So I was browsing online today and came across this video. I'm always fascinated by people who meaningfully engage in a conversation about art and Jesus. As the video suggests, you may not agree with everything but it'll at least get you started in the conversation. It's neither preachy or polished and I kinda like it that way.
Why Jesus Creates Art
with the Artistic Director of Mars Hill Church and a few metal band guys. Fascinating.
- Can art be Christian?
- Did Jesus make crappy furniture or nasty wine? (aka making good art)
- "Redeeming" cultural items and making them Christian (aka ripping off art)
- Should we make a Christian version of everything?
- Can I be an artist and a christian without being a 'Christian Artist'?
- Are there boundaries to art?
- What's the point of art?
and much more!
Part 1 Presentation ~20min.
Part 2 Q&A ~20min.
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
a little tid-bit
I read this book a while ago, but just stumbled upon this quote again today. Thought I'd share. God and Shakespeare. Oh yea.
"When a Russian cosmonaut returned from space and reported that he had not found God, C.S. Lewis responded that this was like Hamlet going into the attic of his castle looking for Shakespeare. If there is a God, he wouldn't be another object in the universe that could be put in a lab and analyzed with empirical methods. He would relate to us the way a playwright relates to the characters in his play. We (characters) might be able to know quite a lot about the playwright, but only to the degree the author chooses to put information about himself in the play. Therefore, in no case would we "prove" God's existence as if he were an object wholly within the universe like oxygen and hydrogen or an island in the Pacific. If there is a God, we characters in his play have to hope that he put some information about himself in the play. But Christians believe he did more than give us information. He wrote *himself* in the play as the main character in history, when Jesus was born in a manger and rose from the dead. He is the one with whom we have to do."
"When a Russian cosmonaut returned from space and reported that he had not found God, C.S. Lewis responded that this was like Hamlet going into the attic of his castle looking for Shakespeare. If there is a God, he wouldn't be another object in the universe that could be put in a lab and analyzed with empirical methods. He would relate to us the way a playwright relates to the characters in his play. We (characters) might be able to know quite a lot about the playwright, but only to the degree the author chooses to put information about himself in the play. Therefore, in no case would we "prove" God's existence as if he were an object wholly within the universe like oxygen and hydrogen or an island in the Pacific. If there is a God, we characters in his play have to hope that he put some information about himself in the play. But Christians believe he did more than give us information. He wrote *himself* in the play as the main character in history, when Jesus was born in a manger and rose from the dead. He is the one with whom we have to do."
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Triple Threat
The title says it all.
This is the name of the game, the ultimate goal in performance, the quintessential quality of those worthy of "making it." Though, it's kind of a weird title if you really think about it. TRIPLE THREAT! It sounds like what you'd be labeled if you just went through airport security and not only did you put your liquids in a gallon ziplock instead of a quart-sized bag, you also attempted to smuggle aboard finger nail clippers and a leaf blower. Call the TSA! We've got a code red Triple Threat!! Cheesy joke? Yes.
Anyways, we all know that to be a triple threat requires you to sing, dance, and act...well...and at the same time. And that is where the fun part comes in. On paper, it seems easy enough: just produce the notes, do the steps, and make pretty character faces, right? We know better.
The Triple Threat performer is a veritable paradox who is able to defy all logic with their RIDICULOUS talent. Don't believe me? I've got two words for you. Jellicle. Ball. Oh yea. I may not be a huge fan of Andrew Lloyd Webber but over Thanksgiving I had the privilege of seeing two of my best friends in their final rehearsals of CATS before the tour left NYC for tech week. Jellicle Ball, for those that aren't familiar with the show, is a group number where almost every cat in the cast comes on stage for a good 10-15 minutes of solid dance...and I'm not talking jazz squares and spirit fingers. This sequence makes you tired just watching it. Holy. Crap. Spandex, faux fur, and cat tails flying everywhere! I wanted a water break afterward and I didn't move from my seat.
This is the name of the game, the ultimate goal in performance, the quintessential quality of those worthy of "making it." Though, it's kind of a weird title if you really think about it. TRIPLE THREAT! It sounds like what you'd be labeled if you just went through airport security and not only did you put your liquids in a gallon ziplock instead of a quart-sized bag, you also attempted to smuggle aboard finger nail clippers and a leaf blower. Call the TSA! We've got a code red Triple Threat!! Cheesy joke? Yes.
Anyways, we all know that to be a triple threat requires you to sing, dance, and act...well...and at the same time. And that is where the fun part comes in. On paper, it seems easy enough: just produce the notes, do the steps, and make pretty character faces, right? We know better.
The Triple Threat performer is a veritable paradox who is able to defy all logic with their RIDICULOUS talent. Don't believe me? I've got two words for you. Jellicle. Ball. Oh yea. I may not be a huge fan of Andrew Lloyd Webber but over Thanksgiving I had the privilege of seeing two of my best friends in their final rehearsals of CATS before the tour left NYC for tech week. Jellicle Ball, for those that aren't familiar with the show, is a group number where almost every cat in the cast comes on stage for a good 10-15 minutes of solid dance...and I'm not talking jazz squares and spirit fingers. This sequence makes you tired just watching it. Holy. Crap. Spandex, faux fur, and cat tails flying everywhere! I wanted a water break afterward and I didn't move from my seat.
Monday, December 5, 2011
...stupid furniture
I love classic American theatre. Don't you? I mean there is something unique and amazing about the words of our friends Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller and...
OK pause.
I need to get something off my chest here. I love me some Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, and Eugene O'Neill, but I've got a bone to pick with Clifford Odets. Waiting for Lefty was the single most frustrating work I've ever done. Why? Given circumstances.
Given circumstances are just that; the reality dictated by the playwright. They are the clues given in the text which create the world of the play. An actor's job is to discover these circumstances within the text and base their choices on the information they provide. As actors, we cannot change the givens but we can make choices that violate them, which is never pretty. You and I can both tell horror stories of that kid who came to the audition with a monologue from a play he's never read. Really? You're gonna use your angry voice for Puck's closing monologue? You sure? You do know this is in verse right? Oh a southern accent huh? Can't help that can you? I suppose that's...wait, why are you throwing your chair across the room?!
OK pause.
I need to get something off my chest here. I love me some Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, and Eugene O'Neill, but I've got a bone to pick with Clifford Odets. Waiting for Lefty was the single most frustrating work I've ever done. Why? Given circumstances.
Given circumstances are just that; the reality dictated by the playwright. They are the clues given in the text which create the world of the play. An actor's job is to discover these circumstances within the text and base their choices on the information they provide. As actors, we cannot change the givens but we can make choices that violate them, which is never pretty. You and I can both tell horror stories of that kid who came to the audition with a monologue from a play he's never read. Really? You're gonna use your angry voice for Puck's closing monologue? You sure? You do know this is in verse right? Oh a southern accent huh? Can't help that can you? I suppose that's...wait, why are you throwing your chair across the room?!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
We know drama
It's Monday morning. I've just rolled out of bed, put on pants (always important), brushed my teeth (debatably more or less important), and am walking to class. At various places around the city, 15 or so other people are converging on the same location as I am. Upon our arrival, there is a nervous energy of expectation. A slight eagerness. Anticipation.
Check-in.
If you didn't wince a little when you read those words...you've never checked-in. It seems the words themselves could easily be followed by the TNT splash with the movie announcer voice proclaiming "we know drama." It's that serious. You walk into the rehearsal space, see all the chairs are in a circle, and a little voice in your head goes "welcome to Tear Fest 2011 where if you aren't crying you aren't trying." I'm exaggerating...a little.
Check-in.
If you didn't wince a little when you read those words...you've never checked-in. It seems the words themselves could easily be followed by the TNT splash with the movie announcer voice proclaiming "we know drama." It's that serious. You walk into the rehearsal space, see all the chairs are in a circle, and a little voice in your head goes "welcome to Tear Fest 2011 where if you aren't crying you aren't trying." I'm exaggerating...a little.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Actor Psychological Trench Warfare
I was assigned a best friend during my first semester of the Music Theatre program of Florida State.
No joke. I was assigned a best friend.
Now this isn't like your mom putting together amazing goody bags so kids would come to your birthday party (although...you put together a nice goody bag and miracles do happen). After a few weeks of observation and analysis, my professors paired every student with another from class as "best friends". We were to build a relationship with said best friend over the course of the semester and complete all scene work together until Christmas. I realize now that my best friend was also a pillar of consistency in a class designed to make you feel like a complete failure by finals week, thereby enabling you to start from scratch, without any preconceived notions, in January. My best friend, of course, was Mike the hockey player. You might remember him from The Glass of Death. But before my public humiliation in our aquatic death match, Mike and I first took on the task of an "open scene" or, as I like to call it, "actor psychological trench warfare."
No joke. I was assigned a best friend.
Now this isn't like your mom putting together amazing goody bags so kids would come to your birthday party (although...you put together a nice goody bag and miracles do happen). After a few weeks of observation and analysis, my professors paired every student with another from class as "best friends". We were to build a relationship with said best friend over the course of the semester and complete all scene work together until Christmas. I realize now that my best friend was also a pillar of consistency in a class designed to make you feel like a complete failure by finals week, thereby enabling you to start from scratch, without any preconceived notions, in January. My best friend, of course, was Mike the hockey player. You might remember him from The Glass of Death. But before my public humiliation in our aquatic death match, Mike and I first took on the task of an "open scene" or, as I like to call it, "actor psychological trench warfare."
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Glass
One of my favorite memories of acting class was with my friend Mike. I will call this moment "the glass of death." Jean, our glamorous diva of an acting professor explained the exercise "Tim, go to the sink and get a drink of water. If you don't, you will die. Mike, if Tim manages to take one sip of water from the glass, you will die. Ready? Go."
At this point, I should tell you that, not only was Mike 3 times stronger than me, but he was also a former hockey player. Now I'm scrappy, but there was no chance this skinny underdog was gonna beat the Goliath of a man that was Mike the hockey player, especially since I forgot to take my metabolic steroids that morning. I tried to run past him, he body checked me. I attempted to bribe him with money...nothing. And then it happened; in a miraculous moment of opportunity, Mike either gave up or got tired of manhandling me. I darted for the sink, put a splash of water in the cup, and raised my hand to my mouth, basking in the glory of my victory. The clouds were parting. Rays of sunshine were pouring onto my face. I'm pretty sure a flash mob of the Hallelujah Chorus was in full swing. Before I knew it, my cup was five feet to my right and I was wet. Mike had slapped it out of my hand, spraying water everywhere! Clearly, he took this "you will die" thing seriously. I mean dang. But, in knocking my cup away, Mike opened my path to the sink again. I ran. Mike sprinted. I reached for the faucet. Mike, like a frikin gazelle, leapt over my hand and into the sink! No kidding! A full-grown man's backside was now wedged in the sink in an attempt to win this life and death struggle.
At this point, I should tell you that, not only was Mike 3 times stronger than me, but he was also a former hockey player. Now I'm scrappy, but there was no chance this skinny underdog was gonna beat the Goliath of a man that was Mike the hockey player, especially since I forgot to take my metabolic steroids that morning. I tried to run past him, he body checked me. I attempted to bribe him with money...nothing. And then it happened; in a miraculous moment of opportunity, Mike either gave up or got tired of manhandling me. I darted for the sink, put a splash of water in the cup, and raised my hand to my mouth, basking in the glory of my victory. The clouds were parting. Rays of sunshine were pouring onto my face. I'm pretty sure a flash mob of the Hallelujah Chorus was in full swing. Before I knew it, my cup was five feet to my right and I was wet. Mike had slapped it out of my hand, spraying water everywhere! Clearly, he took this "you will die" thing seriously. I mean dang. But, in knocking my cup away, Mike opened my path to the sink again. I ran. Mike sprinted. I reached for the faucet. Mike, like a frikin gazelle, leapt over my hand and into the sink! No kidding! A full-grown man's backside was now wedged in the sink in an attempt to win this life and death struggle.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Follow? Really?
Everyone and their mother is blogging these days. Now, I'm quite stubborn so I've adamantly refused for some time. I am not a frikin follower! Why would I want to blog?! Yet, here I am…ya know…blogging. The tension isn't gone, I'm just learning to navigate it (more on that later). I ask only this: read this post in its entirety before deciding on me. Can ya do that? It's short I promise.
As I've said, I hate being a follower. Don't you? Even when I'm "following" someone, I'm doing it consciously and for a purpose. Let me explain. In theatre (I'm an actor) you may have to follow someone while crossing downstage right; fine, that's one thing. But it's quite another to mindlessly take your cues from Cowboy #3 out of the corner of your eye during Moonshine Lullaby because you were too lazy to get your crap together before tech week. Guess what? You've officially pissed off the entire cast and you look like an idiot. We've all met this guy. Don't be him. Please.
As I've said, I hate being a follower. Don't you? Even when I'm "following" someone, I'm doing it consciously and for a purpose. Let me explain. In theatre (I'm an actor) you may have to follow someone while crossing downstage right; fine, that's one thing. But it's quite another to mindlessly take your cues from Cowboy #3 out of the corner of your eye during Moonshine Lullaby because you were too lazy to get your crap together before tech week. Guess what? You've officially pissed off the entire cast and you look like an idiot. We've all met this guy. Don't be him. Please.
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