I visited the Museum of Modern Art and was surprised by my reaction. I walked into the massive building with its five levels. I decided to start at the top and work my way down. By the time I reached the fifth floor my eyes were already tearing up. It was like when I first walked into a church and felt God for the first time.
The first piece I saw was a Picasso called Girl Before A Mirror. The next thing I knew, I had tears running down my cheeks. After that it was one emotion to the next. I reached the fourth level and saw my beloved Starry Night by Van Gogh. It came to life with each defined stroke. Lines appeared that I had never seen before on the prints. With every sparkle of the city lights, there was a house unlit and cold. As the stars exploded into the sky, so did his heart onto his bleeding canvas. I dried my face and moved along.
Every painting told me its story and each sculpture which said “Do not touch” extended its arms to be embraced. Next I found the Warhol section and found myself laughing and comforted by his eccentric sense of humor. Through the five levels I found peace in the sorrow and strength from the struggle. I was able to connect my tears to the many people in my life who are battling depression, drug addiction, anxiety, lust, poverty, exhaustion, love, war, longing and loneliness. I thought of the prisons and the projects and the many stories that I’ve heard on the streets of Portland. I felt the oppression of women and the physical pain that we share as I saw the portrait of Frida Kalho hanging on the wall with all of her hair cut off and lying to her side.
In the midst of all these emotions, my mind brought to me a memory which will forever be engraved. It was the image of Ken Loyd, my pastor, teacher and friend, stopping to touch a thorn on a rose bush. Brian, Ken and I were walking to the Crow Bar for our last “meeting” and in mid-sentence he stopped and said, “How beautiful!” I looked over and saw roses and thought, “Yep, another Portland rose,” but he was touching the thorns. They were massive and sharply pointing in every direction. Ken is someone who always finds beauty in the thorn before even noticing the rose. It’s the thorn that allows us to feel.
As for my experience at the museum and in my 27 years, allowing such pain into my life refines me along with the people around me. We carry each others’ burdens and allow tears and makeup to stain our shirts. We must look into the eyes of our homeless and hug a prostitute and ask for nothing in return. We need to be here for our soldiers when they return, and no longer be afraid of talking about death and the people we’ve loved who have passed on. We must find laughter in the drought. Let’s sing and dance when no one else is. Let our joy be contagious, but remember there’s no joy without pain. We cannot shut our eyes because it hurts to look. There is no rose without its thorn.
-Kelly
The first piece I saw was a Picasso called Girl Before A Mirror. The next thing I knew, I had tears running down my cheeks. After that it was one emotion to the next. I reached the fourth level and saw my beloved Starry Night by Van Gogh. It came to life with each defined stroke. Lines appeared that I had never seen before on the prints. With every sparkle of the city lights, there was a house unlit and cold. As the stars exploded into the sky, so did his heart onto his bleeding canvas. I dried my face and moved along.
Every painting told me its story and each sculpture which said “Do not touch” extended its arms to be embraced. Next I found the Warhol section and found myself laughing and comforted by his eccentric sense of humor. Through the five levels I found peace in the sorrow and strength from the struggle. I was able to connect my tears to the many people in my life who are battling depression, drug addiction, anxiety, lust, poverty, exhaustion, love, war, longing and loneliness. I thought of the prisons and the projects and the many stories that I’ve heard on the streets of Portland. I felt the oppression of women and the physical pain that we share as I saw the portrait of Frida Kalho hanging on the wall with all of her hair cut off and lying to her side.
In the midst of all these emotions, my mind brought to me a memory which will forever be engraved. It was the image of Ken Loyd, my pastor, teacher and friend, stopping to touch a thorn on a rose bush. Brian, Ken and I were walking to the Crow Bar for our last “meeting” and in mid-sentence he stopped and said, “How beautiful!” I looked over and saw roses and thought, “Yep, another Portland rose,” but he was touching the thorns. They were massive and sharply pointing in every direction. Ken is someone who always finds beauty in the thorn before even noticing the rose. It’s the thorn that allows us to feel.
As for my experience at the museum and in my 27 years, allowing such pain into my life refines me along with the people around me. We carry each others’ burdens and allow tears and makeup to stain our shirts. We must look into the eyes of our homeless and hug a prostitute and ask for nothing in return. We need to be here for our soldiers when they return, and no longer be afraid of talking about death and the people we’ve loved who have passed on. We must find laughter in the drought. Let’s sing and dance when no one else is. Let our joy be contagious, but remember there’s no joy without pain. We cannot shut our eyes because it hurts to look. There is no rose without its thorn.
-Kelly
2 comments:
kelly, kelly, kelly...you are blessed with a huge heart to feel pain, hurt, disappointment, and to actually do something about it--like uproot your entire family and put your 'career' on hold to do missions in NYC. i will continue to pray for God to infuse you with food for you heart so that the His love oozes out on the streets of NYC. i am touched by your post being of the artist type and all. but even more so because the compassion you speak of strikes a sympathetic chord in me. you take care
i'm gonna defuse the very serious nature of this post by singing terribly.
eeeeeeeeeev'ry roooooose has it's thorn!!!
haha... love you guys. i miss ya. ;-D grace&peace. bye.
Post a Comment