Many years ago, I spent a class period in one of my art classes watching a video about Andy Goldsworthy. He talked about his craft as he joined bits of icicle together to create a serpentine shape that seemed to move in and through the rock on which it was placed. The camera continued to observe as he created floating stick structures, egg-shaped rock piles, and vibrant autumn leaf murals. I was enthralled...and quickly forgot about it.
Then, a month ago, we watched this same video in my Art and Science of Tracking class. The following weekend, I went home and, already requiring several books at the library, also picked up a picture book about one of his more-permanent works, a dry-stone wall.
Goldsworthy's art is almost purely natural. He uses tools he finds, if necessary, but often simply works with his hands and, occasionally - as with the icicle sculpture - his teeth.
Goldsworthy's art is often very transient. The sun will melt or evaporate, the river will wash away, the rising tide will cover, or the wind will scatter his work. Photography, then, is important to his craft - the art must be captured before the forces of nature cause its destruction.
Inspired by this outlook and artistry (as well as a Google image search of his work), I decided to make a few pieces of my own. The first is above, the second below. I don't have anything profound to say about them, as my thought was well, this might be cool, and the two pieces took less than an hour of total work anyway.
Your turn! Get inspired, make something, take a photo, and let me know about it!
On Time Management
"I don't have enough time!" is a phrase I hear frequently, and often from myself. Is there anyone who has their life so rightly balanced that their time is never wasted and they are able to do precisely everything they hope to accomplish?
I reckon not.
As I grow older, I find it more and more imperative that I use my time well. No longer can I play Age of Empires II for hours on end (as I did in high school) without feeling as though I've missed out on something important. If I were to time travel back to my freshman year of college, I'd probably slap myself and tell me to get off the computer and go do something more meaningful.
Granted, as an introvert, I need time to be alone and recharge. But, I consider this to be a necessary, fruitful use of my time. Refreshing Facebook over and over is not (Though I am not immune to such a disease!).
I consider good conversations, hiking, thought-provoking reading, community service, prayer, and cooking to be effective, meaningful uses of my time, among others. Yet, I cannot do all of these things all the time as much as I would like! Attempting to do so would be futile and unnecessarily stressful. Understanding that I cannot do everything, then, frees me to do my best to choose great things, even at the expense of good things, without being crushed under the weight of it all. Do I always succeed at this? Absolutely not. But, thankfully, I am slowly getting better as the years progress.
How do you spend your time? What would you do if time was no constraint?
Senioritis
Many of my friends will be graduating college one month from now. Every so often, someone groans and utters the word "senioritis."
They can't focus. Don't want to work. After all, they've hustled for 16 years! The drudgery of public education is nearly complete! The real world awaits! This work is boring anyway!
We did this in high school as well - why work for a goal that had been, for all intents and purposes, already achieved? A slackening in work output wouldn't result in the retraction of a diploma. Besides, all we really wanted to do was spend time with one another before heading to college.
This senioritis phenomenon seems to occur among some of those who are entering the last decades of an already full life. They're 65 or older. They've spent 40 years hustling for their employers. They have enough money saved to last them the rest of their lives. Don't they deserve to take a break, relax, and withdraw from the constant busyness around them?
In many ways, certainly, they do. And yet - when running a race, no one slows down as they approach the finish line. No one thinks, well, I worked myself pretty hard those first 300 meters, so I'll just take my time on these last 100. No, the runner presses on, speeds up, finishes well!
So, what is our mindset? In life, or the microcosmic years of high school and college, have we defined our purpose? Do we consider it a race to win or something that we just have to push through? As we ease off the level of toilsome labor, do we take the rest of our cards off the table and resign completely? Certainly, in our senior years, we have knowledge and experience to pass on to those coming after us. Do they not deserve the opportunity to learn from the wisdom their elders have gained?
I graduate in December 2011. I plan on taking easy classes. I am sure, even then, that it will be hard to find the motivation to complete my assignments. I'm ready to leave the public education system and move on to new things. Yet, without doubt, I will be back here early to help next year's freshmen move in. I will continue to be a mentor to younger men in my faith community, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. I will go on every Appalachia Service Project trip that I can. This last semester of college is not the time to rest on my laurels. It is time to give back.
How about you? Do you feel like you're trying to win a race or just push through an unwanted chore? If your journey is winding down, how can you look to those who are just starting out on that same path and offer them something of value?
Appalachia Service Project - Spring 2009
[NOTE: I first published this in March 2009. Appalachia Service Project works to help repair homes in some of the poorest counties of Appalachia.]
They purchased the house 22 years ago. Another family had tried and failed to win the contract and, as an act of revenge, set fire to the house.
It stands today, fire damage still evident. Seven children have grown up in this single-story, white five-room house. The youngest, Paul, is thirteen; his older brother, eighteen.
At some point along the way, Appalachia Service Project came into the picture and began to fix the house. Not only is there fire damage, but water damage and rot and termites and a poor foundation have also taken a toll on the building. The family, of meager means, had no way to adequately repair the house on their own. Through ASP, they depend solely on the love and work of volunteers.
I, along with several others from InterVarsity or other organizations at Virginia Tech, Old Dominion, and Saint Louis Universities, was one of these volunteers. Our team spent the week reinforcing the roof with cross-bracing, tearing out ruined insulation and walls, and demolishing the structurally-unsound front of the house. A second group, from Old Dominion, finished installing a new floor in the main room, as well as adding a new interior wall. Before we arrived, previous groups had replaced several exterior walls and removed the interior carpeting. The week after our work, a group came to finish the foundation for a new front room and porch.
Each day, we would leave the worksite for lunch, driving a mile down the road to an old farmhouse, built in 1793. Six years after the Constitution was drafted. Two hundred and sixteen years ago. There, we talked to the family about the Civil War, Confederate flags, the C.S.A. Hunley, railroads, and all sorts of things while we ate our peanut butter and jelly (or turkey) sandwiches. They invited us into their lives, showing us some of their prized possessions, allowing us to play with their amazing dogs, evil goose, mellow horse.
We grew to love this family. We grew to love their determined outlook on life, despite the hardship they faced. We grew to love their selflessness and openness. We grew to love all the history in their minds, homes, and yard.
Little in my life has been more fulfilling than spending eight hours a day, for a five day week, giving my all to see this family have a warmer, safer, drier home. Little has been more fulfilling than seeing their appreciation and seeing the change in the house itself. In all of it, I could see Christ. In their hospitality. In the friendships created and strengthened. In the work we did. In the love that sprang up that week. Christ was there.
“…I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”
-Matthew 25:40
Christ came to serve, not to be served. And we, his followers, are called to do the same. How wonderful it was to serve this family in the spirit of Christ, expecting nothing in return. I shall not forget them.
[To the best of my knowledge, work on the house is complete. It has new siding, a new front porch, a new bathroom, and is finally weatherproof and free of fire damage. I have as of yet been unable to go back and see for myself.]
http://asphome.org/