Posted on by aprilbumgardner

Good Friday

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The work above entitled Menorah is by the contemporary painter Roger Wagner, a London-born artist about whom I know little. I discovered his work by a happy accident a few months ago, and am drawn in by the pathos of his works. Honestly, I am not sure how I feel about his style of painting, but I am frequently mesmerized by the content. I find myself entering the painting as one of the figures, or as part of the landscape.

I appreciate the way in which Wagner makes use of biblical narratives. He often places the familiar Bible scene in an incongruent modern setting. Other times, he creates the surroundings squarely in the Middle East. I appreciate the way his paintings startle me into examining them and questioning what they might be saying about history, the Bible narrative, and about God. His startling juxtapositions of characters and locales give his works a more poignant punch. He speaks both theologically as well as artistically.

In Menorah we notice the belching smokestacks in the background and the dark figures in mourning in the foreground. Symbols of the Holocaust and of Christ’s crucifixion all take up space here, creating a jarring sense of something not being quite right. It is an interesting painting to reflect upon with Good Friday approaching.

 

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Dartmoor crucifixion study 2006

Here is another one of Wagner’s paintings with the crucifixion as the central theme.  Here, however, we are in a bucolic setting with gently sloping hills in the background. Again, the viewer notices the anachronistic setting with modern telephone poles instead of crosses. Sheep punctuate the bottom of the scene while flocks of birds seem to move all across the top. The sky itself even seems to suggest angels’ wings. We are given the impression of a quiet night, outside of town, and it seems Wagner may want us to remember both Jesus’ birth announcement and death simultaneously.

Both of these paintings, I believe, help us realize that although Easter is a joyous holiday, Good Friday was truly a day of mourning, and could only be called “Good”  retroactively.

 

Posted on by aprilbumgardner

Willow painting

Our summers tend to be slower paced. We don’t schedule in that many events for our kids, preferring them to experience boredom and togetherness, coming up with their own fun. We usually make an overnight trip to Chicago or Cincinnati, and occasionally play tourist about our own city.  I do not deal well with hectic, frenetic days, but feel much happier with fewer items on my agenda.

This year our three boys are spending a week at a local farm camp in the mornings.  They are feeding pigs and chickens, learning some ecology, weeding the vegetable garden, and getting brown in the Indiana sun. Once home, and after lunch, they are outside again (I love this about them!).

Lately, A is either at the neighborhood basketball courts or on his bike. S often rides his longboard down the steepest hill in our neighborhood. Since G is not old enough, according to our guidelines, to leave the block unaccompanied, he opts for the backyard. Sometimes he plays with a brother, sometimes alone. Today after watching a bit of the EURO 2016, I kick a soccer ball with him all around our yard.

For not even six years old, that kid is really fast. He looks like someone has set an old VHS tape on fast forward. Honestly, I tire of that pretty easily, so I hide under our willow tree in hopes he will be inspired to join me in a calmer, more imaginative venture. He does.

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“Let’s make a fort!” he exclaims. “And I’m going to paint dragons and pictures for the fort’s entryway.”

I slip and refer to it as a studio.  “It’s not an art studio,” G insists, “it’s the painting on the fortress walls.” I stand corrected.

G instructs me to collect the supplies while he lies against the tree, some of the unwieldy branches swishing across his legs. I let him tell me what to do…this time, and bring cardboard, tape, rope and paint on a plastic palette, along with a few brushes. G sits up, and asks me to help him tie the “canvas” to a willow tree branch.

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He gets to work.

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And this occupies him for twenty or thirty minutes.

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Eventually he brings out his pop up tent and a couple of stuffed animals. It’s getting crowded under the willow. I have to crawl in to the tent first; he follows. And, so, one imaginative idea begets another.

It’s a beautiful summer afternoon.

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The burdock and the nettle I preferred,

but best of all the silver willow tree.

Its weeping limbs fanned my unrest with dreams…

~Anna Akhmatova