Churches all over the world have the same bronze sculpture of Jesus sleeping on a bench as if he were homeless. The Canadian artist behind it is called Timothy Schmalz, who makes the schmaltzy point that we should see the divine in everyone. It is difficult to photograph but, inspired by Bill Brandt’s perspectives, I went straight at the toes.
This week I have been reading The Americans (1958) by Robert Frank, which shows the reality of American life beyond the adverts. Frank took a two-year road trip across the country and there are a lot of cars in the book. Perhaps car culture is our true religion.
Personally, I prefer the combination of train and bike. On Saturday, I took my bike on the train to Blairhill, did a parkrun, and had a coffee with Ellie. I had to prepare a dinner for our book club but had time to pop out to see Pat Fisher’s colourful abstract paintings in the Stallan-Brand vestibule.1
I was excited to finally meet Mike Stubbs (pictured here alongside John Butler with Roddy Hunter over his shoulder). Mike was one of the first subscribers to my blog, which he found because I mentioned persformance artist Tehching Hsieh.
Alas, I had to dash because I wanted to see
‘s FONDS exhibition, where local residents tell the story of objects that are meaningful to them. There is an accompanying podcast, recorded in the dark while Morwenna Kearsley photographed the objects with a torch and a long exposure. Well worth a visit to connect with your own sense of what is meaningful.I’m coming up blank about what my meaningful object would be. I’m sure there’s something in a shoebox.
But demonstrations of belief still happen. Walking to the gym, I chanced upon a crowd of Shi’ite Muslims chanting Labaik ya Husain and slapping their chests to the point where they were red raw. It was a remarkable show of devotion that can only be captured in video.
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