Creativity

Trapped in History: The Strange Case of Levi Dust

Steve · October 21, 2010 · 3 Comments

“People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.” — James Baldwin

One day back in the mid-1980s, I was walking through the Missouri Historical Society’s History Museum in St. Louis’ Forest Park. On display was an exhibit of paintings by 19^th-century St. Louis artists. They were very nice, I guess. But one painting reached out and grabbed me by the lapels, shook me violently and said, “Pay attention here!” The person portrayed in the painting, Levi Dust, has been with me ever since and has played a key role in several creative endeavors.

The painting, by artist Matthew (Mat) Hastings, showed an older African-American man in the middle of a dirt street, children running around him and tugging at his clothes. In his upraised hand he held a handbell. I was intrigued. What was going on in this picture? I leaned in. How could I not?

Help Wanted: Some More Thoughts on the Ghosts of History

Steve · April 27, 2010 · Leave a Comment

window — Window at Old State Capitol, Springfield, Illinois. Photo by Steve Givens

“Marilla says that a large family was raised in that old house long ago, and that it was a real pretty place, with a lovely garden and roses climbing all over it. It was full of little children and laughter and songs; and now it is empty, and nothing ever wanders through it but the wind. How lonely and sorrowful it must feel! Perhaps they all come back on moonlit nights…the ghosts of the little children of long ago and the roses and the songs…and for a little while the old house can dream it is young and joyous again.” – Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne Of Avonlea

I do, in fact, believe in ghosts. But not in fleeting gauzy images and rattling chains and, God help us, ectoplasm. I believe in the worn and tattered memories of those who have come and gone before us. For if we do something with our lives that makes a mark and leaves an impression, isn’t there something to be said for the idea that the maker of that mark might linger, too?

If a person raised their family in an old wooden house in an early French and German settlement just to the west of the Mississippi River, if they gave birth there and toiled there and celebrated there and ultimately suffered and died there, shouldn’t there be something left of them besides a portrait or a name in a Bible? Shouldn’t the echo of their footsteps somehow reverberate down through the stairwell of the ages and find the ear of a willing listener?

First Week of Lent: Praying Naked

Steve · February 20, 2010 · 3 Comments

IMG_3177_3 — Detail of Stradivarius cello, photo by Steve Givens

I went to a concert at Maryville University last Monday, two days before Ash Wednesday, for a cello recital by Daniel Lee, the principal cellist with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra. He played four pieces, the first three accompanied by a faculty member, pianist Peter Henderson. Those three sonatas, by Schubert, Debussy and Brahms, were beautiful and moving. The cello and piano intertwined in movements that were, in turn, playful, dark, moody, dramatic, contemplative and searching. I was drawn to the (perhaps obvious) metaphor of the movement of God in our lives, how he “accompanies” and supports and brings to life our own actions and efforts.

And then something even more remarkable happened. Lee came out after the intermission for the final piece, “Sonata for Violoncello Solo, op. 8” by Hungarian composer Zoltán Kodály. It was not a work with which I was familiar. The essential word in the title, of course, is “solo.” He came out without an accompanist and without music and played for what must have been 30-40 minutes, the music pouring forth from him and his 300-year-old instrument like a flowing, erratic, mesmerizing fountain of original creativity and, at least for me, prayer.

In the Beginning

Steve · January 22, 2010 · 1 Comment

Sunrise in Mexico, 2009. Photo by Steve Givens

We all have our ideas of how the world came into being. I like to think God was having a good time when that first light was cast…

The idea was at once captivating and ludicrous.

And as he grew more excited
his enthusiasm made him smile.
A huge sheepish grin spread across his aged face
and somewhere deep in his gut
there began a gentle rumble.

The laughter welled up inside him
and he hissed and sputtered
like a child at church
who doesn’t want to laugh but can think of nothing else.

Finally
knowing he could postpone the moment no longer
he stood
placed his hands on his hips
took a deep breath of his good air
and then the laughter and words poured forth
like a river bursting its banks
spreading quickly over the darkness:

Let there be light.

The play of Mexican light. Photo by Steve Givens, 2009

My Soundtrack: Bright Eyes

Steve · January 4, 2010 · 4 Comments

[an occasional series of essays about life, spirit, and the music that makes up the soundtrack of my life]

Bright Eyes in Nicaragua. Photo by Steve Givens, 2009

Bright eyes, burning like fire.
Bright eyes, how can you close and fail?
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes.

—Mike Batt, recorded by Art Garfunkel

Not long ago on an oldies station, I once again heard this beautiful ballad, which was originally written by British songwriter Mike Batt and recorded by Art Garfunkel for the 1978 animated movie, “Watership Down,” the movie that taught us all how incredibly brutal cute little bunny rabbits can be to each other. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, go rent the movie or, better yet, go read Richard Adams’ novel upon which the movie was based. Good stuff. Not really for kids.

Anyway…short story very long…the song just got me thinking about what it means to be kind and supportive to one another (unlike the bunnies) and how important it is to have bright eyes. Follow me…

Novelist Toni Morrison (“Beloved,” “Song of Solomon,” “Jazz”) was once asked how she became a great writer. She responded, “I am a great writer because when I was a little girl and walked into a room where my father was sitting, his eyes would light up. That is why I am a great writer.”

Are you with me? People become great—they have the confidence to do great things—because they know they are loved and accepted by the people that mean the most to them. We can see it in their eyes. What a great lesson in parenting and friendship.

There is perhaps no greater gift that we can give our children and our friends than our attention and our joy at seeing them and relishing in their dreams and achievements. They need to see our eyes sparkle when they enter a room. We enable and encourage others to seek after greatness by letting them know that we believe they can accomplish whatever it is they hold to be important. Never underestimate the power you possess to help others by just valuing them.

So smile at someone you love and cherish today. Let them know by your words and your bright eyes that you honor and value them. Ask them about their life, their dreams, and their plans for the future. Let them talk. Don’t talk about yourself (I always need to remember that…) And smile — bright-eyed and burning like fire. There’s just not enough of that going around.