Hannah covers, and what I hoped to convey by the 'end' (because it's a beginning, too) was a sense that along the way she found the space to accept that she was no longer 'broken or barren'—indeed, never was—and that she came to the conclusion to make the choice to dance till her home-going. Spark Notes The Artist's Reflection Ren Jackson : Born and bred in Indianapolis, this Midwest kid was molded in the deserts of Arizona, and forged on the stages of Chicago. Ren emerged amid the thriving theater and teaching artist community in New York, having logged miles regionally as a professional actor, including time as a company member with the Brooklyn-based, site-specific theater company, Brave New World Rep, in addition to building on his stints as a teaching artist in Chicago and New York. Being a former competitive athlete, much of his approach to his work is grounded in his exploration of a story's physicality. Whether it be through stage combat, dance, gesture or stylized movement, his commitment and enthusiasm to creating a physical narrative that supplements and highlights a text are evident. Ren is always up for collaboration on projects with a focus on strong storytelling, spiritual development, ensemble building and mentoring youth in the performing arts, fitness or sports. Website Ren Jackson About the Artist Ren Jackson Other Works By Related Information View More Art Make More Art Broken and barren to the bone I'll haunt this step till You call me home. { SILENCE *kneeling, lips moving*} View Full Written Work HANNAH'S SONG Ren Jackson Broken and barren to the bone I'll haunt this step till You call me home. { SILENCE * kneeling, lips moving * } The pastor was in the church that day. Eyes defiant at what they beheld. Still, I knelt and silently released my lament despite his critical que. "You dare come into His house drunk? He accused. What's wrong with you? This ain't the place to get crunk!" I was delirious in my cry. "I asked Him for a son! I'll bring him to you To have and to hold, to teach and to annoint. He will even eclipse your sons, By His will, I hope you will appoint." With a shiver, I turned to accept his blessing Then went on my way. I knew when I conceived, felt it in my core. In an instant, the insults, and slights - the marital prosecution dissolved. I was full - ripe with the joy that my prayer had been answered. Broken and barren to the bone I'll haunt this step till You call me home {*kneeling*} This time I come before your throne, To praise you for the blessing of my son, Samuel. because I asked You for him. Names she called me, said I was second best She couldn't handle the truth of my love the conviction of my faith I was a rival of hers that put her to the test. Regardless of rank or privilege I did my duty Wife #2 ? No, I'm not no regular Betty. I am Hannah, and I respect the game. She has her brood: four out the door Two on the floor, and another wailing at her chest for more. But I'm not hatin'. Nope not me. Even though in the beginning I was bereft of the bounty that might flow from from my womb, Ready to risk it all, even to lay down in my tomb I still raised my voice like a rushing river, Lifted my eyes like a morning sun blazing Flung my arms like the eagle soars on the wind Despite her crushing ways To praise Him To ask of Him To thank Him for His Love. Broken and barren to the bone I'll haunt this step till You call me home You established my salvation before I was born Reached back in the generations to knit a promise And saved it for the day when I thought I was alone. You are the Creator, no one, no thing, greater. My Rock, my sword, my shield, my wheel in the middle of the wheel The Lily of the valley, a bright and Morning Star It made no difference what she said I still fall on my knees and sing, "I'll wait right here, for ya Jesus, till You come." Cause you firm up my backbone, and make my steps certain While humbling the stiff and loosening their way. You rejuvenate the listless, give hope to the homeless; You revive some from that lasting sleep, while others are laid to rest. You make plenty, where there is lack; Change paupers into princes And even the White House Black. Our world was built by Your word, and through the Word everything came to be; When the Word became Flesh Though many didn't recognize, Your patience surpassed all understanding. Healed and whole in my soul I'll dance this step till you call me home Hannah prayed: I’m bursting with GOD-news! I’m walking on air. I’m laughing at my rivals. I’m dancing my salvation. Nothing and no one is holy like GOD, no rock mountain like our GOD. Don’t dare talk pretentiously— not a word of boasting, ever! For GOD knows what’s going on. He takes the measure of everything that happens. The weapons of the strong are smashed to pieces, while the weak are infused with fresh strength. The well-fed are out begging in the streets for crusts, while the hungry are getting second helpings. The barren woman has a houseful of children, while the mother of many is bereft. GOD brings death and GOD brings life, brings down to the grave and raises up. GOD brings poverty and GOD brings wealth; he lowers, he also lifts up. He puts poor people on their feet again; he rekindles burned-out lives with fresh hope, Restoring dignity and respect to their lives— a place in the sun! For the very structures of earth are GOD; he has laid out his operations on a firm foundation. He protectively cares for his faithful friends, step by step, but leaves the wicked to stumble in the dark. No one makes it in this life by sheer muscle! GOD enemies will be blasted out of the sky, crashed in a heap and burned. GOD will set things right all over the earth, he’ll give strength to his king, he’ll set his anointed on top of the world! (1 Samuel 2:1‭-‬10, MSG) Close Loading Video . . . Broken and barren to the bone I'll haunt this step till You call me home. { SILENCE *kneeling, lips moving*} Download Full Written Work