Art is Life's Blood

(I did not create the above letterpressed loveliness, rather, I extracted the image from google. Fingers crossed, with more time here, I'll be able to produce things just as nice!)

Art is a journey without a destination. We will never 'get there.' There is no one answer. But if you enjoy the journey, if you get lost in the process, if inspiration and beauty and meaning are what you're after, then you are an artist even before you have begun." -Vae Hamilton

Looking Forward And Looking Back

Life for me, yesterday, was just as much about the journey as it was the destination. On my nearly five hour drive up to Penland, I had an audio tour of some music that whetted my appetite of the thinking and digesting I’ve craved for quite some time. I began my trip with a little Over The Rhine. As rain sputtered lightly onto my windshield, slightly melancholic music was just what the doctor ordered.

When this song found its way to my speakers, I couldn’t help but find company in the words that painted my own picture for very own moment of coming/going. I am looking forward to something quite extravagant, leaving behind something quite nice. Either way I turn my head, I have a great many things to be thankful for.

When OTR expired, I switched gears to a little tour of the history of ska music, a la this guy. As the grey sky was having quite a somnambulatory effect, this compilation + a good strong cup of joe was a needed jolt of energy. Not only that, it reminded me that this period of life is a time in which open-mindedness is not just important, it’s prerequisite. I want to grow in new things, and I cannot do such without a heart and mind wide open to things I know not. (And by jove, turns out, I think this caffeinated music could certainly grow on me.)

When I hit the North Carolina state line, I toned it down a bit by amping up a bluegrass/folksy playlist I had stacked up on my iPod. Patty, Avett, Chris, Alison...their sweet twang sang me into the hill country and onto the campus of my new residence.

I hit this crossroads right before driving through the gates. I was reminded once again of where this all began. Even before then, this idea of a creative crossroads had been brewing in the mind of the Author and Perfecter of my faith.

I’ve been here on campus for just a few short hours, and have already been bathed in the uncontainable majesty of it all. My little cubby in the attic of the Craft House will be my new home and the place I lay to rest after full days of work.

I checked out the studio (which is without rival, the coolest I’ve ever beheld) and took a stroll around before sitting on the porch for a while and grabbing a sandwich at The Pines. I’ve already met a few other work study students, and am altogether enamored with how many stories are gathered here in this place. Lives from all over the American map are intersecting here. We all come from something and are coming to something, to learn great things, to study life through each other's eyes.

Along with my towels and linens, I picked up this sheet of paper that says:

The strange power of art is sometimes it can show what people have in common is more urgent that what differentiates them.

- John Berger

Here’s to eight weeks of being enveloped in the reminder of His beauty, to digging deep into an art that I love and to learning the binding qualities of shared creativity.

This is going to be one helluva good time.

Oh Mr. P-oh-oh-oh-ostman

If you care to write me via post in my absence, I'll be residing at:

PO Box 37

Penland, NC 28765

or for FedEx or UPS, use:

67 Doras Trail

Penland, NC 28765

Don't be strangers.

Play Me Some Mountain Music

Time is waning...the day of my departure from Birmingham is indeed coming round the mountain. Next week, I'll be on my merry way to Penland, NC to proceed with my adventures in letterpress. The taste in my mouth is bittersweet, as I'll be leaving a place a I love during my favorite time of the year. Not only will I miss the opportunity to hostess the 3rd Annual Day of Fall Fun,* I'll be picking up in the middle of what has been an action-packed (sleep-deprived) season of new and exciting nouns.**

I'll leave with some trepidation, but walk into a colorful world of learning, breathing and growing. I'm hoping that the seeds of interest planted long ago, will have their chance to push through the soil into the open air, getting the nutrition they require to be green with life. My prayer is that I'll learn the rudimentary printing practices that will build my house of knowledge on solid rock. If you're the praying kind, and you care to do so, join me in asking for that.

As I set off down the road, I'll no doubt need lots of car-time entertainment. In addition to the collection of Ira I've been stockpiling for weeks, I'll need a heavy dose of new music for this fresh page of life. Autumn beckons for some music dripping with oranges and golds. That's why, fall-loving friends, I've compiled the below list of songs to accompany me on my way. In turn, I'd like your recommendations. Comment below with 1+ of your own top picks for the coming season. I'd be much obliged.

1. Everytime You Say Goodbye - Alison Krauss
2. November Blues - Avett Brothers
3. Top of the World - Patty Griffin
4. Green Pastures - Emmylou Harris and Ricky Skaggs

5. Coming Home - Arthur Alligood

6. Wayside (Back in Town) - Chris Thile

7. Make Me A Pallet on Your Floor - Gillian Welch

8. Little Flowers - Denison Witmer

9. Boy With A Coin - Iron and Wine

10. Adieu False Heart - Linda Rondstadt

11. Appalachia Waltz - Edgar Meyer

12. Tiger Mountain Peasant Song - First Aid Kit

13. The Fire Thief - Hem

14. Since You've Been Around - Rosie Thomas

15. Far Far - Yael Naim

16. Rowing Song - Patty Griffin

17. Please Read The Letter - Alison Krauss and Robert Plant

18. Out on the Highway - The Everybodyfields

19. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright - Bob Dylan

20. Flesh - David Gray

*Past participants of DOFF, and new friends alike, please wear plaid on October 24th in memory of this great occassion, and save the date for next year's celebration: quadruple the fun.

** people, places and things of course.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye

Shucks, if I had known that Tannehill Ironworks Historical State Park was hosting their 18th Annual Moon Pie Eatin' contest on Monday, I would've been there with bells on. I would've shown up, elastic shorts style to beat this guy to a mallowy pulp.

How's this for serendipitous timing? I just made my first batch of the homemade variety last week. They were quite a hit among friends. If you've got a hankering for a Southern delight done right, go on and give 'em a go. When this moon hits your tongue, it's amore.

Make-you-slap-your-mama Moonpies

• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 cup evaporated milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 1 cup confectioners' sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 cup marshmallow creme

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Lightly grease a cookie sheet.
2. To Make Cookie Crusts: In a large mixing bowl, cream together 1/2 cup butter or margarine and white sugar. Add egg, evaporated milk, and vanilla. Mix well. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, salt, cocoa powder, baking soda, and baking powder. Add flour mixture slowly to sugar mixture while stirring. Mix just until all ingredients are combined.
3. Drop the dough onto greased cookie sheet by rounded tablespoonfuls. Leave at least 3 inches in between each one; dough will spread as it bakes.
4. Bake in preheated oven for 6 to 8 minutes, until firm when pressed with finger. Allow to cool at least one hour before filling.
5. To Make Marshmallow Filling: In a medium mixing bowl, blend together 1/2 cup butter or margarine, confectioners' sugar, flavored extract, and marshmallow creme. Mix until smooth. Assemble pies by spreading 1 to 2 tablespoonfuls of filling on flat side of a cookie crust, then covering filling with flat side of another cookie crust.

Song of Sorrow

I know I blogged about this song and video just one week ago, but I believe it deserves another mention today. I borrowed from its title, and, now, my friends, I would like to pontificate on its subject matter. If you didn't before, WATCH it now. See the pain in Sara's eyes as she sings this well-wishing song over a suffering friend.

Sometimes, I imagine she sings for Chris Thile, former Nickel Creek band mate, who married, divorced and now seems to be experiencing a bit of crisis of faith as a result. I imagine that as his heart has been ravaged by life's knocks, Sara's own heart has broken to watch it happen.

Do you see the genuine concern deep set in her gaze as she sings? Do you hear the compassion in her sweet sound? She loves her friend and is burdened by what weighs him down. I think each time she utters the words to this song, she prays for his safe return to peace.

My own angelic-voiced roommate often writes songs over other people. Months ago, she labored over a song for her sister, who was at the time, experiencing a spell of loneliness. In her wisdom, Abby said something about the comfort we're able to bring to people when we don't try and bring them into the light, but rather, just offer to sit with them in the dark.

Whoah.

We can hope and wish and pray for our friends. We can sing beautiful hymns of healing over their lives, but we cannot change them. We can care and love them well, but we cannot fix, we cannot decide, we cannot live for them.

But, we can sit with them in the dark, walk away and sing for hope to their hearts, relief to their minds.

I Get A Sense

I was in Florence, Italy on the inaugural day of creative writing class, the summer after my sophomoric year of college. Together with eleven classmates gathered from every corner of the North American map, I sat wide-eyed in our mall marble-laid room overlooking the San Lorenzo square. I was nineteen years old and, alone in a foreign land, and overwhelmed.

"Let's take a walk," Lily, our instructor suggested. "Grab your notebooks and pens. Follow me."

And so we descended into the streets to snake through the outdoor/indoor market below, taking down notes of the sights, the smells, the tastes, the sounds as we walked.

From the left and right, I heard: "Hey there, American girl. You are beautiful," amidst the murmur of negotiation and friendly banter.

Before my eyes were strewn leathers of every color, soft and buttery to my touch.

I took in the aroma of fresh produce, of cold slabs of meat, so fresh that they still stared at passerbys.

Talk about sensory overload.

I was enveloped in the vibrancy of life happening around me. I was not a part of it, just a spectator to it. It buzzed and hummed around me as I stood still to look and listen, smell and touch. At one point, I was lost from the rest of my class, so distracted by the activity around me that I lost track of everything else. Remember that feeling of being separated by your mom in a grocery store when you were younger? It was akin to that, but better, because I reveled in where I was. I was swimming in a sea of colors and sounds.

I want to go back there.

Not to Florence, necessarily (though if someone were to fund my trip, I'd be happy to oblige). I'd much like, however, to return to the feeling of FEELING. Recent weeks, months, years have left me feeling cold to my surroundings and circumstances. I've plowed through, not allowing for the time or space to experience life the way I did that day.

I love the idea of Jesus, in Mark 7, restoring one man's senses. Placing his fingers in his ears, touching his tongue, Jesus spoke over him: "Ephphatha," or "Be opened."

That is my prayer today, as I rest unhurriedly for the first morning in weeks. Life is colorful, noisy, messy. I want to be opened to experience, to bathe myself in the sensation of living it.