Two site-specific works for the Feast of Samhain at Thomas Chapel
 
I am the door. 
Whoever enters by me will be saved
and will come in and go out and find pasture. 
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.
I came that all may have life and have it abundantly.
 
Jesus of Nazareth
 
Sometimes we must look deep into beauty to discover how it deceives. 
 
Thomas Chapel was born amid profound theological and social disagreement.  In the decades before the Civil War, there was no greater theological or moral issue at the center of Methodist debate and life than the question of the enslaved person in the life of the church.  In 1844, the year that the building of Thomas Chapel was approved, the Methodist Church would split governance between the northern and southern states. The founders of Thomas Chapel built a beautiful shrine to the southern religious ideology. 
 
Thomas Chapel (Methodist Episcopal Church South) still bears the scars of these past decisions … long after the local community grew in greater alignment with the gospel message. The Greek temple form, the grandeur and seeming permanence, the elegant building materials, and even chapel’s location high on a hill were meant to communicate how the world was to be ordered under God’s care.  This building was a considerable investment of time, labor, and resources in what was to be future of the church in the southern states.  This house of God would forever be segregated, hierarchical, and ordered according to what the founders believed to be God’s great design for humanity.  Differences in race, gender, education, wealth, clerical status is made clear in in the architecture of this building, the layout of the seating and furnishings, and the polity of the chapel’s governance. 
 
Sometimes institutional religion gets it so very wrong … and God cries in anguish.
 
The Jewish scholar and civil right activist Abraham Joshua Heschel says that the responsibility of the prophetic/creative imagination is mysteriously centered in communicating that divine anguish back to humanity with words and actions and imagery that will “wake-up” humanity to return to the fullness of God’s hope for creation.
 
The two site-specific works I created for the feast of Samhain, seek to give visual expression to the divine anguish of Thomas Chapel’s earliest years.  My work is not intended as judgement on the complexity of life in this community nearly two centuries ago.  This topic captures my imagination because this story has profound echoes of our current struggles within society … and the church … over issues of inclusion/exclusion and hierarchy. Like the small groups of believers in Thaxton two centuries ago, we are making choices today about who is in … and who is out … who has life … and who has it abundantly.  

I sense that God’s anguish is as deep today as it was two centuries ago. 

Both new works are totem assemblages. Totems are a way of storytelling in primal and first nation religious traditions. Totems, like all symbolic systems are implosive, and therefore must be experience from within.  They are not a window for the viewer to look in to find understanding.  Rather, totems are windows looking out to the world.  The viewer must come prepared to get inside the narrative and see life through the identity, morality, and a cosmology of a particular people and a particular place. 
 
The Buddha says that within suffering itself, there is no separation between my suffering and another’s suffering.  My intention with these assemblages is to look out the window of the narrative of the enslaved builders and members of Thomas Chapel to explore our current divisions … to see beyond our current injustices … and to hopefully find a path forward.
 
Totems are often abstracted to include only the elements that are central to the story and therefore require a storyteller to set the context … and an accompanying communal religious ritual to embody the narrative.  Thus … these totems are only part of our Samhain celebration and must be understood in the broader context of storytelling and the ritual of the evening prayer.  Totems are rarely intended to be permanent things … but rather consumed by the forces of nature and time … just as people and places are.
 
I craft my totems from things that that have been tossed away or are no longer useful such as discarded tools or components to machinery that are now obsolete.  I like that these objects have been previously used in the work of others, in the work of human progress, and certainly in the work of building the Kingdom of God on earth.

I AM THE DOOR & CEMETERY ANGEL
 
In accordance with Methodist practice at the time, both free and enslaved members of the congregation worshiped together, but the enslaved members had segregated seating in “the negro pews” in the back … or most commonly, in a balcony accessed through a small side door. These enslaved church members would have no exemption from being sold by their owners as other slaves were.
 
Local legend, and certainly pragmatism, suggests that enslaved peoples worked to construct the chapel … notably making the bricks for the chapel.  Local slave records indicate that six of the seven founding fathers counted nearly 100 slaves between themselves.  Like so much of the county’s early infrastructure, Thomas Chapel would not have been possible without the skill and toil of enslaved people. At this time, 42 percent of the county’s inhabitants were enslaved … so we can assume that these percentages were reflected in the local community that surrounded the chapel.
 
After the war, the Methodist church would split into many separate denominations largely based on race or issues of congregational polity.  It is unlikely that Thomas Chapel had black members after these post war denominational shifts. 

A Budding Manifesto on Spirituality and the Creative Imagination
 
The 19th and 20th centuries are filled with art manifestos that speak powerfully to the aesthetic developments and the social, religious, and political upheavals of a particular time and place.  None of these art movements were revolutionary, but rather emerged from decades of political or social strife, fermentation in academia, the hit and miss of studio practice, and lots of conversations with friends around too much wine.  In time, these manifestos faded away but provided the counterpoint for the next movement.  Art is evolutionary not revolutionary. 
 
This is a budding manifesto on spirituality and the creative imagination in a time when our country faces profound pressures … political demigods, Christian nationalism, global pandemic, and a positive “wokeness” to systemic racism, gender identity, economic inequalities, and impending climate disaster.  After nearly six years of focused collaboration a myriad of creative and spiritual folk to respond to our current divisions, it is time for Portiuncula Guild to begin to articulate a methodology for our work in the community … how it is being lived out in the gallery shows at Goose Creek Studio, in our partnerships with the God in the Gallery and Bread for the Journey conversations, our website blog posts and social media presence, and especially in the work and prayer at Thomas Chapel. 
 
The search for ways to respond to our current situation seems overwhelming.  However, it is precisely in these moments throughout history that the brightest of religious thought, spiritual practice, and works of the creative imagination have emerged.  Art museums, as well as the sacred stories, prayers, and songs collected in the holy books of the world’s great religions, are repositories for such hope for humanity in times not unlike our own.  Art and spirituality blossoms at these liminal moments in human history.  This moment provides us with not only a unique opportunity to explore the connection between spirituality and the creative imagination, but also the connection between the world’s great religions and humanity’s continuing search for hope and healing in times of great change. 
 
We have good partners in this experiment.  We have been blessed with the opportunity to collaborate with a myriad of local creative and spiritual folks whose work embodies the deeper truths of faith and our life together in community.  We are blessed to live among a myriad of artists, artisans, poets, musicians, cooks, writers, actors, yogis, mystics, and farmers whose life and work is not only grounded in faith, but whose vision may hold the key to new ways to understand church, community, truth, and the worship of God. 
 
To understand how “artworks” differently at Thomas Chapel, we need to first remember the ways the arts have traditionally been utilized in religious worship/rituals/spiritual practice …

1. Art that is Consumed:  These are the ephemeral or performance works of art like poetry, storytelling, dance, baking, wine making, drumming, chant, and singing.  These are products of the creative imagination that are shared, consumed, and leave little or no physical presence after the gathering.

 

1. Art that is in Service:  These are the products of the woodworker, blacksmith, seamstress, icon painter, composer, book binder, or potter.  These are the fine crafts called into service of for various parts of the ritual or community at prayer.  These are also the product of the creative imagination shaped first by practicality and needfulness but made meaningful by the vision of the artist.

 

1. Art that is Ideological:  These are the permanent forms of the arts like sculpture, painting, and architecture that stick-around long after the service is over and are often intended to be public expressions that embody and communicate the theologies and ideologies of a particular religious assembly.  The permanence of these works in the public sphere makes these projects attractive for both artists and architects.

 
The dilemma with this last category is that ideological and permanent forms of religious expression can leave little room for additional creative expression as the community grows, changes, or evolves.  Ideological works tend to celebrate a binary that communicates differences rather than foster inclusion.  Permanent works can also reinforce old ideologies long after the community has moved on.  And finally, permanent works can foster a creative “laziness” in which a community is reassured by the past success or prestige instead of being challenged to cultivate creative expressions or spiritual practices that reflects the complexity of the present moment.
 
Thomas Chapel avoids the permanent and ideological by operating like a “kunsthalle” … an organization that does not collect art or display a permanent collection, but rather is a place set aside for new, experimental, site-specific, and temporary works.  The distinctiveness of Thomas Chapel is that the all the art is set in the context of religious assembly or spiritual practice.  Art in this context is not intended to be viewed in isolation as in a gallery or museum, but rather juxtaposed to sacred stories and rituals, the cycles of the seasons, and the rhythm of human life.  Some works at Thomas Chapel are site or event specific, some stay for a season, and some are used to adorn the space between gatherings.  All work and prayer at Thomas Chapel are at the same time real and experimental.
 
So … what do we mean by experimental? 
 
How humanity looks at art and how humanity participates in religious worship has been radically reconsidered in the past few decades.  Since the dawn of the modern world, ways viewing art and ways of gathering for religious worship have evolved into a “spectator sport.”  The participant is reduced to a passive observer … left to quietly, and individually, contemplate their inner life through the vision and lens of another.  Humanity has given its voice to the skill or craftsmanship or the expert … whether pastor or poet. 
 
Art museums and religious institutions … as well as scholarship in the fields of spirituality and ritual studies … are challenging this hierarchy as a problematic pattern for both creative expression and spirituality growth.  There is growing experimentation with more active, collaborative, and inclusive ways for participants to experience and engage both art and spirituality.  Portiuncula Guild wants to join that growing chorus of voices that breaks down the division between art maker and viewer, or between religious expert and spiritual seeker.  
 
But debunking the old patterns for art and worship are hard and will require a dramatic shift in consciousness.  This shift in thinking requires both the artists to rethink their roles and responsibilities, their egos in the creative process, the allure of the marketplace and prestige, and their role in the life of the community.  This is the core of what it means to be experimental ... relearning how to make and display art.
 
Many will argue that this is not a new concept at all, but rather a return to a more ancient way of understanding both art and religion.  For most of humanity’s history, the artist and the shaman utilized their skills and vision to be in service to the community.  Their work was never in isolation, but always in connection with rituals and sacred stories.  Through this collaboration, both the artist and the shaman sought to bring healing and hope to the present struggles.  Likewise, the creative and spiritual imagination that individuals bring to the gatherings at Thomas Chapel are woven into … and around … and in service to the broader reason for the gathering. 
 
This concept continues to both value and need the individual insights, vision, or skills of creative imagination.  In fact, all religious assembly requires the artist skill and the shaman’s pastoral insights to weave meaning into of current struggles.  Whether it is the bison hunt depicted on a prehistoric cave wall, the muezzin’s voice calling the faithful to prayer, the totem pole outside an Inuit longhouse, or the music and movement of a Diwali festival, the arts and spirituality are intertwined in the rituals of human history.
 
There will be successes and failures in our experimenting.  There will be folks who are happy with the more privatized form of creative and spiritual expression.  We invite any creative or spiritual seeker along for the ride.  
 
END OF MANIFESTO
 
The following is just for fun … a little tongue-in-cheek. 
 
We could not imagine a better patron for our art and spirituality manifesto than Peter of Verona, a Dominican friar and a celebrated preacher/inquisitor/persecutor of the Cathars heretics in the thirteenth-century.  In 1252, the two Cathar assassins followed Peter to a lonely spot, and stabbed Peter in the head with a knife.  Before he died, Peter rose to his knees, and dipped his fingers in his blood and wrote on the ground Credo (I Believe), the first word of the Apostle’s Creed.  He was canonized a saint eleven months after his death, making this the fastest canonization in history.  At the time, the pope celebrated Peter’s severity of life and doctrine, talent for preaching, and zeal for the truth. 
MORAL OF THE STORY: Severity, preaching, zeal and persecuting others can be a perilous thing!  So … we tread lightly!  😊
(Artwork by Daniel Kennedy/collage with acrylic/xerox on white and green copy paper/1992)

One of my guilty pleasures is subscribing to interior design journals.  I can spend hours pouring over pictures of beautifully designed spaces.  I am especially drawn to restoration projects that take something that was neglected or abandoned and bring it back to renewed life.  I call this a guilty pleasure because in a world that knows profound hunger, untold numbers or refugees, and extremes in economics injustices, the creation of beautiful spaces or the restoration of historic places depicted in these journals is largely for the edification, entertainment, or financial gain of an elite few.  Many of these spaces and these projects are closer to embodiments of the seven deadly sins ... than ideals beauty or restoration within religious or spiritual sensibility.  And still I subscribe.

We spent the summer gathering materials for our application for an historic easement on Thomas Chapel through Virginia’s Department of Historic Resources.  While the chapel and property are already on the Virginia Landmarks Registry and the National Register of Historic Places, the easement will guarantee the chapel’s preservation whoever the future owner is.  If the application is accepted, Thomas Chapel will be preserved in perpetuity … at least as much as human resourcefulness and our legal system can guarantee this.  Acts of God are a whole other matter.
The easement application process has required us to take a fresh look at the religious and spiritual foundations of our work to restore Thomas Chapel.  We were challenged to ponder how this commitment of time and resources to preserve a building in perpetuity can also participate in addressing the world’s great needs?  Can these two forms of restoration be held in tension, or work in unison, as we move forward?

In a recent journal article, I read about the restoration of a 15th century French chateau, the owner said; “When we redo them, we wound them a bit.  You must find a way to keep the charm while making sure you can live in it and carry it on forever.”

I would argue that the restoration process must seek to heal old wounds that were born in the building’s making.  When architecture attains classic status, it becomes isolated from the human conditions under which it was brought into being and from the human consequences that engendered its creation.  And when architecture is separated both from the conditions of origin and operation in experience, a wall is built around it and truncates its historical significance opaque and their current use uncertain.  The task of restoration is to restore continuity between architecture and the everyday events, doings, and suffering that brought it into being.  In other words, our task is not to just restore a building, we must also restore the virtue, while acknowledging the transgressions, of the historical community that sought to build a house of prayer in Thaxton, Virginia. 

Thomas Chapel has been, and it is our intention for it to continue to be, a shrine and pilgrimage site for a living faith.  But this chapel sat fallow for a half century. Certainly, the chapel’s demise was connected its rural location, its lack of amenities, its uncomfortable pews and inflexible interior arrangement.  But is it also possible to imagine Thomas Chapel as living creature waiting patiently for reconciliation from past wounds before it would permit prayer within its walls again?  Portiuncula Guild must prayerfully work to earn its access into this 200-year living history. 
 
Patrick Ellis, October 2022
(with a lot of help from John Dewey/Art as Experience/1934)