Retired Marine Now Makes Christ Inspired Art

HIGHLANDS TODAY
By Pamela Glinski

James Ward painting

FLORIDA - Artist James Ward (b. Ohio) creates from his "heart and soul" and has found his inspiration not only in his vast life experiences and in nature but also in his strong faith in God. Ward's vividly colorful paintings, sketches and pottery are on display at the Highlands Art League at 1989 Lakeview Drive in Sebring. A very lean, healthy 64-year-old, he still works out vigorously five days a week and teaches kickboxing. He explains, "It is a yen and yang kind of thing…. getting out aggression on the heavy bag with gloves and then (being) calm and collected for the rest of the day when I am painting." This devotedly religious man attends Independent Baptist Church in Sebring and says his work comes from "deep within" and is deeply influenced by his faith. Through all of his experiences in life and in art he has learned, "Life is too short to be that uptight… especially when you create." [link]

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FL Couple Deploys Art in Fighting Hate by Westboro Church

SOUTH FLORIDA GAY NEWS
By J.W. Arnold

FLORIDA -Since the development of language, words have been used to uplift and celebrate, but also to denigrate and hurt. In response to the hateful language of the fervently anti-gay Westboro Baptist Church, Kevin Cobb (b. Indiana) and Andres Almeida (b. Ecuador) are using the fundamentalist sect’s own words against them to celebrate love and diversity. The couple created the God Loves Poetry project, an art installation that features press releases from the church with most of the text blacked out, leaving affirming poems and messages. The title is also a play on the very words the Church writes on picket signs – God Hates Fags, God Hates America, etc. “By doing this,” adds Almeida, 24, a self-described advocate for equality, “we make them look even less powerful.” Several God Loves Poetry works are currently on display at O Cinema in Miami, but the project really took off on the Internet. Cobb says, “It’s creative and therapeutic, taking interesting words and creating something that completely changes their message.” [link]

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Detroit's Religious Leaders Unite Against Koran Burner

DETROIT FREE PRESS
By Nira Warikoo

MICHIGAN - With some of metro Detroit's biggest political and religious leaders united behind Muslims in Dearborn, Florida Pastor Terry Jones is expected to appear in court this morning for a jury trial that could determine whether he can hold a rally at the largest mosque in the city. This "bigot does not represent" us, Imam Hassan Al-Qazwini, head of the Islamic Center of America in Dearborn, declared to a crowd of about 700 on Thursday at a rally that drew U.S. Rep. John Dingell, a Dearborn Democrat, and the local heads of the Catholic and Episcopal churches. [link]

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Church of Holy Colors Going Strong After a Year

ALLIGATOR
By Michelle Klug

FLORIDA - After being open for a year, The Church of Holy Colors art gallery in Gainseville has given a new meaning to independent art and has created a unique way of both displaying and creating art. It is not actually a church, but it is also an art gallery. And, for some, it is a place of worship that offers a chance to reflect spirituality through inter-connectivity to art and color. “It’s a place for creation. Our objective is to make art as much and as freely as possible,” said Joey Fillastre, co-founder and artist at Holy Colors. The gallery takes an innovative approach to art by maintaining a non-materialistic, experimental outlook, which is evident in the lifestyle and works of the artists. Although they do not belong to any particular religion, the art is like a religious experience for them. Creating, connecting with others, digesting society and transforming feelings into art all contribute to what drives them. [link]

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Vatican Treasures Heading to Britain

UNITED KINGDOM - Following runs in Ohio and Maryland, Treasures from the Vatican, including one of the earliest-known likenesses of Jesus, will be shown in Britain for the first time at the British Museum in London. "Treasures of Heaven: Saints, Relics and Devotion in Medieval Europe" runs from June 23 to October 9. [Source: Press Association]

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FOX: Controversial Florida Pastor Terry Jones to Protest in Michigan

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Koran Burning FL Pastor Plans a Trial of Muhammad

FLORIDA - The notorious preacher who last month oversaw the burning of a copy of the Qur'an in his Florida church after a mock hearing said anyone blaming him for provoking the mob who killed UN workers was "only making a justification" for murder. He also said he may put the Prophet Muhammad on trial in his next "day of judgment". "It is definitely a consideration to stage a trial on the life of Muhammad in the future," he told the Sunday Telegraph. [Source: Guardian]

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INSPIRE ME: Artist, Salvador Dali

By CHARLIE GOETZ


"The Sacrament of the Last Supper"
By Salvador Dali

Last year I posted a blog about art and commerce.  Nowhere do the two combine more famously than in the person of Salvador Dali.  A formidable artist--his representationalism (the Crucifixions, his Last Supper) is something of a fine throwback to the Old Masters, while his Surrealism was cutting edge.  But he was also a tireless self-promoter.

Because of that characteristic, I, recently out of college and happily toiling as "editor for the arts" of a small, well-intentioned, New York-based news magazine (long since defunct), was able to garner an interview with Dali.

A preppy kid, the son of a vice-president of the St. Regis Hotel--Dali's New York digs--who was a friend of our "international editor," used to hang out in our cramped, Mad. Ave. offices after school.  Roderigo was quickly drawn to my desk because I was the daily recipient of a truckload of celebrity  photos, accompanied by whatever blurb agents and p. r. people hoped to get into print.  I could use only a very few of the pix and none of the copy.  So I gave away the considerable surplus to a grateful Rodrigo.

On one of his visits, Roderigo casually asked, "Would you like to interview Salvador Dali?"  Somehow I kept from falling off my chair and managed to suppress, "Yeah, and I'd also like to sleep with_____________!"  (Fill in the blank.)

But the kid was serious.  Dali was then a guest at the St. Regis ("my father's hotel") because he was contributing art to the '64 World's Fair's Spanish Pavillion.

Rodrigo was as good as his offer.  Next day, he told me that he had arranged with his dad for me to have a noontime half-hour with Dali in the King Cole Bar, the following Friday--which happened to be Good Friday, that year.  BUT I was to submit in advance ten questions in French.  Dali claimed to have no English and I did not speak Spanish, much less Dali's native Catalan. 

As luck had it, my best friend in high school had been a French boy at whose home I regularly hung out.  The house rule was that, once indoors, only French was spoken.  My schoolboy grasp of the language was considerably strengthened as a consequence. 

Further serendipity had brought a young Catalonian photographer, in the US studying cinema, to our offices to do contract work.  Pepe, as we called him, was married to a girl from Lyon who spoke no Spanish.  She and Pepe communicated in French.  So, it turned out, did English-free Pepe and Report's editor for the arts.  I was not totally unarmed for the encounter with Dali. 

Good Friday found Pepe, the St. Regis v. p. and me not in church but at a large round table in a corner of the King Cole Bar in the St. Regis Hotel.  Roderigo, the founder of the feast, was in school.

At the appointed hour, Dali swept in, his togs set off by a florid brocaded vest, one of a collection, I was told.  He carried an ornate, gold-headed walking stick; he collected walking sticks, too, I was informed.  He sported his everyday, waxed and pointed moustache.  Reportedly, he had a more formidable extension he spirit-gummed on for TV appearances.   

The artist was accompanied by two burly Spaniards in greasy suits who did not sit but rather stationed themselves behind Dali's chair.  From a hovering waiter, without a by-your-leave from his fellows at the table, Dali ordered martinis all 'round.  When they were delivered, Dali reached into a vest pocket and pulled out a pill box which he slid open.  He extracted a quantity of smooth pebbles and, reaching around the table, dropped one into each martini. 

"What are those, Senor Dali?" I ventured to inquire, in French of course.

"They are martini stones," he replied and took a sip of his drink.  Since he did not immediately keel over, the rest of us figured the additions were relatively harmless and quaffed our martinis.  Just before each glass was drained, without comment Dali again reached around, took back the stones, and put them into the pill box which he closed and returned to his vest pocket.

Summarily, Dali disposed of my ten questions.  In an unexpected response to one of them, he declared with admirable candor, I thought: "I am like the god Mercury.  I love money."

The interview should have ended there, but apparently Dali was enjoying himself.  He ordered lunch as did we, this time allowed to make our own selections.  I struggled for conversation.  The vice-president prompted, "Ask him about the flies."  I had no clue, but I dutifully queried, "Please tell about the flies, Senor Dali."

It appears that Dali had decided that, for some kind of project,  he needed live flies from Mount Olympus.  They were duly collected, packaged and flown to New York.  The New York temperature was colder than that to which the flies were accustomed.  Accordingly, they dozed. 

When they were brought to Dali's suite, he opened the box, looked at the snoozing flies, and kicked the container into a closet.  The St. Regis temperature was cozy.  The flies woke up and swarmed--out of the closet, out of the suite and around the hotel, astonishing guests, some of whom probably gave up alcohol as a result of the plague of flies in March in the St. Regis.

Pleased with Pepe's presence, Dali invited him to visit his suite, the following Sunday morning, to photograph "Dali getting out of bed."  In the resultant pictures, Dali, in nightcap and long nightshirt, looks like a Moliere character.   

The artist sent the Spanish hoods up to his suite to bring down some of the exquisite jewelry work he was fashioning for the Spanish Pavillion.  As we were admiring his artistry, silently, wraith-like, Dali's wife, Gala, appeared and stood between the thugs--excuse me, guards--behind Dali.  She was a thin, faded blonde woman, dressed all in black. 

Dali rose, introduced her and was gone, followed by Gala and the guards.  She never said a word.

It seemed as if, somehow, she were his reality spirit.  He had had his hour of play; now it was time to get back to work--to a more serious side of the business--and I do mean "business"--of being Salvador Dali.

(The new Salvador Dali Museum opened last month in Florida)

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St. John's Bible in Florida Workshop

FLORIDA TIMES UNION
March 25, 2011

FLORIDA -  The Catholic Diocese of St. Augustine, Grace Episcopal Church and Hendricks Avenue Baptist Church to coordinate this Saturday's "Day of Immersion" at Riverside Presbyterian Church featuring "The St. John's Bible." To some it may look simply like a really big Bible, printed with a fancy font and illustrated with biblical scenes and symbols. But "The St. John's Bible" is way more than that, according to those who have seen - or, as some say, experienced - the handmade, 1,150-page book. The cost is $20 for early registration and $25 at the door. The workshop will be held from 9:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Saturday, March 26 at Riverside Presbyterian Church, 849 Park St. [link]

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FL Pastor Terry Jones Burns Holy Quran - March 21, 2011

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Christian Artists: Creation for 7 Days

ST. PETERSBURG TIMES
March 14, 2011

FLORIDA -- This weeklong showcase (March 21-27) celebrates local Christian artists who come together to celebrate artistic work and to cultivate a sense of community. The event features wall-to-wall art exhibits, live music, dance, poetry, theater performances including improv comedy and 10-minute plays, workshops and interactive art events. Sponsored by The Underground Artist Collective, an ensemble of diverse Christian artists that seek to impact and serve the creative culture of Tampa and surrounding areas by cultivating community, speaking truth, and inspiring change through the arts. [link]

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A STORE FOR RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS, AND NOT

DELMARVA NOW
March 15, 2011

Coconut Bay Trading Company owners Leslie Carson and Wes Miles
recently opened their store in downtown Berlin/ Laura Emmons photo

FLORIDA -- Coconut Bay Trading Co., a new shop in downtown Berlin, offers a wide array of antiques, jewelry, paintings, artifacts and curiosities from around the world. "We specialize in one-of-a-kinds," said Wes Miles, who runs the store with his wife, Leslie Carson. "Customers come to find something they've never seen before." That inventory is made up of treasures Miles, a retired school teacher, has collected from all over the world. There are handpainted Russian icons, Buddha figurines, ornate Indian jewelry as well as travel-sized religious shrines from various countries. Many of the items, though, are religious artifacts of one kind or another, many close to 200 years old. "You don't have to be a religious zealot to appreciate the art in most religions," Miles said, pointing to a Tibetan Ghau, or traveling shrine. [link]

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Everyone is welcome! | FL

By JAMES HIPPS

Everyone is welcome!

On my quest to find a house of worship that welcomes people from all walks of life and is a good fit for me, I recently decided to attend a service at the First Congregational Church of Fort Lauderdale, United Church of Christ.

One thing that attracted me about this particular church is a disclaimer posted on their website which reads: “We are a welcoming, open and affirming church to all people of all races, genders, ages, sexual orientations, professions, previous religious affiliations, nationalities, or mental and physical conditions.” 

I must admit however, I found it interesting how certain parts this disclaimer came into play during the service such as when the pastor asked the congregation if anyone was previously affiliated with the Catholic faith.  She made a point to let the ones who raised their hands know they were especially welcomed, almost as if being Catholic was some type of disease.  The other part of the disclaimer that seemed to be highlighted was the welcoming of those with “mental conditions”, which I think is great, although I’m not sure giving them a tambourine is the best way to make everyone else feel as welcome.

But staying within the guidelines of their “everyone is welcome” mantra, the church truly did seem intent on welcoming everyone, and I do mean everyone because as I entered the sanctuary I noticed a lady who was accompanied by a dog.  This wasn’t a seeing eye dog, nor was is one of the small varieties that one may expect to see Paris Hilton carrying in her purse, but rather a beautiful golden retriever.   Before I really had time to fully process the dog being in church, I noticed there were several other dogs accompanied by their apparent owners as well.  I must have looked a bit startled as I was quickly approached by one on the ushers who informed me that this particular Sunday was “pet anointing” day.  The thought was interesting, so even though I didn’t have a pet, I decided to stay, although I must admit it did make me look twice at the stains on the pew cushion next to where I would later find a seat.

After being given the explanation I was informed by the same usher that he’d not seen me in church before, to which I explained I was a first time visitor.  To this he replied; “Well let me get you a name tag.  You must have a name tag.”  So reluctantly I followed the gentlemen over to a table where I was presented with a “hello my name is” sticker upon which he wrote my name with one of those markers that has a strong enough smell you feel certain you’re going to catch a buzz from it.

After the usher placed the nametag on my shirt, I decided to keep with my tradition and I found a seat in the last row, close to an exit.  Upon entering the sanctuary I couldn’t help but to notice the beautiful woodwork…along with the price tags that still hanging from the plastic plants that adorned the window ledges.  But as the people filed in, I also couldn’t help but notice I was one of only two sitting in the back.  Unfortunately, in a church that would easily seat 600, only about 150 were in attendance and 148 of them were seated in the first 10 rows.  It was during the “welcoming” part of the service that I was informed by the other brave soul who sat in the back that “they like everyone to sit up front” and that she was sitting in back because she was allergic to dogs.  So for this particular Sunday, so was I.

As the service started, again I found myself less than impressed with the choir.  Now I always hate to be a critic of a church choir, but I often find it difficult to not be as I’m fond of great choirs, so I found it particularly refreshing to know that on this Sunday I didn’t have to be.  As the choir started to sing, the dogs took care of that for me.  I had a feeling this was going to be a treat!

With the exception of the growls, barks and howls that one may not usually expect to hear during a service, I thought this one wasn’t so bad...That is until the part came when they welcomed all new visitors.  They asked if one by one, those of us attending for the first time would stand and introduce ourselves.  This is why it pays to sit in the back.  Before they got past the first few newcomers sitting closer to the front, I was able to stealthily peal the odorous name tag from my shirt and stick it to my bulletin.  I knew if they didn’t see the name tag, I would somehow blend in with the other people sitting rows ahead of me and I wouldn’t have to stand up and introduce myself as the newbie.  But just about the time I thought I had pulled off more than my name tag, I felt a cold chill that one only gets when they know they’re being watched.  So I slowly and nonchalantly looked around and there he was. The usher who had quickly greeted me and given me my name tag was watching me.  My palms began sweating…what would I do?  Fortunately, before it was my turn, the ushers were summoned to prepare to pass the offering plates.  Whew, close call! 

But as the service progressed, I again found myself thinking about the welcoming message of the church and diversity.  But as I pondered this, I couldn’t help but to notice there was only one brown-skinned man in the congregation.  The only problem with this was it quickly took my mind from thinking about the importance of diversity to thinking that he too was sitting by himself and that he was quite attractive.  OK, I thought, that’s it.  Here I am thinking ungodly thoughts in the house of the lord which led me to think I need to get out of here and carry out my usual Sunday tradition of having a cocktail on the beach.  But wouldn’t you know, somewhere between all of this, members of the congregation were asked to offer prayer request and the only one I heard as I forced myself to take my mind and eyes off of the good looking, brown skinned man was one for someone named Claude who had an addiction to alcohol.  Irony at its best!  I couldn’t help but to laugh just a bit which led me back to wondering why it was that every time I go to church, I have to go home and ask for forgiveness?

Needless to say as the service ended and I was quick to exit as I didn’t want to be seen by the usher who had originally greeted me.  This time I wasn’t too worried about being struck by lighting as I was relatively well behaved and was semi-able to keep my A.D.D. in check, but I did make sure I didn’t walk on the grass.  I may return to try this one again.

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Everyone is welcome! | FL

By JAMES HIPPS

Everyone is welcome!

On my quest to find a house of worship that welcomes people from all walks of life and is a good fit for me, I recently decided to attend a service at the First Congregational Church of Fort Lauderdale, United Church of Christ.

One thing that attracted me about this particular church is a disclaimer posted on their website which reads: “We are a welcoming, open and affirming church to all people of all races, genders, ages, sexual orientations, professions, previous religious affiliations, nationalities, or mental and physical conditions.” 

I must admit however, I found it interesting how certain parts this disclaimer came into play during the service such as when the pastor asked the congregation if anyone was previously affiliated with the Catholic faith.  She made a point to let the ones who raised their hands know they were especially welcomed, almost as if being Catholic was some type of disease.  The other part of the disclaimer that seemed to be highlighted was the welcoming of those with “mental conditions”, which I think is great, although I’m not sure giving them a tambourine is the best way to make everyone else feel as welcome.

But staying within the guidelines of their “everyone is welcome” mantra, the church truly did seem intent on welcoming everyone, and I do mean everyone because as I entered the sanctuary I noticed a lady who was accompanied by a dog.  This wasn’t a seeing eye dog, nor was is one of the small varieties that one may expect to see Paris Hilton carrying in her purse, but rather a beautiful golden retriever.   Before I really had time to fully process the dog being in church, I noticed there were several other dogs accompanied by their apparent owners as well.  I must have looked a bit startled as I was quickly approached by one on the ushers who informed me that this particular Sunday was “pet anointing” day.  The thought was interesting, so even though I didn’t have a pet, I decided to stay, although I must admit it did make me look twice at the stains on the pew cushion next to where I would later find a seat.

After being given the explanation I was informed by the same usher that he’d not seen me in church before, to which I explained I was a first time visitor.  To this he replied; “Well let me get you a name tag.  You must have a name tag.”  So reluctantly I followed the gentlemen over to a table where I was presented with a “hello my name is” sticker upon which he wrote my name with one of those markers that has a strong enough smell you feel certain you’re going to catch a buzz from it.

After the usher placed the nametag on my shirt, I decided to keep with my tradition and I found a seat in the last row, close to an exit.  Upon entering the sanctuary I couldn’t help but to notice the beautiful woodwork…along with the price tags that still hanging from the plastic plants that adorned the window ledges.  But as the people filed in, I also couldn’t help but notice I was one of only two sitting in the back.  Unfortunately, in a church that would easily seat 600, only about 150 were in attendance and 148 of them were seated in the first 10 rows.  It was during the “welcoming” part of the service that I was informed by the other brave soul who sat in the back that “they like everyone to sit up front” and that she was sitting in back because she was allergic to dogs.  So for this particular Sunday, so was I.

As the service started, again I found myself less than impressed with the choir.  Now I always hate to be a critic of a church choir, but I often find it difficult to not be as I’m fond of great choirs, so I found it particularly refreshing to know that on this Sunday I didn’t have to be.  As the choir started to sing, the dogs took care of that for me.  I had a feeling this was going to be a treat!

With the exception of the growls, barks and howls that one may not usually expect to hear during a service, I thought this one wasn’t so bad...That is until the part came when they welcomed all new visitors.  They asked if one by one, those of us attending for the first time would stand and introduce ourselves.  This is why it pays to sit in the back.  Before they got past the first few newcomers sitting closer to the front, I was able to stealthily peal the odorous name tag from my shirt and stick it to my bulletin.  I knew if they didn’t see the name tag, I would somehow blend in with the other people sitting rows ahead of me and I wouldn’t have to stand up and introduce myself as the newbie.  But just about the time I thought I had pulled off more than my name tag, I felt a cold chill that one only gets when they know they’re being watched.  So I slowly and nonchalantly looked around and there he was. The usher who had quickly greeted me and given me my name tag was watching me.  My palms began sweating…what would I do?  Fortunately, before it was my turn, the ushers were summoned to prepare to pass the offering plates.  Whew, close call! 

But as the service progressed, I again found myself thinking about the welcoming message of the church and diversity.  But as I pondered this, I couldn’t help but to notice there was only one brown-skinned man in the congregation.  The only problem with this was it quickly took my mind from thinking about the importance of diversity to thinking that he too was sitting by himself and that he was quite attractive.  OK, I thought, that’s it.  Here I am thinking ungodly thoughts in the house of the lord which led me to think I need to get out of here and carry out my usual Sunday tradition of having a cocktail on the beach.  But wouldn’t you know, somewhere between all of this, members of the congregation were asked to offer prayer request and the only one I heard as I forced myself to take my mind and eyes off of the good looking, brown skinned man was one for someone named Claude who had an addiction to alcohol.  Irony at its best!  I couldn’t help but to laugh just a bit which led me back to wondering why it was that every time I go to church, I have to go home and ask for forgiveness?

Needless to say as the service ended and I was quick to exit as I didn’t want to be seen by the usher who had originally greeted me.  This time I wasn’t too worried about being struck by lighting as I was relatively well behaved and was semi-able to keep my A.D.D. in check, but I did make sure I didn’t walk on the grass.  I may return to try this one again.

Read More