If art, even popular art—especially popular art—were simply a repository of an era’s wishes, to be matched beat for beat with its time’s psyche, it would not be art. It would be, well, a Comment, or an op-ed piece, with all the necessary fatuities of its kind.
Month: May 2015
Robert Crawford, “Thread”
My faith
Hangs by a thread.
It always has.
No point
Spending long
Going over it
Worrying,
Will it snap?
Will it go?
Is it the wrong
Kind of faith?
Better just to take it
And sew.
…In a really basic way the words “God” and “Tree,” at different times in my life, became suddenly insufficient. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to see those things as two of my antecedents. I became desperate for a more meaningful encounter with both of them, which for me typically means new language. I wanted to press into those categories to expose their uncanny qualities, their musical qualities—say, black chokecherry or honey locust, stand up on the knees of a bald cypress, lean into the buttress of a water tupelo (Nyssa Aquatica). It’s all a seduction. “Who touches the mountains and they smoke?” [a paraphrase of lines from Psalm 104.] “What did you go into the wilderness to see, a reed shaken by the wind?” That’s from the Gospel of Matthew. It’s crazy and beautiful. Why hasn’t that been put on a billboard?