An Ugly Mind and Body

By Julius Kronberg

As the work on the throne of swords is nearing it's end I am now once again confronted with the question of how I represent King Saul on his "Throne of Swords". 

The two aspects of the sculpture, the throne and the king that sits upon it must blend in some way to represent a united message of the whole piece. One is an inanimate object, the other a person. I have to believe the inanimate is an extension of the other.

The throne speaks of, and is an extension of the one who made it. Any throne, is a symbol of leadership and power. It will give clues as to the nature of how this leadership and power will be expressed. A throne covered with sharp swords and knives is a rather clear and direct message of confrontation, bloodshed, deceit and violence as being the way the king that designed it will go about leading his nation. This of course is exactly the story line of the TV series from which the image of this throne is taken. And, it's the story line of King Saul, known also as "a bloody king."

Even though King Saul, as far as we know never actually had a throne like this made for himself, his life demonstrated exactly this kind of leadership as the very first king of Israel. 

This is one thing I so appreciate about the Bible, there is simply no fear of sharing not only the good about people, but also certainly cuts no corners in also revealing the ugly side of humanity. If I had been in charge of what goes into the Bible I would have tended to hide that kind of stuff I'm sure. 

This is a story of many missed opportunities, of a wasted life really. The only good thing about Saul was that David who had been anointed to become the next king was able to see how not to deal with his God and how not to run a nation!

So, the question is how dose one depict this kind of person? Well, I'm thinking that since his philosophy of life was all about himself, his comfort, getting what he wanted in his own way, making crazy inconsistent decisions, unforgiving, angry, bitter, and violent, ruled by his own uncontrolled emotions and passions, I would have to make him "ugly".  His body ravaged by hate and bitterness. His mind full of horrible fantasies, jealousies and fears of all around him,  trusting no one.

In the end this man was such a tragic figure. An embarrassment as a king and a leader. A disgrace to himself, his family, his own nation, to the countries around him and of course to his God. 

I have to make an ugly ravaged body of a man, an ugly ravaged mind of a man on an ugly angry throne!

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. Against such things there is no law." Galatians 5:22-23.

I Had a Dream

 The back of the throne continues.

Hi, my name is Cliff and I have just got a new job. (cheers and applause) Yes, thank you, I appreciate that. I now represent "Clifton Cutting Utensils, Sundry Swords and Knives Co. Ltd." and (crowd breaks in with more hoots and cheers.) ...so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me practising my sales pitch on you. (crowd hollers and fist pumps with joy...) I step back and just stand there working to get my "game face" on, focusing....thinking, "What the heck is that first line they taught me? The one that once I get started will help me remember the whole routine kind of line...OK I think I got it..." 

So have you had this constant nagging problem of your swords and knives breaking, or getting dull or not just not available when you need them...one...it? (crowd gives smattering of yes's etc.) Yes, well, I understand completely.

Let me show you this amazing collection of knives...I struggle to pick up, lift and hold up the surprisingly large and heavy nicely decorated box holding all the knives and swords, wow did I say it was heavy? The first thing that happens is the weight of the metal breaks open the bottom of the box and with a very loud crash, they all fall out onto the floor! I have to actually stumble, I mean jump out to the way to avoid getting impaled to to floor by these great, high quality, sharp cutting instruments, What a disaster!

"I'm so sorry, so sorry..." I mumble as I'm trying to gather up all these beautiful, shiny cutting instruments that I am hoping to sell. The crowd so understanding, cheers me on as I'm now looking for a piece of cloth...paper towelling...some-
thing...anything as in the panic
I have cut myself pretty good on one of the razor sharp swords... 

I pull out my shirt-tail thinking this should do for now...

In desperation, I finally just kick the pile of bloody swords and knives into kind of a pile to the side.

Meanwhile I'm holding my cut finger to keep it from spouting blood, fumbling with the shirttail to put pressure on the cut, deciding to use my thumb and the shirttail to pressure-stop the flow...

OK, I must continue...I think I can continue...so with my free hand I bring out my tomato! 

Exactly, what do you know...to sell a sword you still have to use the tomato trick...right...you know, to illustrate how incredibly sharp these things really are...

I suddenly realise I only have one hand that works, the other is out with an injury, and is in the emergency ward, connected to my now bloody shirttail which is squeezed between my thumb and injured finger, slowing down, sort of, the flow of blood from my bleeding finger!

I lay the "very red" tomato onto the TV tray I brought from home. I got it for an amazing price 15 years ago from a very handy discount store in the neighbourhood, you know, the basic flimsy cardboard top with these thin metal legs you fold out. The crowd to my surprise, is going simply mad with laughter and hoots as I lay the "red" tomato on the TV tray... (I never noticed how red these things are before!)

With the crowd going so crazy, I'm looking around to see what is so funny! Of course, I have to check first of all, to see if my fly is open, nope. I'm thinking it must be the blood. What do you know, It's become a 'blood-sport' now? Wow, crowds are so fickle...

I turn to the pile of swords and knives on the floor. Blood is now showing up everywhere. I guess my finger is still bleeding, I can see blood on my pants, the crotch area, the pant leg...

The crowd is now standing....yelling...chanting..."use the big sword, use the big sword..." I'm having some trouble with my vision, I'm thinking I'm going to have to have my glasses checked...I'm having trouble choosing a sword, I think I'm seeing double...most strange though is I'm also "seeing red"...I'm bending over to grab one of the red swords...

For some strange reason, everything goes black...

"He said to them, "Listen to the dream I had..."
Genesis 37:6

Battling Procrastination!

 Leather hard swords ready to be 

attached to the throne chair.

So, I have a whole chair, "throne" to be covered by hundreds of swords!

When I began this project, I had no idea the level of tediousness this would entail. A large part of this task has been to overcome just this daunting aspect of the task.

Looking up the word "tedious" I discover just what I'm experiencing;

"1. Tiresome by reason of length, slowness, or dullness, boring.

2. Moving or progressing very slowly.

Synonyms: boredom, dryness, dullness, monotony, sameness, tiresomeness."

I know what I need to do. Make another sword and place it on the chair structure. Simple. I'd rather read, eat, do laundry, buy something, have a coffee with someone, anyone, shovel the driveway, rather than make another sword! I have become a procrastinator! There I said it. And don't tell me I need a sword to fight it! :-)

Meanwhile, the project sits there, mocking me, gathering dust! Actually, drying up on me. 

One day, I got frustrated with the slow progress of making swords and came up with a new technique. This got my juiciness running again and I was excited. At first I'd been mostly carving the swords out of the chair structure. My new idea was a good one. I could actually make several swords at once doing it in this new way. 

I roll out a flat sheet of clay and cut out the forms for the swords. Then, using the end of a dowel, I use it to roll out the sharp two edges of each sword. After this I let them dry to leather hard state. Which of course doesn't not take long as the swords are thin in the first place. Once leather hard, they are easy the handle, as they are dry enough to keep their shape as I lift and move them about, laying them on the chair to plan for it's best location. As I cover one side with wet clay slurry the sword softens again and becomes just pliable enough to bend easily as it is pressed and bent as needed into it's location on the chair. After that the guard and handle are set into place. 

This procedure has increased the pace quite a bit and so I am much encouraged. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel, as now, the front of the chair is done, yes, and what a celebration that was! Now, I just need to do the back. Yes, that large, huge, 24 inch high back area....

OK, it is a pretty dim light, but a light none the less. 

Thank you for being a friend, listening to me and helping me be accountable  Helps push me forward in times like this. You must know this, just your presence makes me a better sculptor. Thank you.

"But in order not to weary you further, I would request that you be kind enough to hear us (Me!) briefly." Acts 24:4 

In Honor of Pioneer Women!

Gaetanne Sylvester

Last night on a very crisp, cold Winnipeg Friday evening, my wife and I braved the weather and went to the opening of an art show at the Mennonite Heritage Centre Gallery. It was entitled "Metaphors in Cloth and Clay" the artists being Ingrid Lincoln and Gaetanne Sylvester. 

I was particularly struck by the use of lace as a metaphor for the pioneer women who worked quietly and diligently behind the scenes, during those many challenging years as "the west was won". Suggesting strength, fragility, beauty and creativity, qualities all needed in those years of labour and struggle. 

As Sylvester puts it, "Clay has had a particular significance for me ever since I was first exposed to it in the late eighties. It mimics life in that it is sensual and organic and yet after witnessing fire it becomes durable and strong while retaining a compelling fragility.

I use hand building techniques, primarily low-fire earthenware, paper-clay  stains, under-glazes and glazes. I am more interested in shapes and organic texture than glaze formulations.
My experience and my observations of life around me along with my research into the genome, fertility, and history continue to inspire and inform my work."

She was born in Manitoba and has participated in exhibitions across Canada, in New York, Denver, Hong Kong, and Mexico. She has her studio in Winnipeg's exchange district.

I felt the show as a whole was pretty clinical and calculated, lacking somewhat in passion. Yet, her work is well travelled, recognised and well known.  

It is encouraging in that a Winnipeg artist is making a success of her multimedia work, including clay.

"She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of snow for her household, for all her household are clothed in scarlet." Prov. 31:20-21

Our Choice of Solutions.

 

A short term solution.

I finally got into my studio. I knew it would be cold, and it was, very cold. The landlord being reluctant to spend money on heat when no one is in. I have no idea how long the furnace has been off? I turn on the lights, and the furnace, it's "on-switch" connected to the light switch, roars to life. I wait for for the 15 degree temperature to turn to 21!

I've had Christmas, New Years, a death in the family, dealt with the estate, spoken at the funeral, driven 800km back and forth twice, half of it white knuckle driving through up to 70km blowing snow better known as "white-out" conditions. Then, too it's January, a time when renegotiation's happen with clients for the coming year. Finally, I'm back at the studio, but I'm feeling cold, hesitant, and unmotivated. Making and placing more swords on the huge "Game of Thrones" chair is getting old, and may I say, tedious. Yet, slowly the old movements and habits kick in. The music goes on. I run the water for my work till it's hot, then fill my working container. With the clay so cold it will keep my fingers warm as I work. I begin placing swords, slicing a strip off the block of clay, rolling it flat, cutting it to size, rolling the sharp edging...

About an hour in I notice a crack developing at the very centre top of the chair, and moving down two of three inches. It's small, no worries. I wet it, cover it with existing clay alongside the split, plus adding new as necessary. And it's gone, once again a clean surface. You would never guess there had been a split. I carry on applying more swords.

In half an hour, it has reappeared, but now it's rapidly moving and opening down from the top. My new clay I'd applied obviously no match for the apparent stresses pulling the back relentlessly into two pieces.

It's clear, this is now more than a simple little crack. With it's rapid development I realise I must deal with it, for if I do not, the integrity of the chair itself will soon become an issue.

As you can see in the photo above, I found the materials whereby I was able to use the old tourniquet trick to force the two halves together, and hold it there, without cutting the sides and keeping the integrity of the back intact. Whew!

But now, I cannot stop thinking about it. This "Throne of Swords" is a metaphor of King Saul's life. A man who's life began to crack and fissure. There came a time when he simply could not keep it together. Haha! I know, bad joke! So he tried to hide it. Fix it in some way. Someone told him about David, who was a gifted musician, one who played the harp. Possibly he could play for Saul and so, when his demons came upon him, his playing might bring relief and healing. Taking away all signs of the cracks and rips in his life. Pretending they did not exist at least to the public, the country just outside his door he was to lead as a king. 

And so, he became an actor, a fake. Under enormous pressure this ordinary man who became king was forced to attempt to live in such a way that no one would suspect the very reality of his problem. And he had not even had acting lesson! But, not only that, all in his court, became complicit in the ruse. The cooks, the generals, the foreign ministers, the priests, his wives, and such, all lying, making excuses, to cover for his bouts of depression, roaring fits of anger, his dramatics, like spears thrown and stuck into walls. His inconstant and arbitrary decisions, and confusion. Were they under pressure? You bet, for if they failed, it's not just their jobs, but their lives that are at stack!

I can just hear one of them explain that the music heard through the doors was simply entertainment for the king and his courtiers from a new up and coming musical protege!

It's a reminder that the "tourniquet" is a very short term pressure solution to any cracks or brokenness in our lives. We must look elsewhere for the solution that brings not only lasting healing but freedom and a life of integrity.

"Whoever walks in integrity will be delivered, but he who is crooked in his ways will suddenly fall." Proverbs 28:18

Unexpected Expectation on Glass

"Unexpected Expectation"

Artist: The known, unknown.

Moisture crystallised with heat and cold on glass.

 

 

An image, art, created by the will and freedom

of the uncontrolled,

by the forces of nature itself.

 

I remember the rule of the universe extolled,

"From order to disorder"

Really?

 

What beauty, we must admit to here.

Somehow this accidental yet amazing result,

despite the raw, slow breakdown of natures journey!

 

In it's death throws, proving yet, it's creative prowess.

A birth of the contact of opposites,

without the the fabulous mind of man,

without the overpowering will of man,

without the amazing skill and draughtsmanship of man.

 

So, why do we as "mankind" admire it so?

 

Because it is not of ourselves?

Because we have lost connection with nature?

Because we must admit...reluctantly,

it is surprisingly, actually, beautiful,

despite our lack of involvement?

As if, without our personal touch,

this could not and should not be possible?

 

Who are we? Really?

 

This image so delicate and fragile,

retouched with a ray of light.

Reshaped with the slightest breath of air,

monochromatic, with luster pulsating,

with the slightest vagaries of the opposites.

 

What if the real reason we love and admire it so,

Is because the crystal speaks of richness and deity.

The white of purity and holiness.

The pulsating changes and movement,

a mystery of the Spirit.

 

The whole speaking of the unending shades of beauty,

and depth of the Transcendent.

 

So, forever we are intrigued and interested,

Us, seeking, searching, finding more.

 

This image on glass,

how did it get to be like that?

Will it ever come again?

Will it ever look the same?

 

Yes, an image will come again,

and when this one and those after,

(for this artist never becomes weary,)

continue to present themselves on my glass,

changing glistening...moving...re-inventing...

 

They will speak volumes to mankind,

and will also speak volumes to me!

                             

 



My Tribute to My Father.

My Dad, Ernest Derksen - 2011

My father, passed away Dec. 20, 2012. He was 97 years of age.

His passing was expected. Yet, despite that knowledge, when it happens it kind of knocks you sideways in unexpected ways. 

There are the mixed feelings of sadness and celebration in his actual finally leaving this painful existence and entering his reward. 

Then the realisation, that this is my last parent to pass on. Mother left us in Oct. of 2006. I am now truly without parents! I am an orphan! Even though Dad had had dementia for a few years and I'd said my "goodbyes" still, suddenly I felt so alone. Amazing the comfort of his just being there.

Then there was Christmas. Dad had left just in time for Christmas celebrations and instead of our tinsel and lights, he'd gone to see the real thing! Meanwhile we, here had to "celebrate"! His passing kind of muted all of that. Us trying to celebrate the "joy" of Christmas while your heart was so heavy. A truly conflicting experience.

Anther sign of grief, was the various troubling things that happened. Like suddenly my mind was not quite in gear. Probably, pre-occupied. So, things we commonly used went weirdly missing. Here are some things we heard ourselves say during this time, like "Where are my keys?" "I can't find my shoes, have you seen my shoes?" When I started up the car to leave for Saskatoon and the funeral, I inadvertently locked my keys into the car while it was running! I had no idea that was even possible, yet, inexplicably I had put it into neutral and the doors locked as I left the vehicle to warm up. (I'd just read somewhere that the car would warm up faster idling in neutral!) Had to call CAA and we left one hour later!

After we returned from Saskatoon, the funeral and family visiting, I felt absolutely listless and uninterested in doing much of anything. I just found myself unmotivated! For a few days there I was out of commission. I felt cold in a warm house wearing a sweater to stay warm. Once I even closed the living room curtains. Why? I don't know, probably ashamed, guilty, just wanting to shut out the world maybe. I began to wonder if I was simply depressed. Probably. 

Also, this certainly brought my own mortality to the for-front. One day I would living in a nursing home, eating institutional food etc. I went about calculating how many years I might have left and so on. Normal I guess, but depressing for sure. 

Alongside all of this, I was amazed at my father's legacy. I had the privilege and Honor to be asked by my family to do the "meditation" at the funeral. This certainly accelerated my working out his passing. It was a godsend actually as I tried to back up a bit and see the big picture of his life. What a message.

He was a "salt of the earth" kind of man. A simple farmer who was chosen by his father to forgo his education and work on the farm. So he went into life with a grade 6 education. Here's the thing, he never griped about that! Can you imagine what most of us would think if the education option was taken from our lives? Dad let it go, forgave, and gave his life to his Lord, allowing Him to guide and direct his life. As a result he lived a humble basic life of faithfulness to his God. He was not a theologian but he was faithful with the gifts he had and the disciplines of his faith. Bible reading, prayer, church fellowship, giving with joy both financially of of himself to help other in need. He was a "happy man" known as smiling Ernest in the community. His whole life was a lesson on how God's favour smiles on a person who loves his God to the best of his humble ability. Were all the wise and amazing decisions he made in the farming business and life accidental? Maybe innocent accidents? No way. The Bible says that the knowledge of God is the beginning of wisdom, and with his learning due to his disciplines plus the providential favour of God on his life, these were so obviously not accidental. So amazing. What a lesson for all of us.

Thanks Dad for the consistent and amazing message of a "Faithful life" well lived.

"Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord, but fools despise wisdom and instruction."  (CEB)

Proverbs 1:7