Good Friday

It was special. My friend Anne and my mother, who have both been battling cancer in the last year, participated as artists and both are returning to health. Several participants returned from last year. Some people from the crowd came up to me and said they still have my scrap of stitchery from last year's Stations of the Cross. Several teenagers participated. The community gathered for something positive despite ongoing blight and violence in the neighborhood.
This is the best kind of art I can make. Art for prayer. Art with meaning. Art for people to see and touch. Art that connects people in my community. Art that sparks conversations. As I spoke of Mary and the feeling of mothers- our desire to protect our children but our inability to do so at every moment in their lives- I saw heads nodding and calls of "Amen".

There's a small doubtful voice in my head that questions if it's a good idea to dwell so much on religion or spirituality in my work. Maybe it will turn people off? Maybe it will pigeonhole me? Maybe it will not be taken seriously? I can't listen to this voice. This work is meaningful and worthwhile to me. I cannot be apologetic for sharing  the spiritual side of my creative life. For thousands of years art was primarily an expression of spirituality. May it continue.