August is traditionally the silly season and this year, before it settled down to more serious news, I was delighted to read that Paul Daniels had been hospitalised after Sooty had thrown a pizza at him. I was not delighted Paul Daniels had been hospitalised, of course but the idea of a little yellow bear throwing a pizza struck me as hilarious and most people I have told this story to also find it hilarious. Until of course they remember Sooty is a puppet and the pizza was actually thrown from someone's hand.
An article about puppets in today's Metro, about Handspring Puppet Company, is worth a read, the challenge is to make the puppet seem alive. I read somewhere, and thought it was in this article but I can't find it there, that whereas an actor's role is to get the audience to suspend their disbelief, the challenge to the puppeteer is to get the audience to suspend its belief this is in fact a puppet.
This week's New Scientist's cover story Quantum Minds suggests that the human mind might be described by the same maths as quantum theory. Note this is not the same as using quantum theory to explain human minds. It does seem logical that the same maths might explain both, as the maths enables the mind to grasp quantum behaviour in the first place.
I think puppets might help. One characteristic of quantum mechanics is super-position. This is where we are asked to understand the behaviour of a particle as both a particle and a wave, two mutually contradictory things.
This is exactly what we all do with puppets. If you don't believe me, watch this video about the puppets used in the stage play of Michael Morpurgo's 'The War Horse'. We can see its a puppet and yet we're able to perceive it as if it is a real horse.
I went to a very small book launch last night. Sheffield Street Art is a set of images by Hedley Bishop and Jim Lambert. I believe it is possible to purchase it on Ebay but I can't find it. I suggest if you would like to purchase it (£5), you follow the link and leave a comment.
I am impressed by the amount of street art that's around us in Sheffield. Perhaps the best known street artist in Sheffield is Kid Acne (bottom left above), who has an exhibition currently at the Millenium Galleries. (On until 23 October upon which date this link will presumably die.)
My favourite artist is Phlegm (top left above) who has a fantastic piece of work not far from where I live at Riverside. This can be found on a website called Sheffield Street Art, which just to confuse everyone has nothing to do with the book and although it features some of the same artists covers mostly different works.
The book was expensive to produce and so won't make much money. The authors are hoping to use the proceeds for a future 'Pictures of Sheffield Old and New' publication and they hope the proceeds from that will be substantial enough to go to the Alzheimers Society.
Today our imagination is constrained by commerce. This is not say imagination was not constrained at other times and in other cultures. Indeed, Jesus' ministry had the same aim, within the culture of his time, to release imagination from similar constraints.
The powers always want to control the people. In Rome it was 'bread and circuses' and in our time junk food and the market, especially entertainment.
It is as if art has been elbowed aside by the media. What counts is our ability to reproduce things as commodities. I suppose it goes back to early manufacturing. Instead of depending on local craftspeople, it became possible to purchase goods mass produced to common standards.
From the beginning this was both a blessing and a curse. The retail co-operative movement aimed to ensure that food was at a good standard, not adulterated. These co-ops ameliorated the exploitation associated with control of the means of production and also helped mutual societies develop modern transport, wholesale and retail infrastructure. Today, many of the mutual associations, designed to protect the interests of working people, have long ago been absorbed into the world's financial markets.
We have never had access to so much art. Through media whether it is TV, film, DVD or the Internet we have historically unparalleled access to art. This is possible through our ability to reproduce and distribute millions of identical copies.
Art can lose its moorings in our minds when we become consumers of entertainment, no longer able to relate its imaginary worlds to reality. So, we have the example of the recent film Alice in Wonderland, where the book is lost, its anchors in reality cut away so to float it in the hegemonic pabulum of American imperialist culture. It is no longer a work of imagination but something that stands in for imagination. For all its tricksiness, it is held firmly in the teeth of those who would tell us what to think.
This misuse of imagination as a means to enslave, is not restrained to art and media. Fantasies rooted in false consciousness generated by the powers, is always in tension with the art of the day. Art at its best is a means of seeing beyond illusions to something real. Sometimes our eyes are opened and we recognise the real world beyond the magician's lamp.
The problem is the world behind our fantasies is not the world of ideals, such as Plato suggested were behind the shadows projected on the wall of his cave. Today, we see these ideals are themselves an illusion. So, what is real? If we want to answer that question we need to use our imagination.
We naturally think of art when we think of imagination and so it is a reasonable place to start. The thing about the arts is not that they are imaginary but their reality. When we look at a work of art (or listen to it, even taste it) we relate to what we recognise in it. So, when I look at a Caravaggio painting I see something I can relate to. The theme might be biblical, even mythical, but I find real people struggling with real lives. The same themes in a baroque style leave me cold; I recognise less in a baroque painting.
I've always had a fondness for science fiction and so permit me to illustrate what I mean through a brief review of the recent series of Dr Who on BBC 1. I have followed Dr Who, with a break for the period when I was a grown up, since I was 9, when it started in 1963. It is interesting to see how each era is reflected in the stories and in the way they are told.
Recent episodes have made me uneasy and I think the reason is that I am not recognising in them a reality I can relate to. Let me go back to the final episode that featured David Tenant as the Doctor. In that episode he fell out of a spacecraft, crashed through a glass ceiling and landed on a marble floor. He sustained a few cuts but was otherwise unscathed. The problem is, this was lazy writing but you can get away with it, if the story is strong.
The story was not strong. The whole universe was under threat (again). The jeopardy was ramped up to such a degree that the writers only option was to hit the reset button and use what used to be called deus ex machina to restore the status quo ante.
The same problem can be found in the finale of the most recent series. The cliffhanger at the end of the penultimate episode included all of the Doctors enemies ganging up on him, imprisoning him in a prison designed so no-one could get out of it, meanwhile the Tardis exploded, bringing the entirety of space and time to a halt.
The final episode was full of neat tricks but to me was unconvincing. I couldn't relate to the premise of the end of universe (again). Contrast this with an earlier episode about Vincent Van Gogh. Here the Doctor was unable to prevent Van Gogh's suicide. It was written by Richard Curtis and featured reproductions of Van Gogh's paintings as sets. Much of this was convincing even though it was also fantastic. The episode featured a most unconvincing monster and it didn't matter at all. The monster had a function to enable a bigger story to be told.
Now, I appreciate Dr Who is not high art but its popularity suggests it touches on themes that have meaning for people. It is fantastic but also familiar. Works of the imagination function best when rooted in reality. Pure fantasy becomes boring because it has no meaning for us.
Applied imagination can speak to us through art. Imagination left to its own devices, connected to nothing, does not make connections to what we know.
So, it says on the billboards for Alice, a play currently showing at Sheffield Crucible. The Times, I think it was, claims Alice is as mad as a bag of trifle. This got me thinking about trifle.
It would be mad to put trifle in a bag. Trifle needs to be in a large transparent glass dish, so you can see the layers. There's nothing like pushing a large spoon through the pristine cream surface, down through the layers and into the jelly, so that it makes a sucking noise as the spoon returns to the surface, laden with ... well what?
Two trifles stick in my mind - neither terribly successful. A colleague told me she had never eaten trifle and so I offered to make one for the office Christmas party. I remember we were interviewing for new staff and I nipped out between candidates to add more layers.
You start with sponge (there used to be trifle sponges although I haven't seen them in years) and I usually use some shop bought cake. Swiss roll is good and it can be a bit stale. You add fruit, almost anything, usually tinned, but see below. Then jelly ... I should explain to American readers, there are some linguistic issues here. Apparently, Americans have no word for marmalade and call it jam instead. Consequently, jam is called jelly and so jelly is known as jello. My experience of jello is of dismal crystals in a paper sachet. Proper jelly comes as translucent cubes, dissolved in hot water. If this is to be church trifle, you add sherry. Chapel trifles do not have sherry or the Methodists won't let it on the premises!
Anyway, next there is the custard layer. This can be blancmange, which is really coloured custard and seems to have disappeared from our kitchens. Finally, whipped cream and decorations, eg glace cherries, or angelica (remember that?) or 100s and 1000s or roasted almonds or those edible ball bearings. I like jelly spiders.
The jelly spiders were a problem. The trifle was presented at the party in all its glory. What are those my colleague asked? Ah, they are made of gum which comes from cows and so is jelly. She is Hindu and this is why she had never eaten trifle. (It did get eaten but it's interesting how religion can determine trifle recipes.)
My next attempt was where I recountered the story of the spiders and was challenged to prepare a trifle for a meal at church. It was a big meal and there would (fortunately as it turned out) be a huge number of trifles prepared. My first big mistake was to add pineapple, then jelly and then when it didn't set, read the packet. Certain fruits, prevent jelly from setting! It was thick liquid but not jelly. Worse the custard didn't set either (can't remember why).
How to get liquid trifle from home to church by car? I placed the trifle bowl inside a large mixing bowl and placed it on the front seat of the car. Sheffield has a lot of hills and as the car went up and downhill the trifle maintained the same orientation to gravity. The dish and bowl did not. This meant the trifle sloshed over the sides of the dish into the bowl.
Wise counsel held back my trifle until the next day when we could drink it in the privacy of coffee after the service.
I have described the proper trifle (identifiable as such despite my ministrations). It's not a pudding - it is a dessert or sweet (puddings are steamed with suet and served with hot custard). There are claims that proper trifle has no jelly in it - apparently this is true of the earliest versions - but jelly definitely improves it. You start with sharp jelly and fruit and finish with the smooth cream and custard - there's no other way to eat it!
There's also Eton Mess, which is OK (meringue, strawberries and cream - it is of the same ilk but not trifle. Eat it by all means but don't let it trifle with your affections, never forget the real deal.
Apologies for those expecting theology and found a mere trifle of a post.
(I haven't tried the recipes below. They're as close as possible to my idea of a proper trifle. Don't use individual dishes or you won't get the proper sucking noise.)
Last week I attended our circuit local preachers' refresher course. We have these once a year and we are expected to attend as one of our commitments as preachers. This year I organised it. Last summer, I met a new District Chaplain for the Arts, who is now the District Venture FX Pioneer Minister. Also I asked our circuit Mission Enabler to help lead the day, about creativity in worship.
This is my contribution of a piece of writing for use in worship. It is pretty much as I delivered it on the day - it would benefit from some polishing and if I get around to a second version I shall share it here. It is based on the opening verses of John's Gospel and I have written about them before (exactly 18 months ago!). It is also based upon the story that when the biologist J B S Haldane was asked about creation, he replied God must love beetles!
It all started down the pub. Look at this, said God, taking a gulp of Crudgingtons 6X. He produced his prototype - I call it an atom - I've ideas for loads of different models and I'm going into mass production soon.
And I, said the other, am going to keep an eye on things, give them a nudge now and again. It'll be brilliant what these atoms can do. What about you?
Me? I'll dance - through time and space - and watch and listen, inspire and create.
The next time they met, she said - the things I've seen! You must love beetles and stars and grains of sand; parasitic wasps and neon lighted jellyfish in the ocean's darkest depths. I've watched planets form, fish crawl from the seas, dinosaurs live and die - but not lose hope, they turned into birds!
You ain't seen nothing yet, said God, ordering another round.
Soon, she saw others who saw things as she did, who also watched and listened and danced and created; who set things in order and analysed and invented. They were brilliant in their own way - brilliant and sad, wise and dangerous, comic and tragic.
Don't you think they need help, she asked? I'm onto it, said the other, with some trepidation.
A major controversy has been raging in Sheffield for several months now.
You will be aware that Sheffield is (like Rome) built on seven hills (otherwise, it is not at all like Rome). One of those hills is behind Sheffield Midland Station. A footbridge, built through local taxation, passes through the station, linking people living up the hill with the town centre.
East Midlands Trains (a new franchise) decided some time ago this footbridge is an open invitation to fare dodgers and so proposed installing barriers open to ticket holders only.
To cut a long story short, the opposition to this proposal was pretty much universal and the council threw it out.
EMT went to the government and the plan was resurrected. So, a few weeks ago I joined a protest march across the footbridge.
We then heard that EMT and the government had withdrawn plans to close the footbridge although they reserved the right to erect temporary barriers. I imagined this would be chains of staff holding hands and capturing fare dodgers, in order to extract due recompense.
Imagine my horror, as I hobbled (sprained ankle) into the station this morning to discover the terrible truth ...
I understand Winston Churchill tried something similar during the second world war and it almost ended in tears. If EMT persists with these drastic measures they'll have another demonstration on their hands.
I first saw this painting at an exhibition called Jesus Laughing and Loving . It is a touring exhibition and I saw it at my church. This painting caught my attention and I remember the thrill when I noticed the woman's hands. I was told a school party earlier that week had visited the exhibition and an eleven year old boy spent half an hour in front of the painting.
The other day, at a meeting of the Centre for Radical Christianity , Nicola Slee led a day, considering the Christa. I posted a photo of a Christa recently and the first half of the day focused on this type of crucifixion image.
After lunch, Nicola Slee asked whether there were similar resurrection images. Indeed, there are and this painting was reproduced in our packs. I intend to find out more about Garibay and his paintings. He is a Filipino artist and this painting shows a sort of Asian night club where the woman is a hostess. Despite the seedy atmosphere there is a real sense of joy and the onlooker is drawn in.
What struck me was a parallel with the Rublev icon of the Trinity (below). There are three men, with three bottles of beer and three spliffs. The woman does not partake. It seems to me the gestures of the men echo something of the gestures of the men in the icon. Obviously, the icon is not full of quite so much laughter but the placing of hands and the direction of gazes is important. The Trinity regard each other, the Garibay men regard the woman.
In the icon, the fourth side of the table faces the viewer. The Garibay Emmaus is turned around and the woman occupies the fourth side but her gaze is fixed on the viewer.
We can read this painting as we choose. The point to me is about incarnation. We cannot find God in heaven, God is in other people. This means God can as easily be found as a woman in a seedy bar as anywhere else. Unremarkable, suspect ... this is the meaning of the resurrection.
Consultancy for Mission and Ministry This should take you to details of the Consultancy for Mission and Ministry course at the York Insititute. See my post about non-directive consuultancy around 9 September 2009.
Image via Wikipedia
Recent Comments