Christmas Musing: Preti's "The Visitiation" and Our Search for the Infinite

When we rounded the corner to the left and into the Baroque room at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts this morning, my eyes welled with tears. There it was; the painting I had visited the museum for, a painting called "The Visitation" by 17th century Baroque master Mattia Preti, a Calabrian and a protege of Caravaggian naturalism.

How fitting the painting first went on display here on Christmas Eve.

A Painter's Journey with Multiple Sclerosis: "Everyone Has a Yearning to Make a Mark"

Our older son's godmother just posted this video on her facebook feed. It is the story of a man, Brett Weber, a neuroscientist and painter. He died today of complications from multiple sclerosis.

photograph by Frank Wiese

A Stroll Through Saratoga Springs: Pointe Shoes and Fiberglass Horses

 Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
― Pablo Picasso

The last time I visited Saratoga Springs, New York, our nearly 17-year-old son was  two. So I was surprised last night during an amble through this city of 26,000 souls to discover massive pointe shoes and life-sized fiberglass horses. The public artwork celebrates two big draws of this tourist town along the Adirondack Northway: dance and horse racing.

From Turmoil in Turkey, A Crafter Shares A Bit of Her Heart

The peach-colored slip from the US Postal Service told me a registered package was waiting for me. Yesterday, I picked it up, an international package from a woman I've never met named Nilufer Turk. She lives in Ankara, Turkey, right now the site of violence and heartache. I opened the package and this is what was inside; a muslin bag wrapped in twine with a felt heart and a label that said: "Wild Poppy Fields" with this blog address.

 Then, I unwrapped the bag and this is what I discovered.

The Katrina Letters: New York Encounter 2013

Imagine knowing, really knowing the hearts of your parents as teenagers. Imagine hearing their thoughts and feelings, of being right there with them as they courted one another.

Chris Vath had such a privilege. He is part of a family who discovered, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, a duffel bag filled with 500 letters his parents (pictured here at their wedding reception) had exchanged during three years of separation during World War II, beginning when his mom was 16 and still in high school and his father was 18 and serving in the U.S. Navy. Although Katrina flooded his childhood home with nine feet of water, the letters inside the bag survived, still legible.

On Vermeyen and Word Becoming Flesh

Our dining room has three new windows, installed last week. They are lovely but also contrast with the ceiling, which has big water stain on it from the radiator upstairs in our younger son's bedroom. The hardwood floors need refurbishing, if not rebuilding. The white paint is chipping off the window sills where we put an air conditioner in every summer. And so I am thinking about the walls and what I want to put on them once our budget finds room for us to repaint the room and possibly have a carpenter we know install some wainscoting.

This room holds memories. It has hosted baptismal parties, baby showers for friend, nearly every single one of our boys' birthday parties, almost every Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter dinners we have celebrated as a family.

Preparing for Frankenstorm with Solzhenitsyn

Hurricane Sandy, the late-season storm that already has taken 43 souls in the Caribbean, is heading here. The radio stations are full of advice and warnings about what some forecasters are calling "Frankenstorm," because the cyclone is expected to meet a winter storm sometime close to Halloween.

I don't know if what happen in New Jersey though I feel certain we will lose power for several hours, if not days. That happens a lot in our old town with its ancient trees that tend to fall right on power lines. Our power grid is pretty fragile. My next-door neighbor is putting gas in his  generator.

We are so self-absorbed; deaths in Cuba and Haiti don't seem to matter much to us Americans. Our TV and radio are full of reports about how Americans are preparing by filling up our gas tanks and stocking up on milk and bread.

Etsy Score: This Time A Mirror

I've mentioned before how much I love www.etsy.com, that site where crafters from all over the globe can post their wares. Today I made another etsy score: this groovy mirror.

Thanks to the U.S. Postal Service, I don't care what corner of the country I order stuff from. I bought a wonderful book bag from a woman in Arkansas, and an iPad case from a woman in Wyoming. My wallet was crafted in Connecticut. Turns out the person who hand paints these vintage mirrors lives just a couple of counties from me. 

"Island Beneath the Sea:" Sex, Slavery, History and Heartache

Better-read folks than I say that Isabel Allende's novel Island Beneath the Sea is not her finest work, nor is it the best novel about Haiti. But this is my first encounter with the Chilean-American writer and the first book I have ever read about that former French colony. And I am enjoying this novel about the New World of colonists and slaves and the mingling of many cultures.

I bought the audio version of this 2010 novel to keep me company on weekday mornings, when I head from home before dawn to my teaching job. This is an epic, historical tale that switches back and forth from a third-person omniscient narrator to the first-person point of view of Zarite, the mulatta child of an African mother raped by white sailors on her forced passage to the New World.

Funny in Farsi: Comic Tales of our Common Humanity

I borrowed a copy of Firoozeh Dumas' Funny in Farsi from the big pile of them in the book room at the public high school where I teach. Her sweet, humorous best-selling memoir has made its way onto lists of books that high schoolers might like. My own curriculum doesn't include this lovely book, first published in 2003, but I found its title intriguing. I was not disappointed.

Dumas' memoir of a Muslim girl growing up in Southern California is the perfect antidote for these days when we feel so much polarization among Americans and the sharp differences between the United States and the rest of the world. We find ourselves falling so easily into anger, fear, despair or self-rightousness, none of which does a thing to build bridges.

The Virgin of Mercy Has Arrived in 21st Century New Jersey

What better gift than this? We purchased this beautiful painting of the Holy Mother from my friend Ann Burt, who lives and works in Raleigh, N.C. This is the largest piece she has created so far in her rustic barn series. She painted Mary on a piece of salvaged barn wood.

I was unpacking Mary today from the cardboard box and bubble wrap she showed up in when my friend Dan, himself an artist, happened to stop by. (You know I don't believe in coincidences.)

Humble Pie, Exploding Cows and Odd Thomas

I am a literary snob. I bypass bestsellers because I figure: how good can a book be if everyone likes it? Consequently, I have never read Ken Follett, Patricia Cornwell, John Grisham, James Patterson, Janet Evanovich, or Dean Koontz.

Then reader/friend Susan, who lives in Sugar Land, Texas, said I should read some Koontz, the bestselling author of suspense thrillers with dash of satire and spirituality. She suggested I start with Odd Thomas, the first in a trilogy of books about a short-order cook at the Pico Mundo Grill in a small Arizona town. Odd Thomas' supernatural abilities allow him to see ghosts, including Elvis Presley.

Humble pie never tasted so good.

Back To Mary, Our Dearest Mother

Lately, I have been crabbier than usual, both inside church and out. People disappoint me. I disappoint myself.

Luckily, I have a friend, a mother, a confidante, to whom I always can turn. I ask the Blessed Mother to pray for me, and I believe she does.

I pray the Rosary every night; I often fall asleep before finishing, the rosary in my hands. Tonight I bought this wonderful barnplank art by my friend Ann Burt. Ann is a retablo artist who recently branched out to painting on planks of old barn wood she finds in rural North Carolina.  Isn't this lovely? It will hang by our front door, above a holy water font.

"Mary, my dearest mother, give me your heart to beautiful, so pure, so immaculate, so full of love and humility, that I may receive Jesus as you did -- and go in hast to give him to others." 

Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Rosary by Sarah Harkins, who made my rosary too.

A PreConcert Ramble in a Cathedral

Our son's chamber music group held their concert last night at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Trenton,  New Jersey, about an hour's drive from our home. I had to drop him off at 5 p.m. and the concert didn't start until 7. One thing I did to while away the time was to take some photographs of the cathedral with my cell phone. Two photos worked out pretty well and reflect the beauty of that sacred space.

Wow! A Mother's Love Bracelet/Chaplet

I promise, I am not on any kind of commission from my friend Sarah Harkins, owner of Clay Rosaries. But I gotta tell you, the Mother's Love Bracelet she created for my new-mom friends is unbelievably wonderful. Above is a picture of mine on my kinda hairy arm. Below is a picture Sarah took of the bracelet, with the accompanying prayer card.

The Gift of Maurice Sendak

I listened to all four of Terry Gross's radio interviews of Maurice Sendak, the fabled children's book writer and illustrator who died yesterday at age 83. I listened to them as I drove home from work and I kept listening as I drove our 15 year old to the dentist. The interviews moved me deeply. Sendak never shied from facing death, or from living life, or from creating the truth as he saw it. Although he was a man without faith, he was a gift straight from the Divine. I believe right now he is startled to discover himself in the embrace of the loving father of us all.

I was going to write a tribute to him, but I found a much better one than I would have written by Nancy Piccione, book page editor for the Catholic Post. Here it is:

Contemplating The Birth of the Mother of God

Today is the feast day of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Take a good long look at this painting by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo. He was a 17th century Baroque artist from Seville whose paintings depict the joys of spiritual life. This one, displayed at the Louvre in Paris, shows the birth of our Blessed Mother. She is being cared for by angels and servants while her mother, Saint Anne, rests in the background.

We don't know much about the early life of the Blessed Mother. We don't know where she was born or where she died. Her parents' hometown is Nazareth. Most likely, she was born in Jerusalem. We know she was Jewish of the tribe of Judah and the lineage of David. Her cousin, Saint Elizabeth, was of the lineage of Aaron.

Among the things we don't know is whether the Blessed Mother grew up in a household with servants. But what draws me to this painting is the exquisite care the painter took to show how the birth of Our Blessed Mother happened; surrounded by immeasurable love, by angels who cared for her from the moment of her birth. I love that our Church honors the Blessed Mother. Hers is one of just three birthdays we celebrate: Christ and Saint John the Baptist are the others. Today, let us remember that our Blessed Mother served as the temple of Christ.


This post appeared in a modified form one year ago at yimcatholic.blogspot. I wanted to give it another look. 

Pay It Forward: The Clay Rosary Girl

One of my sisters introduced me to Sarah Harkins, A.K.A. the Clay Rosary Girl.

She's a homeschooling mom of three who also creates gorgeous clay rosaries and jewelry. While I never have met Sarah in real life, I love reading her blog.

I love seeing photographs of her beautiful children.

And I love her work. (Here's her St. Andrew Chaplet).

Visit her blog and say hello!

This post is part of the Pay It Forward meme, sponsored by Holly at A life-size Catholic blog.

Pay It Forward: Artist Ann Burt

This week I am participating in Pay It Forward, sponsored by Holly at A life-size Catholic blog. Those of you who have been reading my writing for a while already know about my appreciation of Ann Burt.

Ann, a decorative painter, lives in Raleigh, North Carolina and is retablo maker. Retablos, popular in 17th to 19th century Mexico, are devotional paintings. Franciscan monks brought the tradition to the United States. Ann discovered the tradition when visiting a sister in the Southwest.

We bought our first retablos for our son's Confirmation: St. Isidore of Seville, after his chosen confirmation name, a St. Bonaventure for our parish priest. Both were custom orders. I have subsequently bought many more retablos from Ann: for housewarmings, graduations and new babies. They are so lovely, unusual and meaningful. Ann has a large selection of prints and you can also custom-order.

I had the privilege of meeting Ann in real life last winter in Raleigh. What a delightful, faith-filled woman! Please check out her etsy page.