Contemplating Perfection

After five tedious months, Asherel has completed her entry for the NRA Wildlife Youth Art Contest. She has spent 5-7 hours a day on it for the past two months, while I have read her school work to her. She spent several hours a day during the three months prior to that. It has really been a monumental effort. She knows that the judges will not care that she devoted 1/28th of her entire life on earth to this wolf, however, and she will be judged on the merit of the final outcome. And of course, that judgment is subjective, and may not go the way we hope it would. For now, she is just relieved to have finished it.

Now after all this time, the last thing she must do is name it. After five hard months of effort on a piece of art, it deserves a stupendous name.
I matted it for her and then held it up in all its finished splendor.
"What will be the title?" I asked, filled with expectant wonder.
"How about Wolf Standing on Rock?" she said.
I lowered the painting, "Can you think of something more poetic?"
"Wolf Standing on A Rock?"
"Let's just go all out and call it The Wolf Standing on A Rock."
Or maybe even The Wolf Standing on A Rock with Grass in the Background.

She was tired. The wolf was supposed to be done a month ago, we thought. And each night she told me it would be done the next day. But the level of detail was excruciating, and she refused to lower her standards so the wolf genesis crept along more slowly that the gestational period of real wolves.  I suppose there is no name that would give proper justice to how much struggle, time, effort, despair, and delight went into the wolf. I came out this morning and stood a long time looking at the picture. Maybe obvious is the best choice after all. What does one title a picture grasping so ardently for perfection?

When Ezekiel goes before the people of Israel to confront them with their sin, how short they fall from the righteousness of God, he uses the Temple as a goad to their conscience. He tells them to look upon the beautiful temple of God, designed in exact conformation to God's plan. He tells them to consider all its exits, and entrances, and the laws contained within. It was constructed exactly as God required, and it was described by Ezekiel as Perfection.  There are only 7 times the word Perfection is used in the Bible, and most are from Ezekiel. In every case, however, except the Perfection of the temple, the word was used in paragraphs that showed how perfection on earth was always temporal, always limited, always vanished in the end. There would be no lasting perfection made by man. However, the seventh time the word perfection is used is in the book of Hebrews. The author of Hebrews tells us if perfection could have been achieved by the old order of human striving and sacrifice in repentance when they fell short, then there would have been no need for Jesus. But humankind always would fall short, would never reach perfection, not on their own.

I stood in front of the wolf picture, marveling at my daughter's use of form, light and dark, design, color and especially the incredibly detailed rendering of every hair on the wolf in a very difficult medium. He has a pensive look on his face, as he stands atop a rock, looking out over the beauty of God's creation. How about Contemplating Perfection for a name?

Psalm 119: 96
⁹⁶ To all perfection I see a limit,
   but your commands are boundless.

A Sunset that Paints its Own Colors

Asherel and I have an ongoing battle. She is doing a beautiful but very time consuming art work for the NRA Wildlife contest. It is due in three weeks. She has been working on it since early summer, but despite my wise counsel, she didn't put in as many hours over the summer as I suggested. I warned her that 9th grade was going to be busy, and she would not have much time to devote to the lovely project once the school year began. Lo and Behold, as she should know by now, the Mother was right. Children everywhere, save yourself the energy of eternally challenging this fact: Mothers are always right.

At any rate, she has far more than three weeks worth of tedious work on this art work, in my opinion. She insists she can finish in time. I have tried to suggest some time saving techniques, that I believe would produce equally lovely effects. No, she refuses to compromise her standards. If it isn't done in time, it isn't done. She won't do something less than what she feels is the called for optimal artistic decisions.

I suppose, in some ways, it is like me suggesting to God that perhaps a little more magenta and a little less orange is needed in the optimal sunset. In the end, the Creator really should make the decisions on how the creation ought to look. As a creative person myself, I am a little astounded when I think of God's courage in giving His creation free will. Now I know already what my dad is ranting and raving about as he reads those words. We have had a thousand or so discussions about " free will vs. predetermination".  For now Dad, suspend your thoughts about all that, and let's just suppose for the sake of the rest of the story that free will does exist and it was ordained by God. (If necessary, take an extra blood pressure pill.)

In that case, it is like me giving the power to my painting to suddenly sprout a mouth and say, "Hey wait a minute! You stink! Why don't you take a few more drawing lessons, turkey?! Why are you making me that color with that shape? And you call yourself an artist? Gimme a break. I don't need you. Get lost!"

It seems ridiculous in that context...but that is what I do to God over and over again.
Hey! Why did you put me in this stupid situation?
How could you expect anyone to be patient, kind, or loving with the jerks you plopped me in the middle of?
How do you expect me to carry our your will when I'd have to give up all that pile of desires over there?
Why are you doing this to me? I deserve better!
This is the thanks I get for carrying out your commands?
ETC.

Fortunately, God is used to His creations that talk back. When Moses was leading the grumbly Israelites to the promised land, their incessant complaining finally overcame him.
 He cried out in angry despair, telling God ,"You gave me a bunch of whiney babies, and then expect me to lead them for forty miserable years. You have given me a burden that is too heavy. Just kill me now!"
But God doesn't kill Moses. Rather than chastise Moses, or ask him how he dare question the wisdom of His Creator, He gently calms Moses down, and promises to immediately send him seventy helpers to share a portion of the burden. He allows the sunset to paint its own color, in a sense.

Asherel finished the tail of the wolf. It looks so real, I feel like I could reach out and stroke the soft fur. Ok, maybe sometimes mothers aren't right. The creator probably knows best the direction to guide her creation.


Numbers 11: 10-17
¹⁰ Moses heard the people of every family wailing at the entrance to their tents. The LORD became exceedingly angry, and Moses was troubled. ¹¹ He asked the LORD, “Why have you brought this trouble on your servant? What have I done to displease you that you put the burden of all these people on me? ¹² Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do you tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant, to the land you promised on oath to their ancestors? ¹³ Where can I get meat for all these people? They keep wailing to me, ‘Give us meat to eat!’ ¹⁴ I cannot carry all these people by myself; the burden is too heavy for me. ¹⁵ If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin.”  ¹⁶ The LORD said to Moses: “Bring me seventy of Israel’s elders who are known to you as leaders and officials among the people. Have them come to the tent of meeting, that they may stand there with you. ¹⁷ I will come down and speak with you there, and I will take some of the power of the Spirit that is on you and put it on them. They will share the burden of the people with you so that you will not have to carry it alone.

Making the Most of It

I am sorry to report that I have some of the characteristics of an ambulance chaser.
Yesterday, I sat next to an associate editor of Charlotte Parent's Magazine. I was there for Asherel's award ceremony. She won "Editor's Pick" in the Charlotte Parent magazine art contest for her duct tape dog.
Last year it was sponsored by an orthodontist, and her prize was a toothbrush. This year, Binders Art Supply was the sponsor and she had high hopes for what would be in the winners' goody bags lined behind the podium.

I noticed that the lady beside me was taking lots of photos, and had a name tag telling the world she was someone of consequence.
"Do you work for the magazine?" I asked.
"I am one of the editors," she answered.
This is where my ambulance chasing mentality revealed itself. Even in the sanctity of an art award ceremony, I saw possibilities for selfish gain.
"Does your magazine publish reviews of Charlotte authors? Charlotte authors who are also parents and write about things that kids have done?"
"We do," she said suspiciously.
Oh happy day, I thought! Here right beside me was an opportunity to build my "platform"- that menacing part of publishing a book that every agent insists I must have before they will read word one.
"Well, I am an author with a book that I think is on the verge of being published. When it is, would your magazine review it?"
"We would definitely look at it," she said, and gave me the contact information as well as circulation statistics. They reach 56,000 homes! That's 56,000 new contacts to add to my platform. I settled back happily into my seat and thought about what other art contests Asherel could enter that could enhance my platform. I may be a nobody, but my daughter is a somebody and only somebodies seem to get books published. I would just hang on to her coat tails.

I know....despicable. Deplorable. Disgusting. Opportunistic.

In Acts 16, there is the story of a slave girl who told fortunes. Apparently, she had a spirit within her with the knack of predicting the future. My guess is this was not a good spirit, since later in the book, Paul casts the spirit out. The slave girl made money for her opportunistic "owners" by this prophetic spirit, and when Paul told the spirit to vamoose, the "owners" no longer had a livelihood. Understandably the "owners" were not pleased and had Paul and his cohort Silas arrested, beaten, and imprisoned. While in jail, Paul and Silas did what anyone would do under the circumstances. They sang hymns and praised God. Suddenly, there was a violent earthquake, the jail doors were flung open, the jailer who was dozing awoke. Certain his prisoners had escaped, he was about to kill himself when Paul shouted out that there was no need for such histrionics- he was still there and the jailer's social security and pension was still secure. The jailer decided that this was no ordinary man and no ordinary message, and cast his lot with the God that could bring so much joy and worship in the midst of such circumstances.

All set in motion because of an opportunistic slave owner!

There are a good number of lessons here, but the one that shouts out to me is  make the most of every opportunity! I was just being melodramatic calling myself an ambulance chaser. I really don't think what I did was disgusting, deplorable, or despicable. I just like using alliteration. I think that God opens doors all around us, and most of the time we are so focused on where we think we should be headed that we are not seeing the pathways He is continually clearing before us. The more I look for those open doors, the more I see them creaking ajar in the most unusual places.

Like winning art shows making pictures out of duct tape. If nothing else, our God is a God of surprises.

Isaiah 64:2-4

² As when fire sets twigs ablaze
   and causes water to boil,
come down to make your name known to your enemies
   and cause the nations to quake before you!
³ For when you did awesome things that we did not expect,
   you came down, and the mountains trembled before you.
⁴ Since ancient times no one has heard,
   no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen any God besides you,
   who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.

The contest

I read the fine print. ohoh.  The beautiful and very creative art work Asherel had spent 8 months producing might not fit exactly into the allowable materials. As she slept, unaware of the mounting despair in her mother, I emailed the contest organizers. The State organizer wrote back to say she interpreted the rules as allowing the material Asherel had chosen, but she could not promise the National organizers would, should Asherel advance beyond the state level.

I looked more carefully at the rules of the two other art contests Asherel is entering, and realized that the questionable technique in one contest was definitely allowable in the other. And the other had a bigger cash prize. The other was also a much more challenging contest, at the national level, and I am pretty sure it is adults, not children producing the past winning art in that contest. I know that as a  50 year professional artist (read: has sold at least one piece of art), the winners in that contest draw better than I do. Still, this piece Asherel was working on was one of the most creative techniques I have ever seen, all bias aside. The problem was the due date was in 4 days, and Asherel was not done with the piece that had already taken 8 months. She had anticipated another month of work.

"Can you finish it by tomorrow if I let you work on it all day?" I asked, when she awoke and I presented the options. She nodded.

Her all day art marathon was interupted frequently- Bible study, math, Gavel club, lunch, dinner, dog walking job, dog training for the upcoming agility contest......

Autumn is beginning to sparkle in Charlotte. I took the dogs on a walk, leaving Asherel bent over her art, and  noticed the leaves were suddenly riotously colorful. Out of nowhere, after a few days of glum, grey rain, the sun had made a brief appearance and I had dashed out to a world with splashes of orange, red, and yellow dotting my way. How beautiful, and how suddenly it all appeared out of the drabness! When I returned, Asherel was still bent over her artwork.

When Daddy walked in the door that night,  and asked if she wanted to play Mario Cart, she heaved a deep sigh and said, "I have to finish this. I have been working on it 10 hours straight."
Now while that is an exaggeration, it is not far off, and I heard many more deep sighs as I sat nearby reading, trying to give moral support by my presence. I will not tell you what the technique is because the element of creative surprise is crucial in this work, and I wouldn't want to spoil that for her til all her contests are over. However, suffice it to say that the process is exceedingly tedious and labor intensive.

Around 9:00, she lay down, the work propped on her knees. She continued working from this supine position. More heavy sighs.
"You don't have to enter this," I reminded her, "If it is just too much, we can enter it in the other contest and you will have another month to finish."
"No" she said, "I can be done by 11."
So I kissed her goodnight, and I went to bed, dubious.

This morning, though it was only 6 am, I couldn't sleep anymore. I had to get up and see if she had finished. I knew it was hardly possible given the difficulty of the process and how much she needed to do in so short a time. I dashed out. There it lay on the table, complete. Splashes of beautiful color and perfectly rendered form with exquisite detail, as lovingly and carefully completed as it had been started. I wished I could write the judges and tell them what monumental effort this art work had taken, the months of labor, and then the impossible spurt at the end. But it is not a character contest; it is an art contest and by artistic merit alone will it be judged.

I would not want the job of those judges- sorting through the gifts of so many young artistic souls. I could no more judge the beauty of one fall leaf over another than attempt to judge the lovely offering of one child over another, especially knowing what I know of how one child struggled to do her best. I know she may not win, and in some respects, it might then feel like it was all in vain. But excellence is its own reward and I am quite certain that the artist of the Autumn is smiling His approval.

 Colossians 3: 23-24
²³Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, ²⁴since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Art is Not a Horse Race

The Kentucky Derby coincided this year with the last day for entries for the first National Hollow Creek Farm Children's Art Contest. I am one of three judges for that. Asherel and I, as we do every year, settled down with a yummy dinner 2 hours before the actual Derby run, and then listened to every tantalizing tidbit about the horses, the jockeys, the owners, the trainers, the past Derby horses, former jockeys, former owners and former trainers, and the future Derby horses, future owners, and future trainers. I am not allowed to speak during the Derby indoctrination session, as Asherel is studiously listening, remembering and filing away every minuscule fact she hears. If she would concentrate one tenth so hard on schoolwork, she'd be in post-graduate school by now.

So I took the time to sketch on my iPod, preparing myself for Round One of the art contest judging after the Derby. The Derby was wonderfully exciting, with history made as jockey Cal won his third Derby on a horse not expected to win, but the winner was unambiguous. The first horse across the line won, no subjective argument about who ran the winning race.

On to the art contest judging and a whole different scenario paints itself. All the artwork is lined up by age groups and the only information I have on each is the name of the HCF animal the piece portrays, and the person's age group. I do have an "objective" judging criteria sheet, with a certain number of points each artist can earn in 5 categories....but as soon as I looked at the first piece, I knew I was doomed. I wanted to give it the perfect 50 points.... but then what if the next piece was better? And can anyone reach perfection in art... and if they can't, how do you assign objective points to such a subjective endeavor?

"I know," I told my assistant, "Let's just throw them all across the room, and the one who lands furthest wins."
"This isn't a horse race," said Asherel.
OK, all you art entrants, don't panic. I made that part up. I didn't say it... but I did think it.

How do you not give points to a clumsily drawn picture that captures completely the essence of the animal he drew? Or how do you judge between three of the most exquisitely drawn dogs I have ever seen, all in different mediums? I praise God there are three judges, because I want to give each entrant first place.

I honestly had no favorites. Each piece carried such a spark of love, and joy, and bubbling creativity that each one I looked at was like a new flower, created just for that nuance of smell that only it can give. I hope each artist understands that, whether they win or not. I had never realized how hard it is to pick just one winner in an art contest. Now I have a little better sense of why God urges us all to work towards the Prize, the goal, the eternal award. If He were to choose only one of His creation to win, how could He? So we all get to win if we press on towards the goal. And the Judge isn't assigning points- He is cheering and standing at the Finish Line with open arms.


Phillippians 3: 13-14
¹³Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.