Cracked, Broken, Beautiful, Powerful

Okay, so the title is a little dramatic.  

Kim wanted me to blog about her present. 

Over the past month or so I was anxiously engaged in trying to fulfill Kim's request to be gifted art for Christmas. I didn't try to put something on canvas until the bitter end, two days before that morning. I had very little idea until then of what to do. For two nights I stayed up till the early morning hours in an attempt to combine the creative forces and produce something she would love ... and not just love because she loves me. I understand the limitless possibilities, but I think the solutions that revealed themselves for this occasion for this context are growing on me.

It seems I am usually more interested in processes, characteristics of materials, concepts, the big ideas.  Although, I demonstrate a capability to notice details (just ask Kim how annoying I can be).  Maybe I notice details because of how they effect the process or the overall picture, figuratively speaking.  

When I paint ... that sounds funny because I can count the times I haves painted on one hand, including Kim's most recent gift ... I like to represent big ideas.  Details usually follow. 

It all came together in an unsuspecting way, and I can only pinpoint the beginning of the synthesis to this poem posted to Facebook, by On Being with Krista Tippet, a refrain from "Anthem":

Ring the bells that still can ring.

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything.

That's how the light gets in.

-Leonard Cohen from "Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs"

In trying to find a page to link to that poem paired with a beautiful photograph, I found it toward the bottom of this page, and so much more. 

Then there were the many sources glossed over when trying to prepare a talk on blessings for my new congregation due to our recent move to a new house. Though, this one stood out:

My favorite part is how she talked about the process of raku pottery.  The quick and intense heat cracks the finish, and it's those cracks that make it beautiful.  To end, she used another example of an ancient ceramic cup which had broken, but was made all the more interestingly beautiful as the cracks were accentuated with gold lacquer when put back together.

From those haphazard cracks in the finish of that pottery I was reminded of the phenomena of fractals. Fractals are an amazing mathematical discovery that occur naturally in sizes ranging from "can only be seen from space" and "naked to they human eye".  

I got to thinking how my family, and life in general is like the poem, pottery, and fractals: cracked, broken, beautiful, and powerful. The paths are numerous, and each one continues the complex but predictable ?pattern. I wanted to represent all this. But I knew I didn't have the time, patience, or skill to generate, or even copy any seriously complex patterns. 

I had acrylic paints and I was convinced I couldn't paint convincing cracked patters. But then I thought of something that might crack: wax. Within the last couple weeks the community art center had a showing from an artist in Jackson who used wax with mixed textiles. I think we acquired a block of wax years ago when I helped a youth group make candles.  The kids have made a mess of that in ways that kids do. The most recent reincarnation being a slightly tinted hunk of wax in a #10 can from making candles. 

I heated that wax up in a water bath, faithfully and fearfully threw some paint on the canvas, then poured that hot wax over the paint not knowing what to do or what would happen. I moved the wax around noticing how quickly it cooled in the unheated winter "studio" I created with the kids' toys surrounding me.  Then I waited curiously for the wax to cool. Again, not knowing what I was doing I instinctively pressed the back of the canvas and watched cracks appear and grow. I was scared I was ruining it ... as most people probably are about their imperfections.  To highlight the broken wax I went back and painted over them.  The cracks were left filled with paint as I wiped away excess paint on the wax.  

In the end I produced three pieces with this concept.  I photographed two. The photographs of the paintings are slightly manipulated, some more than others because the original lighting was not that helpful, but you get the gist. I don't know how likable they are, but they met the objective. That is, we are cracked, broken, beautiful, powerful, and many seemingly contradictory things.

And as if it were a calculated summary, I read this blog post titled We Wish You a Messy Christmas shared by my sister Christmas Day. My favorite line is, "To know that we are messy and beloved all at the same time."

Merry Christmas Kim