William Holman Hunt

I didn't expect to be able to do any serious blogging on this whirlwind journey beyond an erratic bit of travelogue. But the unexpected boon of constant internet access has enabled me to putter around a bit on the web, and I have discovered an article that I am eager to share.

In keeping with my hope to profile some of my beloved artists, I want the world to know more about William Holman Hunt, both for himself as a superb artist, and for the part he played in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. The Pre-Raphaelites were a group of artists who bucked the artistic trends of their time, desiring instead to return to an artistic way of thought before the Renaissance that saw art as full of symbol and meaning, marked by an almost fanatical attention to detail. Their driving ideas included the conviction that art ought to be objectively meaningful, well-executed, deeply beautiful. Even in the beginning years of modern and postmodern thought, they were already beginning the call back to an objective beauty, an attention to the loveliness of nature and the need for meaning in all forms of creation. I think they are a pretty powerful inspiration to all artists today. Their epic, richly beautiful pictures adorn several of my walls and are such constant companions of beauty that I feel the richer for their presence in my life. I find that their pictures have a staying power in my mind that much modern art lacks entirely.

William Holman Hunt was a well-known member of the Brotherhood, but is of particular interest because of his faith. A faith powerfully expressed in his painting Light of the World. A painting of Christ, lantern in hand, knocking at the door of the human heart, it was a painting that drew the admiration and love of Hunt's own time, and has retained its meaningful beauty for the present. Christianity Today has a recent article having to do with that particular work and several books recently published on Hunt's life and art. You can go here to read it. You can also go here for a short history of the Brotherhood, and here for a list of the museums and websites housing his works and offering prints of his paintings.

Even in the midst of my crazy travel days, I have been strengthened in heart by stumbling across this study on the life of a man who so valued beauty and was so committed to bringing the rich mystery of the Biblical story to life in his art. It's what I want to do in my writing. It's what I want to do in my life. So enjoy this artist. May he enrich your days as well.

And Ever On...

Iwas greeted by the mountains; heaped hills of verdant green and smoky blue, etched by the white-walled, red-roofed ropes of small villages. It is unexpectedly beautiful here in the Balkans and it seemed a perfect fairyland to my travel-weary eyes when I stumbled off the plane yesterday afternoon. My exhausted friends and I were greeted by the sparkle of spring sun and the hugs of new and old friends. After almost forty-eight hours of nonstop travel (with a paltry four hours of sleep) we had finally reached a place of rest. It is night now, and I have just arrived home from a day spent wandering the delightfully old and very cobbled streets of this city. Our friends have been generous with their time and car, ferrying us all over the city for an unforgettable tour. We've feasted on cheese pastry with sour yogurt, bought tiny hand woven shoes at a bazaar and wandered up to a crumbling fortress to watch a storm amble in over the mountains. It's been a welcome respite after five very crazy days.

Our time in the middle east was an experience that eludes description at points; it was hot and bright and barren, rich in wonderful people even while confirming every imagination I've ever had of the wild desert. In spite of the occassional oasis with its sudden shock of fuchsia flowers and palm trees, it was the people, in my mind, who brought such richness to the place. First of all, the families we visited; faithful and dear, full of great ideas and persistent hope. It was a privelege to speak to them, encourage them in their ideas and work. We were a small, cozy group who enjoyed great discussions over hummus and pita (it is indescribably delicious) during the three days we spent together. They will be in our thoughts so often in the coming days.

Secondly, the native people themselves were generous with friendship and laughter and we made some crazy friends on our long taxi drives to and from the city. In between maneuvering the outrageous roads (or rather, the outrageous drivers) we had some fascinating discussions with our drivers about their customs, beliefs and general outlook on life. Hidayat in particular had us in stitches as he braved traffic to get us in some shopping at the "Blue Souk" in our last available hour. I wish we had hours and some Turkish coffee to continue in talking with Hidayat, even in our few minutes he widened our perspectives and gave us a glimpse into his thought that changes the way I will think about many things in the future.

As for the camels, while not exactly friendly, they obliged us with a rollicking good ride. We slipped into the pink dawn on our second day to clamber onto the humps of some very obliging camels. Roped together (so that none of us would end up on a wild gallop across the sand dunes), they had elaborate get ups of saddles that sat us just high enough for them to nibble at our toes as we swung along. Our guide didn't speak a word of English, but our garrulous driver had fully informed us to watch out for lizards, other wild camels and the "very poisonous" snakes who left lace-like ribbons of tracks in the red sand. It was a ride to remember. I felt like Miss Rumphius, right down to the nearly plunging headfirst over the camel's ears when he knelt to let me off. Exciting.

Tomorrow we will begin a new round of talks with the dear people here. This is a place of contrasts; colorful markets and laughing people set in a scene of communist era blockies and precarious old buildings. There is tradition and poverty, richness of history and bitterness of old grudges. I feel like I am walking through dream scapes at times, unable to fully process everything I am seeing. I am storing it away to be considered; the beauty, the cultures, the souls of friends and native peoples. For now, I will bid you goodnight from this sort of travel journal. For now, the cold has come and I will take my own advice, curling up to take a bit of joy before the morning with its new adventures.

Goodnight to you, my friends!

A New Place...

It was two am in the small hours of this morning when we stepped into the heavy heat of the Middle East. We were sleepy, yet bright eyed with travel and fascination at the multitude of colors and sights that met us as we stumbled out to our waiting taxi. We walked carefully round groups of people from a myriad of different countries, fascinated by the turbans and veils that brushed against us. As we stepped out to our car, we glimpsed the strange and lovely lettering of this country, in calligraphic curls and and dashes. Our driver dashed us to our hotel, where we peered out over a sprawling cityscape of jeweled lights. And then fell senseless into bed. Exhaustion doesn't quite describe the feeling.

Six hours of sleep, two hours of driving and one rescheduled camel ride later, we are here in the town where we will stay for the next few days. Our hosts met us with delightful welcomes and a traditional middle eastern dinner. We laughed as we sat around our table at an old restaurant lodged in the fort near the old oasis. We were feasted on hummus and pita bread, grilled lamb and chicken and delightful salads of fresh vegetables and spicy dressings. The favorite treat though was the fresh juices; pineapple and mango, guava and lemon, mixed fresh and served in chilled glasses. Our friends are so lovely and so generous and the next days promise much grace. I hope we can bring as much as they have given us already.

This is the farthest I have ever been from home both in miles and culture. And it is fascinating. As we were waiting for our food tonight, we heard a strange cry echoing through the darkling sky and several of us leapt up the old stairs to stand on the lookout and listen. It was the call to prayer. Haunting and eerie as an old tale, the strange voice echoed through the pink haze of the hot dusk sky in a tone almost otherwordly. It was compelling and present. We listened until the last horn died away and then turned wide eyed to eachother. It is not to be forgotten.

Tomorrow begins the bulk of our time here and we must be up at five thirty sharp to redeem our canceled camel ride before the sun comes out in full, so I will bid you goodnight from this hot and strange, yet fascinating place. More will come soon. And tomorrow, perhaps you will get a glimpse of an obliging camel with one of us perched precariously on its back...

Auf Wiedersehen

We leave Vienna today, lugging our suitcases down to the Ubahn and then off to the next country.

It's been a blessed time. We had Sacher Torte yesterday, sipping our melanges (cappuccinos) in the red velvet lounge and enjoying every bit of our famous cake. There is so much tangible beauty here in the paintings and streets, the old buildings with their statues and ironwork, the flower shops and cobblestones and music being played at every street corner.

I want to take time to consider what beauty does for the soul, because this place is richer in touchable loveliness than almost any place I have been, and I think that somehow, it makes God's grace tangible to human eyes.

I'll have to mull that one as I'm flying.

For now, Guten Tag von Vienna (good day from Vienna), I'm on the road again!

Gruss Gott!

Or, as the German has it, "Greet God" which basically means "hello"!

I greet you from the springtime streets of Easter Vienna. We arrived here a night and a half ago after a train ride from Munich through the Austrian Alps. We are cozily situated right on the Ring in downtown Vienna, ten minutes walk from Kaertner Strasse and the Graeben, the two pedestrian streets that make up the heart of Vienna. It has been a wondrous time thus far; miles of walking down cobbletone streets, coffee at Mom's old favorite haunt of Heiner's, a long stroll through the Ostermarkt (Easter Market) to buy fragile, handpainted eggs in every hue of the rainbow.

These are our days of rest; our respite before we head out on Tuesday. Easter especially will be a gift as we are spending the day with old friends and ending with a midnight performance of the Messiah in St. Stephens. It will be wondrous.

So, from streets flower-bedecked and cobblestoned, from the city of music and old beauty, I wish you a lasting grace from the Lord. May you have peace on this joyous day. May the beauty of God be heartbeat close as His joy suffuses our souls once again.

Happy Easter from Vienna!

The Road Goes Ever On and On...

Down from the door where it began,
Now far away the road has gone,
And I must follow if I can.
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then, I cannot say.

Bilbo Baggins said that, and I'm humming the tune of it under my breath as I stuff the last coat and zip the last zipper on my woefully overstuffed bag. You see, we are off again on a gypsy adventure. There will be a fellowship of four this time, traipsing through five countries in Europe and beyond. (If I can only remember a single greeting in each language I'll be ridiculously proud.)

We will be staying with families, pouring as much new courage and zest into their hearts as we can. There is an indescribable thrill to travel; a sense of newfound treasure as one travels from place to place, gleaning the vast myriad of beauties that God has made. I welcome any trip for the way it expands my soul. Each new mountain, each bustling city, each blessed new meeting of a kindred heart enters into my spirit and stretches it, enlarges my comprehension of God's infinite beauty.

So I'll hopefully be able to post a few pictures or thoughts along the way so that you can join in the gypsy quest. Pray for us, that we will be kept and protected, that we will leave gladness behind us, and that God's spirit would be strong around us as we go. We'll return in three weeks, just as spring comes home to the mountains. I'll greet you from the road, hopefully share some tidbits from camel rides to coffee in Vienna. Our first planned adventure is an Easter midnight concert in St. Stephen's Cathedral in the heart of Vienna. So look for some travel journals soon. For now here's a token farewell on my last (much too late) night from home.

Watch out o' windy world, we're coming!

His Life

Seven times a day, as I work upon this hungry farm, I say to Thee, 'Lord, why am I here? What is there here to stir my gifts to growth?What great thing can I do for others-I who am captive to this dreary toil?'
And seven times a day Though answerest, 'I cannot do without thee. Once did My Son live thy life, and by His faithfulness did show My mind, My kindness, and My truth to men. But now He is come to My side, and thou must take His place.'

-Hebridean Altars

Life in Cadence

It was Anne of Green Gables who began it. I was fifteen with the romantic drama of the world unfolding at my feet when I discovered the riches of poetry. I was reading Anne of the Island when I realized how often my heroine would quote the perfect bit of classic poetry to set the tone of an adventure. And then there was her recital of The Highwayman; a dramatic feat of memorization and romance that I simply couldn't resist. If Anne could memorize it, why not me?
Ah, the thrill of walking barefoot over the hills of Colorado while whispering;
The wind was a torrent of darkness,
Among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon
Tossed upon cloudy seas...

From there I progressed to Stevenson, Shakespeare and Yeats. I discovered Wordsworth and Coleridge, Burns and Browning. And this year, thanks to the help of a book friend, Auden and Whitman. My new ally in the exploration of poetry is John Hollander's lovely book: Committed to Memory. It is a collection of what he considers the hundred best poems to memorize. They are companionable poems, fit to aid every season of life. I've memorized three in the past month. I find an unexpected pleasure warming me when these words come unbidden to my mind, setting an inner song to my mundane hours. There is grace and drama, new courage and old beauty in the classic poetry.

So Anne began it. But I'm keeping it up. Because poetry adds just a bit of song to life, adds a gracious cadence to my work and play. Poetry reminds me to follow the example of the poets to cup my hands and wait for wonder to fall.

Artist: Jessie Wilcox Smith

Since I have received several requests for the identity of the artist who painted the little girl reading by a window, (several posts back) I've decided to make that woman the first of my featured artists. So, o curious world, I present the talented and lovely, Jessie Wilcox Smith.

One of the most beloved artist/illustrators in the children's book world, Jessie Wilcox Smith was one of three women who studied under famed illustrator Howard Pyle. She become known for her delightful illustrations of the children's classics as well as her tender portrayal of childhood. You will find her illustrations in such classics as Little Women, At the Back of the North Wind, Heidi, and The Water Babies.

She loved children and families, and was part of the Victorian Era that so valued the home. Her art reflects this and I treasure her paintings for their tenderness, innocence and portrayal of an imaginative ideal.

To read more about her, you can go here.

For an online gallery of her work and a great source for prints you can go to PODkids. They make high quality, print on demand posters of most of her best known works.

So, enjoy this lovely artist. She has brought much beauty to the walls of my home.