There is something so pagan about Ash Wednesday. You let another person smear dirt all over your face (well, in my case, my nose was looking pretty smudgy by the end of it). I'm always mystified by Catholic behavior but as I walked back to my pew and looked at my fellow parishioners staring straight ahead with big fat smudges on their foreheads I wondered what could be going on in their heads.
I think I know what we're supposed to think. We're supposed to be penitent, to feel badly about all the bad things we've done and to be very, very sorry. Guilt, forgiveness. And maybe there's some sadness and regret thrown in there too. Father told us to rend our hearts and cast off the things in our lives that separate us from God. Like TV or video games. Yes, and we should probably give up lusting after people, alcohol consumption, and cussing like sailors. Because those things separate us from God.
So that's easy, right? Feel sorry for yourself (Heaven knows I'm exceptionally skilled at that practice), worry about how you've committed all these sins, and doubt that you'll ever be forgiven for being such a wretched human being. And then you're done. Of course you should try to do better, but who has time for that? I'm so busy feeling bad, I can't waste my time concentrating on doing better, because I know I can't possibly live up to what's expected of me.
At this point my knees kind of hurt from the kneeler thingie on the pew so I lean back and chill a little bit. I used to be really good at this feeling sorry thing. Well, better than I am. I used to fixate and obsess over things I'd said and done, and man it's lucky nobody gave me a leather strap, 'cause I'd make such a fantastic flagellant.
But I can't do it anymore. I lose steam nowadays, I don't get very far in my wallowing. It's all Eckhart Tolle's fault, too.
Here is what I am "giving up" for Lent. I am giving up drama. I am giving up my ego. And you won't find me flogging through the daffodils because all that sorrow, all that repentance is a really great way for me to feed my ego and play out my melodrama (meanwhile, God's wondering when I'll get over myself).
The ashes remind me to not take anything too seriously, because none of it is really important. Feeling bad and fasting and giving up chocolate is oh so dramatic, and way too serious for me. I think it kind of begs the question. You want to fast? Try letting go of your inhibitions, try not taking things personally, try rendering those things which you hold most dear (your work, your self-image) irrelevant. Now there's a fast.
I think that's what Jesus wanted out of the idea that you should pray in secret. He wanted us to discipline our minds and separate from the ego, from the drama.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Can Art Survive Technology? Or, I Miss Seeing Your Face
Like many artists, I would like to understand why John Q. Public isn't interested in, say, purchasing a painting of mine for $800, even if it's for a good cause. I would like to understand why people think I shouldn't have to be paid for singing. I would like to understand why people don't read books anymore, why books and literature aren't appealing.
Why buy a painting when you can rip it off the internet for free, and look at it any time you want? If you have good enough technology, you could just print out the painting at home and hang it on your wall, who cares if the actual paint isn't visible? Who even uses real paint for art these days? Isn't Photoshop enough?
Everything is so easily accessible: music, film, theatre, writing...all of the institutes that supported communities of artists are dying: museums, galleries, newspapers and real-life publishing, concert halls and opera houses, movie theaters and playhouses...so how can an artist make a profit off of their art, when there is no audience, no group of people willing to pay money for it?
Maybe I'll find an answer to this question, but I don't see one right now. People have to make a conscious decision to support the arts, people have to abandon their laziness and make the extra effort to leave the privacy of their homes to see that movie, or hear that performance. It seems that is a lot to ask of the generation wearing iPhone-shaped blinders, who cannot experience anything if it doesn't manifest as a digital image at their fingertips.
Yes, I can admit to using youtube and google to look at art, to watch a movie clip or read a poem. But I am left feeling empty, as if I had no real connection to the art, and it stirs a desire for further interaction. If I see a painting by Frida Kahlo online, I resolve to someday see that painting in real life, to cough up the dinero to squint at the brushstrokes and experience something that I will remember for a long time. I can tell, though, that a lot of people out there are satisfied by simply googling whatever art they fancy and shooting a quick glance at it while their feature film downloads.
To say nothing of the profound expense of human interaction. How are we to relate to one another, to empathise and have compassion, when there is no need for the human touch, the face-to-face experience? How can we call ourselves a community when we rarely commune, when we are content to pile into our giant destructive SUVs and spend our days zooming from cozy garage to cozy garage, plying the children into gaping silent apathy as they stare at the DVD players in the backseat? How are we to enjoy good conversations when every restaurant's wall is covered in television screens (St. Clare, pray for us) and we have every opportunity to abandon our loved ones for the siren song of constant image stimulation? To me, technology is like caffeine or cigarettes, a common drug that keeps us feeling calm and satiated, lest we forget the impending emphysema, heart attack, or lung cancer that looms with each little sin committed. So we indulge in the instant gratification that our internet can provide, again and again, for free, and we take it and all the work that is poured into it daily for granted.
A society loses its identity without arts and culture. And likewise, an economy suffers when the institutions of arts and culture aren't supported by active, engaged, thinking individuals. Can you imagine visiting New York without seeing a Broadway show? Or driving through a Hollywood with no movie stars, with no acting talent to admire? Yet that is what we sacrifice, every time we download a movie for free, or youtube a scene from Wicked. And while Broadway and Hollywood may be safe due to their size, age, and enduring appeal, Denver's arts district may not be so lucky.
Are we going to take ownership of our humanity, our communities, our fellow human beings, or are we going to stay behind the screen, for convenience's sake? I can tell you that it's not very convenient for me to spend months creating art only for it to receive a passing glance, and not a cent for my efforts. When I create art I do it to enrich my community, but I cannot do that without economic support. None of us can. We have to eat, and live, and food, unfortunately, is not something that we can download for free...yet.
Why buy a painting when you can rip it off the internet for free, and look at it any time you want? If you have good enough technology, you could just print out the painting at home and hang it on your wall, who cares if the actual paint isn't visible? Who even uses real paint for art these days? Isn't Photoshop enough?
Everything is so easily accessible: music, film, theatre, writing...all of the institutes that supported communities of artists are dying: museums, galleries, newspapers and real-life publishing, concert halls and opera houses, movie theaters and playhouses...so how can an artist make a profit off of their art, when there is no audience, no group of people willing to pay money for it?
Maybe I'll find an answer to this question, but I don't see one right now. People have to make a conscious decision to support the arts, people have to abandon their laziness and make the extra effort to leave the privacy of their homes to see that movie, or hear that performance. It seems that is a lot to ask of the generation wearing iPhone-shaped blinders, who cannot experience anything if it doesn't manifest as a digital image at their fingertips.
Yes, I can admit to using youtube and google to look at art, to watch a movie clip or read a poem. But I am left feeling empty, as if I had no real connection to the art, and it stirs a desire for further interaction. If I see a painting by Frida Kahlo online, I resolve to someday see that painting in real life, to cough up the dinero to squint at the brushstrokes and experience something that I will remember for a long time. I can tell, though, that a lot of people out there are satisfied by simply googling whatever art they fancy and shooting a quick glance at it while their feature film downloads.
To say nothing of the profound expense of human interaction. How are we to relate to one another, to empathise and have compassion, when there is no need for the human touch, the face-to-face experience? How can we call ourselves a community when we rarely commune, when we are content to pile into our giant destructive SUVs and spend our days zooming from cozy garage to cozy garage, plying the children into gaping silent apathy as they stare at the DVD players in the backseat? How are we to enjoy good conversations when every restaurant's wall is covered in television screens (St. Clare, pray for us) and we have every opportunity to abandon our loved ones for the siren song of constant image stimulation? To me, technology is like caffeine or cigarettes, a common drug that keeps us feeling calm and satiated, lest we forget the impending emphysema, heart attack, or lung cancer that looms with each little sin committed. So we indulge in the instant gratification that our internet can provide, again and again, for free, and we take it and all the work that is poured into it daily for granted.
A society loses its identity without arts and culture. And likewise, an economy suffers when the institutions of arts and culture aren't supported by active, engaged, thinking individuals. Can you imagine visiting New York without seeing a Broadway show? Or driving through a Hollywood with no movie stars, with no acting talent to admire? Yet that is what we sacrifice, every time we download a movie for free, or youtube a scene from Wicked. And while Broadway and Hollywood may be safe due to their size, age, and enduring appeal, Denver's arts district may not be so lucky.
Are we going to take ownership of our humanity, our communities, our fellow human beings, or are we going to stay behind the screen, for convenience's sake? I can tell you that it's not very convenient for me to spend months creating art only for it to receive a passing glance, and not a cent for my efforts. When I create art I do it to enrich my community, but I cannot do that without economic support. None of us can. We have to eat, and live, and food, unfortunately, is not something that we can download for free...yet.
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