Lasting Impact

My family and I went to visit my mother’s brother, Sam, and his family recently. While we sat in the kitchen together sharing stories and catching up, I was flooded with memories of life events involving my Uncle Sam. I remember the joy of seeing him and Aunt Marion walking up the porch around Christmas time because I always knew Uncle Sam was going to bring a great gift that was purchased with love. Trips to Texas and Michigan to visit family were never dull; whether Sam was cracking a joke with his sly smile or telling my Mom to put my head down because there was another KFC on the horizon, every journey was a happy memory. (Hmmm……I think I hear the Colonel calling my name now!)

While thinking about the impact my uncle has had on my life, I realized that he impacted my life in a lasting way. Although I don’t remember receiving the gift, I have very special memories of the toy piano that was given to me by my Uncle Sam. No one knew then that such a simple gift would profoundly shape my future.

As a child, my parents raised me in a small church in eastern Arkansas. According to those who were there, as a child of 2 or 3 I would sit on my knees during the singing of hymns and pretend to play the piano on the back of the wooden pew. This air-piano continued until I was about 6; that’s when I started taking piano lessons. In those earliest years, it wasn’t uncommon to find me sitting next to the pianist, watching her fingers fly across the keys in amazement.

Since it was clear that I loved the piano, my uncle decided a toy piano would be the perfect gift. (My dad continues to harass Sam about buying that noisy thing for me……and blaming him that the noise has never stopped since that first piano!) I remember its reddish-brown color sitting against the wall in the center room of our home. I imitated what I saw on Sunday morning in my home throughout the week. I’m sure they weren’t beautiful sounds, but I was having a blast.

A gift to a toddler led to a battered upright piano and the beginning of piano lessons. My 6-year-old self began a journey with the piano that is now in its 35th year. The journey started then, but the love affair began a few years earlier with a tiny toy piano nestled in the corner of my parents’ bedroom. That gift will always be connected with the giver and I will always be linked to my uncle because of it. My career, my passion, and my ministry began because of my uncle’s musical gift. I can only hope that one day I’ll learn that I have had the same lasting impact on someone like Uncle Sam has had on me.

The Art of Carroll Cloar

A few weeks ago, I made my first visit to the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art. I was less than thrilled with what I saw of the permanent collection and immediately thought there was a reason that I had never visited this museum. Since I had paid the admission fee (a very reasonable $7), I decided that I needed to at least check out the featured exhibit of the summer. I’m very glad that I did!

“The Crossroads of Memory: Carroll Cloar and the American South” will be on exhibit in Memphis through September 12, 2013. Cloar (1913-1993) was a native Arkansan who grew up in the rural farmlands of the state. Much of his work depicts the images he encountered while traveling throughout the state and working the land. Cloar studied English at Rhodes College in Memphis before heading to New York City to pursue a career as an artist. In his final years, Cloar returned to Memphis.

I’m not an art critic by any stretch of the imagination, but I know what I like. Cloar’s paintings are filled with color and amazing technique. I found it interesting that his style morphed throughout his life, embracing the various art movements as they made their mark on the American landscape. Not only are Cloar’s works beautiful, they also speak of the struggles faced in the American South.

One of the first techniques that caught my eye and amazed me was Cloar’s ability to create ghost-like figures (which he will also use to portray reflections in water) in the midst of the scene. I don’t recall the title of the painting that astounded me as I entered the gallery, but I can certainly describe it. The scene is of a train station in Eureka Springs, Arkansas that Cloar had encountered while traveling. In addition to the waiting passengers, ghosts of those who had travelled in earlier trips are also present. I loved the idea that our presence leaves a lasting mark on our environment and those we encounter.

The technique described above can also be seen in one of my favorite paintings in the exhibit: Charlie Mae Practicing for the Baptizing. Charlie Mae was a African-American girl that Cloar befriended in his childhood and she became a recurring subject in many of his pieces. In addition to the beautiful purples and greens along the river’s bank, I loved the faint reflection of the scene in the murky waters of the river.

Charlie Mae Practicing for the Baptizing, Carroll Cloar

To fully appreciate the significance of Charlie Mae’s presence in Cloar’s work, it is important to know that Cloar was a white man. Growing up in the country, friends were a luxury; the color of their skin was not of primary concern to children. Throughout Cloar’s career, he provided commentary on race relations in the American South, featuring both whites and blacks in his images; rarely did Cloar include people of both races in a single painting though.

The other painting that made a lasting impression on me was Halloween. In the foreground, a child is seen wearing a mask and carrying a jack-o-lantern through the autumn grass. Her joy and innocence is a direct contrast to the adult men wearing white hooded robes in the painting’s upper right who are leaving the home to reek havoc on the black community. The contrast between youth and adulthood in the piece is stark and speaks volumes.

Halloween, Carroll Cloar

Whether you are a fan of museums or not, if you are in the metro Memphis area, do yourself a favor and check out this fascinating exhibit before it leaves. Wear a pair of comfortable shoes, leave your driver’s license at the front desk to get the audio tour of the exhibit, and allow your mind to be swept away into the world of Carroll Cloar. I’m looking forward to returning to the exhibit to learn more about this fascinating man and his work.

The Memphis Brooks Museum of Art is located in Overton Park. Visit their website at www.brooksmuseum.org for hours and additional information.

P.S.   I plan to enjoy the rest of this week with my family as we celebrate our nation’s independence. Livin’ Life will return to its regular schedule on Monday, July 8.

Sparks

Just as a small spark begins an enormous fire, the beginning of creativity also starts with the smallest spark. A germ of an idea grabs your imagination and things begin to happen. Whether you are painting, playing a musical instrument, writing, or sculpting, the initial creative spark is an exciting moment that the artist longs for.

What happens when the spark just isn’t there? While getting ready to write this post, I had to admit that I really had nothing grabbing my attention. (Isn’t it interesting as well that sometimes the ABSENCE of the spark BECOMES the spark!) It’s a scary feeling to know that you need to produce something, but you have nothing inspiring you.

Here’s what I’ve learned to do when the spark is missing:

• Push ahead. Sometimes the discipline of simply getting started is half of the battle. If I determine to write (or read or practice) when I don’t feel like it, I often find that just doing something will result in something productive.
• Accept that everything is not going to be a masterpiece! I am my biggest critic. I often feel that if I’m not producing something excellent that I may as well not produce anything. Sometimes we have to purge our creative minds of the trash in order to get to the treasure that lies below. No one hits a home run with every attempt. (The next time someone claims that they do, just smile and know that they are not telling you the truth.)
• Relax in the knowledge that the spark will return. Creatives are highly susceptible to feelings of inferiority and self-loathing when the dry spells come. Take a deep breath, continue to practice your craft, and know that another brilliant idea is just around the corner. If the spark is gone for a few days, I find it helpful to get out of the routine for a bit and do something enjoyable. When I do something out of the ordinary, I normally come back inspired and ready to start creating again.