A New Chapter

Image courtesy of Willet Hauser Architectural Glass: http://www.willethauser.com/

"What profit has the worker from that in which he labors? I have seen the God-given task with which the sons of men are to be occupied. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end. I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice, and to do good in their lives, and also that every man should eat and drink and enjoy the good of all his labor—it is the gift of God" (Eccl. 3:9-13).

God is so good. Things are about to change so quickly, I hardly know where to begin. The short of it is that I was recently offered, and accepted, a job as a stained glass artist at Willet Hauser Architectural Glass in Winona, MN. Willet Hauser is the largest stained glass studio in North America, as well as one of the oldest and most prestigious, producing and restoring windows for a national and international market. In other words, I feel a bit like Charlie winning the chocolate factory. I can hardly imagine a more fulfilling way to use my gifts to God's glory.

The Lord always provides, and Scapegoat Studio has been blessed with steady growth these last several years. I am especially grateful for my partnership with Ad Crucem. I've been blessed with clients who appreciate my work and spread a good report to others who are in the market for sound theological artwork. Thank you all, and I look forward to your ongoing support. I will continue operating Scapegoat Studio to provide liturgical art for Lutheran churches, but the changes will require that I shift gears a bit.

The freelance life leaves much to be desired in the way of security, especially when supporting a young and growing family. Living month-to-month is fine for a single artist, but it adds stress to daily life with kids. Even though I work from home, the long hours are difficult to reconcile with a family that also needs my attention. Our initial move to Seward was in the hope of securing a long-term teaching position. That hope never materialized, but now the Lord has opened another door—certainly more promising than any I had imagined for myself.

Scapegoat Studio fills an ongoing need that is still present, and for that reason its continued existence is guaranteed probably for as long as I am living. But I am thankful that I will now be able to provide those services to churches without the urgency of necessity. I'll be working from the studio two days per week instead of six. The other change this new job affects is that I will unfortunately not be able to provide stained glass designs on a freelance basis, since that would put me in competition with my employer. (There may be exceptions—e.g., if we already have initiated some sort of arrangement, but that only applies to a few clients.) On the other hand, once my apprenticeship is completed, I'll be designing windows for a steady stream of clients on a national scale, and that mostly makes up for it.

My commission status will be on hold for a while to give us time for the move to Winona. That will happen God-willing within the next month or two. Your support and prayers are always appreciated!

Nativity Stained Glass

This month has been far busier than usual. Of course there's the usual busyness of the season: family gatherings, travel, shopping for gifts, and still trying to earn a living.

As part of a bid for a new employment opportunity, this month I also took the time to design a stained glass window. I spent 24 hours over the course of 2 days to design it. So it's a bit of a rush job, but they were wanting to see how much could be done and in what amount of time. The nativity was the only prompt as far as subject matter, so I wanted to do something that was colorful, exemplified good design, employed a traditional treatment of figures, and yet was completely original (as opposed to lifting figures out of old masters' paintings). I also wanted to lend some meaty Christian symbolism to a scene that tends toward sentimentality and quaintness.

Symbolism

The Latin text of the angel's banner should be familiar to most: "Gloria in excelsis Deo et in terra pax hominibus" translates as "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men." The peace is represented by a dove, which perches in the rafters of the stable. The dove calls to mind the cessation of God's judgment, as it did when the floodwaters receded in the time of Noah.

The cross motif is found three times in the scene: first, in the nimbus of the Christ-child, which symbolizes his divine nature (Philippians 2:5-7); second, in the lantern, which represents Christ as the light of the world (John 8:12); and third, in the rough, wooden beams of the stable, which descend directly to Jesus, foreshadowing his death.

Some have asked why a Lutheran would also place halos around Joseph and Mary's heads. Lutherans, after all, do not hold to the same view as Roman Catholics concerning sainthood. Joseph and Mary were sinful descendants of Adam and Eve, the same as you and me. Yet, Lutherans also hold to the biblical truth that all believers in Christ are simul iustus et peccator—at the same time saint and sinner. Without exception, human beings are sinful, but are made righteous through faith in Jesus Christ (Romans 3:21-26). On that basis alone, I feel perfectly comfortable signifying the sainthood of any deceased believer with a halo. Add to it the fact that Joseph and Mary are described as "a just man" and "highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women!" So in this design, the halos reflect not only a long Christian tradition, but also the righteousness imparted to them by faith in the Son of God.

Typically the manger scene is depicted cluttered with animals, especially in popular culture. I opted to include only a lamb. The singular lamb foreshadows Christ's role as the sacrificial Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 1:29).

At the foot of the manger is the fruit by which the devil first tempted Adam and Eve to sin. It is the piece of the story that necessitated Christ's incarnation, his death on the cross, and his resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:21-22). Immediately next to the fruit is the serpent, its head crushed by the sign of Christ's complete humility. Thus the beginning of the story of salvation is placed in context with its conclusion.

Sacred* Art by Atheists

Today's question is: can a non-Christian make meaningful Christian art?

David Mach: Crucifixion, Edinburgh, 2011

David Mach, a nonbeliever, was commissioned to recreate biblical scenes out of coat hangers to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. Despite the acclaim of art critics, us ordinary folk have trouble shaking images of "Hellraiser." It makes you wonder exactly what Mach is trying to communicate, aside from pain. Anger? Hatred? Torture? Industry?

In an interview with the Telegraph, Mach admitted to being "irreligious," and said, "I’m sure I’m going to get accused of hijacking something that I don’t really have massive feelings about. It’s not about me. It’s about what I’m making. If I’m asked for opinions I’ll give them, but look at the work and see if you can get something from there."

Then there's atheist Gerhard Richter's design* for the transept window in the Cologne cathedral, Germany. The original window was damaged by air raids in World War II. The design* was created randomly with a computer, and mimics a digital "pixel" pattern. I would describe this as iconoclastic, but throngs of critics—and even parishioners—have described it as "spiritual," "contemplative," even "divine."

*Design implies intention. Something that is random cannot, by definition, be designed.

Gerhard Richter: South transept window, Cologne, 2007

Massimiliano Fuksas takes the cake with his design for a church in Foligno, Italy. Art critics use words like "modest" and "inspiring" to describe this massive concrete cube. These critics are apparently used to building with alphabet blocks, so that is to be expected. Photos of the oddly claustrophobic interior can be found here.

Massimiliano Fuksas: Paolo Church, Foligno, 2009. Photo credit: ARQA.com

Germaine Richier: Crucifix, 1950

Not to be outdone by her male counterparts, Germaine Richier caused a stir in the 1950s when she created this crucifix for the church of Notre-Dame de Toute in Assy, France. She explained its ugliness as depicting the suffering of Christ. She also explained that the figure has no face because God is spirit and therefore has none. This illustrates why we don't ask atheists to make theological statements for us. After complaints from horrified parishioners, the cross was removed from the church, and immediately became the center of much early controversy as to the role of artists (and their faith—or lack thereof) in the church.

Igor Mitoraj: Christ Resurrection, Rome, 2006

The last artist whose work I'm going to show is the odd one of the bunch. Igor Mitoraj produced several huge bronze doors and many other large-scale figurative sculptures in the Renaissance tradition. I've scoured the web for any mention of his faith and came up dry—even his obituary from late last year suggested nothing. But his bronze doors from Basilica di Santa Maria degli Angeli in Rome struck me with their classicism. And while employed with a kind of surrealist, postmodern flair, the Christian symbolism also struck me so much that I cited this door in my thesis. Here is a resurrected Christ figure, reminiscent of Greek gods (and early Christian depictions), but bearing the empty shape of the cross in his body.

There are countless examples that I either am unaware of or have passed over—especially in the architectural realm. The point I'm trying to make is that nonbelievers have made it apparent to believers that their grasp of Christianity is extremely shallow. Even if we didn't have the evidence before our eyes, we know that these truths are only made known by the Spirit, through faith.

This isn't to say that every construction worker who drives a nail into your church must be a believer. But when it comes to designing a church, or producing artwork for that community of faith, it should go without saying that it requires an intimate knowledge of what those people believe and practice and confess. Furthermore, it requires a knowledge of what has come before, and a sincere desire to chart an artistic path into the future that recognizes the eternal and transcendent nature of the Church. What sets Mitoraj's bronze doors apart from the above works is a familiarity with and respect for the pages of art history, many of which were written by artists of faith. Still, even if a blind squirrel occasionally finds a nut, I don't think we should encourage the practice of hiring blind squirrels when we have so many sighted ones...

Stained Glass Designs Completed

After a bit of a fiasco with my computer crashing and needing its graphics card replaced, I was finally able to finish the design of the stained glass triptych for Bethany. As I talk with the glass artists about its construction, we might have to tweak some parts of the design or select different colors. But I suspect this will resemble the end product.

There was talk about switching to five panels, which would essentially send me back to square one. I tried to discourage that option, because I think the design would be less solid and unified, and the problem they were attempting to solve would probably not be solved. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Below are the revised sketches that I did...

...and the final design, colored and textured in Photoshop.

The window was designed for Bethany Lutheran College, Old Main, above the entrance facing down the hill. It was commissioned by the (high school) Class of 1952.

Stained Glass Triptych

It's been a while since I've had any liturgical projects going, so it's really nice to be working on two at the same time. Here are some preliminary sketches for a stained glass window, to be installed at Bethany Lutheran College. The design is still somewhat fluid, but the first change was to substitute the Ascension with the Resurrection. I liked the idea of making Jesus' Nativity (descending to earth) and Ascension as bookends, with the Crucifixion in the center. But the horizontal shape of the side windows was not ideal for the Ascension.

I also did a digital color study. The last step will be to finalize the sketch, resolve the colors (probably in another digital version), and produce the cartoon for the window.