Deus Meus et Omnia
“My God is all to me.”
There is something so rich and real, that you might grab hold of it and feel it work its way between your fingers, in the presence of history — the wonder and beauty of how man has used God’s tools.
In Los Angeles, there is a quiet, carefully kept underbelly. It holds a weight and presence that has outlasted every rising star and gold rush traveler.
A gallery of the California Art Club stands on the top floor of El Molina Viejo, a former grist mill in San Marino, California.
On display is a collection of works called “Feast”, showcasing still life of fruits and meals, boiling tea kettles, and rising steam clouds. A slow lap of the space brings me toward an impressionist painting by Tom Swimm called Kitchen Sun. I wonder as I look at the vibrant blues of the shadows if painters feel that beautiful weight that makes everything meaningful. Do they understand that through painting, they capture the colors of the world transcendently? That they capture the spiritual? Artists refine reality with each brushstroke.
Yesterday, I listened to a video explaining that the Bible is centrally about the meeting of Heaven and Earth — Jesus being the quintessential example of this. This got me thinking about holiness and where we can glimpse it. I’d argue that spiritual world can be seen as a 4th dimension in art. This holy overlap can be felt but inadequately verbalized in the presence of creation.
Art might be the most spiritually significant thing in the world.
I’ve previously defined my goal as a writer as “capturing a butterfly and pinning it to cork.” I find this to be possessive of thought, a proud display. My goal has shifted. I rest, ready with open hands, to hold space for the spiritual, if even for a moment.
With hope that I might steward it well.
