Every August the city I have come to call home witnesses a transformation.  The Festival brings throngs of tourists who congest the pavements and slow the locals down as they try to get from A to B whilst muttering sounds of discontent at the inconvenience.  What do Edinburgh’s residents make of those who pack out the various events on offer?  What do they make of us, our great city and our culture?  What are they looking for as they roam our streets?  Do they find it?

The Festival brings a great buzz with it.  Back in 2003 we took a week off work to simply be tourists on our own streets.  It was great – to slow down, to savour the sights, sounds, smells and tastes…

The Festival is floods our city with streams of creativity because it brings so many people who are seeking to express something or make a connection whether through stand up comedy, theatre, music, performance or literature.  To create something and to share that with an audience is to embark upon an inherently risky venture.  It reveals vulnerability, but, just maybe it will resonate and create a moment of definition.

Today I strolled along to The National Portrait Gallery on Queen Street to see a free exhibition of Scottish artists called Rough Cut Nation.  Amidst the street art, graffiti, scribbles and paintings, a face looked out at me from a wall – huge, unassuming in it’s hooded top and, yet, strangely familiar.  A bunch of adjectives framed the upper border and a selection of ordinary and extraordinary faces and images peered through the streaks of running paint that bled down the walls. 

The figure had huge hands stretched out which were punctured, enabling me to peer right through to the life and movement and bustle and flow of people in the adjoining installations. 

The photo’s snapped on my Blackberry don’t do it justice, so I’d recommend that if you’re in Edinburgh that you take the chance to get along between now and the 30th of August. 

The image reminded me of lyrics penned by one of my favourite singer songwriters.  The last time I saw the original line up of American Music Club play in a sweaty King Tuts in Glasgow, they finished the set with this song.  Mark Eitzel was lost in the music and delivery, rolling his head around, eyes shut, letting the distance he was creating between his vocal chords and the mic add to the intensity and earnestness of this hopeless song…

“Looking for love in all the wrong places -
The sidewalks and the sky.
Looking for something that no one can give me
And no one can help me buy.

Oh brother, oh sister.
Don’t you see a crack form in the dam?
For a loser, no one can touch him,
He’s out slipping through Jesus’ hands”.

From “Jesus’ Hands” by American Music Club.
 

I often wonder if our over-familiarity with stories or concepts keeps us from grasping the fullness that they have to offer?  I love when a book, film, song or piece of art makes me see a whole new perspective.

The concept that Jesus was fully human, yet, fully God is a cornerstone of the Christian faith.  I guess I have always understood that to mean that He could identify with the position I find myself in the midst of temptation.  What about feelings of: frustration; weariness; elation; doubt; or a whole host of others? 

We sing lines in church like, “Thank you for the cross, thank you for the price you paid”.  We think of the ultimate cost of sacrifice – of death on a cross, but it’s often hard for me to grasp. 

In 2004 the film world reacted strongly as Mel Gibson tried to convey the reality of the cost Jesus paid in his film “The Passion”.  In a day and age of tolerance, many took offence at the film and both he and the film were labelled in an array of manners.  Often a prejudice ensues in the reviews of art that tries to tackle the topic of Christ.

Also in 2004, controversial artist Damien Hirst teamed up with David Bailey to produce a series of very graphic and disturbing works called “The Stations Of The Cross”.  The image depicting the crucifixion hangs in Aberdeen Art Gallery.  I found myself staring at it for ages last year.  Whilst the initial impact was horrible, sinister and somewhat evil, I actually found my mind processing what it tried to convey.  I now consider it a great piece of art because it confronts my thinking and challenges me with something of the scandal of the cross anew.  I have often prayed that I could stand at the foot of the cross and let it really impact me afresh.  I’ve sensed something of it when seeing huge statues in pristine cathedrals, but this piece of art disturbed me more than any other and that was actually something positive.  The horror, the brutality, the spiritual forces at play…I would recommend anyone to go with some spare time, an open mind and an open heart and to experience the power of art and something of the power of the gospel.

What about the other costs of the lifestyle decisions Jesus must have made simply to achieve His purpose?  I can be quick to think of the cost of my faith in those terms – the things I go without from time to time…  Then I try to place that in the context of a command to “pick up my cross and follow” and things take a new perspective when I realise how little it sometimes really seems to cost me.  Our Pastor often says, “salvation is fee, but it will cost you everything.”  Actually, that is a kernel of tuth.  But surely, there were a myriad of daily choices that faced a fully human Jesus and commanded obedience and submission? 

I actually get quite excited when I see credible artists using a variety of art forms to explore their thinking and to express something of their own discovery.  I love when that actually connects with people who wouldn’t darken a church door.  The review linked here which appeared in the highly rated indie domain that is “Pitchfork” still gives me goosebumps to read.  Good art can realign our thoughts.  Great art can change our understanding.  

“The more that you read,

the more things you will know.

The more that you learn,

the more places you’ll go.”

From “I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!” by Dr. Seuss.

I was a late developer when it came to reading.  Now we have a wall of our living room dedicated to a bespoke bookcase which takes up the whole surface.

Friends of ours recently returned from the Q Conference in Austin.  They’ve been there as delegates for the last three years and every time they have come back with ideas, books, essays and DVDs that have really stimulated my thinking.  Whilst they probably don’t have a clue about it, I think they have  brought resources and discussions into my life which have directed, stretched and shaped my thinking and growth these past few years, more than any other friends I know.

This year they both received a bag full of free stuff and they gave one of them to us.  It may sound like a small gesture, but we are so grateful for it.  More brainfood and I’m excited about getting stuck into it and seeing what I learn.

One of the things they have introduced me to in recent years is the ever excellent Paste magazine.  With the downturn in advertising revenue resulting from the present economic downturn, the magazine is sadly struggling financially.  A campaign to save Paste has been launched out of necessity and it includes 75 free downloads which some really cool artists have donated specifically to the cause.  You can get the low down and add your support here.

“Open up your heart – just one more time for me
before we turn to face reality.
Don’t stop to think this perfect chance may never come again.
This is not the end.

Let me use your ears – just for a little while 
I’ve got to find a way to make you smile”.

From “This Is Not The End” by Agent Orange.

So we took down our “Art of Joy” art exhibition on Sunday.  It was a happy/sad thing to do. 

We have a tendency to critique things and, yet, I reckon that people’s interaction with art can achieve a million invisible things that we’ll never see or know.  So what did we set out to achieve and did we do it?

1)  We recognised that there is a lot of bad news out there.  We wanted to inhabit a physical space and create a sanctuary.  A place where people might encounter some joy through art, through space, through workshops, through music, through conversation, through random acts of kindness. 

2)  We wanted to encourage and affirm people who are trying to explore and convey what they are learning in life through creative arts.  We just wanted to recognise the good in those things and spur people on in continuing in their various forms of creativity.  If Christians are involved in those arenas then surely something of the joy and wrestling of life should emerge and, maybe, that demonstrates authenticity and relevance to those who would never darken the doors of a church?  If non-Christians are also involved, then hopefully it shows our belief in them as people and in what they create and what they have to say too.

3)  We wanted to raise some money that we could just give away to the Grassmarket Mission who support the marginalised and vulnerable of this great city we call home and love so much.

I am hugely encouraged that a small group of people caught a little vision of what this could look like and ran with it.  We all have different backgrounds and skills and certainly aren’t all involved in “the arts”.  Yet, everyone got stuck in and we worked as a team.  I’m really proud of what we achieved and, yet, I don’t want to inflate our role or become full of pride.  I’m just grateful for what I have experienced through it all.  Some of the conversations I have had and the joy I have felt will stick with me for a long time.  The ability to encorage, bless and affirm a whole bunch of people has been an honour.

Where do we go with this next?  I don’t know, but as a group we are looking closely at the whole idea of what we are terming missional expressions – actively living out loud what we believe in the ways we are wired.  In some shape or form trying to be a faith community without walls and barriers – bringing joy and good news in the places where people are at.  I have a strong feeling that, whilst it may not necessarily look the same, this is not the end…

“You are there and you are not silent.

So, say something useful.

Don’t say that sequence is not important

and that you live and move in slow motion.”

From “Son Of Everyone” by calamateur.

As our little experiment in facilitating a creative arts project nears an end we were treated to a truly special evening of music and comedy on Monday night.  Personally, it is one of those nights I will cherish and hold onto and remember with a huge sense of delight for years to come.

As well as the music, there was just joy in the little, seemingly invisible, things.  The happiness of just being able to buy some drinks for people I have held dearer than they know for most of my days in Edinburgh, the conversations and funny little connections of realising that somebody knows somebody who knows someone and the recognition of what a small world it is.  The sense of bringing together people from different ages and stages in life and different backgrounds and being captivated as the songs and stories unfolded. To witness authenticity rather than religion.  I’ve been chuckling to myself in recent days observing in real life some of the observations noted in Fiona Stewart’s stand up comedy slot.

A huge indebtedness is owed to everyone who gave up time and energy so willingly.  It was a joy to see DLDown for my first time.  The variation of arrangements and the noteworthy delivery of a Lies Damned Lies number accapella and the looped arrangements of “Icarus” were highlights for me.

As for Calamateur, I’d gladly pay money to see them play live every night of the week – so it was a huge pleasure to witness their set in a space where everyone was attentive.

If you were there and enjoyed the music (or if you weren’t but are intrigued), then you can download music at DLDown’s website or at calamateur’s site.  You can also download the exceptional “Jesus Is For Losers” album for free here.  There is an option to donate and I would strongly encourage you to do so given that this is essentially a livelihood – in exchange you’ll get some additional tracks and remixes that are worth having.

Thanks to everyone who has shown me something of the joy of art and the art of joy this past little while.

If you’ve not managed to see the art exhibition yet, then you can still do so by visiting the Bistro at The Lot, 2-4 Grassmarket, Edinburgh between now and Sunday afternoon.  30% of any sales proceeds from artwork will go directly to the Grassmarket Mission.

“I dedicate a colour to
my dearest friends and family who
so solemnly and nicely dressed
come visit me, I must confess
I feel like Gena might
upon her opening night.”

From “Opening Night” by dEUS.

So, tonight was the official opening night of our “Art Of Joy” art exhibition at The Lot in Edinburgh’s Grassmarket.  We had no idea whether anyone would turn up. A great night unfolded with about a hundred or so folks filling up the space.  It just felt like one of those parties we used to host back in the day during our pre-parent stage in one of our old flats.  Some friends brought acoustic guitars and played and sang along.  There was the general din of chit chat as conversation flowed between old friends and new.  It was a great atmosphere and we hope it spread some joy to all present.  At various points throughout the evening I clocked members of our little small group collective just smiling as they took it all in.  

I got chatting with a couple of folks I’ve meant to introduce myself to for ages about the possibility of a beach focussed missional expression of fellow surfers.  Big smiles were shared as we looked out the window as dusk fell in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, fresh in the realisation that the clocks changing soon will herald in the season of evening surf sessions after work…  

The exhibition is open till the 17th April and you can pop into The Lot to view the work at any time.  We will be posting up more details of the work on display and how it can be purchased at The Art of Joy website shortly.  30% of all sales go to support the work of The Grassmarket Mission with the vulnerable and marginalised of this great city.

“It’s the final countdown…”

From “The Final Countdown” by Europe.

So, I’ve previously posted about the art exhibition and live music project, “The Art Of Joy”, that our little small group collective are embarking upon here. 

We’ve never facilitated something like this before, yet, last Sunday 12 artists’ work was submitted.  We  turned up to hang it all and it’s amazing the extent of transformation that can be achieved in the space of two hours.  There was something of beauty in a group of folks, many unknown to one another, working to create a sense of space – sharing advice, tools, picture hooks and smiles.  People from different places and backgrounds and of different generations working together for a common purpose.

Our opening night is at The Lot, The Grassmarket, Edinburgh from 7pm till 9pm this Wednesday evening – the 25th March 2009.  Entry is free and there will be refreshments available.  Please come and see the work.

More information is available at our website and 30% of any sales proceeds from artwork will go directly to The Grassmarket Mission to assist their work with the vulnerable and marginalised of Edinburgh.

“Here it comes,

a beautiful collision

is happening now”

From “A Beautiful Collision” by David Crowder* Band.

Our little small group collective talk a lot about “relevance”.  We talk a lot about “embracing and shaping culture”.  We talk a lot about what’s going on in our lives – the good things, the trying things and the things that wear us down.  We talk for hours and it rarely feels like it.  We laugh so hard at times.  So, I think we concluded that in the midst of whatever life throws at us we find faith, we find hope and we find love, albeit sometimes at varying degrees.  In a world of bad news, we have good news.  In the storms of life, if we look hard enough, we can find peace.  Despite our mood we can find joy.

How do we express or share that?  How do help others do that?

From 25th March until 17th April we are commandeering the bistro area of The Lot at Edinburgh’s Grassmarket.  We are facilitating an art exhibition – celebrating the work of artists and, hopefully, creating a form of sanctuary for those who enjoy the pieces whilst on display.  Instead of charging the artists any commission, we will take 30% of any sales proceeds and give it away to the Grassmarket Mission who work with the marginalised in our city. Some of our group are running some art workshops.  Some of our group are starting a group where they can knit and natter over a drink and socialise.  We’re putting on a live music night with DLDown, calamateur and some stand up comedy.  We’ve entitled our little venture “The Art Of Joy” and you can find out more here.

It’s been daunting and now we’re almost there it’s really quite exciting.  Hopefully, this will not just be our human efforts, but will serve to bring hope and joy to the city we love so much.  So here we will be, in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, next to all the pubs and curios shops of the Grassmarket hoping for a beautiful collision of real life and faith.

“White chalk hills are all I’ve known
White chalk hills will rot my bones
White chalk sticking to my shoes
White chalk playing as a child with you

White chalk sat against time
White chalk cutting down the sea line
I know Mary’s by the surf
On a path cut 1500 years ago

And I know these chalk hills will rot my bones

Dorset’s cliffs meet at the sea
Where I walked
(Our unborn child in me)
White chalk
(Poor scattered land)

Scratch my palms
There’s blood on my hands”

From “White Chalk” by PJ Harvey

Someone whom I respect and admire enormously sent me an email link this week.  I think it speaks a lot of truth of how we engage with culture and art (in whatever medium).  I think it maybe captures a little bit of what we are trying to facilitate and achieve as a small group (albeit our attempt will be to a much more meagre extent) with our idea for creating a gallery space next month for which you can find more details here.

Connecting with culture – It’s Just a Big White Horse?

Mark Wallinger’s proposal to erect a 50 metre-tall horse on the Kent
marshland has understandably attracted widespread media attention.

The work draws on a very English pastoral tradition in art – from the
white figures in the Chalk Downs to the lithe racehorses of Stubbs.
The sponsors hope that it will repeat the popular success of Antony
Gormley’s ‘Angel of the North’. Both share a character far from hushed
reverence in tidy drawing rooms. They are industrial-scale objects,
forged and fettled from steel plate, that the common man is allowed to
like, free of intellectual pretensions.

Yet for all its scale and technical ambition, Wallinger’s new
sculpture is disappointingly conservative. If the ‘Angel’ is about the
machine age, the ‘Horse’ is about our agricultural heritage. Its
origins lie in a romantic idea of England – a country of ‘long shadows
on cricket grounds and warm beer’, as John Major once had it. Despite
being a winner of the Turner Prize – the cutting edge of bad-boy art -
we seem to be lacking the artist’s unblinking critical eye on his
culture.

For the Christian, artistic expression offers at least two
possibilities for cultural engagement. Firstly, authentic art stems
from having a committed worldview. God makes it clear to us in the
Bible that the church is a nation set apart, with a higher king, and a
different mission. This should lead Christians to hold a distinctive
critique on their cultural surroundings.

Secondly, we have a particular insight into the nature of beauty
because of our restored relationship to God. Art and beauty could be
said to exist in order to provide a foretaste of our eternal home with
the Father. When we look out at creation, or consider the place of
craft in the biblical accounts of the tabernacle and temple, there is
little doubt that our God has an aesthetic sensibility, and a regard
for beauty, that we inherit.

‘Art’, wrote HR Rookmaaker, ‘has meaning as art because God thought it
good to give art and beauty to humanity.’ As humans, we can appreciate
beauty in art, but we need to apply our minds in unpacking the
worldview that underpins it.

And perhaps the ‘White Horse’ – whilst striking and beautiful – merely
laments a lost identity without offering a commentary on why this
might be important now. Art’s role is to speak in intangibles,
ambiguities and essences, and allow the viewer to join the dots.
Whether it will be a vision of England that resonates with the public
remains to be seen, but, as with all art, we would do well to think
through its origins.

John Lee