Homeless Art

The artist’s work is homeless in the deepest sense even though it is also real work alongside scholarship and church and state. Art does not come within the sphere of our work as creatures or our work as sinners saved by grace. As pure play it relates to redemption. Hence it is at root a non practical and lonely action. It belongs to the empty sphere of the uncontrollable future in the present. ~ Karl Barth

Where do you enter homeless play?

Mühlenstraße

“Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?” Isaiah 55:2

300 km of bike trails with 43 wind, water and horse mills make this region in Germany unique. The mills are in operation from April to October serving oven-warm butter cake to the creaking and rustling of the mill wings.

What makes your region unique?

Ending movement

“It is good to make an end of movement, to come to a point of rest, a place of pause. There is some strange magic in activity, in keeping at it, in continuing to be involved in many things that excite the mind and keep the hours swiftly passing. But it is a deadly magic; one is not wise to trust it with too much confidence. ~ Howard Thurman

What keeps you from making an end to movement?

Bald eagles

On retreat last week, we watched three bald eagles with their amazing wingspan soaring, gliding and reigning supreme – a mother and her two young ones, their heads still brown.

Soaring like eagles

Gliding above earth and sky

Vision far beyond

How do you capture beauty?

That is the time

“That is precisely the time when artists go to work — not when everything is fine, but in times of dread… We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence.” ~ Toni Morrison

How do you participate?

Joy unspeakable

Joy unspeakable

is not silent

it moans, hums, and bends

to the rhythm of a dancing universe.

It is a fractal of transcendent hope,

a hologram of God’s heart

a black hole of unknowing. ~ Barbara A. Holmes

What is joy unspeakable for you?