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I read 628 books last year. Here I share 24 (non-fiction and fiction) that stuck with me. One's that I returned to and recommended with others. They might not have made it into my most recent 100 reflections (most did), but there is a staying power in the captivating ideas presented in each of these books. I appreciate books that rely on interesting structures and extended metaphors, that prompt expansive thought, and that give insight into the human condition. Thankful to the authors for being my faithful conversation partners this past year. Here's to more reading in the new year!
P.S. If you are nerdy about stats reading that many books only took 36 days, so not even 10% of the year. All that to say you too can read a lot of books.
Draw Your Weapons by Sarah Sentilles
A theological reckoning about the implications of war from the perspective of images. My Art Books Collection by Shana Gozansky This delightful children's series talks about emotions and experiences in age appropriate ways while introducing the artistic canon. The English Understand Wool by Helen DeWitt An plot-twisting novella filled with fine detail. How to Disappear: Notes on Invisibility in a Time of Transparency by Akiko Busch A meditative and incisive reflection on how to (not) show up in our contemporary time. How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen by David Brooks Written with clarity and palatability a foundational presentation on reflective listening. USER FRIENDLY: How the hidden rules of design are changing the way we live, work, and play by Cliff Kuang with Robert Fabricant A case-study based presentation of the history of "user-friendly" design complete with pitfalls and successes.
"Are you still working on your podcast?" "Yes, yes I still am." There were many silent seasons between what this team released in 2020 and what we offer to you now. For a variety of reasons ideas percolated and were poured out in our production group, and remained there. It is with excitement and relief that we offer this Advent reflection titled "Liturgies for Uncertainty." I am including my homily and the two poetic offerings from the episode here: Within the Christian tradition the first Sunday of Advent lights the candle of Prophecy. This marker of the new year inaugurates a recollection (referring to Isaiah) and a foretelling (the coming of the Redeemers birth) . In this moment caught between time orientations, there is a cradle of possibility. Perhaps your life seems to exist in the moments before the candle is lit when all is dark. It seems impossible to connect with the pronouncement of hope. Within the liturgical calendar, the long stretch of Ordinary time has passed and a new season has begun. This is a significant shift. It is the celebration of a new year! Happy New Year! Even if the beginning of Advent isn’t when you traditionally celebrate the new year, you have experience with the feeling and anticipation of something new. A page turning. And the theme of this is hope. Hope that this new year will bring something delightful. Anticipation that what has been hoped for might transpire. Hope that the things you struggled with in the proceeding year have ended. It feels like something new. And yet, so often it isn’t. We remain in the same situations. Nothing substantive has changed. The same problem that confronted us yesterday stymies us today. In this way I think of hope as pernicious. It keeps holding the proverbial carrot just out of reach. One interpretation of the Stockade paradox about surviving seemingly unsurvivable situations is to “Confront the brutal reality. Never lose hope.” What brutal reality do you need to confront in this next year? How does an honest evaluation assist with forward momentum? These are not prescriptive actions, but rather calls to observation. How do you walk with what remains unresolved? And how do you remain in relationship with uncertainty? These are the first questions that came to mind when asked to reflect on the nature of hope in light of long-suffering and illness. Our culture values outcome and production, measurable quantifiable increments that we can label as achievements. What happens when your goal is hope, because somewhere along the way you lost that sense that the horrible and difficult of your life would ever change. Perhaps it was the day you witnessed something ordinary that used to sparkle and delight, but now landed with a thud. Perhaps it was the moments or months after a diagnosis that would cause a drastic re-ordering of your life. Or perhaps it remains nebulous and you find yourself in a miasma with no directional markers. Perhaps the hope in those moments is stillness? Perhaps hope in those moments is acceptance? Hope is a continued commitment to the unresolved, hope is the prophetic. ON THAT NIGHT By Jan Richardson, from the Illuminated Advent Retreat. A Blessing On that night when you are holding your very last hope, thinking to let it go as too small to be saved or sanctified; on that night when you turn away at last from the far horizon over which you had thought your life would come to find you; on that night, believe me, this is where the ache will give way to the mystery and the blessing that seemed so distant will quietly come to meet you, holding your heart in its two luminous hands. —Jan Richardson "On That Night" © Jan Richardson. From the Illuminated Advent Retreat. Used by permission. janrichardson.com “Sometimes the thing that gets us through the day is knowing that it will end.
God, thank you for the hope of a new day and the relief that I won’t have to return to this particular one. In rest, renew my perseverance. In acceptance, uphold my heart. In patience, prepare me for glory. You abide with me more than I can see. Amen.” -K.J. Ramsey This poem was originally posted here and more about KJ can be found on her website. Used with permission. I had the opportunity to talk with Mako about the importance of beholding and belonging, slow art and generativity. We reflected on what it is to do work that remains unseen and how bees are models for artists of what it is to live a purposeful, inquisitive life.
Lots of links to share with this conversation: Culture Care Podcast Slow Art Book All Saints Princeton liturgical paintings can be seen (Sundays worship is at 10:15) at the church. Community of Jesus Paraclete Press Culture Care Monthly Newsletter Mako's next exhibit opens on 1/20 at Weisman Museum at Pepperdine University Julia's next exhibit opens on 1/24 at Kresge Memorial Library at Covenant College I was recently interviewed for a Canvas Rebel feature. They use a submission form, common among interviewers, with lists of questions to choose from. I like doing these kinds of interviews because it gives me opportunities to reflect differently on my work and process, forcing me to get specific and think about audiences outside of the one that I am accustomed to addressing daily on Instagram. I get to choose which questions to answer AND I get to edit my responses. The published interviews don't always flow smoothly and I wonder about that as the question that is posed gets transmutated into an "interview" format, but my answer does not. It's weird. I don't know what to do about that, but want you to be aware if you choose to read the interview.
In your life, what is a question that sticks with you? Is there one that you mull over and return to? Has there ever been a question that changed your life? How so? Do you wish you had never heard that question? Are you grateful for it? Recently Mako Fujimura and I conversed about the importance of staying with things that challenge you, what it means to create in a destructive world, and how artists are always inhabiting the tripartite reality of past, present, and future. If you are interested in some further reading on these topics, (or books that were directly mentioned) here are some books to check out.
Recently my students remarked on the stacking of artworks in this painting. They were unfamiliar with the original gallery style hanging that was so prevelent in centuries past. This painting was itself created to be instructive and illustrative of great art. It got me thinking about the silofication that we talk about as a result of social media, but what if it started happening sooner. What if our removing artworks from dialogue with each other on walls also contributes to this effect? How would you curate a gallery salon-style? What sources would you place in conversation together? How does dialogue improve with greater context and diversity?
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