Is it sacred to you?

All pictures are from Australia-based artist
Jason Hills' Facebook page 

"It’s dangerous to have a point of view, because just by taking a position, you create the opportunity for an opposing position.  It’s scary to be challenged, but it’s part of the deal.  I always see artists say they welcome dialogue and want people to talk about their work, but what they really mean is that they want praise." — April Winchell, founder of Regretsy

Upcycler, you done crossed the line.

You take forlorn figurines and paint gaudy colors and skulls over them. I get that. Homage to Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) Mexican folk art and tattoo art.

It’s just that there are things, religious objects among them, that are sacred to some people. Evidently not to you, judging by your reworking the likenesses of the Holy Family and the Virgin Mary. Something in me strongly wants to call you out. To me, you’ve defaced them. You’ve defiled them. But wait, I want to think about my response to your art some more.

Some definitions, so we get on somewhat the same page:

Upcycling means making something better. The betterment is what distinguishes it from mere recycling. Is what you’re doing to religious statues making them better? Your statues certainly sell well. They’re edgy. They’re eye-catching. They raise eyebrows. Mine, if nobody else’s.

Deface means to mar the surface of, to disfigure.

Defile means to make impure for ceremonial use; to desecrate.

Desecrate means to divert from a sacred to a profane use or purpose.

Profane means characterized by irreverence or contempt for God, sacred principles or things.

Sacred means it’s holy, sanctified, set apart—“Can’t touch this!” as Hammer sang. Yes, I’m from that generation. Which probably explains much of my discomfort with your type of art.

Your artistic statement makes me squirm. What exactly are you saying? Is this an expression of your angst, or an outlet for your ennui? Would you stay with this style if it didn’t already have a niche?

I went to your Facebook page (noting your 1,500+ engaged fans with envy and not a small amount of befuddlement). You wrote:

“My work is influenced by old school tattoos, zombies, day of the dead and lowbrow art…I noticed an abundant supply of boring vintage statues, just like the ones in your Nannas (sic) house.  So I had a go at giving them a new life for a totally different environment to live in…”

True, these pieces were dusty discards you found at the thrift store. Their original owners may have been bored with them themselves. Or maybe they had passed away?

Death can be viewed as sacred. So it’s not your superimposition of death images that disturbs me. It’s the defacing of something that was originally created to represent the divine and holy.

When an object’s original possessor gives it away, does its purpose end? Does it become a free agent, to be snapped up and repurposed as its next owner sees fit? Such could be said of practically everything material, which allowed the rise of the global upcycling movement. Which I espouse with a passion myself.

Does artistic license mean a free pass to mess with things that are sacred to some? Does boredom? Is it a greater cause to keep things from the landfill, or to tend to the realm of the spiritual?

The tension between art and sensibility isn’t new. Look up photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and the homoerotic/sadomasochistic exhibit that sparked “the culture wars.” In his case, the line being crossed was between conventional art—according to middle America, i.e., the Bible belt—and obscenity.

Then there was cross-wearing Madonna in the ‘80s and papal picture-ripping Sinead O’Connor in the ‘90s. Their acts were meant to provoke in a look-at-me-I-stand-against-something way.

I didn’t get the impression from your interview on forbes.com that you set out to create controversy. I don’t know if you’d mind it. What I’d like to know is if you considered the impact. Did you hesitate before your virgin foray into upcycling the Virgin Mary? Do you know anyone personally who has a reverence for what such objects represent? Did you try to find out what these objects mean to people of a certain faith?

Does the furor or lack thereof depend on who is being offended? Over on Regretsy, commenters of various backgrounds excoriated etsy shops selling what could loosely be called an interpretation of native American headdresses. It is politically incorrect to disrespect native Americans. Anti-Semitism is a serious career killer—ask Mel Gibson. Would anyone in the media dare diss a Muslim on his prayer rug? But popular American culture…sigh. Pop culture thumbs its nose at the Christian faith. It teases Tim Tebow for genuflecting.

So, young Jason, I just wanted to make you aware, if you weren’t already, that you’ve ruffled some feathers, crossed a line you may not have cared to acknowledge exists. Now carry on. Who am I to censor you?

"Invisible is an option, of course. You can lay low, not speak up and make no difference to anyone.
That's sort of like dividing by zero, though. You'll get no criticism, but no delight either.
As for finding a homogeneous audience, good luck with that. The one thing that's true of all people is that they are different from one another. What delights one enrages the other.
Part of the deal." ~Seth Godin

If she ain't wrecked don't wreck her.

Would you rather be funny or likeable? A coffee shop conversation

This is you and me having an imaginary conversation about the choices we make and the ones made for us.
Come sit and shoot the breeze with me. We don't have to rush; we're not at the water cooler. We are people of leisure and deliberation—at least while you're reading my post. We can look around Queen Bean, this pretty little café in downtown Modesto that I've beamed us both into on this unseasonably dry and sunny winter day.


Have you ever watched "This American Life"? My friend Noah of The Rambling Ark turned me onto it. I recorded and watched all the back episodes I could find. As an expat who has lived slightly more than half my life here in California, it asks just the sort of questions about life that I find intriguing. It's my cup of intelligent quirky.


One episode shows young male adolescents practicing stand-up at a kids' comedy camp. Boys at that age are about as familiar to me as a curling iron would be to a walnut farmer. What the helipad do we do with them? I raised three daughters. I wouldn't know how to talk about the interests of a man-in-the-making without resorting to pseudo-maternal pithyisms. So right there, the show had me captive. But that was just to start with.

One young man is flapping his just-hatched funny wings at the mic with some success. He reflects in voiceover mode, "When you're a different kind of kid, or even a different kind of person, it's sometimes hard to find people who think like you. And so the stage just becomes the highest ground, a place to stand out and look out over your friends, family and classmates, and say, 'Anyone out there? Anyone get me?' "


"And for some kids, being on stage isn't scary and awful. It's a relief."


"I feel like I'm taking OFF the mask. Like this is the real me. What I like to do for fun. I think it's like God's handicap: 'All right, well if you've been tortured your entire life, then I'm gonna make you funny.' Which will get you pretty far."


One of the adults there, I guess you could call her the comedy camp counselor, went all harsh on another one of the aspiring comics after his spiel. She commented, "It is better to be likeable than to be funny. That's one of the top rules of comedy."


"You have to act warm and inviting so we like you and we wanna hear what you have to say," she elaborated.

Now let's rewind and substitute creative for funny. Heck, let's do a few substitutions and see where that leads.


"All right, well if you've been tortured your entire life, then I'm gonna make you funny creative," God says in my version of this. I'd say that's a fair deal, wouldn't you? Almost explains the torment of your misfit years.


"It is better to be likeable than funny creative. That's one of the top rules of comedy success by the world's definition. You have to act like you're not too hungry for approval, and be self-effacing so we like you buy what you create/hire you and pay you to do what you're told."
What do we conclude?

• Likeable=Successful. If you are naturally likeable, it makes it a lot easier for people to want to help you succeed. The rest of us slobs have to work at being likeable. Because being creative is not enough. Being a genius, maybe—at the Steve Jobs level of genius.

• Creativity=God's consolation prize for the not-always-likeable misfits who must forever strive on the treadmill of success, getting nowhere until someone decides to unplug the blasted thing, maybe you yourself, maybe your circumstances. Sounds like a glum prognosis for our disease, doesn't it? Maybe I just need another cup of sinfully whipped mocha.

The show's host, Ira Glass, comments toward the end, "I don't think you get to choose between funny and likeable. If you could just decide something like that for yourself, wouldn't everybody just choose both? Funniness chooses you." Just as creativity does. But not, apparently, likeability.


What I want to know is, does success choose us? Do we then strive to be likeable first? Is that what it really boils down to, all these tips about social networking and cultivating engagement?


Now that I've bummed you out without meaning to, the least I can do is send you back out to the non-cozy world with God's email to me (and you) today. It reached my inbox via my friend Christine. I suspect that when people ask, "God, are you listening?" half the time it's really they who aren't.
"God has set up seasons in our lives. It’s easy to get frustrated when our dreams aren’t coming to pass on our timetable, but every season is not harvest season. There are plowing seasons. There are planting seasons. There are watering seasons. Sure, we would love for every season to be a time of increase & good breaks but without the other seasons, we wouldn’t be prepared. For example, it’s during the plowing seasons that God brings issues to light that we need to deal with. He’s getting us prepared for promotion.

If you’re not making as much progress as you would like, the key is to not lose any ground. Don’t go backwards. Hold your position. Keep a good attitude and do the right thing even when it’s hard. When you do that, you are passing the test, and God promises that your due season of harvest is coming. Be encouraged because your appointed time of increase, favor and promotion is on its way, and He will fulfill every dream and desire He’s placed within your heart!"

This post wouldn't be complete without your half of the conversation in the comments below. Would you rather be funny or likeable? Creative, or successful at something you're not passionate about? Cluelessly happy, or mindful of life (and prone to analyzing every detail)? OK, that last question is my seed for a future post.

Beat the post-holiday (and beyond) blues

Choppers has a split second of post-holiday blues

Dogs bounce back from being down in the dumps fairly well. Other critters, not so much. Here's an off-the-top-of-my-head list of what to try when you need to pole vault back to chirrupy cheer.

#1: Pick one guilty pleasure. Indulge. Briefly.

I pile on the whipped cream.

For you, it might be a glass of wine or a shot of vodka. But the phrase "I need a drink" is absent of promise to me because alcohol disables my system like sugar in a gas tank. Which by the way is a myth, according to Google. Better to seek revenge by pouring water in your arch nemesis' tank. We have not strayed too far off-topic: revenge is a guilty pleasure.

But back to phrases that don't personally apply. Take "comfort food." I only wish I could take comfort in food. Maybe if my nose hadn't been put out of commission by Zicam nasal spray, I might occasionally wax poetic about some culinary obra maestra. See also: Why I won't blog about food.

It's whipped cream for me when I want to indulge, and none of this fat-free abomination, either. I order a daiquiri for the whipped cream, and the hubs polishes off the rest of the drink.

Since we've mentioned him, here's his guilty pleasure. I know of no other American so devoted to fruitcake. That missing half is all his handiwork in one sitting. He was so content after that he fell asleep on the couch at 7:30 p.m.

Random Tip #2: Seek the light. Just don't demand that it shine on you all the time.

This is obviously best done outdoors in daylight, but if you're a shadow-craving vampire like me, that wonderful invention called electricity is a godsend. Is it blasphemous to mention vampires and God in one sentence? Thirty wet noodle lashes.

When you're not constantly chasing the spotlight or worrying about whether the light flatters your complexion, you can better enjoy the beauty in other beings.

When we began walking for exercise, the hubs would get stressed about the fading light. "We only have an hour before sundown!" he'd say in a panic, forgetting he married a vampire who does my best work at night. To appease him, I tote the trusty point-and-shoot. That LCD screen is a marvelous thing. It works to calm a 58-year-old as well as a six-month-old grandfella. Husbands are just little boys whose outsides have grown bigger. Gotta love 'em.

The scarcity of light at night can be an opportunity for greater appreciation.

Indoor light can seem just as magical. You need to see it with the right eyes. Some days, a trip to this upscale grocery is no less transportive to me than a tour of a mansion for sale. My floors are never this polished, my light fixtures never this dusted. And the food samples are divine!

Store window displays are an excellent go-to source for escapist light. They're portals into a make-believe world. Much of marketing is making people believe, after all.

A personal blog functions like a store window. Sometimes I'm so into my own illuminated space in cyberspace I believe my own good-news press. It's not quite the same as being delusional; there's reason and intention in what I display.

It's the most effective antidote to the withering disdain tossed my way by certain folks of the bossy persuasion. They don't know me like I know me, and now like you know me. They don't know everything, they just talk like they do. Do you have people like that in your life? (Who doesn't?)

Perk-up Tip #3: Spot the whimsy.

This is the bottom of a garbage bag. It reminds me of the top of a circus tent. Even household chores hold surprises. I would advise peeking before the bag is filled with banana peels, egg shells and moldy cheese.


Seek in the everyday what philosopher Sam Keen called "release from the mundane—a winged existence." Seek it in the here and now.


When I was negotiating my last day job, a well-meaning acquaintance advised me to hold out for the most vacation time I could swing. I told him I would rather take steps to ensure I enjoyed each day on the new job than try to stockpile days to escape it.

That's a treehouse in the upper left picture. But so is the one on the right. It might be the most imaginative fire escape ever designed, serving an office building for no-nonsense professionals. To me it's a treehouse for grown-ups. I see it each time I park at my massage therapist's. I imagine how the privileged professionals might be using it in non-emergencies. Maybe they step out on the stairway for a cigarette break; maybe they tryst before clocking in. When that jungle vine is in bloom this spring I might hold a photo shoot within it featuring my etsy fairy garb. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys will join me in spirit. I will make it my treehouse in my way.

A few yards away is this Rapunzel turret. Just sitting in someone's back yard, not feeling out of place or time even though it's in the middle of downtown. You can pretty much spin any fairytale or horror scene around this. The lovely thing is you get to decide what it—and anything else for that matter—means to you. That's a luxury when you feel not much else is under your control. It's the feeling of helplessness that gets most people down.


Pithy Tip #4: Decide what it means to you.

"Assigning meaning is a human ability. It's usually exercised in snap decisions, first impressions, and unfortunately, gossip-mongering. Discovering true meaning is a function of the intellect working in harmony with the soul, usually over time."

— Scrollwork, in Say What? The Malady of Malarky

So that was weird, quoting myself like that.

"You do not see things as they are; you see them as you are. Interpret your own experiences. All experiences are neutral. They have no meaning. You give them meaning by the way you choose to interpret them."

— Creativity expert Michael Michalko

Final Tip: You don't need nine lives. Just yours. Live it.

Pretty Kitty sitting pretty

When you compare your life to someone else's you're bound to favor the other person's. That's because we only see what's on display in the store window. But everybody suffers, Buddha taught, even those who seem to us to be richer, more educated, more privileged than we are.


This past year boosted me to the peak of contentment. I cannot remember having felt this grateful at any other time of my life. Yet the path that led me here began with a life-altering loss, a loss which has not been restored in the conventional sense.


Perhaps because contentment is so new to me, I had to ruin it with guilt ("I don't deserve to be so happy when there are so many people suffering.") I felt compelled to set up measures of progress and success, which I then downplayed as fleeting when I did achieve them. I let it get to me when I heard the hubby summarize my status to his friends as "so happy to stay home," as if my ballroom dance instruction, freelance editing, clothing design shop on etsy and amateur photography on flickr do not exist—do not, in fact, contribute substantially to my fulfillment, if not my pocketbook.


God always finds a way to snap me out of this uncharacteristic funk. A little perspective restores me. This time it came in the form of a reply to a comment I made on P.S. Jones' blog, Diary of a Mad Freelancer on Dec. 9.


She wrote, "I sometimes sit at my sewing machine and dream of having my own indie clothing line. You're living my not-so-secret dream."


By golly if that doesn't make me sit up and want to keep on keeping on!


How has this year treated you? Do you have a surefire way to catapult out of the doldrums? Share in the comments section!