Light Weight

"And light has no weight, Yet one is lifted on its flood, Swept high, Running up white-golden light-shafts, As if one were as weightless as light itself – All gold and white and light." Lawren Harris, Painter 1885-1970

Ay, ay yay yay

On Friday, after a clearing in the snowstorm that had been relentless since the morning before, I drove my daughter to Connecticut to watch a performance of Amalia Hernandez's Ballet Folklorico de Mexico. She loves dance and I couldn't pass up the opportunity for her first professional dance recital to be watching Mexico's best.

My daughter would ask me questions and I was surprised by how much I was able to answer: This dance is from Veracruz (my favorite!) and after the women, the men will come out and dance on the boxes...She's a skeleton because death is part of life and Mexicans make fun of death...The women dancers are wearing guns because they are Adelita's and they fought with their men in the war. I knew the old stories, I knew the old dances, I knew the words to the old songs. It's a little golden string that connects me to my family, to my culture and to my ancestors. When I hear the mariachi and watch the folklorico..those I love are right there with me - no matter how near or far, alive or passed.

Most Cultures have their ways...their songs, their dances, their old stories. As soon as one person begins a song, no matter how old or young - friend or stranger - no matter how rich or poor - anyone can jump in and they all come together and become one.

I do not Seek I Find - Picasso

“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.” - Picasso

Very Short video but I feel like I'm in his studio watching him paint for that brief moment.

Did I ever tell you my story about Bjork?

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about this blog and my plans to revamp it around the idea of creativity-spirituality-art. A few things keep on replaying in my mind: the act of creating, inspiration and freedom. What do these mean? What do I want to say about them? And during this process, different artists names have come to mind: Bill Viola, Twist (yes, I'm putting them in the same sentence) and then today Bjork creeped into my thoughts.

Now you can love or hate her music. It's one or the other. One thing you can't deny is the woman is inspired. She's moved to create. She's given herself the freedom to do it her way. I don't like all her music. But the fact that she exists and IS and DOES I find Inspiring.

Now to my Bjork story. The year is 1988 or so...and I'm in highschool. It's a school night but I really want to go to One Step Beyond and hang out. If memory serves me correct it was a Wednesday and Tara was down to go. We show up and the place is dead. There couldn't be more than 20 people there to watch some band called the Sugarcubes who are scheduled to play. Tara and I sat down and ordered a drink (non alcohol of course) and as we are sitting there the tinniest little girl walked in through the front door with two men behind her but I barely noticed them. I was completely transfixed by her being. Seeing her was like realizing fairies were real and one had just waltzed in. She was ethereal. Her face was smooth and white as alabaster and her hair a shock of black. She had a deep part; hair was combed over and right in the middle of her head she wore a wide, shiny red hairpin to keep it in place. It was an awkward placement. I couldn't stop staring at it. That pin was like a koan to my brain -"WHAT IS THE SOUND OF ONE HAND CLAPPING?" I'm sure my mind melted a bit. It definitely expanded. I can't remember the top she wore but I do recall her skirt made out of stretchy material with a wire at the bottom seam. It was a perfect replica of the skirt the Jetson's mom wore, only silver. Honestly, my world was never the same after seeing her. All I can remember thinking was "Where the F$#@ did she come from?" and being so in awe of someone who was so honestly themselves.

A short time later, she ended up on stage singing God knows what. I couldn't understand a word she said and the music was so new my brain really could not process it all. Tara and I did not stay long after that but Bjork, who was soon after to became a huge success, forever become a symbol to me of the act of being inspired, free and surrendering to the act of creating.

Greet the Light Inside

"My grandmother used to tell me that as you sat in Quaker silence you were to go inside to greet the light. That expression stuck with me." James Turrell, From the interview titled "Greeting the Light" by Richard Whittaker at www.conversations.org

Years ago I studied in London and when the time came for me to return to California, one of the last things I did was go see a James Turrell exhibit with my best friend. I had no idea who he was, or what he did, but because there was a line to get into the room of his installation we decided to check it out.

Only a few people were allowed in at a time. Our turn finally came and we entered into a very large dark room with a far wall lit up in a beautiful hue of blue. The room was massive, with an extremely high ceiling, very wide and the far wall was some distance away. We slowly approached the lit up wall and all I could think of was "this is lame", "what's so great about a big room with one wall lit up?"

We casually walked closer and closer all the while I my "Cosmopolitan" brain wasn't able to get what the big deal was. Sure, it was a nice blue, but does lighting up a wall constitute fine art? It would make a nice party room (I was young, forgive me). We finally reached the wall and I stood there staring at it and then all at once I gasped, I raised my arm and reached out in front of me. I felt my mind and entire body expand, there was no wall.



Only light.







in light...little miss shiny

The Humanitarians

I love when things seem to just come together. I've begun putting down on paper my idea for a center that combines art and healing. The same day I started writing it down, I received emails out of no where from people I had mentioned the idea to in the past wanting to help and introduce me to others with similar dreams. Very exciting. It should come as no surprise that the magic continues today with an invite for a panel discussion at Corridor Gallery in Brooklyn called "Humanitarians". They will be discussing the question. "When the path is steep and the outcome uncertain, what compels us to help those in need?" The panelists are 5 creators who persistently come to the aid of others. I've been on the super lookout for events and workshops where I can learn more about being creative and being of service to others at the same time. Good lookin' out universe! Thanks!

For more information on Corridor Gallery visit their website: http://www.corridorgallerybrooklyn.org/

stay peace-

+ little miss shiny

Interview with Jane Dillenberger

Ms. Jane Dillenberger on creativity, prayer and the spirituality of Andy Warhol. SF Gate.

For those of you who didn't want to click on the link, here's the interview.


If I asked you to name the major artists who have produced a body of work with strong religious themes, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Botticelli and Rembrandt would probably come to mind. Whomever you chose, chances are that Andy Warhol wouldn't make the list.
But thanks to art historian Jane Dillenberger we now know that the man who turned the Campbell's soup can and silkscreens of Marilyn Monroe into pop art was in fact deeply religious, and during the last decade of his life painted an extensive series of works based on da Vinci's "Last Supper."
After spotting one large unfinished painting of Jesus and two apostles in a photograph of Warhol's studio, Dillenberger had a hunch that the work wasn't an isolated piece, and began hunting for more religious-themed Warhol works in private collections and galleries in the United States and Europe. After searching for several years she'd found more than 100 "Last Supper" paintings — which she says is the largest series of religious works created by any major American artist. Dillenberger's book "The Religious Art of Andy Warhol" details her "spiritual detective work" — as she described it to me — on Warhol's "Last Supper" series and his personal spiritual practices.
Dillenberger, 92, is a professor of art and religion at Berkeley's Graduate Theological Union and a working art historian since 1942. I interviewed her at her home in Berkeley. She offered me a glass of sherry — the first time that's happened to me while conducting an interview — as we sat together and discussed Warhol, the methods she uses to help students experience divine ecstasy through art and how spirituality connects to creativity.

You've looked at a lot of art over the years. Do you remember the first work that moved you in a spiritual way?
Yes, I remember it vividly. The interesting thing about it is that it wasn't a work of religious art. I was 17 years old, and I was making my first visit to a great museum, the Art Institute of Chicago. Walking into that building — the smell, the feel, the look of it and the sense of history and beauty of all that was treasured there was so overwhelming to me.
I walked into the print department, and there was a little Picasso etching called "The Bath." It was from his blue period when he was doing circus scenes, and it showed a young circus man, a clown, with a little hat. He was lounging against some props, and there was a woman nearby who was giving a boy a bath. She had these wisps of hair down her face, and she was completely absorbed in the child while the man was witnessing all of this, and for some reason that is still not clear to me, it sent me into a real ecstasy. I stood absolutely transfixed before that image.

Why do you think of that as a spiritual experience?
There was something in the sheer beauty that touched me in a deep way. I have always taught that inside great works of art, we have the artist's vision encapsulated somehow. And when we truly yield ourselves to the image and look carefully at what we're seeing, it's possible for us to actually participate in that vision. That's a moment of ecstasy, an experience when we are out of ourselves — that's what ecstasy means, to be out of yourself. And to me that's a great religious moment. I see it as the work of the Holy Spirit coming through. We don't need to label that as Christian, though we may. It's universal.

How do you help students have that experience? Is it just by bringing them into an art museum and having them look at a Picasso or is there something more that you do?
I try to give them a first-hand experience of the work of art, and to get them to look, look, look. The thing I do is to keep their attention fastened on the work long enough that they are sure, and I'm sure, that they are really seeing it, not ideas about it. Of course, I often teach theological students, and they come to my class with a "God is thus and so" and "Jesus is thus and so" attitude. Those ideas have to be pushed aside in order for them to really see and experience the work of art. When they do that, and I always know when it happens, it will lead them to that moment when they get it.

Who are some of the artists you've most enjoyed studying?
One of the more interesting people is Andy Warhol, whom I wrote a book about. The research I did on him was absolutely fascinating. Of all 20th century artists, for him to be so profoundly spiritual and religious was a surprise to me. It was a real discovery.
People don't tend to think of Warhol as spiritual at all.
Not at all. They think of him as deriding spirituality, if anything. Yet he was quite a religious man.

Did you know him?
I've known many of the artists I've studied and written about, but Warhol I did not meet, and it was only after his death that I thought of researching his religious life. The inspiration came from Vanity Fair magazine, which had a series of three articles on him — one of them by John Richardson. And Richardson's essay began with the words: "If you don't know that Andy Warhol was a deeply religious man, you will never understand him." I looked at that, and it made me curious. In the article, there was a color photograph of Warhol's studio at the time of his death, and the painting on the back wall was based on Leonardo's "Last Supper." The minute I saw that I guessed there was going to be a lot more of those.

What gave you that idea?
I suppose it's out of my experience as an art historian. I've known so many artists, been to their studios. It seemed to me this painting was part of a series. I immediately set out to find the others, and eventually I found close to 100 of them.

What was Warhol's religious affiliation?
His family was from the Ukraine, and his mother spoke Czech only. She was extremely pious. It was a form of Catholicism, sort of between Catholicism and the Byzantine Rite church. Warhol concealed it from people, but he never left home without saying prayers with his mother.
Often, he went to the church that was near his home. I interviewed the prior there, and he told me how Warhol would come in every evening and sit in the back pew, in the shadows. He didn't want to be recognized as Andy Warhol. He just prayed and sat there. Sometimes he would come to Sunday services, too.

How did his religious practice influence his art, do you think?
Mostly it seems to have influenced his work in the last two years of life. That's when he painted many, many different versions of "The Last Supper," some of which were ravishingly beautiful. The way he manipulates the medium, the application of the paint on the silk screen so that it isn't flat but has contours to it. It's really lovely.

Why was this happening at the end of his life?
As you know, an attempt was made on his life before he died. A crazy woman came into his studio and shot him. That changed his whole life. He feared for his death from that moment forward. It isn't unusual for people in that situation of fear and anxiety to find religious expression for that, especially for someone grounded in Byzantine spirituality, as Warhol was.

Do you have a favorite artist of the ones that you have studied over the years?
That's hard to answer. I am a Titian and Rubens enthusiast, but my M.A. thesis at Harvard was on Rembrandt's religious art.

What makes Rembrandt's religious work particularly noteworthy?
It differs from the other artists we've named in that he brings a depth of human understanding of the Christ and of the apostles. He makes the religious figures much more human than all of the iconography that we get in traditional art. Interestingly, those paintings were not commissioned by a church — most of his work was for private patrons.

Have you ever wanted to be an artist yourself?
I did paint when I was young. At the University of Iowa, I studied with the artist Grant Rutledge. That was wonderful — I was one of his studio assistants when he was working on a mural. At that point, I had no idea that there was such a thing as art history. I'd always been a painter. When I transferred to the University of Chicago, the head of the art department said to me, "We don't have a very good (art) studio course, but looking at your record I think you'd make a good art historian." And I said, "What is an art historian?" And he said: Well, come to the Art Institute in Chicago Saturday morning at 10:00 in the Flemish galleries, and you'll find out." And all of these doctoral students, smart alecks, were there, and I was absolutely ignorant of their language and so forth, but I fell in love with it right away. And I said, "Yes! I want to be an art historian!" I haven't painted since.

You don't miss it?
Not at all. This is a more thrilling thing to me. Studying other people's work. Living other people's work.

What does it mean to "live" an artist's work?
You must abdicate the "I." The big "I" that's there all the time. It's about leaving yourself behind to be in the work of art.

Sort of like transcending your ego?
Yes, in a way. It's a miraculous moment that's so enriching that once you have had it, you want it again and again and again.

Can you say anything about the connection between creativity and prayer?
Artists themselves have said lots of things that suggest that creativity is rooted in something that could be called prayer. But they are often reluctant to say anything too specific. Even Picasso, when he was asked about his painting, said: "How can I speak of that? A work of art comes to me from so far away."

What do you think he was saying?
I think he was using the privilege of the poet to suggest rather than define. He was in some way saying it was a mystery to him.

What was the "it" he was talking about?
The mystery of creation.

Do you think he believed it came from God?
There are, of course, some religious people who say that all creation is God's, but I have no idea if he believed anything like that. I think many artists have a reverence for the creative act, but they avoid the topic because they realize it's beyond accurate wording. Better to show than tell. Have you ever seen the films of Pollock or Picasso or Matisse. It is just so astonishing!

Which ones do you mean?
There's an old film of Matisse painting where he's using a model who is sitting there on camera. You see him wearing his smock, studying her, and his hand goes up to the canvas. The first time I saw that, I wept.

What moved you so, do you think?
I felt as thought I was seeing creation happening. I was present during the creative act.

Does your own personal faith play a role in your work? If so, how?
I'm sure it does. I'm an Episcopalian, and all my life I've been a fairly regular attendant at church. I never went through a rebellion where my family's going to church and I'm not going and so forth. Of course, the Episcopal Church has a broad spectrum of people. You know, you can be extremely religious and cross yourself, like Catholics do, whereas there are other Episcopalians who are more reticent about their beliefs.

Where do you fall in that continuum?
I fall into the group that believes in the truth that is embodied by the traditions of the church. I value those traditions, even if sometimes I say to myself, "Oh, it's such a beautiful mythology." At Holy Communion, we say that we believe in the bodily resurrection of Jesus, which was taken up to heaven. And if you ask me if I believe that, too, well, I sometimes have doubts about that. But the doubt isn't all that important. I am able to live with the ambiguity, the mystery, to just keep the question without answering it.

And how does that ambivalence influence your work as someone who studies art and religion?
In the moments of greatest doubt, all I have to do is to go back to Matisse and Rubens and Rembrandt. I go back to the great works of art, and their affirmation becomes my affirmation. And I figure they (the artists) must have doubted, too.

Do you think that's the purpose of art, to do that?
I would never ask the question that way. But I do believe that the power of art resides there, and it's being God-inspired. I think that's one reason why it also brings comfort to people who are suffering for one reason or another. I'll give you an example from my own life. I had a son who was killed when he was 18, and I remember that Michelangelo's "Pieta" was a source of comfort to me because the horror that I had been through is, in this sculpture, transformed into purity.
The mother who holds the body of her son upon her lap for the last time, of closeness of flesh to flesh ... that can be represented with horror, but in the case of this sculpture it's represented in great beauty. And somehow that offers the mourner a solace that comes from the power of the beauty itself. It linked me with the grief of all the mothers of the world throughout time who have suffered. And it made me believe that the web of life, which we all weave ourselves, participates in the spirit of beauty that Michelangelo transmitted.

the "c" word. no not that one, the other one.

C-A-T-H-O-L-I-C. "catholic". there, i said it. now the only reason i bring it up is because this institution has been rearing it's head in my life lately and in a creative context. doesn't make sense i know, it's confused the h**l out of me too. because that "c" word, c-r-e-a-t-i-v-e, not the other one, happens to be one of my favorites. i'll admit it, i'm one of those reluctant catholics. one of those that says "well i was born catholic but i'm not really religious. or "i love the art and the beauty of the ritual but that's it". i have less trouble admitting and embracing my san jo-ness. (you san jo expats who claim sf or nyc you know who you are!)

there have been two things that have been a constant presence in my life the first is spirituality and the second is art. don't ask me why, but i realized through some recent experiences that there was a separation of the two inside my brain. even though i grew up with the beautiful images of michaelangelo and ruben somehow the word creative/fun and catholic didn't belong in the same world. the catholic part, i don't really think is important here. but the importance of the creative process and it's irrevocable tie to the expression of the human spirit...it's longing for a means to express all that is...well is important.

so ya, the pattern interrupt. what was it?

1. stumbling into an event one night as i walked my dog called the catholic underground. picture franciscan friars in grey robes rocking out. and they were really really good. so good that i actually went to their event a couple weeks later. i wasn't disappointed. www.catholicunderground.net. I had a brief conversation with the lead singer (weird) to just tell him how stunned I was to see ex skater boy looking monks using their art to share their joy. He got really excited and began telling me how people don't know about this part of the church (i'll say!) which leads me to the 2nd pattern interrupt:

2. pope john paul II wrote a letter to artists. i don't know about you but i found this shocking. if you care to read it, it's kind of long but with some very beautiful bits. google pope, letter to artists. sorry, i'm to lame to figure out how to paste this particular link so you're going to have to work for it.

3. a great article today in the sfgate entitled "the spirituality of andy warhol". who knew?

what i found profound was the interviewee...a 92 year old art historian named jane dillenberger and her description of how she experiences art. here is a link to the interview with jane dillenberger from the SF Gate. It really is worth the read:

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2008/05/05/findrelig.DTL

i related to her description immensely because i've never been moved by the institution of church. but i have been by art, by theater, by song, by dance, poetry and literature. by little things like cherry blossom trees in spring and their flower petal rain. watching my daughter wake up and smile. seeing a stranger help someone they don't know. listening to the kids walk out laughing and smiliing from the ice cream shop across the street from my house.

seeker of truth

follow no path

all paths lead where

truth is here

- e.e cummings

that's the kind of stuff that helps my heart open up. that at the end of the day is what's what counts. that your heart opens up. we all have our own way.

xox little miss shiny