Milk and Honey

Milk and Honey
Christian hymn; letters cut from the Bhagavad Gita
40" x 26.25"
2011
(detail shot on right)

This is my new favorite text drawing. It's the old Christian folk song "Michael Row the Boat Ashore", and I cut the individual letters from the Bhagavad Gita. It took me 53 hours to complete, much longer than I expected. The letters form the abstract shape of a boat.

I've always loved this song. It's about faith, long-suffering, and hope. My favorite line is:

River Jordan is deep and wide, halleluia;
Milk and honey on the other side, halleluia.

This "milk and honey" is the hope of humankind; that which we reach for when we suffer. The song is said to have originated with slaves who lived on plantations on the islands just off the coast of Georgia. They would row back and forth to the mainland, through choppy seas, and this song was sung to allay their fear of capsizing. It also served as a metaphor for their captivity, thus milk and honey was a symbol of the freedom that they longed for. But who knows? It's all speculation; all those who know of the song's origin are long gone, presumably dwelling in the land of milk and honey.

I created the piece by cutting the individual letters from the Bhagavad Gita, and as usual in my text drawings, I included a passage from the book from which I took the letters. The passage is from the Bhagavad Gita, Chapter 10, and Krishna is teaching Arjuna about the origin of man's allotment:

All that makes man in his many natures: knowledge and power of understanding unclouded by error, truth, forbearance, calm of spirit, control of senses, happiness, sorrow, birth and destruction, what fears, what is fearless, what harms no creature, the mind unshaken, the heart contented, the will austere, the hand of the giver, fame and honor and infamy also: it is by me only that these are allotted.

Who can argue with him? And what's to be argued? The joys we carry, and the burdens we bear, are the vessels that carry us to the other side. The best we can do is hope for ourselves and for others that we arrive, preferably dry, in the land of abundance.

Earthquake, Agnus Dei, Earthquake

This is a relatively new text piece. It's called "Earthquake, Agnus Dei, Earthquake", and the size of the paper is 12" x 14". The square of type pictured above is more or less centered on the page, and is about 4" x 5". It goes like this:

On the bottom layer I created a chapter from the Koran called "The Earthquake" by cutting the letters from a Bible and gluing them to the paper. I then created "Agnus Dei", a Catholic prayer, by cutting the letters from the Koran and gluing them directly on top of the "Earthquake" letters. I then ended this spectacular feat by spelling out "The Earthquake" again, on top of "Agnus Dei", creating a sort of liturgical sandwich, minus the cheese.

Why did I do this? I liked the idea of stacking the sacred texts methodically and selectively. "The Earthquake", or "Az Zal-zala" (Surah 99), is a very short chapter of the Koran. It speaks of a day when all of man's deeds will be uncovered by a great earthquake, and the appropriate rewards and/or punishments will be meted out. "Agnus Dei", or "Lamb of God", is an equally fun and light-hearted verse. It goes like this:

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace.

Basically it's a blanket prayer for forgiveness; a formal request for the comprehensive pardon of sins already enjoyed, as well as those waiting in the wings. It's beautiful in a way, in that it acknowledges the frailty of man, the certainty of his imperfection, and the need for intervention by God. I'm touched by the sincerity of this prayer, as well as the humility. I'm sure it's been responsible for releasing a good number of Catholics from some serious karmic retribution. Weird how that works. Heck, they don't even have to say it; a priest recites it three times, genuflects, and that's that.

Would that the Muslims had it so easy. They have to work a little harder for repentance. But hey, it's all personal preference. Me, I like my forgiveness to come from within. Easier said than done, of course, but come it does, and that's what's really needed to be set free.

So, back to my piece. I like it. I've been experimenting more with text sandwiches. Problem is, you can't read what's underneath, but that doesn't bother me overmuch. We all know how the plot unfolds. The good guys go to heav'n, the bad ones to hell, and the rest of us are left to find peace within our own skin.