An Artist's Vocation is to be Respected

Yesterday, Robert Genn sent his second letter of the week. Twice each week I am a recipient of this artist's newsletters. They are informative and stimulating. Further, his online site permits free listing of my website and for a small price an even better exposure online. Thousands of artists subscribe to his service.

His sent letters provide opportunity for comments and these are always worth a read. I occasionally respond as I did today. Genn cited a letter written by an American teacher of art named Charles Brooks. It can be read in its entirety at this web location.

Today I wrote, "The letter is a classic and it was worthwhile for me to read it but perhaps not with the results you expected for me. Brook’s advice to the artist was to disregard what critics might comment about the artist’s idleness of life when the world outside the artist’s own creative world is troubled, and to dismiss from one’s mind all of those temporal cares in order to focus upon the authentic and legitimate task of controlling that material world briefly in order to see well and then to nobly seize the opportunity to create something that becomes a portion of one’s legacy to others.

As I read this letter, I projected the many unbearable life situations in which many artistic spirits find themselves today. This letter is written to someone in the almost idyllic North American culture where all one has to shut out is extraneous traffic noise or the rumours of wars on CNN. Yet internationally and even personally there are worlds of pain and hurt and destruction that are not easily dismissed in order to gain solitude for a creative moment. The letter caused me to reflect upon artists who have respected their craft so well that they did not have to justify it or even to find solace from a wild world in order to create. I think of the painters of the war experiences of our world, who like photo journalists today, recorded for us a material world coming undone, and faces of beautiful men and women dying, dead or fighting for freedom. I think of Vincent Van Gogh who early in his career tried to pastor the poverty stricken potato farmers and recorded their faces and gnarled hands because he could not ignore his world but found something to be treasured there. An artist is far more than a recluse needing affirmation for a vocation that doesn’t hammer nails or build empires. An artist’s vocation is not merely for the good times, or for the times when you can escape a bad world. It is for every world condition and that is why it is to be respected."

George Frederick Handel’s famed oratorio called 'Messiah'

MESSIAH

Early each December in our home, our cherished CD’s of George Frederick Handel’s famed oratorio called Messiah are dropped into the CD player and we begin to listen to the words of scripture set to some of the finest music ever composed.

I credit two friends of ours with beginning that tradition for us thirty years ago. For a stretch of nine years, a couple of elderly women in my Toronto church spoiled Christine and me each December. Their Christmas gift to us was to take us to Ed’s downtown restaurant just across from the Roy Thompson Hall where following dinner we would enjoy the magnificent sounds of the Toronto Symphony and the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir as they performed Handel’s Messiah.

Handel’s Messiah is a choral oratorio, not an opera, determined by the fact that the choir plays the major role. Handel’s Messiah is by far the most popular of all choral literature and while I know oratorio is not everyone’s choice of music you have all been exposed to some music from the Messiah, even if only a perverted Hallelujah chorus used offensively in Bugs Bunny cartoons or toilet tissue advertisements. The music is exquisite but the best part is the text. It’s Biblical. For the child of God the text is enough to make one shake and tremble in admiration of God.

Handel’s Messiah is a reflective commentary on God’s Promise, His Incarnation, His Passion and His Resurrection. With most sacred oratorios, while the themes may be biblical, they do not use Biblical texts. The Messiah does, skillfully, brilliantly, movingly. Today I will read you the text of the first part and preach on a small section of the scripture I quote. There are three parts. I was guest preacher this past Sunday morning at Aldergrove Baptist Church and I chose to preach from Isaiah 40:1-5 which contains the opening words of Part One. The text of Messiah is taken from the King James version of the Bible.


"Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD'S hand double for all her sins. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it."

I told the folk there that if they like what they hear they can invite me back around Easter and I can read to them the second part from Handel’s Messiah and preach a message from the text it uses. “Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” Then if they are up to it, they can invite me as summer begins and I will read to them the text from the third part which is such an encouraging and triumphant reminder of our hope. “I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.” For now is Christ is risen from the dead, the first-fruits of them that sleep.” How’s that for inviting oneself.

Listen to conductor Trevor Pinnock introduce "Comfort, Comfort ye My People," and then tenor Kurt Streit singing this 3:37 min section.

Photo credit for Roy Thompson Hall: Cliff Spice

What a Great Day! I Held an Art Show

I held my first real art show Sunday afternoon from 2-5 PM and perhaps 30-40 people came and stayed, looked around and by the conclusion I had moved 10 paintings out of 27 shown. What a wonderful surprise to Christine and me. I sold Greek scenes, French scenes and local agricultural scenes and even three archived watercolours, one of the White Mountains painted in 1988 and two of Muskoka painted in 1991. We had refreshments available. I wore my beret all afternoon. As I greeted people at the door and they saw me in the hat they laughed. Classical music played in the background. Christine set it up very attractively.

I had a handout page with the titles and an indication that if a visitor asked to reserve a painting of interest, a red dot would be placed on the piece. Yesterday we delivered sold items to their new owners, with a card on the back that tells the story behind the painting and has my signature. Now, Christine who was a bit reluctant thinks I should do this every month. Ha,Ha, Ha! I would turn into a painting factory. I returned four large paintings to their show place in Stephanie Cadiex's MLA office where they will hang until the end of November. On November 8th I install many of my remaining paintings in the Watershed Arts Café until the end of November. Perhaps I may hold another show in April or May, that is, if we still have the house which we are still pondering about, selling and downsizing. This coming Sunday I travel with Bob Dobson to Phoenix where he will have his 34th (or some number like that) surgery on his leg and I can keep him company and act as his chauffeur for ten days. We may even slip up to the Grand Canyon. I have never scene that.

And that afternoon event followed my morning of preaching two times at our church, and for the first time in years, Christine and Cari sang a duet as they once did, and it was during Communion which I had the opportunity to lead twice yesterday, that they sang “How Beautiful” – glorious words at the Lord’s Table.

How Beautiful the hands that served
The Wine and the Bread and the sons of the earth
How beautiful the feet that walked
The long dusty road and the hill to the cross
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

How Beautiful the heart that bled
That took all my sins and bore it instead
How beautiful the tender eyes
That choose to forgive and never despise
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

And as He lay down His life
We offer this sacrifice
That we will live just as He died
Willing to pay the price
Willing to pay the price

How Beautiful the radiant bride
Who waits for her Groom with His light in her eyes
How Beautiful when humble hearts give
The fruit of pure love so that others may live
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

How beautiful the feet that bring
The sound of good news and the love of the King
How Beautiful the hands that serve
The wine and the bread and the sons of the Earth
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ

DEATH SEEMS NEAR AT TIMES

Arriving home last night we listened to a voice message from a friend Wilma telling us that her husband Al had passed away and his memorial service is scheduled for this afternoon. Al was 77 years of age, ten years older than I am.

If my first retirement year has not underscored for me already the transitory nature of life, these moments definitely do. There are more and more of these. So many of our friends, ageing as we are, become ill and some die. I have never been so conscious of the nearness of death. That’s noteworthy because the pastoral work in which I spent forty years of my life required me to visit seniors in nursing homes and hospital rooms and even be near for their dying moments. Yet I remained objective and detached. Now it’s personal.

Al had some health issues in recent years. Nevertheless, since I am 67 years old, age 77 does not seem so far off. I know how quickly time moves. It almost evaporates.

Christine and I, me with my sprained ankle, attended an afternoon 50th anniversary celebration of Arvid and Ruth Olson yesterday. It was very well attended by friends. Given the event, we saw a sea of white hair. As I hobbled along, I fit right in.

Al was a gentle and kind man. I liked him very much. Friends, children, spouse will speak well of him of him today because it will be true.

What will be said of me when I go? That is likely the most profitable aspect of reflections of this sort. I have time and I can make course corrections in some relationships where I need to do that. I can allow some of the graces of God to infect me more profoundly than they have so that I am more like my Master than myself. That would be an improvement. And I can use the time I have profitably. What I am glad about is that friendships have come to mean more to me in this phase of my life than they ever have. That makes life rich and enjoyable.

2 Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not despair, but even if our physical body is wearing away, our inner person is being renewed day by day. 17 For our momentary, light suffering is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison 18 because we are not looking at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 5:6 Therefore we are always full of courage, and we know that as long as we are alive here on earth we are absent from the Lord – 7 for we live by faith, not by sight. 8 Thus we are full of courage and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9 So then whether we are alive or away, we make it our ambition to please him

.

Today is My Birthday

Today is My Birthday

Once I was a little boy
Now I am a man
Enjoyed those boyhood years,
Cannot return again.
With passage of years I married well
Fathered a daughter and son
Nurtured them and watched them grow
Each stage was so much fun.
Now I have come this far in life
I am the white haired one
My eyes can see and my hands touch
One, Two, Three grandsons.
Granddaughters? I have two
A young lady and a tot
Each of them loves me
And I love them a lot.
Through the years of my life,
I didn’t think much about heaven
I am considering it now
That I have turned sixty-seven.

Happy 9th Birthday Kailyn

Kailyn is my numero uno grandchild. When our daughter Cari was born my father and mother came to Mississauga Hospital to see their first grandchild. With great pleasure my dad, father of three boys, peered through the window into the nursery at my pinkly bundled girl with the frizzy whitish blonde hair and blue eyes. Years later my daughter gave birth to a girl of her own, a similarly striking little blue eyed blonde that claimed all of our hearts immediately. We have watched with delight as she has grown up in the company of two younger brothers.

Today is her birthday, and she is celebrating nine years.

We are amazed by the passing of time. Every generation is I suppose. I speculate what she may be like in ten or twelve more years, and I wonder whether Christine and I will still be here to watch her marry.



Right now, I love it when Kailyn leans against my shoulder and allows me to casually play my fingers in her hair when we are both relaxed. She and I tease one another and I know she enjoys that familiarity. I wonder what these next few years will bring to her.

I thank you Lord for my granddaughter Kailyn.

Photos:
* 2008 Kailyn looking her best - WOW!
* 2008 Kailyn and her youngest cousin Kadence, another girl in the family
* 2005 Kailyn, Jayden, Ryan lying on the floor
* 2005 Kailyn, Flower Girl

We Enjoyed French Food

A NEW LEARNING
Christine and I enjoyed the foods of France. We ate out only occasionally of course, opting to make most of our meals in the facilities of the gites (cottages, apartments, suites that we rented for a week or days at a time). Even our home cooked meals used the foods and beverages shopped daily at the epicerie, boucherie, boulangerie and cave.

During one lunch hour in Le Buisson, a town in the Dordogne region, we had a memorable dining experience in a garden setting of 'Auberge l'Espérance,'a small family operated restaurant. The husband was the chef and his wife the amiable waitress. I snapped photographs of each course of the simple lunch because it was presented so attractively.

E & E recently spent five weeks in Australia and New Zealand and spent $bazillion dollars and came home to share some of the foods they had enjoyed. Christine and I went to France to prove that we could spend $bazillion too and we did. (One moment please. I will be back. I have to go outside to water my money tree.)



Last night Christine replicated our Buisson meal for our good friends E & E. It was E’s birthday. He’s old. Let me describe the meal. First we sat outside for a special Muscat drink and some Duck preserve we brought back from France, Bree cheese, an olive oil with truffle and baguette slices. Then, we came in and sat at the dining room table with candle light and Christine served us salads consisting of finely sliced avocado and grapefruit on a bed of lettuce with drizzled olive oil and vinaigrette. Leisurely, we enjoyed conversation and food and after some time, the main course, Confit du Canard. We were amazed this week to find a butcher who actually had these frozen duck legs packaged with a liberal clop of duck fat. The roast duck with its crispy skin was served with slender carrots and diced potatoes baked with the duck. And then dessert, an apple tart, finally sliced apple laid open upon a pan of pastry, baked and then with a heated apricot jam and apricot brandy mixture drizzled over it. (The dessert shown here was not the apple tart but the plate Christine and I had in France).

I toasted Christine because she did an amazing job.