From the beginning of Advent the website for Mission in London's Economy (MiLE) will have a weekly reflection on the Sunday Gospel reading read in many churches which use the Common Lectionary. The reflection will be written from a work perspective and will be particularly suitable for a Monday morning following the weekend.
MiLE was started in 2005 as an independent ecumenical Christian organisation covering the 32 London Boroughs and the City of London.
It has set itself the following objectives:
1. To co-ordinate the churches’ interventions in discussion of London’s economy.
2. To respond on behalf of the churches to consultation exercises on London’s economy.
3. To support workplace chaplains ministering within London’s economy.
4. To support Christians working in the institutions of London’s economy.
5. To educate churches in the issues facing London’s economy so that they might be able to respond appropriately.
6. To work with other faith communities in order to create co-ordinated faith community responses to the issues facing London’s economy.
Practitioner Groups have been set up to further these objectives, the first two being covered by a single group.
MiLE was conscious right from the very beginning that their website was an essential tool in resourcing individuals Christians seeking to relate Christian faith to daily work, as well as making contact with other groups and organisations with a particular interest in this area, and of course with the churches. Their weekly Gospel reflections are the latest initiative to develop their website in this way. They would be very pleased to receive responses (info@mile.org.uk) on how the weekly reflections could be improved in the future.
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Morrissey - Every Day Is Like Sunday.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Sunday, 25 November 2007
Christ the King
What kind of King is Jesus? That was the question that was on people’s lips all the way through our Gospel reading (Luke 23. 33-43) this morning.
The Jewish leaders jeered at Jesus: “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah [or King] whom God has chosen.” The Roman soldiers mocked him: “Save yourself if you are the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals hanging there alongside him hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah [or King]? Save yourself and us!” All of them were asking “What kind of King are you then? If you are a King then behave as we expect a King to behave.” Their mockery came because Jesus did not look or behave as they expected a King to do.
What did they expect? For the Jews, the Messiah was expected to be a revolutionary able to deliver their people from the oppression of the Roman invaders. For the Romans, the Emperor was the leader of a vast military machine capable of defeating any army anywhere in the then known world. But the man given the title ‘The King of the Jews’ was a poor, pitiful, pathetic individual being tortured and killed by powers far greater than him. You can understand why their answer to the question what kind of King is Jesus, was no kind of King at all.
But there was one person there that day who recognised Jesus as King. The second of the criminals being crucified alongside Jesus recognised that Jesus had done no wrong and asked to be remembered by Jesus when he came as King, in other words when he came into his kingdom.
And here, in Jesus’ response, we begin to see the real answer to the question what kind of King is Jesus, because Jesus accepts this man, despite his past, on the basis of his recognition of Jesus as the true King. Jesus is the kind of King who accepts those who are unacceptable, who includes the excluded and who sees those who are unseen and overlooked. As far as he was concerned this criminal, by being killed, was only getting what he deserved but Jesus is the kind of King who does not treat us as we deserve and instead of punishing us promises that we will be with him in Paradise. So Jesus is an inclusive King.
More than this, Jesus is the kind of King who forgives his enemies. In verse 34, we have Jesus’ prayer for those who have had him nailed to the cross and have gathered there to mock and abuse him: “Forgive them, Father! They don’t know what they are doing.” Jesus is a forgiving King, who does not hold against us even those sins that we have committed directly against him.
Then, Jesus is a dying King. The one who died in place of, or in order to save, his people. Jesus is the kind of King who does not put all his time and energies into securing his position and power or into amassing great wealth for himself instead he is a King who gives up all he has in order to give himself for his people.
As a dying King, we remember his words about a grain of wheat remaining “only a single grain unless it is dropped into the ground and dies.” “If it does die,” he said, “then it will produce many grains.” So Jesus connects his death with the ground, the earth, and with the natural cycle of death and birth that we see within creation. And in this way, we see that his death is not just something for human beings but also something for the earth and the creation.
Jesus is the King who, through his death, enters into the earth, as he is buried, and who rises from within the earth and from death in order to change the earth itself. The word ‘Paradise’ was originally a Persian word, meaning park or garden, which was taken into Greek and then Hebrew. It was used as a translation for ‘the garden of Eden’ and then became associated with the belief that God would, in time, restore us to a future Eden. So, Jesus here is promising the second criminal an immediate experience of Eden because he will be with Jesus the King who will, in time, bring the whole world into a Edenic future. Jesus is the King who will restore the world to its originally intended state as an Edenic Paradise.
Now, in this story, people responded to the kind of King that Jesus was in two ways. The majority mocked and ridiculed him. And we could be in that camp today. But, if we want to be part of a kingdom of acceptance, of forgiveness, of salvation and of restoration then, like the second criminal, we need to ask to be part of Jesus’ kingdom. And not just to come into that kingdom for ourselves and our benefit but to come into that kingdom in order to act like our King, as people who accept the unacceptable, forgive our enemies, give our lives in the service of others and seek to restore our world to its originally intended Edenic state.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Runrig - Tear Down These Walls.
The Jewish leaders jeered at Jesus: “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah [or King] whom God has chosen.” The Roman soldiers mocked him: “Save yourself if you are the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals hanging there alongside him hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah [or King]? Save yourself and us!” All of them were asking “What kind of King are you then? If you are a King then behave as we expect a King to behave.” Their mockery came because Jesus did not look or behave as they expected a King to do.
What did they expect? For the Jews, the Messiah was expected to be a revolutionary able to deliver their people from the oppression of the Roman invaders. For the Romans, the Emperor was the leader of a vast military machine capable of defeating any army anywhere in the then known world. But the man given the title ‘The King of the Jews’ was a poor, pitiful, pathetic individual being tortured and killed by powers far greater than him. You can understand why their answer to the question what kind of King is Jesus, was no kind of King at all.
But there was one person there that day who recognised Jesus as King. The second of the criminals being crucified alongside Jesus recognised that Jesus had done no wrong and asked to be remembered by Jesus when he came as King, in other words when he came into his kingdom.
And here, in Jesus’ response, we begin to see the real answer to the question what kind of King is Jesus, because Jesus accepts this man, despite his past, on the basis of his recognition of Jesus as the true King. Jesus is the kind of King who accepts those who are unacceptable, who includes the excluded and who sees those who are unseen and overlooked. As far as he was concerned this criminal, by being killed, was only getting what he deserved but Jesus is the kind of King who does not treat us as we deserve and instead of punishing us promises that we will be with him in Paradise. So Jesus is an inclusive King.
More than this, Jesus is the kind of King who forgives his enemies. In verse 34, we have Jesus’ prayer for those who have had him nailed to the cross and have gathered there to mock and abuse him: “Forgive them, Father! They don’t know what they are doing.” Jesus is a forgiving King, who does not hold against us even those sins that we have committed directly against him.
Then, Jesus is a dying King. The one who died in place of, or in order to save, his people. Jesus is the kind of King who does not put all his time and energies into securing his position and power or into amassing great wealth for himself instead he is a King who gives up all he has in order to give himself for his people.
As a dying King, we remember his words about a grain of wheat remaining “only a single grain unless it is dropped into the ground and dies.” “If it does die,” he said, “then it will produce many grains.” So Jesus connects his death with the ground, the earth, and with the natural cycle of death and birth that we see within creation. And in this way, we see that his death is not just something for human beings but also something for the earth and the creation.
Jesus is the King who, through his death, enters into the earth, as he is buried, and who rises from within the earth and from death in order to change the earth itself. The word ‘Paradise’ was originally a Persian word, meaning park or garden, which was taken into Greek and then Hebrew. It was used as a translation for ‘the garden of Eden’ and then became associated with the belief that God would, in time, restore us to a future Eden. So, Jesus here is promising the second criminal an immediate experience of Eden because he will be with Jesus the King who will, in time, bring the whole world into a Edenic future. Jesus is the King who will restore the world to its originally intended state as an Edenic Paradise.
Now, in this story, people responded to the kind of King that Jesus was in two ways. The majority mocked and ridiculed him. And we could be in that camp today. But, if we want to be part of a kingdom of acceptance, of forgiveness, of salvation and of restoration then, like the second criminal, we need to ask to be part of Jesus’ kingdom. And not just to come into that kingdom for ourselves and our benefit but to come into that kingdom in order to act like our King, as people who accept the unacceptable, forgive our enemies, give our lives in the service of others and seek to restore our world to its originally intended Edenic state.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Runrig - Tear Down These Walls.
Saturday, 24 November 2007
Two ways to live
In John 18: 33 – 37 we see two different ways to live being demonstrated and these are symbolised in Cecil Collins' picture Christ Before The Judge. In this picture Pilate is angular, aggressive and threatening while the curves and crosses in the depiction of Jesus are suggestive of love and sacrifice.
Pilate represents the oppressive, aggressive, controlling power of the Roman Empire (perhaps, of any Empire) while Jesus represents the kingdom of God, a kingdom of love, service and self-sacrifice. Two opposed kingdoms; a clash of civilisations; two very different ways to live.
When Jesus says that his kingdom does not belong to this world, he means that it does not belong to the aggressive, militaristic world of Pilate. The empire to which Pilate belongs is “based on power,” writes Stephen Verney the former Bishop of Repton. It is “ based on power and can crucify people but does not know how to set them free.” Jesus’ kingdom does not belong to that world. In the kingdom of God, by contrast, powerlessness is the route by which compassion can “transform men and women, so that they are born again into the freedom to love one another.”
In our lives there are also these two ways to live: the way of compassion or the way of domination; the way of self-sacrifice or the way of self; the way of powerlessness or the way of power; the way of serving or the way of grasping. The question before us this morning is whether we are living in the kingdom of Jesus or the empire of Pilate.
The empire of power, aggression and selfishness, with its strength in numbers and weaponry, appears to be the stronger kingdom. It is also backed by science as scientists suggest that our selfish instincts constitute the natural way for human beings to live; part of the survival of the fittest. And yet every empire based on these things has in time been overthrown, including that of Rome, while Christ’s Church continues to this day and continues to grow. So which is really the stronger?
Mike Yaconelli recounts a wonderful story from World War II that demonstrates the power of small unselfish acts of kindness. During the final months of World War II daily bombing raids were being conducted from Britain. The bombers would take off from an airstrip surrounded by smaller fighter planes whose job it was to keep the German fighter planes from attacking the bombers.
One night, as they returned from their raid, a group of planes was attacked by German fighter planes. As the dogfight unfolded, one of bomber crew found themselves flying alone with no protecting plane and a German fighter plane bearing down on them. The bomber crew watched helplessly as tracer bullets began spitting from the German plane. Five bullets slammed into the fuselage of the bomber in the location of the fuel tank. The crew braced themselves for the explosion but it did not come. Fuel was pouring from the holes the bullets had made but there was no explosion. Miraculously they made it safely back to base.
When the plane was examined five bullets were found inside the fuel tank. When these shells were opened each was empty of gunpowder and instead contained a tiny wad of paper on which was written the following note: ‘We are Polish POWs – forced to make bullets in factory. When guards do not look we do not fill with powder. Is not much, but is best we can do. Please tell family we are alive.’
Five tiny bullets out of all the millions made during that war yet they made all the difference to the crew of that bomber. Yaconelli concludes: “The power of goodness is found in the tiny. Since the beginning, God has chosen the tiny over the large – David and Goliath, Gideon and his 300 soldiers, Elijah over the prophets of Baal, one sheep over ninety-nine.” “Spirituality,” he says, “is about doing the tiny work of God, little acts, small responses to God’s presence in our lives.”
Such things don’t seem much, don’t seem as though they can oppose the empire’s of power. But such acts are based on the truth that all need love and acceptance received through the service and self sacrifice of others while the empire’s of power are based on the lie that one person or nation is better or stronger than another. As Jesus said when he was brought before Pilate he had to speak about the truth and it is the truth that endures and which sets people free.
There are two ways to live and this clash of civilisations in every generation and each generation needs to choose for itself which way we will go. What have been our choices? Have we and are we making decisions that solely benefit ourselves or are we giving our lives away in the care and service of others? These are life choices that Jesus makes apparent for us through his life and death. They are pictured for us in his trial and in this painting by Cecil Collins. They are choices that we make daily as we encounter other people. Which way will we choose to live?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey - OLOWO LAIYE MO.
Pilate represents the oppressive, aggressive, controlling power of the Roman Empire (perhaps, of any Empire) while Jesus represents the kingdom of God, a kingdom of love, service and self-sacrifice. Two opposed kingdoms; a clash of civilisations; two very different ways to live.
When Jesus says that his kingdom does not belong to this world, he means that it does not belong to the aggressive, militaristic world of Pilate. The empire to which Pilate belongs is “based on power,” writes Stephen Verney the former Bishop of Repton. It is “ based on power and can crucify people but does not know how to set them free.” Jesus’ kingdom does not belong to that world. In the kingdom of God, by contrast, powerlessness is the route by which compassion can “transform men and women, so that they are born again into the freedom to love one another.”
In our lives there are also these two ways to live: the way of compassion or the way of domination; the way of self-sacrifice or the way of self; the way of powerlessness or the way of power; the way of serving or the way of grasping. The question before us this morning is whether we are living in the kingdom of Jesus or the empire of Pilate.
The empire of power, aggression and selfishness, with its strength in numbers and weaponry, appears to be the stronger kingdom. It is also backed by science as scientists suggest that our selfish instincts constitute the natural way for human beings to live; part of the survival of the fittest. And yet every empire based on these things has in time been overthrown, including that of Rome, while Christ’s Church continues to this day and continues to grow. So which is really the stronger?
Mike Yaconelli recounts a wonderful story from World War II that demonstrates the power of small unselfish acts of kindness. During the final months of World War II daily bombing raids were being conducted from Britain. The bombers would take off from an airstrip surrounded by smaller fighter planes whose job it was to keep the German fighter planes from attacking the bombers.
One night, as they returned from their raid, a group of planes was attacked by German fighter planes. As the dogfight unfolded, one of bomber crew found themselves flying alone with no protecting plane and a German fighter plane bearing down on them. The bomber crew watched helplessly as tracer bullets began spitting from the German plane. Five bullets slammed into the fuselage of the bomber in the location of the fuel tank. The crew braced themselves for the explosion but it did not come. Fuel was pouring from the holes the bullets had made but there was no explosion. Miraculously they made it safely back to base.
When the plane was examined five bullets were found inside the fuel tank. When these shells were opened each was empty of gunpowder and instead contained a tiny wad of paper on which was written the following note: ‘We are Polish POWs – forced to make bullets in factory. When guards do not look we do not fill with powder. Is not much, but is best we can do. Please tell family we are alive.’
Five tiny bullets out of all the millions made during that war yet they made all the difference to the crew of that bomber. Yaconelli concludes: “The power of goodness is found in the tiny. Since the beginning, God has chosen the tiny over the large – David and Goliath, Gideon and his 300 soldiers, Elijah over the prophets of Baal, one sheep over ninety-nine.” “Spirituality,” he says, “is about doing the tiny work of God, little acts, small responses to God’s presence in our lives.”
Such things don’t seem much, don’t seem as though they can oppose the empire’s of power. But such acts are based on the truth that all need love and acceptance received through the service and self sacrifice of others while the empire’s of power are based on the lie that one person or nation is better or stronger than another. As Jesus said when he was brought before Pilate he had to speak about the truth and it is the truth that endures and which sets people free.
There are two ways to live and this clash of civilisations in every generation and each generation needs to choose for itself which way we will go. What have been our choices? Have we and are we making decisions that solely benefit ourselves or are we giving our lives away in the care and service of others? These are life choices that Jesus makes apparent for us through his life and death. They are pictured for us in his trial and in this painting by Cecil Collins. They are choices that we make daily as we encounter other people. Which way will we choose to live?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey - OLOWO LAIYE MO.
The Stature of Waiting
Lost,
the life
he consciously
lived.
He lies
unknowing
between
life
and
life
waiting
for death's
sweet
release.
Unfocused eyes
open
and
close
at random.
Head back,
mouth open,
each breath
achieving
the stature
and
pain
of
waiting.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Josh Groban with Ladysmith Black Mambazo - Lullaby.
the life
he consciously
lived.
He lies
unknowing
between
life
and
life
waiting
for death's
sweet
release.
Unfocused eyes
open
and
close
at random.
Head back,
mouth open,
each breath
achieving
the stature
and
pain
of
waiting.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Josh Groban with Ladysmith Black Mambazo - Lullaby.
The Worth of Worth
Dialectics in discussion
over retreatant's evening meal.
Stipend versus tentmaker's salary,
Temple versus Synagogue theology,
the hangover of Christendom versus Early Church freedoms,
clergy mistreated, congregations empowered,
structures legitimated, pain embraced.
We are spooked and suspicious,
power games
weave in and out
of the stories we tell.
Shadows lengthen
across the vast expanse
of Pollen's church.
Natural light dies,
darkness falls
and in the dark
there is
Lectio Divina.
Subterranean catacomb,
monolithic construction of brick and concrete,
Modernism evoking the endurance of faith.
Circular, centred on the stone table
of the once-for-all sacrifice.
Above, a concrete chimney
filtering, not the acrid fumes
of the industrial pollution revolution,
but chants, rising like incense
from black-robed and white-hearted
angels and men.
What is resolved? Nothing!
We go in faith
to minister differently
in different places
as different people
with different people
in the One Love
that has embraced pain
and legitimated (temporary) structures
throughout millenia,
beginning now and ending then,
incarnated in action and contemplation;
twin beams of light
illuminating the stone table
of the once-for-all sacrifice
continually re-membered,
continually consumed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jide Chord - Jide was a member of St Margaret's Barking and performed there in 2005.
over retreatant's evening meal.
Stipend versus tentmaker's salary,
Temple versus Synagogue theology,
the hangover of Christendom versus Early Church freedoms,
clergy mistreated, congregations empowered,
structures legitimated, pain embraced.
We are spooked and suspicious,
power games
weave in and out
of the stories we tell.
Shadows lengthen
across the vast expanse
of Pollen's church.
Natural light dies,
darkness falls
and in the dark
there is
Lectio Divina.
Subterranean catacomb,
monolithic construction of brick and concrete,
Modernism evoking the endurance of faith.
Circular, centred on the stone table
of the once-for-all sacrifice.
Above, a concrete chimney
filtering, not the acrid fumes
of the industrial pollution revolution,
but chants, rising like incense
from black-robed and white-hearted
angels and men.
What is resolved? Nothing!
We go in faith
to minister differently
in different places
as different people
with different people
in the One Love
that has embraced pain
and legitimated (temporary) structures
throughout millenia,
beginning now and ending then,
incarnated in action and contemplation;
twin beams of light
illuminating the stone table
of the once-for-all sacrifice
continually re-membered,
continually consumed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Jide Chord - Jide was a member of St Margaret's Barking and performed there in 2005.
Monday, 19 November 2007
Contextual artistic conversations
Last time I was at Wallspace Meryl Doney was commenting that, while many contemporary artists were keen to have their work exhibited in a gallery that is also a church, others were reluctant to display work in a setting that would highlight the Christian themes or images in their work. Combined with visits to the From Outside exhibition and Mark Titchner's recent exhibition at Vilma Gold, this got me thinking about the effect on the artwork of its being exhibited within a church setting.
The works exhibited by Damian Thompson and Caroline Burraway in From Outside illustrate the issues well. Damian Thompson exhibits photographs of corpses where the photograph acts as a vessel for maintaining some uncanny presence of the dead. For From Outside one of these photographs was exhibited as an altar cloth, which suggests the image of Christ in the tomb awaiting resurrection. Immediately, we have moved beyond Thompson's stated purpose for these photographic corpses but, as he is searching for meaning in the face of death and exploring the issues of belief that are tied-up with this search, to do so is not necessarily to do violence to the core of his art. Instead, a wider frame of reference is opened up for that search than might otherwise be the case.
Burraway's work functions differently from that of Thompson's in this context. Burraway filmed Kathleen, an elderly relative, in her final days and the resulting videos and charcoal's emphasise the finality with which breath leaves the body. In the context of a church where a central tenet of belief is in resurrection this sets up a challenge between the work and its location.
Nicholas Cranfield, in his review of Sam Taylor-Wood's three films shown recently at Wallspace, claimed that they "gain little from their being shown in a consecrated building" with none suggesting "a narrative or symbolic shape to benefit by being at Wallspace." This is despite Pieta and Ascension making direct reference to traditional, western Christian iconography which, perhaps, suggests shortcomings in Cranfield's critical response rather than in the works themselves. The third film, Prelude in Air, has none of the Christian references of Pieta and Ascension and yet, as with Thompson's work, its showing in a church does open up new references which would not otherwise be apparent.
Prelude in Air presents a musician totally engaged with the Bach prelude he is playing, but he is performing without a cello. The music and the man are present; the instrument that links the two is absent. As a result, the performer is improvising the playing of the cello within the framework of the Bach prelude that he can here. For Christians, this has resonances with our calling to be inspired by the Holy Spirit to improvise actions that fit within the framework of the Christian story and contribute to the movement towards its fulfillment. Again, without being in dialogue with the church context, such a reading would be unlikely to occur.
These works displayed in a gallery would not have these resonances or set up the same kind of conversation with their context. This is apparent in seeing The Eye Don't See Itself, Mark Titchner's recent exhibition at Vilma Gold. Here the white cube of the gallery sets no external framework for the work with which it can be in dialogue. As a result the work speaks solely in its own right. In this case, as a monumental reflected projection enveloping the viewer in a state that seeks to disturb perception through use of Rorschach inkblots, Alpha states, and self-improvement mantras. The work, therefore, deals with aspects of belief but its references are solely contained within the work.
This is not to say that one is better than the other simply to flag the way in which works displayed in a church, to work well, have to be strong enough to enter into dialogue with their context in a way that is not the case in the white cube of a gallery. These extra references or resonances can also deepen the experience of interacting with the artworks themselves.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Love - She Comes In Colours.
The works exhibited by Damian Thompson and Caroline Burraway in From Outside illustrate the issues well. Damian Thompson exhibits photographs of corpses where the photograph acts as a vessel for maintaining some uncanny presence of the dead. For From Outside one of these photographs was exhibited as an altar cloth, which suggests the image of Christ in the tomb awaiting resurrection. Immediately, we have moved beyond Thompson's stated purpose for these photographic corpses but, as he is searching for meaning in the face of death and exploring the issues of belief that are tied-up with this search, to do so is not necessarily to do violence to the core of his art. Instead, a wider frame of reference is opened up for that search than might otherwise be the case.
Burraway's work functions differently from that of Thompson's in this context. Burraway filmed Kathleen, an elderly relative, in her final days and the resulting videos and charcoal's emphasise the finality with which breath leaves the body. In the context of a church where a central tenet of belief is in resurrection this sets up a challenge between the work and its location.
Nicholas Cranfield, in his review of Sam Taylor-Wood's three films shown recently at Wallspace, claimed that they "gain little from their being shown in a consecrated building" with none suggesting "a narrative or symbolic shape to benefit by being at Wallspace." This is despite Pieta and Ascension making direct reference to traditional, western Christian iconography which, perhaps, suggests shortcomings in Cranfield's critical response rather than in the works themselves. The third film, Prelude in Air, has none of the Christian references of Pieta and Ascension and yet, as with Thompson's work, its showing in a church does open up new references which would not otherwise be apparent.
Prelude in Air presents a musician totally engaged with the Bach prelude he is playing, but he is performing without a cello. The music and the man are present; the instrument that links the two is absent. As a result, the performer is improvising the playing of the cello within the framework of the Bach prelude that he can here. For Christians, this has resonances with our calling to be inspired by the Holy Spirit to improvise actions that fit within the framework of the Christian story and contribute to the movement towards its fulfillment. Again, without being in dialogue with the church context, such a reading would be unlikely to occur.
These works displayed in a gallery would not have these resonances or set up the same kind of conversation with their context. This is apparent in seeing The Eye Don't See Itself, Mark Titchner's recent exhibition at Vilma Gold. Here the white cube of the gallery sets no external framework for the work with which it can be in dialogue. As a result the work speaks solely in its own right. In this case, as a monumental reflected projection enveloping the viewer in a state that seeks to disturb perception through use of Rorschach inkblots, Alpha states, and self-improvement mantras. The work, therefore, deals with aspects of belief but its references are solely contained within the work.
This is not to say that one is better than the other simply to flag the way in which works displayed in a church, to work well, have to be strong enough to enter into dialogue with their context in a way that is not the case in the white cube of a gallery. These extra references or resonances can also deepen the experience of interacting with the artworks themselves.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Love - She Comes In Colours.
Folk Art & Fairy Tales
Folk Art and Fairy Tales, currently at the mac in Birmingham, is an exhibition that delights, thrills and charms. As I viewed it, I constantly heard people saying, " I like ..., I like ..."
The exhibition brings together ten leading artist-makers from Wales and other parts of the UK, connected by their excellence, creativity and their fascination with narrative and literature, folk art, legends and fairy stories. Their works range from the witty and humorous through to those that explore the darker, more mysterious side of myth and fairy tales.
The exhibition presents the disarming creatures of Lucy Casson and Julie Arkell, Samantha Bryan’s exercising fairies, Cathy Miles’ witty wirework birds and quirky sculptures by Jayne Lennard. Carys Anne Hughes’ textiles look at the uneasy side of nursery rhymes while Jennifer Collier’s shoes and dresses weave stories and fruit into their fabric. These show alongside Su Blackwell’s exquisite book-sculptures and installation, Rachael Howard’s wonderful fabric hangings and a major new ceramics series by Lowri Davies. Fresh, fun and full of joie de vivre, this exhibition brightens the winter days.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn!
The exhibition brings together ten leading artist-makers from Wales and other parts of the UK, connected by their excellence, creativity and their fascination with narrative and literature, folk art, legends and fairy stories. Their works range from the witty and humorous through to those that explore the darker, more mysterious side of myth and fairy tales.
The exhibition presents the disarming creatures of Lucy Casson and Julie Arkell, Samantha Bryan’s exercising fairies, Cathy Miles’ witty wirework birds and quirky sculptures by Jayne Lennard. Carys Anne Hughes’ textiles look at the uneasy side of nursery rhymes while Jennifer Collier’s shoes and dresses weave stories and fruit into their fabric. These show alongside Su Blackwell’s exquisite book-sculptures and installation, Rachael Howard’s wonderful fabric hangings and a major new ceramics series by Lowri Davies. Fresh, fun and full of joie de vivre, this exhibition brightens the winter days.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn!
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