Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Jane G. Meyer, “Becoming Jane…For the Hearts of Children”

It has been my absolute delight to be working in the world of children’s literature these last—almost–twenty years. It started with writing simple stories, leading to longer ones with plot lines and chapter breaks. It blossomed when my first son was born and he was (still is) a child who gobbles stories, eating them for both dinner and dessert. His delight in a book is tremendous, and being a mama who loves words, and languages, it was a perfect naptime match—he napped and dreamt of other worlds, and I wrote.

Fast forwarding many years, and many stories. Now, I sit here at my desk, marveling at the winding road God has paved for me. Not a road of financial success and worldly gain, but a road where truths have been discovered, where my obedience has been tested, and where a longing for potato chips has become an obvious sign that I need to get back to work! It’s still true, after all these years, that I like stories, but it’s even more true that I like children, and it’s triply true that I love Christ. And as an artist, that is how I try to live out my days. Liking stories, but loving Christ.

For many years I had the honor of not only writing, but being part of a team that acquired, edited and produced children’s books. I was able to work with dozens of authors to help shape their stories. To me this was a little taste of heaven, and I’m grateful I had that time rooting others on. It taught me that Community is a powerful thing. That joining forces, producing a book, or doing any sort of work together, makes something better than what could be done alone. We are the body of Christ.

Orthodox children deserve beautiful words and images to inspire them, don’t you think? We should labor over every aspect of a book for these children who openly (or even reluctantly) are led into that land of saint or story. That is my joy, knowing the potential is there to inspire deeper thinking or change a heart. Yes, the heart! We must, as parents and guardians, as teachers and grandfathers, nurture the minds and hearts of children, with loving time together, and with stories that build deep faith in a little one…

Liking stories, but loving Christ. If we, as a community of writers and illustrators and book designers and publishers, can keep Christ before the story, then we will accomplish exactly what God intends. We will be part of a team that changes real, beating and feeling hearts! And in that work, my heart will also be changed. For the stories that flow from my pen are not mine alone. God helps, aids, teaches, inspires, gives me courage. His hand appears when least expected, and I try to keep a prayer begging for His presence on my lips when I’m working—it sounds a lot like this: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me!

My ultimate goal is to be completely, fully, totally enveloped by Christ, and becoming the Jane that God has envisioned. And if there are still stories to write as I become that Jane, then you can bet that I’ll be here at my desk, praying the Jesus prayer, rooting on my fellow workers and their stories, and dreaming about little ones and their beautiful hearts.

Jane G Meyer is a children’s book author and editor. She lives in Santa Barbara, California with her husband and three children, where they attend Saint Athanasius Orthodox Church. Her next book due out is The Hidden Garden: A Story of the Heart, and will be published by Conciliar Press in the fall of 2012. You can see more about Jane on her website, www.janegmeyer.com —she also blogs about bread baking at www.janegmeyer.wordpress.com, hoping to inspire others to stretch and give just a little more, and she welcomes you to be part of her community of friends on Facebook, where she shares her blog posts, snippets of her life, and photos…

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Jonathan Kotinek, “Reverse Perspective”

Jonathan’s initial reflections on his subject appeared in a guest post on this blog in September. To read the first post, click here.

As a photographer, painter, and poet who happens to be an Orthodox Christian, I find that my overt attempts at expressing something about my faith tend to be more wooden than if I simply try to let my artwork be a faithful reflection of the beauty I experience in the world. To some extent, I suppose, this is a reflection of my amateur status. I have not yet practiced the technologies of my camera, or brushes, or language well enough for my intent to be expertly woven into my work. It is when I am doing my best to be transparent that I get out of the way enough to let God speak through me.

I have been writing poetry the longest, since I was in middle school. As I have grown older, I am writing less. Not only do I have less time to write, I find that I am not as often inclined to write. I think this might have something to do with having a more-or-less stable and happy life; much of my younger poetry was angst-inspired. I have begun writing again more recently, though it is hard to say if this is because I am feeling more angsty (which might be true) or if I’m finding more depth in feelings as I get older and need an appropriate outlet. I have written a handful of poems since converting to the Orthodox Christian faith eight years ago, but only two of them, Become As A Little Child and Exile, deal at all with issues of faith.

Melinda Johnson, in inviting me to write this post, wondered about Wordsworth’s concept of poetry as “emotion recollected in tranquility,” and whether or not that “tranquility helps or hinders the poet’s…chance at transcendence.” Given my experience of being a more prolific writer during turbulent periods of my life, I have some doubt that tranquility would elicit the same emotion. I concede, however, that the added perspective one might gain by recollecting strong emotion after having achieved some peace might allow the writer to produce a more nuanced and evocative product. And, after all, I’m no Wordsworth.

Much of my photography has been since my conversion. While I do not make particular attempts to photograph Orthodox subjects (except when recording a particular parish event), I do find that the faith-inspired awe I have of nature and the Christian imperative of seeing Christ–and therefore the beauty–in every person permeates my approach to subjects. I am particularly fond of taking portraits and still-life compositions.

My good friend, J. Vincent Scarpace, with whom I was privileged to lead a group of university students in contemplating the idea of transcendence in art, explained to me once why he got started painting fish. He had worked closely with Koi fish and when he went to school was told that he needed to have a subject matter he knew well. I used this insight when I began painting with J. Vincent; though I am not a candle expert, I often find myself staring at the candles lit in prayer during worship.

As I have practiced more painting candles, I try to think about the reasons we Orthodox Christians light candles in prayer and set them in front of icons. I also try to think about what my life looks like, and this swirling darkness, the confusion, disorder and distraction I feel serves as the chaotic background to the candles I paint. My hope is that a person viewing my paintings finds a measure of comfort in the juxtaposition of the candles and the chaos, even if they do not apprehend my particular intent in locating that peace in Christian tradition.

I have had the privilege of sharing my love of art by engaging students in the process of creating art. While J. Vincent did the technical instruction, I took the lead in discussing the idea of art as a means of transcendence with our students. As an Orthodox Christian, transcendence has a very particular meaning for me. I did not foreground my own perspective, but I did get to share a bit about the theology of icons and juxtapose that to other ideas of transcendence. In particular, I was happy that on a field trip to Houston, I got to take my students first to the Houston Byzantine Fresco Chapel and then to the Rothko Chapel. Our conversation about the experience, while somewhat superficial, did suggest that the students came away with an appreciation of the difference between the particular transcendence in the former and the diffuse transcendence of the latter.

I think, finally, that the success of a piece of art, whether poetry, photograph, or painting, depends on an interaction of the art, artist and audience: the rhetorical triangle. The particular genius of Orthodoxy in emphasizing the personal nature of our interaction with God gives a new flavor to art that reveals grace in our experience. Like the reverse perspective in Byzantine iconography, the art is not complete until the audience is participating, until there is someone to receive that grace.

Jonathan Kotinek is a convert to Orthodoxy, father of two, and constantly in awe of his veterinarian wife. An educator, amateur artist, and writer who likes to ponder the intersection of faith, social issues, and education, Jonathan blogs occasionally at http://jkotinek.blogspot.com.

Hello! It’s me again.

Promoting books, mine and other people's, at the OCA All American Conference

I’m breaking in on the “Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists” series to say hello and tell you how it’s going. When I first visualized the series, I thought I’d have one guest each month. After some preliminary research, I thought maybe I’d have two. Shortly after the series launched, I realized I should abandon this measured approach and just stuff guests in wherever they fit.

My guest list is growing like a slinky rolling downstairs. You can meet someone new on this blog every week between now and next summer.  Or perhaps fall.  Or winter.

In my adventures searching for creative Orthodox people, I have confirmed my suspicion that there are many of us, that we would love to be connected to each other, and that we all hope to see a robust support system in the Orthodox writing world equivalent to what is available to secular writers.

So far, it seems to me that Orthodox artists are slightly better off. Iconographers, for example, seem more likely to be featured in local newspapers. Iconography is an art form known by the secular world. It may be valued only as art, but people know what it is.

No such luck for Orthodox writers, it seems. Why is this? Why is an icon accessible to the general public, but an Orthodox book is likely to be read only by the Orthodox? Perhaps looking is not as demanding as reading. Or (allowing my less cynical self some air time) the spiritual content of an icon has the power to attract people.

Orthodox illustrators seem to fall somewhere in the middle, perhaps because their artistic skills can be used for secular or sacred purposes. In their Orthodox lives, however, they share many experiences with Orthodox writers.

To date, this series has been enormously fun for me. I love finding new writers and artists, I love learning about what they do, and I love talking to other people about it. Much of the networking I did at the OCA conference a few weeks ago centered on this blog series. It was such a high to move from one end of the conference hall to the other, talking to people about my guest posters and how great they are. Way better than champagne. As good as chocolate. As good as having the whole box of Godiva TO YOURSELF.

I’m currently working on some new features for the blog, and continuing to ponder ways to water our Orthodox creative world and admire its blossoms. I look forward to being in touch with you as this project grows.

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Magnus Frangipani

Prayer and poetry arise from the unspeakable, mirroring the soul’s appetite for beauty, unity and wholeness.

In the Orthodox understanding/experience of the world, the interior world, of which the exterior is but a reflection, man was created in a state of pristine innocence, the nous clear as windows. As hieromonk Damascene writes in Christ the Eternal Tao, and St Gregory of Sinai, quoted in The Philokalia, he knew no mental distraction, following the principle of the universe, the Logos, God’s Word.

This universe is ordered, it is liturgical. The earth resolves by revolving in ordered patterns, we experience seasons, pulls, a silent drawing forth – again, internally as well as externally. The universe is one verse of God’s breath invigorating life, from mountaintops down to vibrating photons and electrons. And so good poetry, I think, reflects this natural, even musical process of becoming.

Poems, like icons in the Orthodox Church, signify something of greater, even timeless, value. The Greek word for poetry is poiesis, which is a verb meaning to transform or continue the world. It is an action, a movement beyond death. This movement is experienced both individually as well as communally through the Church, in her cycles, liturgically in liturgies of Saints John Chrysostom, Basil and James as well as the psalms.

Words are vessels through which we share ideas, emotions and experiences in attempts to express and glorify the uncreated. St Nicodemus of Mount Athos writes that “God has placed man to be a sort of macrocosmos – a ‘greater world’ within the small one,” elucidating that man is a sort of bridge between the visible and invisible worlds. Poetry is a gate into this mystery.

Translator Tony Barnstone notes how in classical Chinese painting, the white space defines what forms emerge. The way a sky’s negative space in painting defines mountains and trees, so too a mind polished of thoughts and passions by prayer and fasting mirrors the light shining before it. Like apostolic fishermen, some poets – - and the poems of Saints Romanos and Symeon, in particular – - cast nets over the whole of the universe for nourishment. Like prayer, good poems arise from the unspeakable and reflect the soul’s appetite for wholeness, unity, beauty. Barnstone is right. If we place an ear against our heart, while reading poetry one discovers not only what the poem says but what it does.

Magnus Frangipani writes children novels, poetry and non-fiction. On a pilgrimage to India, he found Christ in a Himalayan cave and converted to Orthodoxy in Alaska upon his return to America. Magnus lives and prays in Port Townsend, Washington, where he attends St Herman’s Orthodox Church. Glory to Christ our God for all things.

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Emma Cazabonne, “Beauty will save the world.”

“Beauty will save the world,” wrote Dostoevsky in The Idiot, first published serially in 1868-1869.

Many Orthodox writers and thinkers have since used the phrase. I encountered it about 25 years ago in a book by Paul Evdokimov, and it never left me. At the time, I was just discovering Orthodoxy; but I had been exposed to art for many years and was doing a bit of drawing and painting myself.

After two world wars, numerous ecological disasters, and ugly terrorist acts all over our planet, we may be tempted to despair. But I believe “beauty will save the world.”

To attract your attention, whether on paper, on the little screen or on your monitor, the media focus almost exclusively on ugliness and catastrophes. But beauty will save the world.

Now an official member of the Orthodox Church, I believe in the saving beauty of Christ’s redeeming death and Resurrection.

I also believe that following Christ means participating in His redeeming work, at many levels. I will only speak here about one level. As an Orthodox believer, I feel particularly called to spread beauty in our world. And I strive to do it through my artwork and my writing.

Born from French parents gifted with talents for drawing and painting, I started painting in grade school; I even remember nailing old sheets on a piece of wood to make my own “canvas.” I was not 10 at the time.

A few years later, an art teacher introduced me to the fascinating world of colors, and I attended weekly art classes until university. After some low years in art production, I discovered rock painting. I have now been painting almost exclusively on rocks for 10 years. I paint things I find beautiful and believe will introduce beauty in the life of others. Seeing the joy of my customers when they discover my rocks brings me a lot of hope, as they have a glimpse that everything may not be rotten and in our world.

Beauty will save the world.

 

I paint birds, flowers, landscapes, etc, memorial rocks for deceased pets, from pictures taken by the pet owner, and icons and Orthodox stain-glass style designs.

Beauty will save the world.

God’s saving Beauty was made visible in the flesh: “The Word was made flesh.” John 1:14. We have access to this multi-faceted beauty in our daily contact with the Word in the Scriptures.

I believe we can find and propagate beauty not only through visual arts, but also through The Word and words. I have loved words since I was about 4, when I started reading by myself. Since then, I have grown into a passionate lover of words and books.

It is not only fascinating to read, but also to share with others the beauty I find in books, whether they are fiction or non-fiction works. I started a book blog a year ago, and it has been a deep experience to interact with others on the beauty and depth of words. I entitled my blog Words And Peace, to convey the idea that you can reach some peaceful depth in yourself through reading and sharing, and of course I could not miss the opportunity of introducing a pun, on War And Peace, as you would all have guessed. My blog’s address is: http://wordsandpeace.wordpress.com. The last Orthodox book I reviewed was:

You can read my review here.

I write a lot every month through my translation work of articles and books, mostly from English to French, and occasionally from French to English. The world of translation is absolutely fascinating. I deeply believe we still need bridges in our global world. The image of the world as a village is still a myth, not exactly yet part of our daily reality: we still need help communicating with each other on our planet, and that is the beautiful role of translators, among others. The more we understand each other, the easier we will be at peace. I believe part of my mission as an Orthodox believer is to be a “beauty and peace maker,” by helping people understand each other.

I believe I contribute to this bridge building also through my online French classes, geared to students of all levels, from total beginners to Ph. D. students and proficient learners who just want to keep up with their French conversation skills.

Beauty will save the world.

More creatively, I have given lots of conferences focused mainly on monastic spirituality, both for Western and Eastern Christians. Some of these conferences I have published as articles. The most relevant to our topic here is my article on Gregory Palamas. Discovering that few Western Christians knew about him, I tried to write an accessible presentation of his life and works. I initially wrote and published it in French, then in English and Spanish. The English version is available in the Cistercian Studies Quarterly 37:3 (2002): 303-333 .

Who better than Gregory Palamas wrote about the beauty and depth of our faith? I discovered Gregory through the mystery of the Transfiguration back in the late 80s, and since then I have striven to propagate this beauty.

And last but not least, I published a book a few years ago focused on light. Early on, I discovered that as much as Eastern Fathers and Mothers, writers pertaining to the Western Christian tradition focused a lot on the topic of light. I decided then to publish an anthology of short spiritual texts related to the theme of light in Cistercian Fathers and Mothers:

A Light to Enlighten the
Darkness: Daily Readings for Meditation during the Winter Season Selected by Emma Cazabonne (Cistercian
Publications, 2008) ISBN: 978-0-87907-227-8

Beauty will save the world.

Some of our contemporaries may think beauty, whether in art or in words, is something totally irrelevant to our busy and efficient modern world, where the main goal seems sometimes to make money and buy things. Just as we need our daily bread, I believe that more than ever, we need our daily portion of beauty to survive and thrive.

To paraphrase a passage by Nina Sankovitch in her latest book Tolstoy and The Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading (Harper: 2011), I wish for all of us that beauty may become “an escape, not from, but into living.”

_______________________

Note: I am referring to this passage:

“Cyril  Connolly, twentieth-century writer and critic, wrote that ‘words are alive and literature becomes an escape, not from, but into living.’ That was how I wanted to use books: as an escape back to life. I wanted to engulf myself in books and come up whole again.” p.20

 

Emma Cazabonne is a French tutor, an English-French translator, and a rockpainter. She was born in France and has been living in the US for 10 years. After 20 years as a Trappistine nun, she converted to Orthodoxy. With her husband, a clinical counselor combining Orthodox spiritual elements and psychological principles in his practice, she attends a small ROCOR parish in the Chicagoland.

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Claire Brandenburg, “What is in the Kitchen?”

Creating interesting characters is very important to a story. The character has to be someone that you, as a writer, understand on an interior level. You know what he will do and what he won’t do. That character has to be someone that the reader also wants to follow and to spend some time with, and is in many ways the key to keeping people turning the page.

So how do we go about that?

I open my double door pantry and start going through the shelves… hmmm, a can of this, a can of that…how about some of these spices on the door?

What on earth am I talking about?  Well, let me tell you a little more.

I spend a lot of time observing people, even speaking in their accent if they speak unusually to my ears, (of course not to their face).  I guess in a way I act out who I perceive that they are.  Of course this representation is I myself living in a different circumstance, in perhaps a different culture, and taking on mannerisms of that life.

I ask God to show this to me as well.  I ask how would he (the character) do this or do that?  What would he chose? What is next thing that might happen?  Does that feel right, does this feel right?  And then I wait until I have the answer.

I also research and ask questions of people; how do they do the things that they do, the jobs that they have, or things that they enjoy.  A person spends a lot of time each day at their work, they love it, they hate it; but they grow in it, and it changes them because they are interacting with other people; and often not people who would necessarily be friend choices.  Watching people at work tells you a lot about them.  You see personality manifested through their actions. As an illustrator, my job is showing the reader what is happening.  That is a writer’s job is as well.  You want to show a lot about your characters through the way they move through their day or through a problem.

I am working on a young adult novel.  It has been a long term project; in fact, I have been working on it now for over five years.  I have tried to create a character of a mixed cultural background deriving the personality of Isaac, the principle character, from the Hispanic people of Northern New Mexico, with whom I have lived as neighbors and friends for many years.  I also wanted to combine his personality with things I have read in Orthodox writings, wanting him to come from a background that has partly Orthodox roots.  I went so far as to create a history for Isaac’s grandfather as well, who, though not actively met within the book, has a major impact on the central character’s consciousness and responses, and whose influence has greatly formed his character.

This is a road trip story, so I took the road trip.  I know where my character is going, what these places look like, and how he will feel about those places before he gets there.

That kind of “story” gathering is an important part of the pantry that provides food for a book and the representation of its characters who are not only good to write about but also good to read about.  With this method the adage, “Write what you know,” is played out to the hilt.

A fine artist and children’s book writer and illustrator, Claire received a BFA in art and education from the University of New Mexico. Working in a variety of different art forms for over thirty years, she has shown her work in galleries and museums and has received numerous awards. You can learn more about her published work at www.clairebrandenburg.com.  Claire is married. She and her husband have two grown children. Beside her work for Children’s Books and illustration, Claire is involved in the recording of Orthodox books and teachings on CD. Claire blogs at http://clairebrandenburg.blogspot.com and can also be found on Twitter and Facebook. If you visit her Facebook page, you’ll notice a link to Heavenly Ladder, a bookstore that was founded as part of an effort to establish an Orthodox Church in Taos, New Mexico. Check out the Heavenly Ladder “Travel” link to learn about tours and pilgrimages to Orthodox holy places.

Special Guest: Eleni reviews “Letters to Saint Lydia”

Eleni and her sister

Do you ever feel overwhelmed, misunderstood, and confused about life? Do you get in fights with your parents and feel stressed out and frustrated about everything? Do you wish you had someone to talk to who understands and doesn’t judge you? Well, this is the kind of thing Lydia is going through the summer before she turns eighteen and becomes an adult. Lydia’s family converts to Orthodox Christianity without her, one of her best friends gets pregnant, and her comfortingly familiar life is falling apart as she gets ready to leave home for college. Lydia desperately needs a friend—and she finds one in the most surprising place: an icon of St. Lydia. Lydia tells the saint everything she is going through in her letters to St. Lydia, who invisibly answers, guiding her through the difficult times in her life with deep love and compassion.

Letters to Saint Lydia, by Melinda Johnson, is a book I connected to a lot (literally) because there is a girl in the story named Eleni who actually reminds me of myself. I was able to connect to Eleni’s personality and also to some of the Greek culture Eleni brings into the story because I am one quarter Greek and a lot of the things in this book had to do with some cultural things that are very similar to my family. When Lydia finally leaves home for college, she meets her new roommate, who happens to be Greek Orthodox, the Greek form of the religion her parents have just converted to. Her new roommate, Eleni, quickly becomes Lydia’s closest friend (besides St. Lydia) and helps guide and support Lydia through the challenges she deals with in college as well as in her spiritual struggles. For example, when Lydia gets a boyfriend who she thinks she’s in love with, Eleni tries to help Lydia to see what he’s really like and after the boyfriend attacks and leaves Lydia, Eleni is nothing but understanding and supportive and gets Lydia back to her normal self.

My evaluation of Lydia is that she is courageous and intelligent because even when she is questioning everything she thought she knew and she is confused about so many things, she keeps her head on her shoulders and never gives up or stops trying to find the whole truth. When she begins writing letters to Saint Lydia, she is skeptical and doesn’t even know whether or not she believes the saint exists, but still is comforted to pour her troubles out on the paper. She tells St. Lydia that she won’t pray to God or anything until she completely believes in Him, which I think is smart of her because I don’t think it’s a good idea to worship anything or anyone until you know for sure that it is the right thing to do. Later Lydia realizes that Saint Lydia really is reading her letters and has been giving her good advice and encouragement all along; Lydia is finally able to appreciate how much they really helped her through, even though she didn’t even know they were there at the time. I also thought Lydia was a good friend, because even when her friend Trella gets pregnant and isn’t able to go to college, Lydia still keeps in touch with her, comes to visit her all the way from college, and supports her through the extremely tough time of her pregnancy.

After I read the beginning of this book, I predicted that Lydia would meet some good new friends at college. It said how anxious she was to leave and I thought that she would probably end up meeting new friends who she would become closer to. I also predicted that she would meet someone else who was Orthodox who would inspire her. Both of my predictions were true because Lydia met Eleni, who was Orthodox and became a close friend of Lydia’s.

I really didn’t have a whole lot of questions while reading Letters to Saint Lydia, because the story was pretty clear and straightforward. As I read the first few pages, though, I did wonder if Saint Lydia would really answer Lydia’s letters and if Lydia would actually be able to read the saint’s letters. After reading a little further, I clarified that Saint Lydia was answering Lydia’s letters, but Lydia didn’t realize it until after she fully believed in Saint Lydia’s existence. I also was curious to know if Lydia and her mom would ever get along well, because their personalities seemed to clash
and they fought a lot before Lydia left for college. Later in the story, they started to connect more strongly and get closer. They ended up getting along much better when Lydia had her freedom and was out of the house, because Lydia’s mom didn’t have to tell her what to do all the time and Lydia didn’t feel so belittled and bossed around by her mother.

My final evaluation of this book is that it is a story many teenagers can connect to, even if they are not Orthodox or even Christian, because it is written in an understandable and interesting way. Even if people are going through different things than Lydia in their lives, some of the problems she has as she’s going to college and officially becoming an adult may be very similar to other teen’s struggles.

Letters to Saint Lydia is 207 pages long and there are many other characters besides Lydia, Saint Lydia, Eleni, and Trella. Some of them are Paul, Maria Louisa, Lauren, Jill, “Pogo”, and Jude. For example, towards the beginning of the story, Lydia’s best friends are Maria Louisa, Lauren, Jill, and Trella, who are on the high school volleyball team with her. Lydia refers to all of them as her
“volleyball family” and is very close to them up until college. However, later on in the book, as all their lives are changing and they don’t spend as much time together as before, Lydia begins to grow closer to Trella and Maria Louisa, but grows more distant with her friends Lauren and Jill. I think that this goes with the theme of the story, which is about a girl who is growing up and finding out who she is and what she believes in. In Letters to Saint Lydia, Lydia finds out who her true friends are and what is really important in life.

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Grace Brooks

My mother tells me that one of the real benefits that I offered to a weary parent (I was the last of four children) was that if you put me in a room with a pencil and paper, I could amuse myself for hours and could even be heard laughing at what I had created.

I can appreciate what a boon that must’ve been, even though as an adult, I’ve got some reservations (Um, just how long were we leaving little Gracie in a room by herself? Couldn’t we have spent just a little of that time working on her social skills?).

But I can see that the signs were there that I was going to be one of those oddballs that the world sometimes celebrates and sometimes frets over. I was going to be someone who beheld a wonderful world full of airplanes, bumblebees, ice cream, cuckoo clocks and other delights and then felt an irrepressible urge to capture it, futile though that was. My heart would nearly burst with it: How do you draw sunshine? How do you spell the sound a hummingbird’s wings make? What notes sound like a day in October?

And, more importantly, how did everything fit together — what was the Story? What was the point of Life and what were the rules? As you grow, you get some tantalizing clues, and you get to see other people’s answers on the subject. And you encounter the engine of all our guesswork — our culture — and that can be a wonderful and terrible thing in its storytelling. I had no reason to believe that I had any really vital part of the story to relate, but there’s nothing for it, for the ones whose hearts lead them that way. I wanted to re-tell that Great Narrative, or at least as much of it as my life expressed. I still do.
 

Great expectations

I wish I could say my creative life as an adult was one big happy story, but it’s been rather bittersweet. At the same time that I converted to Orthodoxy and began one of the best times of my spiritual life, I started a series of frustrating attempts to find the creative outlet that would give me work to do that was close to my heart. I appreciate my years as a graphic artist, and I hope that I’ve helped others tell their stories, but it hasn’t helped me tell mine.

About 15 years ago, I got bitten by the bug to create a comic strip. After a couple lukewarm attempts, I got an idea out of the blue that put me on one of those roller coaster rides that every prospective artist and writer knows too well. Initial interest from a major syndicate made me think I was on my way to a life that seemed like a dream come true. But the syndicate dropped me, and after a year of self-syndicating (for the princely sum of $6 a week), I had to admit defeat. I think I still grieve sometimes for what I thought it would lead to, though I can see a lot of reasons why it might have been better in the long run that I failed.

I could skip this unhappy episode, but I think there’s value in expressing the part of being both creatively-inclined and Orthodox that we like the least– that is to say, the reality of wanting what is difficult (arguably impossible) to acquire. Failure is a distinct possibility and success can be very elusive. Struggling makes for a good narrative if victory is assured, but the Church has known its share of sorrows, and each of us has our own to reflect upon as well. I would’ve liked easy success in both my creative and spiritual labors; instead, I have to deal with reality … and I struggle.
 

Creativity 2.0

Not that I’ve given up on writing and drawing. Blogging doesn’t pay, of course, but it does allow me to work on some skills with words and images. I get some design assignments from time to time that indulge my sense of whimsy (as with a superhero potato character I’m doing right now for a storage facility) (don’t ask). And all the while, my church life has kept me grounded and helped me to break out of the confines of my five senses, my narrow aesthetics and my enslavement to the realms of imagination.

As for my next trick, who knows? I start to wonder if, as Melinda says, I’ll find that the next project is more of a joint endeavor. It would seem to reflect more about who I am now if it was less of a one-woman show and more of a team effort.

I’m interested in a lot more of our popular culture than I used to be, and I see a lot of opportunity for Orthodoxy to find expression there. Cultural offerings have certainly gotten more vulgar and secular in my lifetime, but suddenly the opportunities to create mini-cultures have exploded. I would like to see a flowering of Orthodox themes in self-publication (as Barbara Shukin did), and also in videocasts, CD recordings, graphic novels, computer games–who can say? Technology is increasing the number of people who get to tell a story, and Orthodox have a voice in the Christian narrative that has been sorely lacking. We’re more earthy, but still attached to the sacred. We’re less sentimental, less rationalistic, more scientific and fully invested in the mystery of the Church. I’d love to hear more stories offered from an Orthodox-informed perspective.

But I haven’t won the lottery this week, so I suppose I can’t be a patron of all the change I’d like to see. I’ll have to dust off whatever skills I have and see where I can start.

Where did I leave those crayons? And does anyone have an extra blue one?

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Grace Brooks is a freelance graphic artist and cartoonist living in Phoenix, Arizona, with her gracious husband Greg and a coonhound named Clementine. She has a BA in Fine Arts from UC Irvine, and has been a graphic artist for 28 years. She hosts a blog at www.this-side-of-glory.com

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Sheena Hisiro

Admittedly, when Melinda first contacted me about writing a piece for her blog, I was a little hesitant.  After all, I didn’t major in writing.  Rather, I went to school for illustration, to learn to bring stories to life via pictures, not words.  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I can do this.  While a writing degree may not be in my background, the subject matter of this piece is something I am very familiar with–my artwork.

This summer I was fortunate enough to work with Conciliar Press illustrating a new children’s book, written by Kelly Lardin, being released early next year.  The book, entitled Josiah and Julia Go to Church: A Young Child’s Guide to Church Etiquette, is a playful story for children teaching them what they should (and shouldn’t) do in church.

Obviously, with the book being set in a church, I needed to draw a church.  Rather than create a fictitious one, a concept that came immediately to mind was to depict the church I grew up in, Christ the Saviour Orthodox Church, where I spent many a childhood day.  For a number of the images, I drew from memory, having spent many hours over the course of my life studying every visual detail of the church–the pattern of the floor, the pews, the intricate wood carvings decorating the iconostasis, the decorative and very colorful garments worn by the priest and altar boys, the parishioners, the beautiful icons, the different candles burning, and once they were finished, the very large icons adorning almost every wall in the church.  These in particular fascinated me as
a child and continue to do so as an adult, with all the detail and care with which they were painted, as well as how each tells a different story.  For someone with a passion for anything visual, the church is a feast for the eyes.

The priest in the story is again my priest from childhood, Fr. Daniel Ressetar.  Up until the last couple of years when he retired, Fr. Dan was the priest at Christ the Saviour. That is to say, he “officially” retired; if you go on Sunday, you’re very likely to see him helping out with the current priest, Fr. Stephen.  Fr. Dan was then, and continues to be, an influential part of my life.  Many times when I go home to visit family, I have some news clipping or other compliments of Fr. Dan, be it an article he thought of interest to me, news about Orthodoxy, Church Bulletins, and occasionally, a book that he thought I might like.  He was there for many big events in my life, church-related and non-church related alike–my baptism, first communion (and many communions after that), first confession, high school graduation, the release of my first children’s book and subsequent one, and would have attended the most recent if not for a previous engagement.  Including him in the story was my way of paying tribute, of saying thank you, to Fr. Dan for everything he has done and continues to do for me.

Over the course of my life, many people have said, “You have a gift from God,” or “You have been truly blessed with artistic talent.”  I am very grateful to have this gift and pray that I am able to continue to utilize my talent for a very long time.

Sheena Hisiro has been drawing since she could hold a pencil. She currently lives in Brooklyn, NY where she is still drawing and loving every minute of it. Sheena is currently illustrating children’s books, designing greeting cards, and drawing cupcakes.

Orthodox Writers, Readers, and Artists: Barbara Shukin

When Melinda asked me if I would be interested in writing a blog post about writing, I thought, “Well, I am an author, I self-publish my books… Oh! Sure. I’d be glad to contribute.” But then it occurred to me, “Oh, she wants writers: people who ‘write.’ But, I don’t really ‘write.”’

You see, my background is in art. I have a Master’s degree in sculpture, and furthermore, my experience lies along the lines of conceptual art. After all, I went to the University of Illinois at Chicago during the ‘80’s. That’s what we did there and then. I have ideas.I make things. Making art and teaching is what I am “qualified” for. But, regardless, the truth is, over the past 10 years I have found myself doing quite a lot of writing.

What got me into this position, where I needed to express myself this way, is that I had an idea for a series of history notebooks: the History Portfolio books. These are books which the children build by adding written work and images according to the provided outline, and in the end function as a record of their history studies and a keepsake. Part of this original vision included publishing books for Orthodox Christian children as well, and so several years ago, I published a book called Journaling Throughout the Liturgical Year, which is a notebook as well. You see the theme? Making things. The initial idea and the production of the Portfolios didn’t require much writing, just the original vision, tons of research, and artistic decisions. Concepts, researching, making. These were areas I was familiar and comfortable with. But what happened next was that I needed to explain how to use the books, write introductions, web content, etc.  And, further down the line, I wrote Teacher’s Guides for each of the books. So, it’s snowballed.

But, “how did I get here” is not what I want to write about today. I want to write about “here I am,” and how to make the best of it. One of the first things that came to mind when gathering my thoughts about this blog post was sharing a couple of revelations I’ve had about “here I am.” About 11 years ago, I became very involved with a consuming project with our church. With the blessing of our Bishop, our group had just purchased a temple which needed to be remodeled. At this time, I had just my two oldest children.  Nearly every day from May – September, for some part of the day, we went to work on the church. I remember, one day, sitting in the church in the mess of lumber and dust and half-painted projects, and the letters of St. Theophan the Recluse came to mind. In this book, The Spiritual Life: And How to Be Attuned to It, St. Theophan replies to a young woman’s recent letter.

“What has happened to you? What kinds of questions are these? ‘I do not know what to do with my life. Should I be doing something in particular? Should I define some particular purpose for myself?’  I read this and I was dumbfounded; where could such odd thoughts have come from?” (87)

The chapter continues, and he makes it clear that she is not to waste time on these questions, but to do the work which God has put before her! This resonated with me because at this time I was personally a little conflicted because I had left other projects at home. But I looked around and thought, I did not look for this, I did not choose it, but it was put before me. And, I was so thankful for the work which had been put before me, and thankful that I didn’t have to choose between projects or be the navigator.

Earlier this year, I had another experience which reminds me of the experience I just described. I was listening to the radio, while alone in the car. As a homeschool mom, let me tell you, this occurrence is rare!  But, I heard the story of a man involved in some charitable organization, who was working in a faraway land bringing roads and, as I remember, communication capabilities. I thought, “Oh, I’d love to do something like that! It’s so meaningful!” For just a moment or two I contemplated this. But, I quickly turned my mind to something more constructive and thought, “Well, what would I do, if I could?” And, I thought, envisioning a faraway land, “I would like to teach… to work with children… to somehow touch their lives with books, good books…” and as I narrowed it down, I realized… “That’s what I do! I’m doing it! I am living my dream!” It was a very delightful surprise. And, again, I was so thankful for the work which has been put before me.

Sometimes, I clearly have jobs before me, and the work is rich and full of challenges. But, there are plenty of times that I flounder in my work. I recently heard a Russian proverb, “Pray to God, but keep rowing to shore.” In the lull between projects, or in the middle of a project which seems to be feebly coming along, I feel the need to gather some kindling to get the fire going. Back in my art school days, we had a guest visit by a curator of a gallery, and she gave some advice which I think is applicable here. She said, “Everyday, you need to be with your art, working and thinking to some degree. Some days will not be as productive or creative, and on those days you need to at least be in your studio cleaning your brushes or preparing your work space.” With my writing, I may not have the same tools of the trade as a painter or sculptor, but I do find that the more I stay away from my craft, the more distant I feel from it, a chasm opens up, and the less inclined I am to plunge in as soon as an idea strikes me.

To keep moving along, or stoke the fire, it has proven to be a good thing for me to take up small projects which are just above my comfort level. This forces me to keep learning new things. Many of these projects are teaching opportunities, giving me the reason, and deadline, to create new activities along the lines of the Portfolio and the Liturgical Year Journal. Speaking or presenting workshops has been an area which has given me the opportunity to collect my thoughts, and write. Definitely outside my comfort zone, but good for me. Deadlines and accountability can be good.  I just take each opportunity as a challenge to develop.

To really keep a good fire burning, I have found that, for me, a good length of time for a big project is about 5 or 6 months. I love to really live in a project for a while, immersing myself as much as I can, and then gaining that sense of completeness when it is done. Once I get some distance on a finished project, I find that if I can look back at my year and know I’ve finished something, it seems to provide a semblance of order, and satisfaction. Of course, completing a project… raising the curtain on the show, presenting myself and my work as if saying “this is the best I can do,” has its own problems. It can be hair-raising at worst, and humbling at best. I have repeatedly watched myself delay the end of a project, not wanting that creative fire to end. Apparently, my thinking was, “It was safe working on this project. I have a job to do, I have a clear direction, I know what I’m doing. And… when this project is over, what am I going to do?! Oh no, I’ll have to come up with something all over again, and it’s going to be messy!”

Mess or not, writing or building, it can’t be helped. It’s what I do. I make things.

Barbara Shukin is an Orthodox Christian mother of five children from ages 21 down to 4, and has homeschooled since the beginning. After receiving her MFA in sculpture from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, she taught for several years at the college level, and was concurrently the director of a college art gallery. She continues to teach through local homeschool co-ops, and by offering art classes for homeschoolers. Barbara is the author and publisher of the History Portfolio Series, the Nature Portfolio, and Journaling Throughout the Liturgical Year, offering a notebooking approach to the study of history, nature study, and the Orthodox faith.