Entering the Torii Gate
A Narrative by William Catling
It was mid morning as sunlight angled across the street and brushed the front of
a brick façade building. I was early, found a small table near the window and
allowed the noise of grinding coffee beans and customer chatter fill the
atmosphere with a cushion of sounds. A foam leaf, artfully swirled on the top of
the espresso blend, rested in my cupped hands as I wondered what the
upcoming meeting might entail.
It all started with an unexpected email just a few weeks prior. Two women
running an arts organization in Orange County had referred me. The email was
an interesting request for me to reengage with my distant past. I have to admit I
had been praying for a way to use my leadership and art skills in a new way (just
thought it would be something else). In recent years I had devoted myself to
building fully integrated art and faith collegiate and graduate programs. Last fall
those responsibilities “fell away” like deeply pruned branches weighing heavily
from many seasons.
The rich taste of the coffee matched the aroma that had been mixing with these
thoughts while I waited and reflected on how I had arrived at this place. Here I
was in a trendy coffee shop preparing for a possible new future. Working directly
with churches was a past activity and I was not sure about bringing into my
current reality. Institutional Church life is rich in politics, ministry expectations,
denominational “headaches” and so much I did not miss.
What was I thinking after all of these years?
It was not too late.
I could simply walk out the door and drive home.
Just then, he walked up to the table. I had not met Michael before but I instantly
identified him: easy moving, open faced with a big smile. The conversation
started and we found it easy to talk, sharing a common life in the arts. His idea
was the creation of a “broken plate” mural for his church. The fragments had
been collected from a worship ceremony expressing grief, sadness and loss. The
notion grabbed ahold of me, it could function as a visual parable: “The Kingdom
is God is like the sound of broken plates.” Michael was ecstatic.
A cautionary inner voice desperately reminded me of how much time and energy
a project like this would take, especially trying to get the congregation involved in
the actual “art” of the project. The not so quiet voice helped me steer us to the
topic of budget, time and project scope. Now the tale emerges of the other artists
Michael had met with and how expensive they were, far exceeding the church
budget. I thought to myself, now make a good decision: go home, draw up some
plans and send in a proposed cost and timeline. So I did.
A few weeks pass and back for more coffee.
Before Michael arrives I mentally review the project status. We are in agreement:
three panels, abstract design content as submitted and the fee is set. For once I
not allow this to get out of hand.
Our planning meeting begins.
The conversation gets going and the history of the church begins to unfold. It
begins to emerge from our processing that the function of the murals could be an
echo of the life of the church. I weaken and with and unexpected generosity and
openness, we reach for clarity of vision for the broken plate project. (Which
means more studio time, more work, and same pay!) Soon it is clear that there
needs to be (not three but) four mural sections and I am excited about the taking
on the project.
Wait, what just happened?
I went into the meeting firm on how this was going to happen: three panels,
abstract pattern derived from the plates, a set budget and a clear timeline.
How is it that there are now four panels with all new content, a new end date, and
more people that “need” to be involved in the process?
*******
OK, back to good coffee.
It requires many steps from the farming aspects, the bean selection, the roasting,
the water, the blending, the context and the serving to become an aesthetic and
dietary pleasure of which I thoroughly enjoy. And yet when Winnie the Pooh is
asked what is his favorite thing, he first answers eating honey, of course. Then
he adds, with his best friend Piglet. After further reflection, he shares with
Christopher Robin that actually there is a moment just before he has his first
taste of honey that is the very best, with his best friend Piglet, of course. So
adding to the list of what makes good coffee is the anticipation just before the
first sip that adds to the quality. The pause, the liminal space between
anticipation and consumption.
********
All right, what does any of this have to do with a broken plate mural and doing
work for a church?
Good art that serves well creates a space between it and the viewer that allows
for the pause to live. To create work that deserves that space requires listening
to the process, the ideas, the materials, and those who are commissioning the
work. Serving the work, serving the church, serving God and serving the process,
art its best opens up the space between the past and the future, matter and spirit,
and hopefully the mundane and the truly exceptional.