Going Back to Church

“Tennessee Chapel” was one of the first pieces I did, it’s the first piece I ever sold, and I really like it. I like it so much, in fact, I decided to do another one.

At first glance, it’s very similar to the first, but I made some important changes.

This time, I included open doors, lights on inside, and steps leading to the church.

As I was doing this I was thinking about choices. We all make choices everyday, but I was specifically thinking about choices related to going to church, to God, and to religion.

As a youth leader, these choices have become very important to me, and I find myself thinking about them more than I’d care to admit, especially when people don’t go to church for one reason or another. Do people actively choose not to go to church? Do they just not go because it’s easier to keep doing whatever they’re doing? Do they think other things are more important? Than community? Than worship? Or do they just think that if they keep walking they’ll find something better? I have seen the overall trend in our society away from church and religion in general, and that plays into this a little too. I think I subconsciously had the road veer away from the chapel rather than leading to it, but that’s me reading more into the drawing after the fact.

I made sure to have the doors open and lights on this time when I drew the little chapel. The door is always open. Maybe not the physical doors or the physical church, but you know what I mean. Leaving a church unlocked all the time in Atlanta would be all kinds of irresponsible, but dang, that would be cool if we could. (If you have never listened to Keb’ Mo’s song“The Door”, go check it out- great song.)

Anyway, you can keep walking down the road, you can turn and walk up the slightly more difficult hill to the church/ religion/God/whatever, or maybe you walk on, turn around, and come back later. The doors will still be open. That’s the key. No matter what you choose- the church is still there. God is still there. It’s up to each of us to walk up the hill and make the choice.

Now, as I’ve always said, art is as much about the viewer as it is about the artist, and this is just what I was thinking as I made it. It’s up to you what you get from it. If you like it, check out my other stuff at www.charlesmakesart.com

Peace,

Charles

Failed Negativity

Ever try to do one thing, and end up doing the opposite?

I started working on a piece that was supposed to be centered around the Church's struggle against the forces which would see it perish. A visual representation of all that detracts from our faith, worship, life in community, and belief system closing in on a powerless and ever shrinking church. Weakness. Smallness. Powerlessness.

At least, that was my intent.

As I have found time and time again, the Holy Spirit has a way of messing with us. As I began to put some color on this thing, it kept looking, well, not negative. It felt powerful. It felt optimistic. As much as I tried to get my point across, it wasn't gonna happen. Another point was being made.

Resistance. Faith. Hope. Strength. That tiny little church began to push back the mountains and offer a sense of hope and sure ground. That tiny little church began to look a bit like the Israelites passing confidently along the seafloor with towering waves in every direction. It began to look like everything I love about the Church.

I like that better than my idea, anyway.

See more stuff at www.charlesmakesart.com

Back to the Drawing Board

So, it's been a while since I posted anything. I had back surgery in January, and the months leading up to that, as well as the month after, were a major creativity suck. I was on all kinds of pain meds that I had hoped would lead to some whacked out crazy artwork, but instead just left me totally unmotivated to do anything.

It's amazing how being partially disabled for a period of time can change your perspective. Now that I have experienced what it's like to not even be able to tie your own shoes or pick up a gallon of milk, I feel like I'm seeing the little things in life for the gift they are. Living without pain, and without pain meds, is an experience I had almost forgotten in just four short months. I had accepted the dull pain, the foggy haze I lived in as a result of whatever pain pill I was taking that month, and the total lack of energy. I tried to get back to my artwork a few times throughout the fall, but each time I got halfway through a pencil sketch and quit- either because of the pain of sitting still for that long, or because I hated what I was drawing. Or because I just didn't care enough to keep going.

I am happy to say that's behind me, now. Hooray for modern medicine and awesome surgeons. I can tie my own shoes again. I can walk again. I can sneeze without screaming in pain. I can run, and pour my own milk, and I can sit down at my drawing table and finally create some new stuff.

So I sat down and started drawing this week- the first time in months. This is what came out.

I like 'em, so I'm doing a whole series. They're scenes inspired by the Mississippi Delta Region- the birthplace of the blues, and home to some really good catfish joints.

I have always been fascinated by this place. It used to be an ecosystem more bio-diverse than the Amazon rainforest. It was an alluvial swampland sandwiched between the Mississippi and Yazoo rivers, teeming with life. Then came the humans. We built levees, drained it, leveled it, and created this. This strange, flat, haunting landscape. It was the world's largest cotton producing region for a time. It gave us some of the greatest food and some of the greatest musicians the world has ever known.

Today, while still a very active agricultural region, it's strangely devoid of people. Yes there are people, wonderful people, who live there- just not as many. The result of mechanization and industrial farming- less people, less paychecks. So now there are lots of empty roads, empty buildings, even a few empty towns.

For a guy who loves rust and junk and abandoned things, it's a playground of beauty and mystery. What used to be in there? Who used to work here? (For some incredible photographs of the area, check out the book Delta Land by Maude Schuyler Clay.) It's a strange place that seems to resist any attempt to capture it on paper. I have been trying to draw this area for over a year, with no luck. I think I'm getting closer, though. Tentatively calling them "Sundown on 61". Hope you like 'em.

See more stuff at www.charlesmakesart.com