creative projects

I need some help. I tend to be strong at coming up with ideas but for many reasons (lazy, insecure, distracted, on to a new idea) am terrible about following through with these ideas to completion. Over the last year I have been really exploring some creative avenues. I really enjoy them but am having trouble moving beyond the initial stages. As a result I have started several projects or at least worked through them in my head but haven’t taken things to the next step. I could really use some encouragement to keep working and some accountability to make sure that I keep working. If you would please check in with me to see how things are moving. Here is a list of projects that I would like to see completed this year in photography, art and writing.

Writing: Symbols of our making (novel)

Art: Church sponsored art festival in early spring of 2009.

Photography: 1. Land of Plenty: homelessness, poverty and the recession in the OC (photo journalism style) 2. DOF still photography series 3. Soul of surfing (photo portfolio for submission in the 2010 Follow the light Foundation photo contest in August of 2010) 4 HBAC photography salon show in January (2 photos) 5. HBAC Centered at the Center summer salon exhibit in June (2 photos) 6. Houses of worship

Thanks.

symbols of our making chapter 2 part 1

Here is the link to chapter 1: The verdict. It is in three posts so follow the links at the top of part 3 to start at the beginning.

                                                    Chapter 1: The verdict

Here is the first installment of chapter 2: Two homes and journey

(c) All material is copywrited by the author please do not reproduce or use without the express written consent of the author.

Symbols of our Making

Chapter 2: Two homes and a journey

We sat in silence on the small prison cot for about forty-five minutes. Sierra lying against my chest sobbing as I held her in my arms and stroked her hair. She has always been so strong and able to keep it together; yet here in my arms she clung to me vulnerable and afraid. Fourteen years of buried pain and anguish came bursting forth in one sudden explosion. As I lay there holding her close my mind wandered between  happy memories of days spent at the Channel Island beach home together to the painful reality of what this war has cost both of us.

“Si – Sierra, I’m sorry they sent me to tell you that Jacob’s visiting time is up,” said Gregory as he interrupted the strange comfort of the stolen moments we shared. Sierra got up wiping tears from her eyes. As she reached the door she turned back to me and said, “Jacob, please don’t leave me I need you.”

“I love you beautiful I’ll make things right I promise,” I responded as the door shut behind her.

“Sierra is- is everything ok,” asked a shocked and shaken Gregory. I’m sure that is the first time he had ever seen his heroic sister cry.

“No, Gregory things aren’t ok,” whispered Sierra as she walked away.

———————-

My mind raced as I tried to take in what had just happened. I was so sure that Sierra would have been strong and supportive of what I must do. I have spent so much time idealizing my wife that I completely missed the depth of the hurt this war has wrecked on her. Uncle Eric’s death changed everything. From the moment he died we started descending down a rabbit hole that we should have never explored. Lying on my small sheetless cot staring at the cold grey wall of my cell images of Sierra’s crumpled crying body in my arms kept chasing sleep from me.

———————-

“Wake up Jacob” frantically my father called as he turned on the light in my room. “Jacob get up we have to leave now.”

“What – Why do we have to go,” I said as I realized that we weren’t alone. My father, his friends Hector and Amir were in the room with us. Hector was holding a shot gun and Amir had his hunting rifle. “What’s going on dad” I asked.

“Jacob it isn’t safe here anymore pack whatever clothes you can in this bag” he said placing a large green army duffle bag on the bed next to me. “Hector and Amir are going to stay with you to keep you safe.”

“But I don’t want to go – we haven’t done anything,” I said protesting, “I have a big test and game at school tomorrow.”

Raising his voice my father said, “Jacob don’t argue with me. We are leaving tonight. You can’t go to school they will pick you up. Uncle Eric’s death has changed everything. We have to get away and change this or we will never be safe.”

Looking at the determined and frantic expression on my father’s face I realized that we were leaving our lives behind forever. Before Uncle Eric’s death my father was an English teacher at my high school. He was a popular and good teacher. My mother was an artist. She made beautiful pottery and loved to paint moving and dramatic seascapes and sunsets. We lived in a small three bedroom post war track home in Garden Grove, California. It was a good house with a big backyard with a pottery studio for my mother. My sister’s and I used to spend hours swimming in our kidney shaped pool and playing explorers and soldiers in the tree house that my dad and Uncle Eric built in the old Elm tree. I was sad and angry as I packed my duffle bag. It was a good house. While I packed  Hector looked out the window and Amir stood nervously guard that the door I realized that we would never play in the pool or start an adventure by climbing the wooden planked ladder into the tree house again. We were starting a great scary adventure where playing soldier would be replaced with real life adventures as rebels, soldiers and leaders in something new.

As Hector, Amir and I walked into the living room I saw my mother and my sister’s Sissy and Mara standing packed like the Israelites ready to flee Egypt with suitcases in hand. Each had had a scared and anxious expression and were standing amidst a similar duo of guards as I was. “Jacob, come here please” said my father.

As he handed me a small 9 millimeter hand gun my mother tensely said, “Gabriel, he’s just a boy.”

“Justina we talked about this. Things have changed and he’s not just a boy and needs to be safe.”

“Jacob, he said, “Don’t ever go anywhere without this. You need to be prepared to protect yourself. You will be traveling with Hector and Amir”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Hector and Amir will keep you safe but you need to be prepared to help them”

“Yes father.”

“Justina you and Sissy will be going with Oliver, Micah and Danny and Mara will be traveling with me,” my dad said as he ran his hands through my six-year old sister’s hair.

“Gabriel, why can’t we travel together,” said my mother pleading with my father.

“Justina, it isn’t safe for us to all travel together. We will be too easy to spot. Beautiful, I promise it will be ok.

———————-

Matthew Smith Concert in Brea

Matthew Smith Concert Location:Grace Covenant Community Church, Brea, CA Time:7:30PM Friday, November 6th

photo Quotable mondays (pQm)

I got away from this but trying to get back to it. Hopefully we all will draw inspiration from other photographers.

I discovered Zoe Strauss through Wiki (read her page here) and she has an awesome vision for her photography. She lives in South Philly and takes photos that capture life in her neigborhood and she started an art show that displays photos under the I-95 in her community. Check out her blog here:

Here is her quote about her neighborhood project.

“When I started shooting, it was as if somewhere hidden in my head I had been waiting for this.”

Really cool hearing her passion as she makes tangible the vision she had. I have a couple of projects that I’m thinking through and hope to see the fruits start to sprout to life like this.

how can the church and art cooperate for the gospel

As you know a growing area of interest for me is the gospel, Christianity and the arts. I discovered a great two part interview over at rethink mission with the directors of four church related arts centers throughout the country. I think it has a lot of great thoughts to stimulate thinking about arts and church. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Below you can find the links and a sample of the great responses. The quotes are from Michael Winters of The 930 part of Sojourn Community Church in Kentucky.

here is the intro to the series from Rethink Mission

As a local church how do you engage and inspire artists? Today we begin a two part interview aimed at answering that question with the directors of four different art centers that were started by, based out of, or sponsored by local churches in four different cities:
Joanna Taft with Harrison Center for the Arts in Indianapolis
Michael Winters with The 930 Art Center in Louisville
James McAnally with The Luminary Center for the Arts in St. Louis
Grace Hwang with Salt Art Space in New York

Read the full interviews below:

The church and artists roundtable part 1

Rethink Mission: Tell me about the vision or philosophy behind your arts center or gallery.

Michael Winters, The 930
The overall mission of Sojourn Church, which operates The 930 Art Center, is to see the gospel transform everything – individuals, the church, the world.  So, the 930 supports that mission by seeking to see the gospel transform artists, the work they make, and the local scene in which they work.

Our philosophy of ministry for the 930 gallery really leans on the idea of ‘imago dei’.  All humans are made in the image of the Creator God, so we each have creativity in our nature.  An art gallery can become a hub for that creativity and hopefully reveal something about human nature and a shadow of God’s divine nature.  Art can deal with all the issues of life, so it’s very useful for creating an intersection between the church and the world.

The church and artists roundtable part 2

Rethink Mission: What pitfalls that you would warn a local church to avoid in creating a ministry for artists?

Michael: I’ve seen a lot of churches get into doing things with art, but not really understanding why they’re doing it.  Somebody just told them art is a good thing.  I think it’s valuable to experiment with incorporating art into the life of the church, but don’t do it for the art.  Do it for the mission of Christ.  Think about the mission of your church and then see how artists might be able to serve that mission.  You’ve got to have gospel-centered reasons for incorporating art into church

symbols of our making – the verdict part 3

Here is the final installment of chapter one. Please be sure to go back and read parts one and two via the links.

(c) All material is copywrited by the author please do not reproduce or use without the express written consent of the author.

                                   the verdict part 1

                                   the verdict part 2

“Jacob” said Sierra, “Don’t worry I’ll take care of this.” Sitting up I said, Thank you beautiful but I’m ok. Gregory’s just angry. I made a mistake in mentioning Helen. He blames me for what happened to her and I’m sure he is right. It is my fault.”

“My mother knows what she is doing and makes her own decision. Gregory just doesn’t understand. He’s been so confused since Guillermo died trying to kill Malachi. He has put so much hope and confidence in Malachi and in Teleios.”

“I know and I’m sorry that’s my fault too. I sent him! I was so foolish. Why didn’t I realize sooner that the means do matter? Why didn’t I realize that you can’t set things right that way.”  “Shh” she said, “We’ve all done so many things that we were trained for without worrying about what it was doing to us. Guillermo believed in what you two were doing. He did what we’ve always done. He tried to solve the problem the way we have been trained”

“But it wouldn’t have changed anything.” I said. “Someone else would have just taken Malachi’s place or maybe another stupid war would have started and we would end up in the same place.”

“Jacob, I don’t want to talk about this… I just came here from your hearing and they reached a decision” Sierra’s mood quieted so quickly as she stammered trying to get the words out. I knew what she was going to say my sentence is to die. The question was just how long and what kind of spectacle are they going to make of me.

“Jacob they are giving you a public execution in – in – 72 hours.” Sierra finally said. “Oh, I knew they would. We’ve both been expecting it. After all I admitted everything I was accused of and even all that I had done.”

“Jacob there is a chance”

“A chance what for me to repent and pledge allegiance to Teleios. To say they are right and everything they do is for the greater good. Sierra you know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t Jacob.”

“Does it matter this has to stop and I won’t let them lie to everyone and continue this manipulation and oppression. I won’t be a symbol of their own making. Someone has to take a stand and show them that there is another way.”

“Jacob stop it. I can’t stand this messiah-complex of yours. I’m sure you have some great inspiring speech planned. A speech to rally another generation to take up your noble mantle. All this talk about not being a symbol. What are you going to be if you die? You’ll just be a symbol for someone else. Why do you want to inspire another generation of kids to destroy and mar themselves in your name? Do you want to end up like Uncle Eric? Do you want Sissy and Mara’s girls, to follow you and me down this path? Do you want me to die too? If you die I won’t fight for you. I can’t if you die I can’t go on.”

Sierra’s words stung worse than the baton swing from Gregory. “I don’t want to be martyr. I don’t want don’t want anyone to die because of me.” Thinking of my sisters and their girls sitting in a darkened living room watching me die was like another kick in the ribs. The thought of my nieces trained to kill, marred from battles, strung out to escape the memories and then finally sitting in a cell awaiting death all in my name is more than I want. “I don’t want anyone else to lose their life because of me.” The thought of Sierra hurting and then killing herself because of me is too much.

———————-

“I deserve to die. I’ve done all the things I confessed to. I tried to kill Malachi and because of it Guillermo my friend, your brother died. God, I’ve killed so many innocent people. I killed Elder Ezra because Teleios decided he was dangerous. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was a man of peace. He did what we should have been doing all along. He did what Uncle Eric wanted. You know what I’ve done. You know what I’ve become and what it’s done to me.

“Yes, Jacob I know what this has done to you. I remember finding you in that dingy motel room, half-dead and passed out with your arm infected. You still had that stupid rubber strap tied around your arm and a needle full of crap laying on the bed next to you. I remember how sick you made yourself just becuase you tried to escape the reality of what this war has made us.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t want you to find me there. I just wanted it to be over.”

“I almost lost you then but I wouldn’t let you go. Just like you didn’t let me go when I was strung out. God, we were supposed to be in the right and winning has cost us so much.”

“Sierra, we weren’t right. We started off so noble but what we did – it’s been killing and corrupting us. I don’t know how we’ve held it together so long. I was so worried about you when you were using. Do you remember those months we spent away at your mom’s beach house in the Channel Islands while you got yourself cleaned up? I wish we would have stayed there and never come back.”

“I do remember. Those days were the best days of my life. That’s why I took you there when I found you. Jacob as I tried to tell you there is a chance – Malachi said that if you admit to what you’ve done and promise not to cause anymore insurrections he would be willing to let us go back to the Channel Islands. We could be together.”

“You know they won’t let me just slip away. You know that all this won’t stop if we run away. I can’t escape this. Things have to change. I can’t forget what is happening. I want to fix things. I need to do something to make it right.” 

“Jacob, I can’t lose you again. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scars that I hide behind makeup I know what this has done to me. When I get out of the shower and see the tattooed flowers for Uncle Eric, for Marnie, for my dad, for your dad, and for Guillermo I’m reminded of what I’ve lost. Jacob if you die I can’t go on. I don’t have room for a flower big enough to keep me together if you die. Jacob, I need you to love me. I need you help me live. If you stay with me I know we can find a way to live differently. I know we can change things. Jacob I can’t lose you.”

Values for Christian artists

Here are some great values for Christian artists found over at Sojourn Visual Arts

 

9. The Christian artist rejects the worldly concept of artist as an outsider and embraces his place among God’s people in the local church as essential to his life and gifting.

 

read the rest here 

symbols of our making – the verdict part 2

(c) All material is copywrited by the author please do not reproduce or use without the express written consent of the author.

the verdict part 1

“It’s all your fault” stammered Gregory clamping the handcuffs firmly around my wrists as he yanked me headlong into the door of the cell. Another bruise reminding me of what I’ve become – a pariah, a traitor, a man condemned. Who am I kidding; I’m responsible for this. I’m a not a victim of it. The system stands built on my intensity and youthful zeal. The new system is built on my ability to kill and destroy. Its built on thousands of soldiers groomed as children to believe that our cause was right and that the ends justify the means. Our sins have consequences and Gregory is a witness of my sins. Overthrowing the system brings repercussions. Changing the system brings repercussions. Changing the way, I hope will bring repercussions as well for those who carry on. Oh, Uncle Eric I heard your words and I think I get your message.

As the electric door slid to the left he entered my cell and commanded me to sit on the bed while he shackled my bare feet. “You and all your talk about another way. Why did they believe you? You’re a fool. The leaders agree that Teleios needs refining and the time is almost upon us. Why don’t you believe that refining comes best from within their stability. Why did they believe you? What did it get them?  Nothing! Worse than nothing my brother is dead and my mother can’t leave her house – she has lost everything. Yet even now she asks about you. Can you believe it she asks me to hear you out.  I hate you and can’t wait till you’re dead.  When you’re gone we can finally find real stability”

Gregory reared back striking me across the face with his baton knocking me over onto my side. The taste of salt feeled my mouth as blood poured out of my nose and mouth. Rolling me onto the floor he kicked me twice. Leaving me there he walked out, shutting the cell door.

———————-

Gregory returned with a stunning brunette. Seeing me lying on the floor in a pool of my own blood she gasped and cried out, “Gregory what have you done, release him.”

“He is a prisoner. We shackled him for your protection.” replied Gregory. “You know he won’t hurt me. If he tried you know I can take care of myself” she said stooping over and wiping the blood from my mouth with her hands.

“I won’t release him. He’s dangerous, and a traitor, he’s responsible for what happened to Guillermo and mom. How can you stand to be near him? How can you care about him?” responded Gregory. Exuding complete power and control over the situation she even-handedly said, “Soldier, you know who I am? Are you rejecting a direct order from me? Release the prisoner and leave. When I am ready I will call for you.”

———————-

I remember the first time I met Sierra. It was spring and my father had died in the winter before. We were both 16 and had just enlisted in the freedom fight under Teleios. We were assigned to the same training group with her brother Guillermo, Marnie, Malicah, James and Jolene. Sierra had long jet black hair, beautiful soft light olive skin, with the most beautiful piercing brown eyes that were full of passion, power and determination. They danced when she laughed. Her lips were supple, inviting and the most tantalizing shade of red. They curved slightly up when she smiled. She could have been a cheerleader, a model, an actress. There was a naturalness to her beauty. I remember taking an instant liking to her. It was more than just her drop-dead looks.

Sierra was the most complex and contradictory person that I have ever met. She was insanely playful and in the next moment she could become deadly serious. Her mind processed every aspect of a person instantly. She was a quick study of people and knew exactly what others were thinking and how they would behave within moments of meeting them. She would challenge our team as far as they could stretch but always had a knack for knowing when we could go no further. She had a natural kindness that would instantly put people at ease or off their guard if she needed them to be. She was deadly accurate. A tireless planner and innovative thinker missions were planned to perfection and she could work her way out of any trouble. She was a natural killing machine one moment a caring motherly-figure and nurse the next. She could transition from playful flirt to supportive and loyal friend to demanding task master seamlessly and without seeming to do any damage to her soul. She seemed to be made for her work and enjoyed it as much as was possible.

Even as a sixteen year old she exuded the same control and power that had just sent Gregory clamoring to obey her order. She quickly rose as a natural leader in the troop. We were both designated as squad leaders. I consider her my closest friend in the world, the love of my life and I completely trust my life in her hands. Because we were squad leaders we spent a lot of time together and became closer to each other than anyone else. The trust and bond that we formed saved us so many times in danger. Together we were able to build a perfect team of special-ops soldiers. We were given the most dangerous and most covert missions.

After the main war was over she quickly was able to move into leadership and has been a powerful voice of reason, kindness and fairness in the transition to stability. She never lost her ability to transition. Now it was from politician to friend to mission partner. She and James have tirelessly stuck by me while many of the others pulled away and removed to a safe distance from the dangerous rebel and stability criminal I’ve become over the last three years. The two of them have taken up the cause of trying to save my life and even win my freedom if possible.

As Gregory quickly and silently removed my shackles Sierra sat on the floor with my head in her lap putting pressure on the gash in my check and wiping the blood way from my mouth. Gregory without looking up at his sister quickly left the cell and the door shut behind him.

———————-

middle road repentance

Great post by Jonathan Dodson over at Creation Project on middle road repentance. It provides some great practical and gospel saturated direction for fighting the fight of faith against sin.

All too often, our notions of repentance too expensive or too cheap. Some of us view repentance as an self-reliant effort to reach deep down into our own spiritual pockets to pay God for our forgiveness. Others of us view repentance as a superficial performance. We slip into the confessional booth, say our sins, slip out, and we are good. Then we keep on sinning. The self-reliant approach is too expensive. The superficial approach is too cheap. What we need is middle-of-the-road repentance. Middle-of-the-road repentance avoids the dangers of legalistic and loose repentance, while possessing promise for real change.

read the rest of the post here.

creative writing

I am working on my first novel/novella. It is a work in progress and I hope to share its progress with you all here every Tuesday.  I would love to hear your feedback and thoughts as it develops.

(c) All material is copywrited by the author please do not reproduce or use without the express written consent of the author.

symbols in our image

chapter 1 part 1 The verdict

“Your meal is over” said the guard standing at the door of the cell. “You have a visitor.” “Of course Gregory. Will I be able to finish after I’ve had my visit?”

“No! Your meal is over. You have a visitor” gruffly responded the proud and confident sixteen year old soldier. “Ah that is too bad. The steak reminds me of that barbeque we had at your mother’s beach house three summers …” “Don’t mention my mother! Stop talking to me! I have no interest in anything you have to say. It’s all lies – deceitful lies that bring nothing but trouble” shouted Gregory. “Why did Guillermo believe you, why did she believe you – Get over here where I can shackle you for your visitor. I’m sure she will proud to see what you’ve become.” “Of course Gregory. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Guillermo. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned Helen. She is a good woman. I’m so sorry for how they’ve treated her.”

———————-

Moving methodically to the door with my hands stretched out to be shackled yet again. I couldn’t but help but wonder how I ended up here? Just three years ago, an exuberant Gregory would beam with excitement whenever his brother Guillermo and our team would visit. Sitting in the backyard listening with unswerving attention to everything we shared about the struggle to set things right.

He’s why we’d spent so much time teaching our children. To them the slogan is so clear, “Wrongs are intolerable, injustice must be conquered. The old system has brought pain and oppression. Only a new system can set things right. The new system brings stability, the new system brings comfort – The new system cares for you and your families. In the new system we will care about each other and only the new system will set things right.” God, how often had I heard those words and even worse how often had I believed them and taught them to Gregory and thousands of children like him?

I remember the first time I heard that mantra just 14, two years younger than Gregory – sitting in that darkened living room with my sisters watching the TV, watching the mandated celebration on every channel. Watching the mandated celebration of how enemies to the system – what we now ironically call the old system – met justice. My family sat watching the vivid proof that the old system was wrong. My mother sitting in the torn oversized chair with tears streaming down her cheeks. My father whose face was normally so stoic, sat on the floor back to the wall with his head in his hands doubled over his knees, in anguish fighting to hold back the tears repeatedly saying, “Why Eric? How can they do this to you?” as he waited for the public spectacle of  his younger brother, my uncle being killed by a firing squad for the good of the old system.

Uncle Eric’s last words are the slogan and mantra that I had spoken so often. Uncle Eric’s words crystalized the battle lines for the regular person on the street. His words birthed Teleios, the new system that was supposed to  free us from opression.

Oh, Uncle Eric we heard your mantra but we missed your message. You were right, things were terribly wrong and change was needed. Why didn’t we realize what you were really saying. Change must come but the coming change must come from being different from living for different values. We made you a symbol! We made your words our battle cry! Did you realize the power that your words would have? Did you realize that your words without your example would help us to seize power and become what we fought?

Before that day my father would always say, “Uncle Eric is a rebel. He always has some cause to turn the world upside down about. Whether it is the plight of the homeless or the good of the dolphins he has to be off fighting his windmills” After that day, my father tell me and my sisters, “Uncle Eric is right, ‘wrongs are intolerable, injustice must be conquered. The old system has brought pain and oppression. Only a new system can set things right. The new system will bring stability, the new system will bring comfort – The new system will be one that cares for you and your families; in the new system we will care about each other and only in the new system will things be set right.’ Kids we must carry on the fight. This system is dangerous and must be done away with.”

My dad was instrumental from that day forward in the rise of the new system that came to be called Teleios. He was instrumental both in his fighting and hero’s death two years later in creating the hope of something better. He was instrumental in instilling in me that the truth that the old system was wrong and the dream that a new system must conquer the old and take its place. I don’t think he realized that was to come would be built on the same foundation of power and control and violence. I don’t think he realized that real change would only come if it was built on new premises. Our dreams, sins and visions have consequences and I’m a living walking witness to the dreams, sins and lack of vision of Uncle Eric and of my father.

———————-