Art That Challenges: An Introduction

We want many things from art. We want to be moved, thrilled, entertained; we seek beauty, humor, redemption, adventure, and so much more. But there are many ways in which art can affect us that we perhaps do not seek. These are the times it can provoke, confront or offend. I'm not referring to things that merely make us angry or that don't turn out the way we'd like. I’m referring to art that challenges our tastes, threatens our sense of comfort or questions our convictions.

It seems to be this category of art with which Christians have the most difficulty. I've often wondered if most of today's Christian culture isn't addicted to art that feels safe, as though such a feeling is seen as intrinsically indicative of the presence of God, reassuring our faith—not just in Christ, but in the comforting accoutrements of our subculture, be they political views, aesthetic values or moral absolutes. This article is the first in a new Art House Dallas series for 2012 in which I'll be discussing our interaction with these challenging artistic expressions. 

These kinds of challenges in art can come at us in at least three categories:

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1. Aesthetic – Our tastes, our ideas about what is beautiful or what makes good art, can be surprisingly strong-held convictions. We may be so put off by stylistic and aesthetic aspects of a work of art that we judge what it has to say based on our aesthetic biases more than on the merit of the work. In fact, we often see aesthetic values themselves as a means of judging merit, even to the point of attaching theological significance to those values. Art that challenges us in the aesthetic realm asks if our ideas of beauty and of the purpose of art are as universal as we'd like to think.

Example: The classic example here is probably Rock & Roll. The style of the music itself was an intentional cultural challenge and was seen by its critics as threatening to decent society. An aesthetic challenge may be that audacious and culturally focused, or it may consist of engaging with an avant garde artistic style that may initially seem offensive. This could include a dark, garish painting or a sunny Broadway musical – anything that may be at odds with someone's taste, but may be found valuable beyond a surface analysis.

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2. Moral/Ethical – These types of challenges have to do with our exposure to stories and images that depict actions and attitudes at odds with our moral convictions. This category can dovetail a bit with the other two, as our aesthetic and philosophical ideas are often viewed moralistically. Largely, however, I'm particularly concerned here with the notion of what is generally referred to as “mature” content and depictions of evil or violence that we might very rightly find unsettling. Art that challenges us in the moral/ethical realm causes us to examine our exposure or lack thereof to depictions both of socially unacceptable behavior and of human evil. It causes us to ask what implications such exposure has for the development of our personal moral constructs.

Example: For some, this might be nude sculptures, for others, the films of Kevin Smith or Martin Scorsese. This category includes any depictions of something that may be outside a person's ethical boundaries, from Brokeback Mountain to Ke$ha.

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3. Philosophical – These challenges confront our deeply held beliefs, be they political, religious, metaphysical or social. Often, our philosophical life remains largely unexamined, yet our philosophical viewpoints develop all the same. Many of these are moral and ethical convictions. However, while the above category is concerned primarily with our exposure to depictions of things that disturb us morally, this category consists of works of art that ask us to question what we believe and why. These works of art may make compelling cases for alternate worldviews to our own or may ask hard questions about the underpinnings of our beliefs. Art that challenges us in the philosophical realm dares us to rethink our convictions on any number of issues and confronts the questions of how and why we develop such views.

Example: This category could include a play like Waiting For Lefty that explores a political idea, or a book like God Is Not Great that promotes a religious agenda. Or it may be a work that is not so strongly agenda-driven as these, but which nonetheless causes us to question our beliefs, like The Matrix or Jesus Camp.

There are surely other ways in which artistic challenges may be defined, but these are the categories I'll be covering in this series. All of these categories deal with ideas and values we often develop somewhat unconsciously. Sometimes, we may not even know why we hold them and find ourselves rather unable to explain them in depth. They may simply be rooted in our particular social code or in the language of our culture. Other times, we may strongly hold to certain ideas that we have spent a long time crafting and understanding. One way or another, confrontational and challenging art can be uncomfortable and is often avoided—particularly by Christians—either as a matter of course or as a matter of personal conviction.

But perhaps there is value to be found here. Perhaps such confrontations may hold benefit for the development of our worldviews. At the very least, it may be valuable to ask questions about how and why we respond to art that challenges. Do we ever really want to be challenged? Do we seek out artistic experiences that push our limits and challenge our assumptions? Or do we avoid them at all costs? One way or another, when they find us, how do we respond? 

What art has challenged you? What was your response? Did you shut it down and walk away? Or did you look deeper and try to understand it? Not every work of art that challenges us will be life-changing, but there are often unexpected rewards when we engage something rather than abandoning it, rewards that may either change or reaffirm our convictions.

In this series, I'll be talking about a number of different ways in which art can challenge us. I'll be sharing my own stories, as well as stories from others, about encounters with challenging art. I'd also like to hear from you. Share your thoughts in the comments section below or send me your stories of art that challenged you at kevincneece@ymail.com. You just might find yourself incorporated into one of these articles. I'm looking forward to the conversation!

An Extension of the Season

Extensions. We all need them from time to time when we just can’t seem to pull off the deadline expected of us.  This year, I am in need of a different kind of extension: an extension of a season. Advent Season. 

I know you are thinking Christmas has come and gone. We’ve unwrapped the gifts, put away the decorations and are already “cleaning up shop” with our list of resolutions for the coming year.  Which is exactly why I need an extension of Advent.  

As a kid, the only association I had with Advent was the countdown calendars. Remember those? We were sugar-deprived children in my family, so there was nothing more thrilling than “opening a window” each day until Christmas and discovering different chocolate delights nested inside. I think we anticipated the chocolate much more than the birth of a baby. 

It wasn’t until I started attending a more liturgical church after college that I started to see that Advent was much more than lighting candles and counting down to Christmas with chocolate. It was a whole season of preparation to reflect on the beautiful mystery of our very Creator coming into our world and what this means for our lives today.

We focus on the little town of Bethlehem where the angels bring good news of glad tidings about a baby coming to bring peace and joy and freedom into our (let’s be honest) messy lives. Ultimately, the message of Advent is that God did all of this to free us from the pressure of “having it all together.” As a perpetual box checker, this is certainly good news for me. It’s good news for all of us.

If December is the season of Advent, then January might as well be marked as the season of Accomplishment.  January 1st pops up on the calendar and we can’t help but try to figure out what we can add or subtract or how we can work harder to be the person we aspire to be. 

No, I’m not talking about New Year’s resolutions. (I gave those up years ago when I finally admitted that I was never resolute enough to give up sugar or wake up at 5am to exercise.) I’m talking about the subconscious media messages whispering in our ears that this is the time of year to fix ourselves. Who you are today is not good enough

 What a shame that right after the Advent season enables us to take away the pressure we feel to be the best ________(worker, artist, friend, spouse), the January Season of Accomplishment rolls in and steals our peace, joy and freedom.  

So this year, I’ve decided to extend Advent.  

No, I will not light a candle every week or keep singing Christmas carols. I will, however, keep my mind set on the idea that we have a kind Creator who isn’t asking us to fix ourselves or be perfect because He understands our humanity. He experienced it himself here on earth and knows our limitations. This is good news. And not just for the type A perfectionists out there. This is good news for all of us who feel a sense of longing to live more artful, faithful lives. For those of us who wish that we could be more disciplined not just with how we treat our bodies, but also with how we are using our gifts of creativity.  

What if this year was more about freeing ourselves from accomplishment and joyfully pursuing opportunities to enjoy using our gifts instead? Maybe it’s time to pick up the guitar again and finish writing that song you started, but never finished. For others it may mean writing that next chapter, hosting a dinner party or, in my case, pulling out the paintbrushes. 

Yes, a couple days ago, I dusted off my good old college art kit from the bowels of my closet and stared at a blank white canvas.  Intimidated, I started sketching on another piece of paper afraid that I might ruin the white surface if I didn’t plan right. I started focusing so much on the end product, that I wasn’t even enjoying the process. 

Then I remembered my Advent extension.

Like a 5 year old, I started squirting paints on my palate, combining colors to form more beautiful hues, and before I knew it... I was completely enjoying myself. Paint went from palate to paintbrush to canvas and I was creating again. It was thrilling to be doing something creative and not need it to be for anyone or any purpose, except for the joy of doing something I loved.  

Here’s to a year of pursuing creativity with joy and freedom. Free from avoiding things because we are afraid to not be good enough. Free to collaborate with new friends on projects. Free to try something new in hopes of discovering talents. Maybe it’s time you gave yourself an extension of Advent as well. 

Happy New Year. Jenny

Staff Picks: Best Music of 2011

Best Music 2011

Best Music 2011

As we’re sure you can imagine, those of us at Art House Dallas love music. Chances are if we aren’t listening to music, we’re talking about it. So here, in no particular order, is our staff’s top music picks for 2011. The year may be over, but we’re dead-set on ensuring our favorite songs live on through the next. Enjoy!

Jenny - Executive Director

Marissa - Programs Director

Clint Gunter - Web Intern

Courtney Cross - Events Intern

Film Review: The Adventures of Tintin

The hero of Steven Spielberg’s first animated film is a fresh faced, clear-eyed kid named Tintin (Jamie Bell). He looks all of 15, but he’s actually a world-traveling reporter and crime-fighter, famous in the way that someone like Agatha Christie’s Poirot is famous—his name is always on the tip of everyone’s tongue, they just need a little help putting two and two together.

Following Tintin wherever he goes is his sidekick, a little white terrier named Snowy. Like his owner, he’s a resourceful little thing and together there doesn’t seem to be any mystery too big for them to solve, any mess too big to escape.

They find their opposite in Captain Archibald Haddock (Andy Serkis), whose sea legs don’t serve him too well on land or water. You might say he’s the Costello to their Abbott or that he has a weakness for alcohol the way that Blimpy from Popeye has a weakness for hamburgers. Together, this trio from the beloved Hergé comic book series has a mystery to solve, although for Tintin and Snowy it might be just an ordinary day.

The mystery involves an old model ship Tintin buys at an open-air antique market and the cryptic scroll he finds hidden in its mast later on. A wealthy man named Ivan Ivanovich Sakharine (Daniel Craig) wants both and will pay Tintin top dollar for them. If that fails, kidnapping isn’t too far to go to get what he wants. And what does he want exactly? I’ll save you some unnecessary confusion and let you know he wants what most other villains want—revenge and money.

But if Sakharine’s motives (and the movie’s central mystery itself) are a bit of a letdown—and they are—the fun is in the way Spielberg dishes his story out. The Adventures of Tintin uses motion capture technology to achieve a cartoonishly photorealistic look. It’s odd in places but it mostly works, and it allows Spielberg’s camera to become as free floating as a feather or a leaf tossed on the wind. In the most jaw-dropping example, Tintin and company are chased through the fictional Moroccan city of Bagghar, with each side trying to get their hands on a piece of the Unicorn’s puzzle. The chase is filmed in one soaring, swooping shot that takes audiences from the top of the city down to the very bottom, with characters popping in and out of frame in surprising and serendipitous ways. In terms of both its action potential and clarity, it’s a moment that tops most others from 2011.

As exciting as these visual flourishes are, though, it’s hard not to feel like The Adventures of Tintin is ultimately a retread of Spielberg’s own Indiana Jones series. One particular gag involving Captain Haddock and a bazooka feels like it was borrowed directly from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The gag works in both cases, but I’m more partial to Sean Connery’s version than Serkis’.

The big question, I suppose, is whether a small quibble like this will matter to most moviegoers? I suspect it won’t. Spielberg brings such a sense of play and wonder to The Adventures of Tintin that even where it feels derivative or unwieldy it’s hard not to sense the legendary filmmaker’s own excitement and passion for the project bubbling just underneath the surface. Given how lifeless so many family flicks and adventure films can feel, that’s no small feat.

Andrew Welch lives in Denton and has written for RELEVANT magazine and Books & Culture.

My Evening With Jeremy Cowart

Photo by Andrew Young

Photo by Andrew Young

I first heard of Jeremy Cowart in Relevant magazine. The article, featuring some of his work, focused on his then-recent trip to Africa as participant of a blood:water mission, and spoke about his then-upcoming project, Help-Portrait. It was all very cool and hipster, but photography’s not my passion. All I had was a name and the information that this person was doing great things in a country on the other side of the world.

Months later, I walked into church Sunday morning to find a couple of posters promoting Art House Dallas presents “Dinner with Friends: Jeremy Cowart” Tuesday night, placed near the doors. Jeremy Cowart, conversation and a cool, modern space filled with fellow creatives? I had the time; I bought a ticket. 

Parking my car in a crowded street, I wondered if I was in the right place. Walking into a solidly brick building, I was greeted and directed to the space around the right corner. Behind a graphic orange wall, people lounged in seemingly intimate groups, speaking passionately about layers and negative space. Photographers moved in and out of each vignette, their fingers tapping constantly.

Spotting a free table in the back, I slipped into a chair. Four others also pulled up empty chairs and quick introductions were made. We tried to figure out what had drawn each of us there while timing bites between the photographers’ mad clicking. Two of my tablemates were passionate about photography, although working website content paid their bills. The woman at the end of the table was just getting into photography and thought this was a good place to start. The joking comment was made that we’d all walk away with an unexpected empathy for celebrities by the end of the evening.

We were halfway through dinner when the speakers were introduced. Ester Havens, a locally based humanitarian photographer, introduced Jeremy Cowart, then pulled up a chair and started talking. They spoke easily with each other, discussing the difficulties of getting art worthy of attention out to those who have eyes to see. Jeremy told of how he got into photography. (He came home one night and said, guess what, honey? No, really.) He continued, commenting about the constant tension between what the artist sees and the sell-ability of that vision.

Questions from the group were asked about his travels, about Jeremy’s favorite places to shoot. He immediately spoke of Africa. He said he’d heard, “When you go to Africa with a hard heart, you’ll come back with a soft heart. If you go to Africa with a soft heart, you’ll come back with a broken heart. If you go to Africa with a broken heart, you won’t come back." 

“It’s true,” Cowart said, “my heart has been broken ever since.”

His eyes subtly lit as he talked about the weighty gift of being in Haiti days after the earthquake. On the wall behind him, images of staggering destruction offered profound backdrops for stories of pain, love and, as Jeremy noted, “real joy.” One image featured a gentleman with life-worn features standing in front of what had been the tent city where he lived. When the earthquake struck, mud from the hill under the city slid. The tents followed. Jeremy found him there, in sweltering heat. With eyes infinitely sad and strong, the man stood, holding a paper plate that read “home sweet home”. 

Another image glowed with color. A couple, just married, kissed joyously outside the remains of their chapel. Their families had gathered, and Jeremy caught the moment just before the party started. Jeremy commented that he was struck that they had no home, nowhere to go for their honeymoon. But their souls shimmered through in that moment; the groom holding a plate reading simply “love conquers all”.

Photo by Alisha Ippolito

Photo by Alisha Ippolito

After a quiet moment, Ester asked Jeremy to talk about Help-Portrait, an idea Jeremy had which has grown into a global movement. Jeremy commented, “Help-Portrait is the Gospel, pure and simple.” He said that other photographers see the movement as a chance to give back, a good thing. But a comment made by one of the individuals he photographed seems to more accurately convey the way Jeremy sees the mission of Help-Portrait–he was told, “You make us human.”

One of the images showed a woman holding a child, words written around her in black Sharpie against the white background. Cowart said the woman was from LA, and had never had her portrait taken. That day, she had her hair cut, her make-up done by professionals. Her dark eyes luminous, she held her baby in femininely muscled arms. She specifically asked for the link when her picture was posted so she could tell her family. She wanted them to see her “all beautiful.”

As things wrapped up, most meandered towards the exit, but instead of turning to walk back out into the cooling night, I turned back deeper into the building. Along the mutely colored walls were striking images from movies and shorts the effects company had worked. Comedic animations hung next to darkly romantic forests. The paradox made me think of how artists pursue beauty, trying to show the light in the darkness.

Some of us use words, others images and color; different communities all create in the hope of sharing that light that led us out of the dark despair of monotony and apathy. We seek to be hands in the dark, as others were for us, showing us the path of hope and possibility. In this mystical time quietly passing, night seems stark and blunt. Light glimmers subtly, curling the edges of night back, and reflecting God’s Sunrise breaking in upon us.

Telling a friend about the night later, I found it hard to explain or summarize. I went in with a name and a vague collection of facts. I left impressed with another human being’s passion and the challenging idea that night, be it winter in Dallas or the long night of the soul, isn’t as dark or as lasting as it may first appear.

Jeremy Cowart presents a world where strength may be unnoticed but never goes unseen, where beauty and color appear as one chooses to seek, where pain becomes a background story for love. Art House Dallas hosted a “Dinner with Friends” that showed a different way to see not just the world, but our place in it, and how we place each other.

Amber speaks before she thinks, thinks too much, and has too many opinions. She loves her church, her puppies - a found hound and 120 pd. Rottweiler, and wrestles with matters of faith almost constantly. Her monster cookies are killer, and she blogs at http://amberleecrystal.blogspot.com

Video shot and edited by Austin Herring, Music by Derek Webb

December Update: Different Kinds of Gifts

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I love this time of year, especially since it's finally cold here in Dallas and feels like Christmastime. Here at the Art House, we kicked off the season with our annual Stories and Songs December concert on Saturday night featuring Derek Webb. Our guests for the sold-out show packed into the Munger Place coffee lounge where they were surrounded by beautiful Christmas decor, holiday music and warm drinks in hand. Derek took requests from the audience, shared the stories behind each song, and even played a few songs from his earlier days in Caedmon's Call. It was a special evening for me not only because I have been listening to his music for so long, but also because Derek has a long history of involvement with Charlie and Andi at Art House America. It was a little bit of a full circle moment:  I remember sitting next to Derek the first time I ever visited Art House in Nashville at an artists retreat 3 years ago. Little did I know then that, three years later, we would have an Art House in Dallas and Derek sharing about the role that Art House America has played over the years in his life as well as in the life of his wife, Sandra McCracken. 

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I had a similar moment last Tuesday when we hosted Jeremy Cowart, who was also present at this same artists retreat in Nashville three years ago. In the time since I had first met Jeremy at this retreat, he has had amazing opportunities to photograph everything from top celebrities to Africans receiving clean water for the first time. He spent time in Haiti creating portraits of hope and also created a non-profit called Help-Portrait, a worldwide movement of local photographers taking portraits of those less fortunate and instilling dignity and hope to individuals and families. Last year, the Dallas location of Help-Portrait was the largest in the world. We hope that this year will be no different, and Art House Dallas is pleased to once again be supporting this incredible opportunity to have photographers, make up artists and anyone with a heart to volunteer to give their time on December 10th for Help-Portrait 2011. 

photo courtesy of Alisha Ippolito

photo courtesy of Alisha Ippolito

One of the great joys working for Art House Dallas is exposing our creative community to folks like Jeremy who serves as an incredible example of someone using their creativity for the common good. It was a treat to have him share the stories of how he is using his talents in Africa, Haiti, New York and Los Angeles with almost 50 Dallas photographers who gathered at Reel F/X Studio for our fourth Dinner with Friends this year. We also loved having Dallas native and phenomenal photographer, Esther Havens with us at Dinner. Esther not only served as our host for the evening, but also as another great example of someone using their talents to tell good stories. While interviewing Jeremy, she shared how her experience taking pictures in 45 different countries for organizations like TOMS, Warby Parker, and Hello Somebody have shaped the way she uses her gift of photography. 

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It's so easy during this time of year to focus on the gifts we'll receive, but hearing Jeremy, Esther and Derek over the last week were welcome reminders that God has given each one of us creative talents to offer as gifts to one another. Whether it's the gift of creating an incredible meal for friends and family, decorating a home full of comfort and joy, singing Carols or writing Christmas cards, there are a million ways to give. I hope that you can find a couple ways to use your creativity to love the people around you and more importantly, be reminded of the incredible gift we were given more than 2000 years ago in the form of a child born in Bethlehem. A gift that would change everything for us.

Blessings to you and yours this holiday Season.

Jenny

Shot and edited by Dexter Evans, Music by Derek Webb

All photos courtesy of Matt Knisely except where noted.

November Update: A Timely Place

Hello friends. 

I have just returned from Nashville where the Art House America team celebrated 20 Years of Artful Living. Considering I didn’t even know Art House existed until 3 years ago, it was particularly inspiring to spend time with folks who have been uniquely shaped by Art House over the last five, ten or twenty years of our history.  The original Director, Nick Barre, shared with me about getting to work alongside one of his heroes in the early days of Art House. “It was a dream-come-true to work alongside Charlie,” he remembers, “even if it meant he lived in the cedar closet for a year.”

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During the crisp Fall evening gathering, Matthew Perryman Jones talked about walking into the Art House for the first time 12 years ago and the conversations that led him to pursue music as a full-time vocation. After hearing him croon the crowd-favorite “Save You” along with a powerful cover of Emmylou Harris’ “The Pearl,” we witnessed firsthand the beauty of someone utilizing their creative potential. 

One of the most powerful moments of the Anniversary event was hearing Sara Groves perform “Why It Matters” and remind all of us “Why our thinking and creating // Why our efforts of narrating // About the beauty, of the beauty // And why it matters.” She prefaced her song with a story about how she would’ve left her music career to become a nurse or teacher had it not been for conversations with Charlie and Andi at the Art House. It’s wonderful how Sara has not only continued to create incredible music over the last ten years, but also creates lyrics that tell true and good stories.

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Art House not only encouraged her creativity, but inspired to partner with International Justice Mission where her music “protests the darkness.” Now, her passion for nurturing other artists has led her and her husband Troy to start up an Art House North in St. Paul, MN. We can’t wait to see all the exciting things that are going to happen in the Twin Cities as a result of their presence with the creative community there.

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Perhaps the biggest thread in all of these happenings is the reminder that we are all part of a larger story. This story takes time to develop, as stories often do, but surprises us with its beauty as we look back through all the twists and turns, the hills and valleys.  

After celebrating Art House Dallas’ one-year anniversary last Thursday here in Texas, it blows me away to think about what might happen in our community over the next 20 years. There are plot lines yet to be revealed and characters we have yet to meet:  men and women who have a role to play not only in the story of Art House, but in the story of our Creator “making all things new.”

In Charlie Peacock’s intro to the celebration, he announced, “Art House is a timely place. And if you are here, it’s your time.”  The entire Art House Dallas staff greatly anticipates hosting you in our new location at Munger Place, and until then we hope that you’ll take advantage of our upcoming events around town. After all, there’s a chance that it’ll be you standing up twenty years from now, remembering how Art House led you down a path you hadn’t ever dreamed of. It’s your time.  

Take care!

Jenny

All images courtesy of Kristin Sweeting Photography

The Discipline of All Things Beautiful

A sunset. A picturesque, well-carved coastline meeting gently crashing waves. The stars as they hang in the sprawl of a moonlit sky. The innocent smile of a beautiful girl lost in the comfort of the day. A painting. A song. A verse.

All things beautiful have a rhythm, a reason and discipline to them.

Nothing is quite as important as the soil of our hearts. For from it comes the best of who we are and will be. It is our essence, truly. 

As an artist, or more accurately, creator, the best and most lasting strokes of your brush, imagery of your lyrics, notes in your song, structure of your sentences, life in your photographs and work of your hands will be from the depths of your heart, where your soul is as healthy as the soil in which it rests.

No artist constantly produces lasting, meaningful and influential art from sheer spontaneity. A process happens which may be a strict formula or developed, proven strategy. The more disciplined the artist, the greater the chance for beauty and authenticity to shape the work of her hands. 

Contrary to any impulse or worry that discipline means sacrificing the possible genius and purity of spontaneous creation, consider the beautiful and lasting work of Michelangelo at the famed Sistine Chapel, or the enchanting echo of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. Neither of these, nor any other work of relative greatness, is defined by the time it took to create them. They are defined by the heart of the artist, encapsulated forever in their lasting beauty. 

The beauty of the art is recognized, but we cannot overlook the discipline of the artist who created it.

Late nights lonely in thought but wanting to be nowhere else, early mornings working before the day moves and burns bright, in moments of free time an artist is appropriately obsessed with creating. The speed in which she creates is not nearly as important as the pace she keeps. It is a diligent approach set on creating, not a desperate one searching for validation or attention. The quality is nearly always dependent on the health of the soil out of which it blooms. 

How can you keep the soil of your heart healthy, not depleted from creating? Read. Hear. See. Value.

Your hands must be dirty, colored and covered with the soil of your heart as you continually dig deeper and nurture those seeds and dreams buried so purposefully there. Like a gardener who daily tends to what is visible, as well what soon shall be, the artist must regularly develop, nurture and feed her craft. 

Our tendency is to desire genius to happen on demand, and when it does not the supposed genius is diminished. Creativity choked and the artist, that creator set upon releasing the work of her hands to the world, recoils in the shallowing soil of her heart. 

We must tend to and cultivate the soil of our hearts. Push the dirt around. Let the air of experiences and influences wrap around and push through the loosened ground, establishing a good seedbed for ideas to grow. 

Creativity too often is tightly packed in time and the lure of instant gratification to satisfy the constant need of validation, assuring and reminding us that we matter and we are unique. But making us important is not the reason for art or creativity.  Expression, purpose, message and display are worthy reasons, pure enough to preserve and elevate art.

As artists, the soil of utmost importance is developed in observing one masterful Creator whose hand spread beauty across what once was nothing, null and void. The beauty in life that inspires and provokes a unique reflection and response is a product of process, discipline and order. Spontaneity gives way to planning and planting within the soil of our hearts. All that we absorb, sinking into the dirt we continue to cultivate. Lasting and consistent expression blooms. Art and all things beautiful held together and matured through discipline, the habit of keeping a heart healthy.

Guy Delcambre dreams a bit more than does, has more starts than finishes and often thinks too much.  A few things constant, grace, family, mountain biking, the outdoors, writing and wanting to own a cabin in the mountains some day soon. 

Cameron Ernst Cranks the Volume on the “Love Is Louder” Campaign

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I never knew that one song could change my life. When I wrote the song “Love Is Louder” (in support of the movement started by actress Brittany Snow, MTV and The JED Foundation), I was just an inspired singer/songwriter who had to channel that through music. Little did I know that it would lead to taking my music into high schools and middle schools and speaking to thousands of young people about the message of love. Now, I'm leading the Love on the Road Tour in schools across the country, during which I get to use music, media and my personal school experience to encourage, motivate and inspire others.  

A lot of people ask me if I was bullied as a kid. Why else would I care so much to write a song, plan a tour, and go into schools and talk to students about how love is louder than pain, fear, loneliness, bullying or anything else? One might think I've been through some rough times in my life and want to pay it forward now to a younger generation. I won't lie, I was bullied here and there, but it was never extreme and I actually felt very loved by the people around me while growing up. And that is why it tears at my heart to hear about kids who don't feel loved and want to end their lives because they feel alone and hopeless. I believe that everyone deserves to be loved and told that love is so much louder and bigger and stronger than the struggles and obstacles of our lives. 

The Love on the Road Tour has already been to several schools in three different states and continues to grow. The reaction from kids at assemblies is always overwhelmingly positive because the assemblies are positive. I don't lecture or throw out stats about bullying. It's an upbeat, interactive concert, and a positive message combined with pop music and media from a young singer/songwriter is extremely fresh and rejuvenating.

Not only do students leave the assemblies all jazzed about loving others and singing “Love Is Louder,” but they are often touched by how deep this message resonates. On the slightest off chance that they are not connected to bullying (and I believe everyone is, in some way or another), they are reminded about how love covers all imperfections and no one is perfect, including themselves. That bit of comfort in the power of love has made my Facebook page explode with stories of hope from people of all ages. I recently got an email from two parents who told me about their daughter coming home after an assembly and proclaiming the message of love, which ended up being an encouragement for the whole family. Love is powerful and it can do wonders…

Which is why I'm staying open to the possibilities that lie ahead with Love on the Road. When I wrote this song, I certainly couldn't have predicted that I'd be doing all of this, and so I don't plan on predicting where it will be in six months or a year from now. I do know that it will live on and grow because all good things do. In the meantime, I will stop at nothing to get into as many schools as I can, and I hope others will join me in helping spread the love with music.

More about the Love Is Louder campaign: loveislouder.com

Download Cameron's single “Love Is Louder” for free: noisetrade.com/cameronernst

This article originally appeared on ASCAP.

Art House Local: Searching For Wildflowers

We sat in my living room sipping wine, sipping Boba tea, eating the accoutrements of a small group gathering — cheese, hummus, strawberries. An embattled air conditioner fought the villainous August heat. Strangers — introverts no less — had ventured into one home together. We gathered because we were artists.

Photo: Clint Brewer

Photo: Clint Brewer

For this first meeting, we had read Francis Schaeffer’s Art and the Bible to discuss. It had been formative in Charlie Peacock’s artistic and spiritual journey. Would this new Art House — Art House Dallas — connect with it as well?

I read the two essays contained in the pamphlet several years ago. My first impression: meh. Foundational, yes, but I had the advantage of thirty years of work burgeoning from Schaeffer’s basic thesis on art, culture, and the Bible. I had Jeremy Begbie and Steve Turner. Since then, I’ve read David Taylor and Andy Crouch and Rowan Williams. I’ve written scholarly articles and lay essays. For my second reading, I came prepared with philosophy and theology, ready to build upon Schaeffer at times, and at other times, question him: is all postmodern art necessarily unable to be Christian, for example, or should we even call art “Christian”? I had degrees! I had awards! I had experience! I was an expert.

I was humbled. But you knew that was coming. It happens in every story: pride comes before a fall. While my six-month-old slept, I read. About art as doxology, about God’s concern for beauty, about the fact that God sees the artist. And I wept. The degrees, the awards, the contests were several years ago, a lifetime ago — my son’s lifetime. Lately, I create in silence and obscurity, minutes pilfered during short naps, dried pureed carrots coating my keyboard. In this place, Francis Schaeffer ministered to me. He told me about God’s concern for beauty even in the wilderness when the Israelites wandered in the same shoes for 40 years. He told me God saw and preserved David’s art created when David worked as a shepherd or ran from the king or repented from sin or built a kingdom. In this silence and obscurity, I learned that my art matters because beauty matters to God — because God sees me.

In essence, this was why we met that day in my living room: because beauty matters to God and because, as the body of Christ, we testify to one another that God sees us, that our work matters.

There was some venting, yes; there was philosophy; but above all, there was connection. In the sprawling Dallas metroplex lined with suburban brick homes, school zones, and shopping centers, visual artists, musicians, and writers assembled. We peeked into the crevices of our landscaped society and found wildflowers. In this August drought, something beautiful blossomed when carefully planned gardens failed. God saw fit to decorate a wilderness of concrete with wayfaring blooms.

Photo: Pewari

Photo: Pewari

In our meeting, we talked about the freedom we found in Schaeffer’s pages to create art that didn’t feature praying hands. We talked about the presumptions from Christians and non-Christians about what it means to be both Christian and artist. But mostly, we talked about bringing art into the sphere of corporate worship. For this is our heart: worship. Art is our means to glorifying God. As Schaeffer puts it, art is doxology. We discussed how we can introduce art into the liturgy of our churches and how to practice art as spiritual discipline.

Before we left, we prayed for one another, for our art, and for our churches — prayers of refreshment in the heat, watering the wildflowers. Visual artists, musicians, writers — in this communion of saints, we partook of God’s love for beauty.

Heather A. Goodman practices art in bits and pieces these days, mostly while listening to her son protest nap time. Or while waiting at a red light. She blogs at L'Chaim and at The Master's Artist.

October Update: It's Our Anniversary

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Dear Friends: 

October is a big month of celebration for all of us in the Art House America family. For starters, this month marks one year since we launched Art House Dallas. As I look back on the last year, I echo David’s sentiments from Psalm 143:5: “I remember the days of old. I ponder all your great works and think about what you have done.” 

I can attest to the fact that God has certainly done a lot through the passionate hearts and willing hands of our programs director, Marissa Miller, our hard-working interns, the Creative Council and numerous volunteers. I’ve been so grateful to have their help over the last 12 months as we have hosted more than 1,000 attendees across 21 events, launched a new website, and taken huge steps towards the creation of the new 6,500 square foot Art House in East Dallas. 

While I’ve watched in amazement as the Art House Dallas community grows without a space of its own, I can barely contain myself to think of its future at the new Munger Place location. We are still in the early stages, but I was thrilled to view a 3-D model of the space last Friday. In the near future I’ll release a preview of the projected floor plan so you can share in our excitement about the potential of this place, one that will allow creativity to shape a community, and ultimately a city, for years to come.

The original Art House in Nashville, Tennessee is one of the best examples I have seen of a physical place shaping the creative spirit of a community. Later this month, our team will return to headquarters and Sara Groves, Matthew Perryman Jones and others will lend their voices as we look back at the amazing ways God has used Charlie and Andi’s home and service over the last 20 years. Read Charlie’s blog post to learn a little more of Art House America’s history and consider joining us for the 20th anniversary festivities! Here’s your chance to tour the original Art House and hear from co-founders Charlie and Andi Ashworth, as well as Art House North co-founders Troy and Sara Groves.

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As I “ponder all [His] great works and think about what [He has] done” in the last 20 years of Art House America, much less the last year of Art House Dallas, I can’t help but be full of hope and expectation for what is to come. Thanks for being a part of the community and making this last year such a good one.

Here’s to another year of artful living and creativity for the common good.

Jenny

Artful Living: More Than Dues And Don'ts

Our likes say so much about us. I’m not talking about Facebook “likes”, I mean the real ones, those things in life that bring us joy.

In everything there is a revealing, and likes are no different. They give us direction when direction can’t elsewhere be found. They bring us together in friendships and set us apart in uniqueness. They are essential to our identity. 

Sometimes, though, we forsake our likes. Creatives are no different than anyone else. When money and time are in short supply all of us tend to cut the things that most enrich our lives. Regardless of who you are, art is often one of the first things to go.

We rail about city councils and school boards slashing funding for music and art programs, but when our own budgets are tight, how many of us think to take in a show or head to the latest exhibit?

I have a feeling that a lot of us who say we’re creatives aren’t really living artful lives. We stop seeing the beautiful in the everyday. We stop communicating the truest truths. The choice to actively produce comes hard to some caught up in a culture of consumption.

In an attempt to guard against the loss of my likes, and to keep my creativity freely flowing, I recently decided to make a change. I sprung for a membership to a local art museum.

I know what you’re thinking, how cliché, but the decision was not made lightly. How you spend money is a reflection of your priorities. For me, purchasing a membership represents a commitment to remain connected to the local arts scene.

Within weeks of joining, the member’s welcome packet arrived. A professor of mine used to say there are worlds beneath blades of grass. The world that rose up from my meager membership due was astounding.  Beyond simple museum admission, there was so much that I, as yet, had not been privy to. The member’s-only magazine made mention of galas and balls, host committees and chairs, VIP receptions and after parties, auctions and fundraisers, and names…so many names.

This was not what I expected. While I enjoy and try to appreciate fine art, it is one of my likes, I don’t much care for all the uppity trappings that so often accompany it. I get that arts organizations have bills to pay, but there’s a bit of difference between helping to cover costs and looking to update or overhaul one’s social status by affixing a decal on a windshield. Good art should be inclusive and available to all, not something that has a tone of exclusivity or an air of inflated importance.

I wanted to stay connected, but instead I got a little closer to the connected, and in doing so, missed my mark.

All of this got me to thinking about the accessibility of art. Is it a luxury only a few choice folks are privileged enough to enjoy? Might one live an artful life without knowing the right people or paying the right dues?

Paintings and sculptures are good, symphonies and operas as well, but there is a piece of art that is more accessible than any other, one that doesn’t require dues, though it was bought for a price. 

There is one work of art that is completely available to you, because it is you.

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C.S. Lewis said that being like Christ “is more like painting a portrait than obeying a set of rules.” What a radical notion, that we are all artists, insomuch as we are writing our own stories and painting our own portraits.

You don’t have to step foot in the finest museums around. You don’t even need to be able to draw a straight line. Every choice you make is a brush stroke and the Christ-like-ness of your daily decisions will dictate how beautiful your finished product.

Return to the likes God gave you, and allow them to enrich. Don’t settle for the man-imposed, exclusionary aspects of beauty or the best art–every moment you live you are advancing the Kingdom of God or the Kingdom of Darkness. You are constantly creating on an eternal scale. 

When your budget is a shoestring, when beauty is in short supply, keep a Christ-like concern for others and witness the un-matched beauty of His great love.

Joshua Seth Minatrea is a Dallas-area thinker and creative. His aim is to gain and give space, time and direction for creation. He has never been bored. Real books, espresso-based beverages and pocket-sized reporter Moleskines are a few of his favorite things.

My Semester As An Art House Intern

Twelve months ago if you had told me I would be interning at Art House Dallas, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Actually, my first response probably would have been, “Huh? What’s Art House Dallas?” Then I would have found out about Art House and their awesome purpose and vision, and thought to myself, “Wow, I hope I can work with such visionary people someday.” If you had told me six months ago that I would be interning at Art House Dallas, I would have said something along the lines of, “Thanks, but I think you have me confused with my artsy and light-years-more-creative best friend.”  

Three years ago Art House Dallas didn’t exist, but that’s where my story begins. In October of 2008, I attended a concert at a church in the Dallas area, and my life course began to change. It was my freshman year of college. A new friend invited me to a concert he knew about through his interest in International Justice Mission (IJM). The concert was part of the 2008 Art/Music/Justice tour, a group of artists using their music to spread awareness about global social injustices. I’ve always had a heart for missions and all things international, so I decided to tag along. 

I enjoyed the concert as I sat and listened to Brandon Heath and Derek Webb sing and talk, and overall I was glad I went. Then Sara Groves came on stage and played some of her songs, and shared a story. The story was about a young girl who had been rescued from a terrible life of sexual exploitation, and through the efforts of this organization, had found healing and restoration–she found Jesus. 

August Art House Exchange

August Art House Exchange

I still so clearly remember standing outside the church building after the concert, talking to my mom on the phone. Tears streamed down my face as I told her just how much the stories impacted me. I remember saying out loud to myself, “I have to do something about this–to fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves. This is what I was made for.” 

It’s been a bit of a crazy journey since that night, and I’m so glad that the story doesn’t end there. Since then I’ve taken part in a few different anti-human trafficking efforts, and my love for organizations that love others and take part in the community around them has grown tremendously. Here I am, in my senior year of college, and after a few months of prayer, direction and putting out feelers for an internship over the summer, God just about dropped one in my lap. I became a member of the Art House Dallas team in August, and it’s already been such a fun ride! 

My fearless leaders wasted no time getting me acquainted with the Art House ways–my first day was the same day and night as the August Art House Exchange! We spent the day gearing up for the event, and that night I met a bunch of new people and had a great time talking about art, life, and our community. I have to say, it was the perfect introduction. 

Then came my first event flying solo representing Art House at Gather, a local art event. Art House Dallas paired up with a church in the area to promote the church’s photography showing. Any hint of nervousness I had going into the night was completely gone by the time I left. The night was filled with amazing photography and amazing people, and quite a few people learned for the first time about Art House and what we do. You never know what can happen when people come together to enjoy art and each other’s company. I met some great people, and was so refreshed and renewed to get the chance to talk with people I had only just met about their passions and dreams. 

GATHER Event at Church of Incarnation

GATHER Event at Church of Incarnation

Feedback was that same week, and it has probably been my favorite Art House Dallas event thus far. The concept is so great: singers come and perform a song in front of a small group and get helpful feedback. As I sat in the beautiful Munger Place coffee lounge listening to one talented musician after another make themselves and their music vulnerable to other artists, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “I have the coolest internship ever.” 

The September Art House Exchange was a special one. We had a great crowd show up to the social media lab with the talented Kelli + Vanessa that took place before the actual exchange. These two ladies shared some great tips for using tools like Twitter and Facebook to their fullest–especially as a musician. I knew more of what to expect this exchange, and I got to chat with some really awesome people. I chatted with actors, musicians, art lovers, even a few writers. In talking with those who attended, I can really see the fruit of the Art House vision in action, and it’s inspiring to see and hear of all the life-giving, community-building uses of art in and around our city. 

Art House FEEDBACK :: Songwriters

Art House FEEDBACK :: Songwriters

I’m sure you’re wondering why I would start my story with a bunch of sappy details just to finish it off with how the past few weeks have been. But my story isn’t over yet! After my first couple of weeks at Art House Dallas, I was chatting with Jenny White, our director, about another member of the Art House family, Sara Groves. I told her the story of the first time I heard Sara play, and Jenny was delighted to share with me that the one and only Charlie Peacock headed up the Art/Music/Justice tour. We both had one of those goose-bump-moments when we realized the crazy circle of events that led to my becoming a part of this awesome team. It was at that moment that I knew, I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

I’ve only been at Art House Dallas for a few weeks now, but just being surrounded by creative, driven people has already been so uplifting. The people associated with and involved in Art House truly are culture makers who encourage others to live imaginative and meaningful lives. I have already been so blessed to be a part, and I can’t wait for all of the adventures and discoveries still to come!

— Courtney

Courtney is a senior at SMU studying Sociology and Womens and Gender Studies. After graduation, she hopes to work for a nonprofit that loves people and is a positive presence in the community. Courtney spends her spare time finding new music and buying anything cute that comes in the color grey. If you are what you eat, then Courtney is a delicious chai latte.

Contagion

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Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion is almost oppressively gloomy. Overcast skies, dim lighting, drab clothing, strict stylization. You can practically feel a cold, biting wind blowing off the screen as you sit and watch.

But I need to specify that I say almost—Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion is almost oppressively gloomy.

For some, the distinction will be minimal or almost non-existent, and I really can’t fault you for that. As the titular virus spreads across the country and around the world, humanity appears to break down entirely. Burned out cars litter the streets like crushed soda cans. Shattered glass glitters on the floors of empty convenience stores, grocery stores and practically every other kind of store imaginable. Leave your car unattended for just one second and it becomes the target of thieves, or at least someone desperate enough to siphon your gas tank.

And yet, even as civilization descends into chaos, there are flashes of hope–a cross in the background, a nun tending to a sick man, both conscious ingredients of the film’s mise-en-scène. True, they’re brief, but they contextualize Soderbergh’s filmed world, situating it within a broader social history marked by the tenets of Christianity and still effected by them through the simple choices of the movie’s characters.

The biggest name in Contagion’s long list of high-profile performers is Matt Damon. He’s eclipsed, though, by Laurence Fishburne, the film’s standout performer. Fishburne plays Dr. Ellis Cheever of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). He and those around him are tasked with the great burden of studying Contagion’s virus, getting to know it, and creating a vaccine to stop it.

He’s also invested in mentoring a field agent, Dr. Erin Mears (Kate Winslet), who’s traveled to Minneapolis to research the virus’ beginnings. This leads her to Mitch Emhoff (Matt Damon), the husband of the woman (Gwyneth Paltrow) who brought the sickness home from a business trip to Hong Kong and was one of its first victims.

All of this unfolds briskly, at a pace underscored by a driving electronic score by Cliff Martinez, with other figures popping up along the way, notably Marion Cotillard as Dr. Leonora Orantes of the World Health Organization, and Jude Law as Alan Krumwiede, a blogger who believes the government actually has a cure for the virus but is refusing to release it. Alan’s theory proves to be just as contagious as the bug that’s going around, and he’s soon of particular interest to the government.

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There are more wonderful players to mention—Elliot Gould, John Hawkes, Jennifer Ehle, Chin Han—but their roles in the story are limited. In fact, part of what keeps Contagion from being more than merely a very good Hollywood picture is that the script spreads itself too thin. One minute we’re in Hong Kong, the next we’re in Minneapolis, New York, or London. All of this is great for creating a sense of authenticity and scope, but the connections we’re able to forge with the characters are diminished as a result.

Soderbergh should’ve taken a lesson from one of his own films, Traffic. Like Contagion, Traffic had a large cast and interrelated storylines, this time with drug trafficking as the focus. Each storyline was restricted to one location and was given it’s own distinct look to boot. The overall effect was a more rooted, more impressive story.

But even if Contagion may feel a little thin, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to like, respect, or even admire certain characters. Fishburne’s Dr. Cheever and Ehle’s Dr. Ally Hextall stand out for their poignant moments and small acts of heroism. Their sacrificial decisions starkly contrast with the chaos around them, preserving the image of God in humanity. They are proof that when the going gets tough, it’s not a matter of kill or be killed. It’s putting the needs of others before yourself that will ultimately save the world.

To what degree movie audiences will be moved by these shimmering moments of compassion, I can’t say. Personally, I was. They are what made Contagion gloomy, yes, but only almost so.

Andrew Welch has published reviews with Relevant magazine and Books & Culture. He currently lives in Denton, where he’s working on a master’s degree in film studies at the University of North Texas.

Harry Potter, Pop Culture and the Affections of the Heart

A Conversation with Leigh Hickman

Texas native Leigh Hickman is a Christian scholar who is interested in unique topics relating to literature, media and the arts. An adjunct professor of English at Dallas Baptist University, she has long applied her love for both Christ and the arts through academic rigor, writing and speaking. She is drawn particularly to artistic expressions—books, films and plays—that have captured the popular imagination, and perhaps more so to those popular expressions which have largely been rejected by Christians.

Though the subjects she studies (Jesus Christ Superstar, the Twilight saga and Wicked among them) may court theological controversy or feature vampires, monsters or magic, she sees in their popularity an indication of deep longings in the human heart—specifically, a longing for Christ. It's a belief about popular culture that has long driven her interests. “I knew instinctively,” she tells me, “that if there is a cultural phenomenon, [Christ] is going to be at the heart of it somewhere, bringing glory to himself.”

This is perhaps most deeply true of what may be her greatest pop cultural passion and area of expertise—Harry Potter. Hickman has been researching Harry Potter since 2001 and has collected “virtually every book in print” as well as every academic paper and article she can find on the subject. Though she has a particular passion for the topic of the Christian community's response to the books and films, her focus encompasses “pretty much all things Harry.”

“I knew that this was worthy of a good conversation,” she says, regarding her obsessive dedication to her research, “and I wanted to be as well-versed as possible on it.” Though the study of Harry Potter is a scholarly pursuit for Hickman, it is born of a deep love for the books themselves. “I do it because I love the story,” she tells me, “I'm a fan first and foremost.” As her passion and expertise have led her into “many good conversations” about the boy wizard, she is currently expanding her focus to begin publishing and speaking about him as well. The story of Harry Potter is something that has affected her deeply and she has developed a unique, important voice about this cultural icon that she clearly desires to share with others.

Given the amount of vociferous criticism that has been leveled against Harry Potter over the past 15 years—from TV preachers to talk radio hosts to pastors, teachers and other voices of influence across mainstream Christian culture—one might expect Hickman to be alone in her quest. Not so, she responds, citing such works as The Gospel According to Harry Potter by Connie Neal and John Granger's Looking for God in Harry Potter, which she says “blew my head off” by more deeply opening a positive Christian reading of the books. “Overwhelmingly,” Hickman tells me, “I have read more Christian scholarship about Harry Potter affirming its merit than vilifying it. The people that do vilify it, however, get the most press.”

These critics, Hickman is convinced, represent “a very small minority who have a very large megaphone.” In her experience, the complaints coming from this loud minority have sprung largely from ignorance. “99.999% of the people who have a problem with it,” she tells me, “haven't cracked a page. I've never known anyone who was against Harry Potter who had read the book.” As Hickman sees it, the real problem is a “dualism and anti-intellectualism,” which assumes that “someone else needs to do your thinking for you” and has spawned mass avoidance of Potter among Christians.

When asked why such vitriol has arisen against the series, Hickman replies, “My first instinct is that we're very concerned about false Christs and that we're very concerned about false prophets. It's an old-time fear that some false god will displace the authority of Christ.” But this view is rooted, she says, “in a fundamental distrust of the Holy Spirit's work in another's life and a fundamental distrust of God. The people who are most afraid of Harry Potter, in my opinion, are the people whose God isn't very big. If J.K. Rowling can overthrow Jesus Christ, then Jesus Christ isn't all that powerful.” Because of this, she says, the popular Christian campaigns against the Potter books and films are “symptoms of the very thing they claim to treat – which is a lack of discernment. They are manifestations of a lack of discernment in the Church.”

It is for this reason that Hickman feels there is still much work to be done in recasting this conversation within Christian culture. The damage done by the hostility leveled toward Potter by Christians, she tells me, amounts to a failure to fulfill the cultural mandate of the Church. “When Christian culture abandons one of the primary narratives of our time, that's not well-disciplined stewardship of Creation. If it is capturing the hearts and minds of our generation, then [by not discussing it] we're losing a great opportunity to enchant hearts and minds for Christ.”

Instead, she says, the popularity of the series—along with its clear focus on affirming a Christian worldview—begs for a positive Christian dialogue. “J.K. Rowling,” she explains, “has gift-wrapped this for Christian culture to discuss.” Hickman is quick to note, however, that while the Gospel is clearly mirrored in Harry Potter, the story must not necessarily be construed as an evangelistic work. She refers to Rowling as “a person who doubts and struggles” and a “very human Christian.” But while the series may be “an outgrowth of [Rowling's] own questions and doubts more than her certainties and convictions,” Hickman says, “It does evangelize my heart.”

When it comes to researching a topic as deeply as she has Harry Potter, Hickman says, “I think that's always my primary motivation—whether I can better see what I love the most through it.” And see it she has—not just in the series' ultimate conclusion, where even mainstream journalists noted the Christ imagery, but from the first time she picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and read of the titular hero as an orphaned baby being placed on his relatives' doorstep. “From chapter one, Harry's dropped off at the Dursley's and doesn't know how special he is. He doesn't know that he's the chosen one. You've got this child out in the elements in the cold, dark night who's come to inhabit this place. And he's incredibly special and yet [living] in the limitations of the normal and the everyday. It was so beautiful that I actually teared up. Literally, I have a note in the margin of my book: 'Insert manger scene here.'” 

This kind of engagement with the arts and pop culture that is open toward and responds positively to ideas and images that are in harmony with the Gospel, wherever they may be found, is as much about what we see and hear as it is about having the eyes to see, the ears to hear and the intellectual discipline to notice something deeper. All truth is God's truth, revealed through all Creation. Therefore, we may very well find the truth and goodness of God in places we would otherwise consider unlikely. As Scott Higa, writer of the blog “The Christian Nerd,” recently noted, “Because God created the world, the truth about his heart and character is revealed all throughout, even in places we would least expect to find it. So when we see God’s character revealed in a movie, a sunset, a book or a piece of technology, we should be moved to reflect upon who God is and the endless wonder of his character.”

Hickman agrees, referring to Jesus' acts of opening the ears of the deaf and the eyes of the blind as a metaphor for the Church's need to open its eyes and ears to the heart of God reflected in the popular voices of our culture. “We are the people who claim to see,” she says, “and yet we are blind.” But Hickman sees hope in the breadth of expressions available to us, suggesting that a renewed perspective might allow Christians to follow their innate interests into greater engagement with their culture.

“There are so few workers in this field, and yet there is so much to glean out of it,” she says, stating that we are all called to some form of interaction with the conversation of our culture. “You don't need to look at thirty different narratives. Just look at the ones that matter. Some Christians are called to certain narratives because God speaks uniquely to them through that story.” She encourages others to find what draws them and “glean in that field. Because more than likely, the reason that your affections are in that field is because you need to speak to people who are in that field with you who love it. You're uniquely called to speak to those people. … Share Christ through what has grabbed your heart and your affections.”

For more information on Leigh Hickman or to book her as a speaker, please email her at profleigh7@gmail.com.

Kevin C. Neece is a pop culture columnist for New Identity Magazine and founder and editor of undiscoveredcountryproject.com, where he writes and speaks on Star Trek from a Christian perspective. He also writes and speaks on other topics at kevincneece.com.

The Tree of Life

My wife and I were in line for tickets at the Plano Angelika when I saw it. Printed on plain white paper, it was a sign just like one that had appeared in other theaters across the country, warning moviegoers about Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life. But the warning wasn’t about the movie’s content as much as it was about the movie itself.

“We would like to take the opportunity,” it said, “to remind patrons that The Tree of Life is a uniquely visionary and philosophical film from an auteur director. It does not follow a traditional, linear narrative approach to storytelling.”

The sign went on to encourage moviegoers to do their homework before buying a ticket, and to “please go in with an open mind.”

Having seen The Tree of Life twice, the first time as a member of the press and the second as just another paying customer, I can understand the controversy. While “uniquely visionary and philosophical” is a description I would agree with, there are plenty who would just as easily consider it just plain old unintelligible.

I can understand this position, to a point. It’s true that Malick’s movie is meandering and even feels a little bit messy, with images that don’t always have a clear connection to what came before and a thematic focus that seems a bit wobbly.

But I’m not sure it’s fair to dismiss The Tree of Life just because it doesn’t have the tightest of plots. We’ve come to expect movies that move at a break-neck pace, with not a single moment or frame to spare on useless beauty or an artfully composed shot that comments on theme.

The same is true even of many art house films, which are supposedly more experimental but are still playing to a carefully studied market, just like your garden variety blockbuster.

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But in The Tree of Life, we have a chance for something different. Malick’s camera creates a past and a present that is unmoored from time, bringing eternity into the present and giving us a view of human experience that feels almost godlike. One second, we are with the O’Brien’s, Malick’s main characters, experiencing their joy and their grief, and then the next we’re in the void that has yet to become space, watching gaseous swirls of color coalesce into stars, suns, and planets.

Malick even takes us into a vision, metaphorical though it may be, of life beyond this world, where past and future selves coexist alongside loved ones who have long since passed on. And in between, there is the great struggle of living. A little boy named Jack (Hunter McCracken) struggles to understand his stern father (Brad Pitt), who can be so tender and loving one minute, so cruel and cutting the next.

If there’s little in the way of plot in The Tree of Life, it’s because Malick has something else in mind. He wants to take small, fleeting events in the life of his main characters and transform them into a picture of our relationship with God, who can seem as mysterious to us as that father is to little Jack.

This requires an eye and a creative mind attuned to something other than delivering thrills or forcing us to feel a particular emotion. Malick doesn’t want to force us in a single direction, he wants to create a meditative atmosphere, one powered by our own memories, our own questions, our own doubts, and our own faith.

In an industry dominated by so many voices dedicated to selling mindless entertainment, his is a refreshing voice in the wilderness, calling us to pay attention to the world around us, and even to look closer at who we are. But more importantly, he challenges us to be humble before a God who can feel so very near to us and yet so very mysterious at the same time.

Andrew has has written reviews for RELEVANT Magazine and Books & Culture, and he's currently at work on an MA in critical-cultural studies at the University of North Texas in Denton.

September Update: What's Inspiring Us

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Two weeks ago I sat in a circle of new and old East Dallas friends for the first ever Art House LOCAL. After months of talking about how we could better connect the Art House community via smaller groups, the idea thrillingly came to fruition. As we gathered to encourage each other and discuss Francis Schaeffer’s essay Art and the Bible, it was powerful to sense the solidarity of groups meeting simultaneously across the Dallas/Fort Worth area. The response affirmed for us the need for a more intimate connection our larger events can’t provide.

The response to the intimate environment provided by FEEDBACK has been equally positive. There, songwriters have been given the chance to play their most recent creation in groups of six. Art House’s FEEDBACK in July sold out so quickly that we decided to add a facilitator and open up an extra group of six for our September gathering. Even with this expansion, the coming event has filled up and has a waiting list.

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The thirst of these musicians to grow creatively and communally continues to affirm our desire to create a new Art House location where individuals can come to connect and be equipped. One of my favorite parts of this job has been to work alongside our new architect to dream up the rooms you all will inhabit when Art House Dallas’s space is completed. Last month, Brad Reeves and I headed to the original Art House in Nashville with our fantastic architect, Cliff Welch, to experience first hand the incredible place that Charlie and Andi have created. It didn’t seem right to have him complete a design for our Dallas location before seeing the very place that has inspired so many over the last 20 years.  

While our location will be uniquely designed to meet the needs of Dallas’s creative community, our hope is that it will be similar to Nashville in that everyone who comes through our doors feels at ease, and everyone who walks away feels inspired. We can’t wait to get our plans finalized over the next month, and have you play a part in bringing these plans to fruition.  

More to come!

Jenny

Hope Spread Through Film

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I have seen so much of our world over the years, but each new trip brings more understanding that there is so much left to see, experience and understand. 

As a Photographer I am drawn to the creative, the inspiring, the moments in life that draw people out of their shells and reveal their true character. But when I come in contact with something that is not pretty, happy or easy to swallow, the way I react is changing. I don’t want to pass it off and let someone else deal with it simply because it is not my area of expertise. I am now incapable of standing idly by.

The problem with being an artist is that, many times, a painting, film or photograph doesn’t actually help someone. It can paint a picture of reality, but if no one sees that picture, what is the point? It can be skewed so that people see the depravity of the world, or it can show the hope and redemption that await us. 

I don’t want to be an artist who makes images of depravity, who shows the worst of the world in the most beautiful of ways. Have I done this before? Absolutely. But those are not the images I am proud of, the images that tell the true stories. If I come to believe that just showing poverty and pain will lead to any sort of change, I am dead wrong and, quite frankly, wasting my time. 

As artists and creatives our responsibility is to use our abilities to tell a story that moves the viewer, a story that transcends the moment the image was taken and shares the potential for joy, love and life. 

Along with a friend I am planning a documentary that will focus on the rampant issue of sex trafficking, specifically in Nicaragua. Throughout the past year we have been exposed to this issue in recent trips to Central America and have come to the conclusion that we must act and use our gifts to tell a story. Not a story of pain and despair, though these feelings may come, but of the hope and redemption that can rise out of these horrible circumstances. 

We have decided to film primarily in Nicaragua because of the unbelievable stories of heartbreak and redemption we have found there. In 2008, there were only two human trafficking convictions made, an increase from zero convictions in previous years. 

Nicaragua is a country plagued with political turmoil, natural disasters and poverty. It is the least developed nation in the western hemisphere. Most women are uneducated, and when a husband leaves or dies, they are forced to fend for themselves and take up prostitution to support their family, many times even selling their own daughters into the sex trade to help pay the bills.

What’s more heartbreaking, children five years old and younger are being sold by their families into this industry. These young girls are rented to men to be raped and abused. I have met girls as young as six who were chained to a wall for months because they refused to have sex with a man. This is not uncommon to these victims; it is something that the world needs to understand.

So why this project? Why in Nicaragua?  We don't feel it's right to see evil like this and not take action against it. What we do is make films, so we are making a film to paint a picture of the reality these victims face. We want to make this film to help support and rescue the women and children who are literally and metaphorically chained to this life.  

We have found that in the middle of the poverty, despair, pain and anguish there are things at work that are changing not only the lives of the women involved, but the very system in which sex trafficking takes place. There is an organization in Managua that is successfully rescuing women and children from a life of prostitution, empowering them to survive and support their families by means other than selling their bodies. They are giving women not only skills, but Hope.

This is a story of heartbreak, horrible fear, unimaginable pain, and hope. Sex trafficking is an issue that can be solved and is being solved, one individual at a time. We just need to keep fighting the fight.

We ask you, please consider sponsoring this project. We only get funding if we meet our goal 100%, and we feel this is a story that needs to be told. You can help. You can help by talking about this with your friends, doing your own research and helping fund this film. But I know that the work only starts if the funding starts and we start filming. We need support and encouragement to come alongside the women and tell their stories of Hope.

www.InChainsFilm.com 

August Update

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"He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul." Psalm 23

It's not often I stumble upon the "still waters" David spoke of in Psalm 23. Finding the time and place for my soul to rest usually takes a little bit of effort–or a lot. 

Last August, Charlie, Andi and I actually set aside a week on our calendars and went looking for some rest at a place called Malibu Lodge. Our friend who organized the retreat told us we only needed to fly into Vancouver, BC. The lodge would take care of the additional travel arrangements. Had I known then how much effort it was actually going to take to get to Malibu Lodge, I might have wondered if it was worth it. 

It turned out that the "additional travel arrangements" required to reach the lodge in Princess Louisa Inlet began with a 1.5-hour drive to a ferry outside Vancouver, followed by a 1-hour ferry ride, and lastly a transfer to another hour ride in a small pontoon boat. 

After hours of traveling by land and sea, our pontoon boat slowed to cruising speed and finally stopped to allow us to take in the beauty of our surroundings. The narrow inlet we were traveling opened up to give us our first glimpse of the Lodge and the majestic white-capped mountains towering behind. It was nothing short of glorious. I knew in that moment that the long journey was well worth it. It was the still water moment I longed for.

The Goff family welcomed us as if they knew us our whole lives. The visual beauty we were exposed to moments earlier was just a precursor to the beauty and warmth we experienced through the hospitality and love shown to us over the days that followed. Our souls were restored through the comforts of delicious home-cooked meals, warm beds, study of God's word and heartfelt conversations.

Throughout or time there, our fearless leader Bob led us on capers like jumping off cliffs and showed us how to walk through a powerful waterfall without dying. Our friendships were deepened by the risks we took together during the day, as well as the heartfelt conversations we shared at night. We felt alive. We felt restored. Our time at Malibu Lodge was amazing because of the place and the people. Take away one and it wouldn't have been the same experience.

When I think about our plans for Art House Dallas, I am inspired to try and recreate a place that offers this kind of rest for your souls. A place where you can come together as a community to grow spiritually and take risks creatively. A place to sit down in a big, comfy chair and take a deep breathe from the demands of your day. A place of still waters. 

There are still so many details to be figured out regarding what Art House Dallas will look like, but we are excited to be working with a fantastic architect who is keeping all these ideas in mind as we design this space together.  

The good news is you don't have to wait for our building to be completed to find rest and encouragement. On August 16th, we plan to provide you with a place + people a little closer to home through the launch of Art House Local. We hope you'll sign up and join one of the 8 D/FW locations hosted by incredible men and women excited to connect and learn with you in small groups. It may be the closest we can get to still waters here in the crazy city of Dallas. 

Whether it's Art House Local or another event you attend, I hope you are having a great summer and taking some time to rest. I'm happy to report that I am taking my own advice and heading to Florida. Look forward to seeing y’all soon!

Jenny

And If You Draw Pictures

I blew past the so-called crisis of realism that typically marks the end of drawing fun for most 8 to 12 year olds. I didn’t get much better, but I didn’t stop either. I’ve always enjoyed having something tangible to show for the units of time whirring by.

So I’m drawing the city skyline in black ink on a lined sheet neatly torn out of a pocket-sized reporter Moleskine as the green line whisks several of us work-weary commuters from downtown Dallas to the northern suburbs. I’m outlining a tall tower, a row of buildings, and a crescent moon rising up behind them when I pause, raise my head, and look around.

No one else is drawing, and at first glance no one seems to mind that I am. Then out of the corner of my eye I see it. The woman beside me is staring at my notebook.

Commuter culture is pretty established and it’s unusual for someone to break rank and look at anything besides 1) a phone or tablet, 2) a real book, fake book, or newspaper, 3) eyelid backs, or 4) the window. So when my seatmate peered over my shoulder, I was a little surprised. Then it occurred to me: I shouldn’t be.

In five years of commuting in and out of downtown Dallas via train, bus, automobile and occasional airplane, I’ve only seen a handful of folks actively creating in or on their way to the city center. I wondered why.

Just how many people are creative? I asked myself.

Creativity is complicated. A decent working definition refers to the making of something new and valuable.  Humans, though, are “creative” only by metaphor. God creates, in the truest sense of the word, out of nothing.

I revised my question. Who among us are gifted in the arts? How many of my fellow passengers can handle a brush-tipped artist’s pen, or jangle a bright G major on an acoustic guitar, or grand jeté over a puddle in the city street?

You’ve heard of IQ, we need a test for one’s creativity quotient (CQ). Somewhere around 1 in 10 working-age Americans are employed in the creative industry, a vague term that encompasses advertising, architecture, art, crafts, design, fashion, film, music, performing arts, publishing, R&D, software, toys and games, TV and radio, and video games. But what about the non-vocational creative, the average nine-to-five man on the street, or more specifically, woman on the train?

There just isn’t enough information to answer. But it is important to ask, and here’s why.

The Fort Worth/Dallas metro area is the fourth largest in the country. Dallas’ bourgeoning arts district alone has the city poised to become something of a great art town. There must be creatives spread all across North Texas, each with a gift, each responsible to a giver.

Vocational and non-vocational, active and reserve, all creatives are responsible to God to use their gifts to bring into being objects and instruments of responsible action, to bring about shalom, to create the world that ought to be.

In other words, if you have it, flaunt it. If you can draw, then draw. And not just when you’re alone, but out in the open. Bring your gifts into the light. Let your seatmate on the train look over your shoulder. Asking the question helps us to identify and hold accountable those God has singled out as responsible servants in the arts.

As active creatives bring their gifts into the light, something extraordinary happens. Friendship often begins with “What, you too?” What if the passenger who saw me drawing was an active creative herself? We’d have an immediate commonality, a foundation upon which a friendship could be fostered.

Artists need to know they aren’t alone, that they are part of something larger than themselves, part of a plan. Friendship built on any commonality is the beginning of community, and community makes and shapes culture. Asking the question helps us connect with others like ourselves, establish friendships, provide encouragement, build community, and affect change.

Harvey Pennick, one of golf’s greatest teachers, wrote a book filled with practical wisdom from a lifetime in and around the game. He routinely autographed copies of his Little Red Book “to my friend and pupil.” When asked how he could write such an intimate inscription for people he barely knew, Pennick replied, “If you read my book you’re my pupil, and if you play golf, you’re my friend.”

A different author shared this bit of encouragement in a letter to his friends: “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms.”

Look around. Do you see anyone actively creating? Are you? If you draw pictures, you’re my friend. Meet me at Art House Dallas and we’ll talk.

Joshua Seth Minatrea is a Dallas-area thinker and creative. His aim is to gain and give space, time and direction for creation. He has never been bored. Real books, espresso-based beverages and pocket-sized reporter Moleskines® are a few of his favorite things.