|
| And now for some completely shameless advertising...I was at Eyekons gallery this past Friday, registering for their workshop, and got a sneak preview of one of Kevin Rolly's pieces. This show is going to be outstanding, and is not to be missed! It will be especially relevant to those of us from Mars Hill who are going through Lenten rituals for the first time and desire a visual way to connect with the ancient mystery of it all. Kevin's Stations of the Cross pieces were described as being about 3'x3', dark, visceral, and deeply moving. He used lived models for his photography, made silver gelatin prints which he then affixed to backing and painted over with heavy dark-colored oils, covering the entire surface. The images you see appeared after he wiped off the oil paint in some spots to reveal the photograph, now tinted from the oils used. The textures and images are amazing.
This gallery houses fabulous artwork, and is worth more than one visit. I strongly encourage you to experience their upcoming Lenten show.
|
The Fifteenth Station : a Lenten Celebration |
|
March 10 thru April 28
Featuring - Kevin Rolly's "The Stations of the Cross"
Including work by Tim Botts, James Fissel, Wayne Forte, Makoto Fujimura, Peter Gordon,
Laura James, Eric Nykamp, Steve Prince, Susan Seavitt, Chris Stoffel Overvoorde & Rachael Van Dyke.
|
| Artist Reception |
|
Friday, March 10 | 5 - 11pm
Come meet the artists and see their work. Free and open to the public.
See Kevin Rolly's Stations of the Cross
see the lent exhibit
Check back soon - More art will be added as the Lent exhibit evolves |
| Workshop |
|
Saturday, March 11 | 8:30am - 5pm
Visual Devotion: Listening with Your Eyes
A workshop on aesthetic prayer
Workshop fee is $15 more info / Registration |
| Open House/Artist Talk |
|
Sunday, March 12 | 11am - 4pm
Kevin Rolly talks about the making of "The Stations of the Cross."
Free and open to the public.
|
|
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
the eyekons gallery | 210 East Fulton | Grand Rapids, MI 49503 | Tues - Fri 11am - 6pm, Sat 10am - 3pm | | | | |
| Currently Reading: Room Full of Mirrors: A Biography of Jimi Hendrix by Charles R. Cross
On Deck: Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild by Ellen Meloy, and Concerning the Spiritual in Art by Wassily Kandinsky
Yes, I deleted my last post. I was sick of it hanging out there. It was a lovely little journal entry, but to be fully understood in all it's depth, you really needed to be me at the moment I wrote it. Since that's impossible, I felt like it could be viewed more as a piece of Pharisean proselytizing sullying my xanga real estate. Thank you much to xanga for the ease at which one can delete a niggling post.
What have I been doing with my personal life? Read the poem in the previous entry for your answer.
Too distracted to write more at the moment....
| | |
| Music currently playing: Disc 2 of the dusty Beatles Blue collection
Currently reading:
1) The Connecting Church: Beyond small groups to authentic community by Randy Frazee (so far...very easy read, very interesting)
2) Captivating by John & Stasi Eldredge
Forgive me, friends, for I have sloughed off—it’s been almost 2 months since my last profession. In that time, Diane started her own blog, Steve reviewed books, Troy posted ten thousand entries, Brad posted ten thousand pages, and John began preparations to come home from his first year of college. And what have I been doing? Wasting time.
So, to celebrate my enlightenment and my re-entry to blogworld, I would like to recite a poem I wrote. It’s called…I Waste My Time.
I Waste My Time
Instead of making my own art
Following the desires of my heart
My creative drive I sit and shirk
While I look at someone else’s work
On ebay
All day
I waste my time
I waste my time
Instead of cleaning my art room
Uncluttering the floor of doom
And organizing that hellacious pit
I put more stuff where I can see it
Because “I’m visual”
My habit is residual
I waste my time
I waste my time
I watch TV
My brain is in decay
I think during the commercials
Because it’s easier that way
I waste my time
I waste my time
Instead of writing my own line
Crafting words to intertwine
I adventurously surf online
And read somebody else’s
I waste my time
I waste my time
I waste my time...
Okay, all of you poetry heads out there--don't bother telling me that I've got a limp in my iambic pentameter. This is just free-form stuff.
Thought for the day, again on the idea of fear:
We fear what we cannot explain. So, to conquer the fear, we hold in contempt that which is a mystery to us, thus putting us back in control. Why is "I don't know" such a scary answer for some people? Is mystery something for you to conquer, or something to revel in??
| | |
| Currently Playing: An awesome homebrew by Brad Nelson. Thank you, Brad, for sharing these beautiful sounds and words with me. I have been playing the cd continually for the last 90 minutes and I feel so very peaceful.
Have you ever been to a swampy park in the early spring and heard tree frogs singing? The spring peepers are starting to emerge around here and offer up their "come hither" music. When you find thousands gathered in one spot, as you do at Aman Park in the spring, their singing weaves itself together into one deafening tapestry--like a thousand jingle bells shaking their way into your skin cells. It's totally amazing when they're in full swing. I'll have to go there with some recording instruments and make a cd that I can play next winter. Incredible, the sounds you forget about during the snowy hibernation: peepers, red-wing blackbirds, crickets, robins, kids' shouts and laughter echoing off bare concrete.
Reading material: Just finishing No Horizon Is So Far: two women and their extraordinary journey across Antarctica by Liv Arnesen and Ann Bancroft.
On deck: The Gospel in Dostoyevsky by Dostoyevsky (edited by the Bruderhof), A Third Testament by Malcolm Muggeridge, and Dangerous Wonder: the adventure of childlike faith by Michael Yaconelli. If my pre-ordered library books do not arrive before I'm done with those three, then I shall fill in the gap with The Vagabond by one of my favorite authors: Colette.
John--I have offered up commentary on your treatise regarding the reason one should not consume aforementioned sprout. Check that comment section. Seasoning overcomes reasoning...
Wishing you a glimpse of beauty that fills you with awe and wonder...
| | |
|
In Praise of the Brussels Sprout
I used to hate Brussels sprouts. In fact, I downright loathed them. How in the world anyone could willingly consume this abhorrent little excuse for a cabbage was beyond me. Its very appearance defies botanical logic, for when you gaze upon the Brussels sprout you are actually looking at the decapitated head of a plant from the mustard family. My mom could have been steaming a stinkweed, for all I knew. Boiling hot water and Brussels sprouts—definitely a combination to avoid or you may find yourself trying to remove your own olfactory nerve with a dull butter knife.
But then, one day, I had an epiphany: a bizarre yet brilliant culinary suggestion popped into my head pertaining to the combination of the Brussels sprout and the seldom-used aromatic fennel seed. I have learned not to question these revelations, but to submit. And so, to the store I went.
I was on a mission. I made my way to the produce aisle and perused the sea of greens. What a curious little compact ball of vegetation is the Brussels sprout, packed by the pound in a little mesh bag. The bag is a lovely shade of purple, a perfect complement to the bright verdure of its contents. With bag in hand, I strode bravely to the checkout line and made my purchase.
Following is the preparation instruction that will lead you to discover that the Brussels sprout is a delicacy disguised as a diminutive cabbage. Throw caution to the wind, roll up your sleeves, and prepare for greatness.
Elements:
Half pound of Brussels sprouts (smaller, compact heads, free of black spots)
1-3 cloves of garlic, chopped (or garlic powder, for more sensitive constitutions)
2-3 T. Extra Virgin Olive Oil (as dark as it gets)
Approx. 1 tsp. Whole Fennel Seeds
Salt
A stellar baguette (don’t give me the “I’m on a diet” crap—it’s worth it)
Prep:
Peel a few outer layers of the leaves off each sprout. Cut off the white base, and slice each sprout in half, top to bottom, like you’d slice an apple in half. Set aside. Peel each garlic clove and cut the bottom end off. Either slice the cloves or smash them with the side of the chopping knife. Coarsely chop and set aside (don’t make the pieces too small or they’ll burn). Crush the fennel seed using a mortar and pestle to prevent biting down on any whole seeds. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, you can put the seeds in a bag and crush them with a hammer, I suppose. Set them aside.
Cook:
Heat the olive oil in a skillet over med-high heat for about 20 seconds. Add the Brussels sprouts, cut side down, to the oil. A few of the leaves may fall off in the pan, which is totally fine. Don’t remove them—they’ll cook up nice and crispy. When the sprouts start to sizzle, reduce heat a little. Sprinkle fennel seed over sprouts. Add the garlic (if using powder, sprinkle to taste), a stir a little, trying to keep the sprouts on their cut side. Cover skillet for about 3 minutes, which will help sprouts cook through faster.
Uncover, stir a bit, and keep cooking until the bottoms of the sprouts start to get brown and crispy. Keep an eye on the garlic—don’t let it burn! When the sprouts look sufficiently caramelized and crispy, they’re done. Pour the whole works into a bowl and salt liberally. Use the baguette to sop up the extra olive oil. You may want to toss back a glass of your favorite wine with it for extra enjoyment.
I made this last night and I actually had to use garlic powder because, to my great horror, I discovered during preparation that I was out of fresh garlic. Oh the humanity! But it was still a delectable dish. I had a religious experience while consuming it.
Even if you’re certain you’ll never like this recipe, try it anyway. You never know…you, too, might fall prey to the siren song of the Brussels sprout.
| | |
|
