Painting at the Artists' Retreat

The artist retreat was a wonderful time to sit down and paint. Though I was sketching what I saw in the outdoors, I find I often use my sketches (in combination with journaling) as a sort of interactive prayer, and this weekend was particularly inspiring, for a number of reasons.

First, I had to go through all my art supplies. I've done some loose sketching outdoors before, but I've (and I'm somewhat surprised to say this) never really painted outdoors. I was inspired by a few blog posts I found, including this outdoor painting tutorial and this entry by James Gurney. (I highly recommend his blog by the way.)

So I distilled my art supplies into a surprisingly small bag, and started my first endeavor into outdoor painting/drawing. (I actually chose to use a mixture of ink pens, ink wash, and watercolor, so I'm not sure if it's better described as painting or drawing. I'll use the two terms interchangeably until further advised.)

[My drawings.]

[Photo's of what I was painting from.]

I'll quote from my journal here to explain what I was thinking about as I drew these:

In the morning I felt the need to climb something. Somehow my drawing required something more, something difficult. I ascended a steep hill. I walked past many things worthy of being drawn. I asked myself "at what point is it time to stop? Which scene will I paint?"

I kept moving. Something drove me on. A destination perhaps? Would fatigue stop me? I am not sure. It's as if I needed to earn or prove something. At last I settled upon a spot, a downward spiraling path. The painting went better than i would have hoped.

On the way back I thought it strange to walk uphill so much to paint a downhill scene. I thought how hard it was to ascend, but how easy it is to descend....I began thinking about how normally we think it hard to ascend up to God, how much work it is to "get to heaven", or "see God", or "be good", etc. I'm reminded of the painting "The Heavenly Ladder of Saint John Climacus" with pious souls climbing the ladder to God and flying demons knocking them off.

[The Heavenly Ladder of Saint John Climacus, 12th Century]

Even Christian from the Pilgrim's Progress is reminiscent of this mountain climbing theme. But ascension is not where I am at. Like Dante, I am descending. And descent is hard. It's hard to see myself as I am, and it's hard to receive love as I am. Perhaps this mirror's Christ's pattern, his "descent" from Gethsemane to the Cross to the Belly of the Earth was hard. Clearly. But his ascent to glory at the Father's side was, in a sense, easy. Descent and death are hard. Ascent and glory are easy. I tried to paint these things, but instead only struggled with ascending. As if work ascending might make descending easier, or more meaningful, or less painful.

What I'm saying is I found this amusing flip: ascending is difficult if it's a physical mountain, but easy if it is spiritual glory. Descending is easy while hiking, but descending into the soul is perhaps the hardest work we could ever do. It amazes me how often I try to ascend on my own under my own power to try and earn acceptance and love. Or how often I sit around and pray and wait for God to raise me up with his power so I can be accepted and loved by others. But the reality is, I need to go down. I need to descend.

The funny thing is, I don't see God at the top of a ladder. I don't see God in the heavens or standing upon a mountain. I see Him in my heart, in the deep waters, and it is to these deep waters that I hear Him inviting me. It is while I descend that I have my closest most meaningful moments with God. It is as I descend that I am most terrified. I've been throwing things into the basement of my soul for a long time, and it's become somewhat of a garbage pit. I really don't know what I'm going to find down there anymore. Except, as I mentioned, a God who is waiting for me.

(A proviso: when I say "deep waters" I am referring to the more hidden portions of our hearts, as described in Proverbs 20:5, not some sort of "deep thinking" or intellectual high-ground. I say this rather sloppily, but the strict rational mind has proven to me to be quite perilous when dealing with the deep waters, which are filled with emotions and feelings and beliefs and desires and a great many things that do not necessarily follow rhyme or reason.)

Artists' Retreat 11/16-18/07

Through a series of somewhat random events I found myself googling around about Catalina Island. Catalina is an island off the coast of Southern California, and through the course of my web surfing came across an InterVarsity Camp that was hosting an Artists' Retreat. We made arrangements to attend, and became very excited about it.

Arriving at the island required no small effort, and the camp itself is only accessible by boat. We drove to the docks, parked, and then boarded a ferry that transported us to the island's main city Avalon. From there we switched from the larger ferry to a smaller motorboat, which took us to the camp. It was night by the time we approached, the boat bouncing rather strongly in the waves as we traveled around the island. The darkness, the cold salty air, the turbulent boat ride, this last leg of the journey served to strip away the city from which we came and reset our senses for the duration of our stay. It was, perhaps, the best part. When we arrived, we had already been transformed.

[On the ferry, waiting to travel to Catalina Island.]


[On the motorboat.]

[Long Beach, where we parked our car.]

[The island, as seen in the sunlight, the next day.]

This "transformation" is perhaps best described by the fact that each morning we got up to watch the sunrise. This really surprised me, and for all you who know me, this should surprise you too. I am not known for being a morning person, but I couldn't keep myself away. Before I knew what had happened I was up watching the waves and the sunrise and these crazy birds dive into the water.

[Despite getting up early both mornings, the sunrises were actually pretty gray and foggy.]

We were placed in a lovely cabin beside the ocean. We had an ocean-view window. We could hear the waves at night. It was marvelous.

[We stayed on the beach.]

The retreat itself was beautifully structured. We arrived Friday evening. We met for a while on Friday so we could all introduce ourselves to each other. There were about 20 or so of us in total. Saturday we met after breakfast for a short while, then had the entire day to paint or draw. In the evening we met to share what we had created. Sunday morning we met after breakfast to conclude the retreat. The free-time-to-meeting-time ratio was not something I've ever experience on any Christian retreat before. It was a wonderful way to have an artists' retreat. I'll post my sketches separately.

[Normally around this time of year I would be deer hunting with my Dad and brothers. They did quite well this year without me, and as I was hiking around I saw this guy a few times.]

Shakespeare and San Clemente

We were pleasantly surprised this last weekend to find that it consisted of not just two but three days. Now when one is given three days as a opposed to just two there seems to be some added pressure to have some experience, some adventure, some story to show for oneself. Admittedly, I am also more than a little excited for any opportunities to get out of the apartment and interact with the outside world as I have been spending a lot of quality time with myself since the end of last semester.

Saturday was largely spent resting. Brandon is still recovering from our big venture back to the Midwest over Christmas break. He doesn't have the luxury of mid-day naps that I have right now nor lots of extra time to process everything that went on. So we slept in and later watched a movie in bed. How I love to cuddle with my husband! I love snuggling up to him and resting my head on his chest in that perfect space between his shoulder and neck. And ladies, contain yourselves, he might actually enjoy it even more than I do.

After getting all rested up we got all dolled up to go to see The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Abridged at the ARK Theatre. I was a little skeptical when we showed up to the place as it was obviously a small, low budget type theatre. The place only seated about 50-60 so it was a very intimate setting which ended up being perfect for the show we were going to see. The cast was a grand total of three people doing 37 plays in 90 minutes. I know it is hard to imagine how that is even possible, but we promise you it is and it is hilarious. This troupe of three was energetic and engaging. It has been said that "all the world is a stage." It certainly felt that way during the performance as they physically interacted with the audience and used the seating space as part of the stage. Included in the dialogue of the play was a particularly amusing banter between the actors. This play is fascinating, we left there wondering how the script worked exactly. Does it require a lot of improv or does it require the crew to insert current cultural references kind of like a mad libs approach to play writing? Either way, we were entertained and recommend it to you.

Sunday was off to a lazy start. I was reading the paper and Brandon was researching for his latest painting project. I was wondering what would become of the day when we got a call from Brandon's great uncle Don and his wife Connie. We had been hoping to get together for another adventure with them and here was our opportunity. They took us to San Clemente a beautiful ocean town. We walked out on the pier as we waited for a table at the Fisherman (the restaurant on the pier). What a treat!!! It was a beautiful day. The waters were serene and the sun warmed our faces as we took our meal on the deck. It was mealsharing of the best kind. The four of us do have lively conversations of love, life, and faith and the time slips by imperceptibly. After dinner we walked about the park adjacent to the beach and from our vantage point we could see dolphins playing around what someone told us was a reef.

By this time the parking meter had gobbled up our quarters. So we hopped in the car to chase down the sunset. Sunset over the ocean is a sight to behold. And you will find as that magical moment approaches, people gather, some with picnics and friends and others going solo to quietly take in the beauty. Everyone wonders, "will this be a good one? Will I get to see the sun dip into the ocean?" And its really something when you can.

dez

ps--pictures to come!

From the Beach to the Mountains to the Getty

Yesturday we got up and decided to have an adventure. We drove through city and traffic and heavier traffic until we got to even worse traffic, but finally we got to the pacific coast highway. We drove down that for a while and were quite amazed by the five or six story extreamly steep hill to our right, and the ocean to our left. On the thin strip of land that contained the highway was a number of beach homes and resturants. The houses were so narrow and shallow, but many of them looked as if they had three or four floors. As interesting as they were, they pretty much just annoyed us because they blocked our view of the ocean from the highway. It was so crowded there with such buildings.


Later we took a canyon road into the mountains. On our way up we were able to see the ocean from a much better viewpoint. We stopped to look at it for a while. I'm not sure either of us knows quite what to do with the ocean yet. We stare at it as awed visitors, not as close friends. We continued into the mountains.





The mountains are a different story. We know them. They offer life to us, and we know how to accept their gift. The freshness of the air was amazing, and it awakened something in our souls.

We stopped and looked around. We took some pictures. We took a picture of ourselves. It was fun. We pressed on and began driving through some beautiful mountain country. The city was gone. The crowded, compressed, sardine-packaged beach culture gave way to a wide open vastness of foliage and stone. This visit was just a teaser though, an exploration to see just what exists out here in California. Our next visit will be longer, and more personal.

The mountains did not last forever. They soon gave way to ranches, farms, small communities, and then, before we knew it, we had descended back into city. We ate at Chipotle, Dez's favorite, and then proceeded towards our next destination: The Getty Center.

The Getty Center is a beautiful complex placed on the top of a mountain. You park at the bottom and take a tram to the top. At the top we were amazed with it's stone archetecture, it's artistic beauty not only as a container for art but as a peice of art in and of itself. The first hour we were there we spent admiring the building and it's gardens. We decided we could easily spend the day just resting in it's echoing comfort.

From it's mountain perch the Getty overlooks Los Angeles as heaven does the world. It felt like Mt. Olympus or an ancient monestary. We felt as pilgrims. I'm coming to realize that the expansion of the mind is fruitless and meaningless without the restoration of the soul. The Getty aims at both.



Soaking in the beauty of our surroundings we proceeded to look at many of their exihibits. The one that stood out to me the strongest was a collection of drawings by Guercino (Giovanni Francesco Barbieri, Italian, 1591-1666). Mostly pen ink drawings with ink washes, I was moved by the energetic fast-moving lines that were still able to capture such accuracy and detail. Like an explosion that created instead of destroyed. From choatic fury emerged intentionality and purpose. I love it.

Many of his drawings can be seen here, and for more information on Guercino look here.

Overall, an amazing day at the Getty, an amazing day overall. We left happy. Here's one last picture we took of ourselves in the Garden of the Getty at Night.