Segullah's Blog, page 49
December 18, 2018
Colly Birds, Christmas Birds
Muriel taught me how to see birds.
We had our second babies within months of each other, and talked frequently, about our similarly aged kids, politics, books, and a love of the natural world. As a naturalist, she spoke the language of plants, but especially birds. Her attunement to them brought them into my attention too.
It wasn’t just about their presence- a blue bird, a yellow wren, or grey dove– but what their presence offered. She saw them in their detail and beauty- the arc of their wings, the arresting gaze in their eyes- they were messengers. When I moved to Davis, she was the one who introduced me to Yolo Basin Preserve, heralding the acres and acres of marshland as a place to be with the birds- egrets, ibis, and red-winged blackbirds. Muriel knew so many- their names, their sounds, and when they showed up loudly, in a pronounced or subtle way in her day- it was how God talked to her.
Muriel taught me to see their grace and humor as an extension of God.
Yet, since I don’t yet speak to the birds, it surprised me when they spoke to me this Christmas. I was to speak in church and wondered where my text would come from- I didn’t want to be trite when there’s so much expectation as the only speaker during the holiday music-focused meeting. Sitting on the couch with my notebook and computer, ready to go, I asked God what words would fall soft and comfort like an eiderdown?
Emily Dickinson must have been a prayer team assistant that night- she answered:
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
It wasn’t a Christmas poem, but still, it landed. Surely, hope belongs to Christmas, I figured? I could go from there. Perched on my couch, trying to discern where next, I sensed a message in the “thing with feathers.” Birds. God. And Emily were trying to get through to me.
Just five feet from me there were birds feathering my Christmas tree- robins, cardinals, and doves. Ah.
The classic birds of Christmas.
Robins: a British holiday classic- correlated with the postal workers who are so busy during the holidays- both are seen as messengers of good tidings at Christmas time.
Doves: bearers of peace, spirit, and symbolic of the feminine divine. Cardinal: their red color matches the blood of Christ, shares a name with the Catholic priest, and unlike so many birds, they don’t flee with the depths of winter but stand out brilliantly in the crisp cold.
Not quite. It was the flocks from the “12 days of Christmas” that came loudest to my mind. Not the partridge in a pear tree, two turtle doves, three French hens, but the four colly birds. Ding, ding, ding! Not “calling” or songbirds, but in fact “colly birds”- coal birds or blackbirds. Colly birds. I had never really given thought to the birds of Christmas- but apparently, they’re more prevalent than I had realized. Same throughout the scriptures. Even the colly bird.
Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap; they have no storehouse or barn, yet God feeds them. How much more valuable are you than the birds! (Luke 12:24)
Not just pretty little dainty birds, but colly birds- coal or blackbirds- the rascally, cawing, crowing birds; Christ pointed his congregation to consider them. Why?
Blackbirds, ravens, and crows aren’t the birds we see depicted with the angels. Ravens have often associated as omens of death. Proverbs gives us the lurid detail of them plucking out eyeballs of naughty children. Plus, that creepy blackbird doing the Wicked Witch’s bidding in the Wizard of Oz. They have a reputation just a bit above vultures, but God says consider them.
And yet, they’re also so much more. They fall stupidly in love as they mate for life, are entirely devoted parents to their young, are wily, cunning, and playfully smart creatures. Or as Pastor Debbie Blue terms in her book Consider the Birds: A Provocative Guide to Birds in the Bible, “creatures of paradox.”
Blue continues,
“It’s one thing to believe God feeds the little pretty birds of the air. They have small appetites. They need a few seeds. Everybody loves them. It’s not that much to feed. They do not seem needy. But what if you’re ravenous?
Is the hope that God will feed you as long as you’re not that hungry, as long as you don’t need that much? God will feed you, sure–if you don’t have the appetite of a little dove, as long as all you need is seeds, dry little seeds? The hope is not so proscribed.
God feeds the ravens, the ravenous, the mixed-up greedy glutton carrion eater. That’s saying a lot more, somehow–something more shocking, maybe, than that God’s willing to give bird food to light eaters. And how much more will God feed us?”
There’s hope for the hungry.
“The raven isn’t pure or innocent — it fails, it blunders, it’s noble, it’s shifty — much like us. Jesus says consider it and don’t be anxious. God feeds the carrion eating procrastinator. God will care for you. Innocence is not a prerequisite.”
Christmas isn’t just for the pretty tweety little birds that are cutely depicted as ornaments. Christ showed up to poverty, stable muck, and animal smells- not just sweet smelling straw and new swaddling clothes. Christ came for us–the colly birds. Perfect people don’t need a Savior, but I don’t know a lot of those. I do know a lot of “creatures of paradox.” I know people who excel in serving in the community but tear themselves to shreds. Others create an amazing home for their families but can’t connect with others who don’t share their same circumstances and fear what is different. I’ve dealt with humans have their life in a hot mess on the inside and outside as they that lead messy lives on the inside or outside. I too am a blackbird living in paradox of wonder and woe.
“Consider the raven” is a call to look in, not just out. God cares for and feeds us as we are. I like to think the colly birds made the cut for the “12 Days of Christmas” just to keep things real.
Perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came to save his people in their imperfections. He is the Lord of the living, and the living make mistakes. He’s not embarrassed by us, angry at us, or shocked. He wants us in our brokenness, in unhappiness, in our guilt and our grief.”
– Chieko N. Okazaki, Lighten Up.
And he cometh into the world that he may save all men if they will hearken unto his voice; for behold, he suffereth the pains of all, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children.
– 2 Nephi 9:21
For me, this scripture works at both Easter and Christmas because they are one and the same- they are the hope of greatest Healer come to earth- to meet us where we are, and find meaning in the paradox of our lives.
It’s hope. And it’s open to all, not just the people who look like they’ve nearly earned salvation by pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps, gold-starring their scripture reading sticker chart for a decade or more. It’s not for doves or parakeets, or peacocks. Christ’s promise in coming is for the unprettiness, blundering, and stable muck living inside us and around us.
“The promise of Christmas is that God is with us, in our joy, in our suffering, and that because he descended to become like us, we can become like him. Our small acts of goodness can be part of the divine plan to save the world, and our own cries will call forth the godly compassion of our fellow beings. Like Jesus, we will be small and helpless and vulnerable. Like Mary birthing him, we will hurt and suffer. Like Joseph, we will be perplexed by God’s working in our lives, be invited to participate in miracles we do not understand. Like the shepherds, we will be amazed and afraid. Like the wise men, [who’s coming triggered Herod’s execution order of the infant boys] we will inadvertently cause great suffering despite our best intentions. And in and through and below all of this, God promises to be with us—”
– Kristine Haglund, BCC
I can’t mouth the word hope without arcing my soft palate into as schwa sound- I’m so very geeky- a decade of vocal training has repeatedly pressed into my muscle memory. Taking the vowel on a schwa instead of a spread vowel (like the ones I knew so well in Texas) lifts a syllable, keeping the sound from falling flat. Hope- when you say it with the schwa- matches a similar lifting, lightening the love and hope of Christ in your life does the same to every little quark in my quirky body.
I love that Peter calls in a “lively hope.” Our hope is in life and living in this moment with Christ’s healing right now.
We feel it rise, float up like a feather by the hope wrapped in swaddling clothes, the humble birth of a baby who has been the greatest healer, hope-giver, our world has known. It’s alive meeting us in our living.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
God’s hope- doesn’t ask a crumb of us- it’s just there. It’s a gift “and sings the tune without the words- And never stops- at all,” much like the incessant ravens cawing outside my house every morning and night- a squawking song I’ve never heard as a carol. But now it is becoming one to me. They’re the colly birds of Christmas to remind me of hope in Christ’s coming “with healing in his wings” for all of us in our paradox, unprettiness, and ravenous lives- able and eager to offer us hope this season, every day and always right now.
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December 17, 2018
Authentic Savior
“We are daughters of our Heavenly Parents, who love us, and we love them.” Those were the words that popped out of my mouth unrehearsed a few months ago while reciting the Young Women Theme, and I’ve said it that way ever since. I’m not trying to “steady the ark” or usurp authority over a calling that’s not my own; it just no longer felt authentic to me to talk about exaltation and divine nature without acknowledging the existence of both of my Heavenly Parents. And I’m done with inauthentic.
This month I accompanied my Young Women to Relief Society opening exercises for the last time. A Relief Society sister was standing close enough to hear the alternate words I quietly said for the theme, and she slipped her arm around me. “I love you,” she said simply.
I don’t always have the guts or the energy to be authentic at church. Sometimes wrestling my kids through sacrament meeting leaves me too exhausted, in too sour of a mood, to contribute a comment I know I should share. Sometimes I feel myself hiding in shame because of the idea I have of all the things people expect a bishop’s wife to do. (Say four-letter words when cut off in traffic? Probably not on the list.) But if I’m making one New Year’s resolution it’s not to swear less or to arrive earlier to sacrament meeting (even though I should work on both those things). It’s to be authentic at church. Or at least to have a moment of authenticity and connection with at least one person every Sunday.
Connection is built on vulnerability and authenticity. When I think about moments that have made me feel less alone, they include: when a Young Women lesson turned into a frank discussion about how many of us were struggling with anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideations, and why we choose to stay in our bodies even when it’s hard. When a friend told us about the burden of shame she felt as a teenager when her mom had an affair. When a neighbor spoke in testimony meeting about the misogyny she sees in the Old Testament and the scriptures, and how she is struggling to come to terms with God’s love for women. When a group of amazing women shared what weighed on their hearts this year—chronic illness, loss, divorce, foster parenting, sexual abuse, children fighting mental health battles.
When I think about what makes the nativity story memorable and endearing, it’s the really imperfect details. Mary was unmarried and pregnant, for heaven’s sake, and her fiancé was thinking the worst until an angel came to straighten things out. An inconvenient census and an ill-timed road trip meant that she brought forth the Son of God far from home, probably feeling very alone. Oh, and surrounded by animals.
The Savior lived his entire life with authenticity. He was not bothered by what people thought of him; he was motivated by his love for his Father, and his love for us.
He was the man who boldly invited, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” The man who healed on the Sabbath and cast money changers out of the temple. Who said, “Son, thy sins be forgiven thee,” within earshot of the Pharisees and Sadducees, and told his disciples that not one stone of the temple would be left standing upon another.
He was the man who declared, “I am the good shepherd,” and, in the Capernaum synagogue, “I am the bread of life.” The man who calmed the wind and the waves with the sound of his voice.
He stood in the Nazareth synagogue and said, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised. To preach the acceptable year of the Lord.” And fearlessly announced, “This day is this scripture fulfilled in your ears.”
He didn’t hide his hurt when he asked his disciples, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?” The Savior didn’t pretend things were easy when he earnestly pled, “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.”
He was the man who taught, “Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world,” and who proclaimed, “I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”
I love him. I am so excited to study his life in 2019, and to strive to emulate his courage, his authenticity, and his love.
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December 14, 2018
Segullah’s Winter Journal
A Force of Nature by Emily Fox King
Welcome to Segullah’s first quarterly journal, Winter edition!
In an effort to set apart the journal offerings from our consistently engaging blog content, we’re moving to a format which will highlight our artists, longer prose pieces, interviews, and select poetry. Publishing during the months of December, March, June, and October, the journal promises to continue delivering high-quality pieces from both new and established writers and artists from the vibrant community affiliated with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
How fitting that our first quarterly journal launches during the month we commemorate the birth of the Firstborn, the only begotten Son of God. During Sacrament Meeting this week as we sang, “O come let us adore Him,” my mind settled in on the word, “adore.”
I thought about what I adore most—my babies. They were adorable (not so much anymore as teens and adults, but still … I reminisce)! Precious and new, they were perfect in those moments I nestled them to me and smelled their little newborn heads. Incidentally, I experienced this phenomenon with my biological children and the son I adopted at five years old. I protected them, treasured them, tended to their needs and my relationships with them.
With the notes of “O Come All Ye Faithful” providing the score for these memories, I considered how I might adore Jesus Christ. I vowed to think of Him as an infant during these remaining days of the year. I took inventory. How can I take care of my relationship with Him? How might I protect my faith in Him? How will I treasure Him?
This journal offers chances for you, our readers, to ponder Him, too. In our guest contributor, Sylvia Newman’s, essay, you’ll detect a divine connection to a family member she has yet to meet. From our poetry editor, I’m honored to have one of my pieces featured alongside Lisa Garfield’s, both nodding to offerings we make to Christ through our broken hearts and discovery of identity. Radiating joy, this quarter’s featured artist, Emily Fox King, will dazzle you with her exuberant personality and paintings. And continuing the trend of fascinating interviews, my cohort, Linda Hoffman Kimball, brings it home in her interview with the incomparable Carol Lynn Pearson, our featured writer of the quarter. (See below for previously published and new poetry from this icon.) Finally, long-time Segullah staff member, Melonie Cannon, reviews Eric D. Huntsman’s new release, Becoming the Beloved Disciple: Coming Unto Christ Through the Gospel of John.
From all of us at Segullah, Merry Christmas, and enjoy!
Table of Contents
Prose
Finding My Grandfather by Sylvia Newman
Poetry
Broken Offering by Sherilyn Olsen
Visual Arts
Artist’s Bio for Emily Fox King
A Force of Nature: an Interview with Emily Fox King
Interview
Carol Lynn Pearson – “Freelance Philosopher”
Previously Published Poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson
Poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson – Premiering on Segullah
Book Review
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Review of Becoming the Beloved Disciple: Coming Unto Christ Through the Gospel of John by Eric D. Hunstman
I immediately admire anyone who writes a book attempting to bring others to Christ. By the world’s standards, it’s not the most popular topic nor will it be a best seller. Becoming the Beloved Disciple, Coming unto Christ through the Gospel of John, by Eric D. Huntsman, PhD., can be added to the long and esteemed list of commentaries (found as early as 218 A.D.) on the book of John. This book is specifically written for an LDS audience. It’s a thoughtful discourse on reading the Gospel of John from a literary and spiritual perspective, not a historical or factual one. By seeing the characters in John as diverse types (dare I say, spiritual archetypes?) rather than actual individuals, we can apply their lessons to ourselves.
Why do people take such a keen interest in the Book of John? First, it sets itself apart from the other three gospels because it has unique stories such as the raising of Lazarus from the dead, the Samaritan woman at the well, seven new miracles, and additional visits to Jerusalem. In addition, the first three gospels (called the synoptic gospels because they have so many parallels and are like a set) begin with the Nativity story. John goes back even further, to the creation of the earth, when the author uses the phrase “In the beginning was the word…” and saying that the Word was made flesh in Jesus Christ. John portrays Jesus as the Son of God. The “I AM” phrase that is spoken to Moses is echoed throughout John as Jesus Christ describes Himself:
“I am the bread of life” (6:35, 41, 48, 51)
“I am from [God], and He sent Me” (7:29)
“I am the Light of the world” (8:12, 9:5)
“I am [God]” (8:58)
“I am the door” (10:7, 9)
“I am the good shepherd” (10:11, 14)
“I am the Son of God” (10:36)
“I am the resurrection and the life” (11:25)
“I am the way and the truth and the life” (14:6)
“I am the vine” (15:1, 5)
There is no question as to Christ’s identity in the Book of John. The book is written so the readers might “believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,” (John 20) and have everlasting life.
Mr. Huntsman, a Greek scholar, begins his book identifying his love of the Book of John because it teaches discipleship. The Greek word for discipleship “suggested not only a student or pupil who learned from a teacher but also an apprentice who strove to become like a master. In other words, being a disciple was not only about knowing, it was also about doing and being.” (Huntsman, 5) Mr. Huntsman wants the readers to see how their “doing and being” is mirrored in the characters of the book.
Each character has their own chapter dedicated to his/her discipleship and the author clearly explains how each of them come to Christ (or do not come, as in the case of the crowd eating loaves and fishes). Disciples came to Jesus through the witness of others, independently, or through immediate recognition. Some came to Jesus with perplexing questions and sought understanding before they moved forward in faith. The Samaritan woman is presented as a type of outsider who finds salvation and brings others to Christ in great joy. And for those close friends of Jesus such as Mary Magdelene, Martha, or Peter, discipleship meant being a witness of love stronger than any sin, death, shame or grief. Like the spokes coming into the center of a wheel, Mr. Huntsman’s book echoes the call of the Book of John that there should be unity in the body of Christ. We might all start at different places, but if our focus is on the Savior, then we will become one in abiding with Him.
One of the most compelling ideas in the book is the unnamed “beloved disciple” or the one that Christ loved. Because he is unnamed, Huntsman sees this as a key for us as Christians to identify with him in our own discipleship. The beloved disciple rested against Christ’s bosom at the last supper, stood at the foot of the cross as a witness, ran to the empty tomb when he heard the news of the resurrection, and then followed the Risen Lord. So should we all ask about our own personal relationship with Christ. Do we abide in Him? Are we a witness to His death and resurrection? Are we exuberant in sharing our testimony? Do we follow Him?
One of Huntsman’s best gifts is making connections between the scriptures and their application. His Greek translations add depth to these connections. For example, the author acknowledges that Mary’s and Martha’s outward demonstrations of love and faith are deeply symbolic and acceptable. But, he also concludes that Lazarus, a character acted upon and silent, represents “how all of us are recipients of grace and saving power if we obey his call…to a new spiritual life.” (101) Huntsman creates a series of connections between the healing and raising of the man at the Pool of Bethesda where the Lord teaches “the graves shall hear his voice, And all shall come forth…(John 5) to Lazarus’ resurrection which anticipates the Lord’s own resurrection. But, Huntsman takes us into the tiny details. He notes that Lazarus needed the voice of the Lord to come forth and others to help him take off his grave wrappings when he left the tomb. Jesus, however, arose on His own and left His folded facecloth and napkins behind – symbolic of never having to enter into death again. Huntsman’s book is replete with connections like this and for me, some of the best parts of the book.
One connection I did not agree with was Huntsman’s discussion of “hard sayings.” He tells the story of Christ speaking to the crowd and calling Himself the “bread of life” and how as followers, we will need to eat His flesh and drink His blood to dwell with Him. Many in the crowd responded, “This is a hard saying, who can hear it?” (John 6:60) Remember the sacrament had not been introduced yet. It was a “hard saying” for the Jews because the eating of bread was equal to reading and understanding the covenant of God described in the Torah. Jesus is actually telling the crowd that coming to Him is more important than the Mosaic Law. We know this because when he spoke with the Samaritan woman at the well, Christ told her that she would not thirst or hunger any more if she drank the “living water” and meat that he brought. He was offering an alternative to the words in Sirach 24:20-22 from the Mosaic law where it states, “He who eats of me will hunger still, he who drinks of me will thirst for more…” Christ is superior to the Law. He is providing the way of Salvation and it was “hard” for the Jews to accept this.
In contrast, Huntsman compares these hard sayings of Christ’s to the LDS Church’s historical questions and “former racial attitudes, the behavior of past and even current leaders, difficult doctrines, the roles of women, the sometimes unkind treatment of LGBTQ individuals, and policies…such as…the status of children of same-sex couples…”. (82) He then says these hard sayings “require additional faith to understand.” There is no comparison, in my opinion. Christ gives us the words of eternal life, the church’s history, handbook, and policies do not. Historical and present-day wrongs are not “hard sayings” that we need to have more faith to understand. They are just plain erroneous. In this case, Huntsman focuses on the branches instead of the Vine.
Despite this one objection, I found Huntsman’s book to be valuable reading that gave me new insights into the book of John. It is not a handbook of how to be a disciple like the title suggests. It is asking us to hold a mirror to ourselves and see which character in John we are most like in our personal discipleship. It is a call to introspection, but not a guide to get there. For readers of Huntsman’s book and for readers of John’s gospel, the most important question is “Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Lord God?” Huntsman does and so does our beloved disciple. “This is the disciple which testifieth of these things, and wrote these things: and we know that his testimony is true.” (John 21:24).
The post Review of Becoming the Beloved Disciple: Coming Unto Christ Through the Gospel of John by Eric D. Hunstman appeared first on Segullah.
Previously Published Poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson
Lisa by Emily Fox King
A DRAMA IN TWO ACTS
I dim
I dim
I have no doubt
If someone blew
I would go out.
I did not.
I must be brighter
Than I thought.
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Alice Deena by Emily Fox King
PIONEERS
My people were Mormon pioneers.
Is the blood still good?
They stood in awe as truth
Flew by like a dove
And dropped a feather in the West.
Where truth flies you follow
If you are a pioneer.
I have searched the skies
And now and then
Another feather has fallen.
I have packed the handcart again
Packed it with the precious things
And thrown away the rest.
I will sing by the fires at night
Out there on uncharted ground
Where I am my own captain of tens
Where I blow the bugle
Bring myself to morning prayer
Map out the miles
And never know when or where
Or if at all
I will finally say,
“This is the place.”
I face the plains
On a good day for walking.
The sun rises
And the mist clears.
I will be all right:
My people were Mormon pioneers.
[image error]
Sleeper by Emily Fox King
WITHIN
I read a map once
Saying the kingdom of God
Was within me
But I never trusted
Such unlikely ground.
I went out.
I scoured schools
And libraries
And chapels and temples
And other people’s eyes
And the skies and the rocks,
And I found treasures
From the kingdom’s treasury
But not the kingdom.
Finally I came in quiet
For a rest
And turned on the light.
And there
Just like a surprise party
Was all the smiling royalty,
King, Queen, court.
People have been
Locked up for less, I know.
But I tell you
Something marvelous
Is bordered by this skin:
I am a castle
And the kingdom of God
Is within.
The post Previously Published Poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson appeared first on Segullah.
Carol Lynn Pearson – “Freelance Philosopher”
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Carol Lynn Pearson – poet, sage and thinker
Carol Lynn Pearson is a courageous daughter of God, a sister in Zion, and a sage to all seeking truth and wisdom especially surrounding feminism and our divine origins and potential. These words from her website capture her candor and strength:
I’m Carol Lynn Pearson – a poet, author, playwright, screenwriter, performer, speaker, general free-lance philosopher. Born in Salt Lake City. M.A. in theatre from Brigham Young University. Two bumper stickers over the years are instructive: “Loving Kindness is my Religion”—and “Question Authority.” Life has pushed me onto unexpected paths, and it all works out because…
“ . . . I face the plains
On a good day for walking.
The sun rises
And the mist clears.
I will be all right:
My people were Mormon pioneers.”
She describes her work this way:
My work ranges from a sweet poem about a day-old child to books and plays written on the challenging frontier where religion meets explosive social concerns. I was born into “women’s issues” and married into “gay issues.” My commitment is to help make church and society safe for our LGBT sisters and brothers and to assist in transforming patriarchy into partnership.”
Linda: It is a delight to talk with you here for Segullah. I love your description that your life’s work is “the challenging frontier where religion meets explosive social concerns.” That is deliciously provocative. What have you been up to lately in that regard?
Carol Lynn: Strangely in the last few months I’ve been writing poems – much more radical poems. I have posted a couple on my facebook page. Some of them are of the more gentle variety. What I’m doing is addressing the gender of God.
Linda: That’s great and intriguing! Hold that thought! Knowing I would be talking with you, I asked the Segullah staff members if they had questions for you. Here’s one for you: “If there were one thing you could do over and do differently, what might that be?”
Carol Lynn: Well, of course I should say I should have married a different man. But the path that I took – that I felt was right at the time – has opened every door for me to do the life work that I believe I came here to do. From the information that I had and from my own intuitive guidance, I know that I did the best I could at the moment. I love what some great Eastern mind has said: “It’s best to look at the past as pure fate and look at the future as pure opportunity.”
It’s very easy – especially as we feel that everything we’re doing is so important and may even impact people’s lives forever so and that we are such vitally important human beings that if we make a misstep it will reverberate across history! I do not spend time looking back and regretting. There is a lot of grief that I experience from a lot of things that have come into my life, but I don’t want to live with the attitude that I should have done things differently.
Linda: I agree. We are an accumulation of all we experience. Okay, here’s another question for you: “Carol Lynn has written so much about her personal life and beliefs. Is there anything she won’t write about?”
Carol Lynn: If I won’t write about it, why would I be interviewed about it? (laughs).
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Carol Lynn showing off her fancy boots
There are some personal things I won’t share. I started keeping a diary over 60 years ago when I was a senior in high school, and I have kept up with my diary very well. It is a treasure trove. Some historian is going to find it quite interesting. It truly holds every personal thing I have ever thought or done. Everything. It’s my one real addiction.
Last night I had to catch up with about 4 days, and I gave a good description of Thanksgiving and the goods and the bads and all that. Once in a while I do have to go back. It contains everything of any consequence. Every personal thought is recorded as faithfully as I can in that diary. I’m not going to be the one to put it out there. I don’t know what restrictions I can put on it if somebody chooses to write a biography of me someday. I decided a long time ago that I was going to trust history to be a kind judge.
Linda: Another Segullah staffer asks, “How did you get your start publishing your poetry?”
Carol Lynn: My very dear, queer husband (and who else but a very dear, queer husband would do this?) got the idea “I’ve got to publish my wife’s poems. They’re so great!”
So we went to Salt Lake waiting to see who would be first in line to publish my work. Actually, we only went to Bookcraft. We already had the illustrations from Trevor Southey.
Linda: Such gorgeous illustrations!
Carol Lynn: Marve Wallin at Bookcraft, said “There’s NO WAY we could publish poetry. Just no way. It could not happen. I just wouldn’t sell.”
So we said, “Could you just take that manuscript and have your wife read it?”
He said, “No, I can’t.”
We went home, and Gerald said, “Anybody can be a publisher. All it takes is a little money and you just do it!”
He was a dreamer and very often he made things happen. This was a thing that he made happen. I have to forgive every other thing because this is what put me on the map. Without any of this, I would have had a simple little life with some simple little guy in Spanish Fork and maybe writing a poem for the Ensign now and then.
Gerald decided he would be the publisher. We borrowed $2000 from the Credit Union at BYU. I was working as a scriptwriter for BYU Motion Pictures. So we did that, and he was in charge. The book was a very attractive little book – Beginnings. It came out in 1967, a year after we were married.
Linda: My best friend in high school was Mormon (I was not yet) and she shared the book “Beginnings” with me in the late 1960’s. I absolutely loved it. I thought, “if this is the kind of talented, dynamic women they produce, maybe I should check this place out!”
Carol Lynn: It was just the right thing at the right time. I could never recreate that kind of experience in publishing. It could not be done.
This supported us for quite a while. Gerald took a package up to BYU bookstore and asked the buyer, “Will you take some of these?” And the buyer said, “Well, poetry will never sell, but because she’s a local person, I’ll take four copies on consignment.”
Gerald said, “Can you just take the package on consignment? I will take away any that don’t sell.”
It was later that day the BYU buyer called and said, “Do you have any more of those books that you left me?”
Then Gerald went down to the 70’s Bookstore in Provo, and the manager said, “Oh, I was hoping someone would come along with these poems. I kept getting calls about them!”
I’m telling you, it was just a bizarre phenomenon that was just really stunning.
Linda: This has the tang of miraculous to it.
Carol Lynn: Yeah. Either my fate or a really large fluke that is unaccountable, but there was just this crossroads where something I was doing matched something that Mormons just loved. The market then was not flooded with all kinds of artistic things in every direction.
Deseret Book never published my poetry, but they did carry it. There was a period of months that Deseret Book ordered 500 copies. See, these little poems, there was nothing controversial about them at all. All of these simple things that somehow people were just drawn to. There’s no way I can explain it. It was just a phenomenon.
It was amazing. It was scary. I put that out there and people started reading these simple poems and then it just really got big. Every writer hopes for something like that. So I just went with it.
I became a public figure in the church immediately. I was quoted all over the place. I was invited to the luncheon of the wives of all the General Authorities. Jessie Evans Smith was sitting at the table with me, and she said (I can see her right now!), “My dear, I hope you’ll be reading the poem on page such and such!” That was “Day Old Child.” Well, when I read that, she was there glowing. Her lips were moving with mine as I read the poem.
I was invited to Relief Societies to read and to go here and there to read. There was no proscriptions against selling things at the time, so I sold books after these get-togethers. This is how we supported our little family for quite some time.
Linda: Another Segullah sister asks, “What do you think is the general LDS response to poetry?”
Carol Lynn: My case was totally an anomaly. Today we know that especially Mother’s Milk [by Rachel Steenblik, featured here at Segullah.] has had quite a good sale. It sold to an audience who was already in that arena of being ready to push for new things. Yesterday a friend sent me an article from LDS Living in which some major BYU psychologist had written about husbands and wives spending time together and apart, and he quoted my poem “On Nest Building.” My stuff is still used from time to time.
But I have no real basis to say “This is how people will respond to books of poetry in the Church.” The vast majority of Church members want sweet things that will give them an injection of testimony. That’s what most of them want.
My thought is that poetry is supposed to do a little probing and a little prickling.
Linda: Like the poems you’re producing now?
Carol Lynn: I don’t know what I’m going to do with the poems I’m writing right now. They’re for an audience ready to hear these things. Nevertheless, I think they’re very, very important.
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Carol Lynn on top of a hill by her home in California
Linda: I’m sure they are. What is your process for writing poetry? Do you do a lot of drafting or revisions?
Carol Lynn: Most of my poems in my earlier books were mostly really short. They would generally come out in one sitting. I would always go back and do a little shifting here and there.
The ones I’m writing now are longer and, I don’t know. I’m just feeling in a sweet, soft space as I write these poems that are very challenging. I do sort of a very short draft sitting in my chair in my bedroom with pen and notebook. I like to do that. Then, when I have enough to take it to the next level, I have to sit down at the computer. That’s kind of how I do it.
Linda: I loved the phrase you used in your remarks on your website: “the space where religion meets explosive social concerns.” Is that what’s fueling the new wave of the “more radical” poetry that you’re creating?
Carol Lynn: Oh, yeah. We need to review the gender of God.
Linda: Another Segullah woman asks, “Does Carol Lynn still write poetry?” I guess we know the answer to that.
Carol Lynn: Well, not “still.” Surprisingly, it’s “once again.” It’s been within the last two months.
Linda: Oh, so it’s very recent!
Carol Lynn: Oh, yeah.
This is the little tiny poem that gives the reason why I’m doing this new writing. I went to a fireside in Berkeley. This one was about women in liturgy. After it was done, I was very upset. and I cried the next day. And the next day I wrote a poem. Then another. And another.
Here it is:
Having been assured by the scholar
that none of the men
in the leadership of my church
have any interest in doing the heavy lifting
that would be required to address
such a large and vital issue as
The gender of God
it falls to me to do the heavy lifting
in poetry.
Linda: Wow. This is mighty.
Carol Lynn: I know. I am just having the best time.
Linda: Who were the poets you were most inspired by in your life?
Carol Lynn: Emily Dickinson and Dorothy Parker.
Linda: Here’s something I want to know. How are you able to keep yourself in the institutional Church’s good graces, especially since other people who have spoken out have been excommunicated?
Carol Lynn: Well, I don’t do what someone else did recently which was to put out a picture of Jeffrey Holland with the words “Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire.” I don’t do that.
Linda: I find a persuasive attitude of respect throughout your quest for more truth.
Carol Lynn: Living where I live – near Oakland, California – has been useful for me. In the 1990’s when the September 6 were excommunicated, I spoke to my stake president. I have always had a good relationship with my stake presidents. I have always kept them up to date on what I was doing at the time. This was the decade when I was doing Mother Wove the Morning. It gave the whole history of God the Mother and said we need to bring her back.
My stake president in the 1990’s told me that “Yes, the Brethren call me about you from time to time. They say ‘Should we be doing something about Sister Pearson?’”
He said to them in their conversations, “Leave her alone. She does better PR for the Church than you can ever buy. Leave her alone.”
My wonderful stake president and I struggled together through the terrible Prop 8 time and all of that difficulty, especially in California. When Prop 8 was passed, I stopped going to church for the first time in my life. And I continued to have lengthy email conversations with “my” three stake presidents.[image error]
So when I stopped going to Church after Prop 8, I told my stake president I hadn’t put on a dress in three months. He said, “I didn’t know that.”
He didn’t try to chastise me. He just said, “What’s going to happen next?”
At the end of our long conversation I said, “If you come up with some way you would like to work in our stake to bless the lives of our gay members and their families, I will come back, and I will help you do it. Other than that, I’m gone.”
He said, “That’s a very interesting thought, Carol Lynn.”
So I continued to send them stuff to think about. The harm is so egregious that you cannot do nothing.
Nine months after I stopped going to Church I got an email from one of my former bishops who is one of the three great stake presidents I’m speaking of. He said, “Carol Lynn, we have decided what we’re going to do to move forward on this, and we’re going to take some of your great ideas. We would like to know if you would be willing to meet with us.”
I said, “Hallelujah! I will!”
So I met with these three stake presidents, these three splendid men. The stake president was a very brave man. They had already decided to hold 5th Sunday kind of things in every ward in the Stake, and do it all within two weeks. That way if they got into trouble, it would all be over quickly. (laughs.) Each of them would go to one of the wards and give a presentation to the adults about better loving and understanding our gay brothers and sisters. Nothing was said or done that was so radical that you’d think, “Oh, there’s an excommunication coming up for this person.” But there were things said and done that had never been said or done before.
I invited Bob Rees who was in the area to come, and he was astounded. He said to me, “I cannot believe it. Listening to that I felt like I was on the banks of the Susquehanna River.”
Linda: Why hasn’t that become a church-wide “thing”?
Carol Lynn: There were some other occasions! The stake president and I got inquiries from other stake presidents asking for information. Some of what we did was utilized by other people. The Salt Lake Tribune had a front page story about what the Oakland Stake was doing. So it did have an impact.
And of course I knew I couldn’t help them out with this if I was not attending, so the next Sunday after I had this conversation with my stake presidency, I just marched into Church, and everybody loved me. And my ward loves me now.
Linda: What’s not to love?
Carol Lynn: Yeah! My stake president in the 1990’s brought guests three or four times to see me when I was performing in Mother Wove the Morning when I was playing in San Francisco because he wanted to “show me off.” He had high powered friends. He wanted to let them know “In our church we can do things like that.”
I don’t create trouble on the Church’s ground, on their territory. I do not get up and pray to Heavenly Mother. There was a big flap about that at BYU in 1991 that prompted Pres. Hinckley to make a statement that praying to Mother in Heaven would not be countenanced. I told this same stake president, “I want to assure you, that if I am giving a prayer in the Church building, I will never say anything or do anything that will be out of the ordinary. I will do the expected prayer.”
He said, “That’s wonderful. So will you give the opening prayer in Stake Conference?” And I did.[image error]
I’m very open about my work, but I am not confrontive. Soon after I wrote The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy I signed a copy and mailed them to all the 15 General Authorities. And in the package was another copy signed to each wife by name. I sent them to all the women’s leaders as well. I knew I would never hear back from any of them. They can’t respond to anything that’s at all controversial. I’ve been glad to know that those books are up there. I’m sure somebody has read them.
I have not been reticent to put my stuff out, but I have never done that in a way that is obviously insulting.
I write about that several times in The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy. I’m open that I believe that Brother Joseph made an error. I really believe that we’re not quite as special as we think we are. I think that our Mormon (and yes, I will still use that word) community is a wonderful corner of God’s vast Zion. There are things that could be so much better, but I think the Church has a lot of good that is enviable.
So it’s all confusing, but I just do what I feel called to do. And so far I’ve been allowed to do it. Not only allowed, but appreciated. I asked for meetings with my bishop and my stake president before The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy was published, and they both said positive things about it.
I know that people will continue to say, “Why has she not been excommunicated?” and I can’t answer that. Addressing polygamy has been a mountain I was willing to die on. I thought it was possible that someone in Salt Lake would contact my bishop or my stake president and say, “It’s time to have a disciplinary counsel.” I thought that was possible. I didn’t think it was very likely, but if I had known that was going to happen, I would have done it anyway.
Linda: Who were the women who were mentors in your life, and what did they do or what were they like to gain that status for you?
Carol Lynn: Looking way back, I felt myself to be pretty much alone. Just before Gerald and I left Provo, women were getting together in “consciousness raising groups.” That’s what they were called. There were a few of us who did that. That included Elouise Bell and Jan Tyler and other women. They weren’t necessarily mentors to me. We were “co-conspirators.” (laughs)
Prior to that, I met some of the Mormon women who had been “doing things.” Stella Oaks and I talked about a lot of things. We spoke about the ERA, and we even went to a meeting together.
I remember Helen Candland Stark dropped a little pamphlet off by my home as she was on her way somewhere – I still have it – that was about the gender of God that was from, I think, the Quakers. It was about the ancient, ancient notions of the femininity of God. I just drank that up.
I don’t know that inside the Church there was any particular woman who guided me. I felt like I was pretty much doing it on my own.
Linda: Do you have any thoughts on the new two hour block for Church meetings starting in January 2019?
Carol Lynn: Being a Libra I go around saying “On the one hand we have this. And on the other hand we have that.” So it will be a good thing, certainly time-wise and just in general. I wish we would have more frequent Relief Society. For me, the most valuable things often happen in Relief Society.
Linda: Do you have any recommendations of good books?
Carol Lynn: I have recently been reading Stephen Pinker’s The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence has Declined from 2012. 800 pages! I had no idea when I ordered it on Amazon for $15. He’s incredibly smart and well-positioned. I’ve also been reading this huge book of Mary Oliver poems. I should be doing a lot more reading, but life itself takes up a lot of time. People need me for one thing or another, and I have been putting my energy into writing these poems. It’s so delicious for me to do that, so I don’t have much reading time.
Linda: Thank you so much, my friend, for sharing your life and thoughts with Segullah’s readers. Good luck with your new poetic writing adventures. Thanks for your poetry, your common sense, and your wisdom beyond this world. Thanks for acting on what you feel God is calling you to do. Thanks for your spunky humor and your sharp mind. What a gift you are.
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Carol Lynn’s birthday with friends
The post Carol Lynn Pearson – “Freelance Philosopher” appeared first on Segullah.
A Force of Nature: an interview with artist Emily Fox King
A Force of Nature by Emily Fox King
Segullah: Welcome, Emily! I love your exuberant paintings, and I’m thrilled to find out about you – the creator of these impressive works. Fill us in a little on your background and what fuels your creative zeal.
Emily: I’ve always made work about my life. In my early 20’s I painted overweight and fat ballerinas, as a metaphor for myself (an ex-ballerina who always felt out of place, loved ballet, but was born into the wrong body type). Ballet functioned as a metaphor for a rigid and set way of being, similar to the options that are presented in Mormon culture for women. You can marry and have children, or marry and have children, so it seems. (I know there are more options personally, but institutionally, this is what is presented.)
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Floral 51 by Emily Fox King
Later, in grad school at BYU I explored notions of femininity and how the feminine gender is constructed, as well as how Mormon culture references outdated ideas of womanhood. I was incredibly frustrated in my quest to find a mate. I had a lot of boyfriends, but they didn’t really want to marry me. I thought, here I am, incredibly talented (ha!) and it seems all the boys are looking for MORE. What more can they want? I cook, sew, love being around children, play the guitar, piano, make art videos, draw, paint, ride horses, speak Spanish, volunteer weekly at the MTC, love Jesus, and nobody is seriously interested in me.
My final MFA show at BYU was a life size house model (kind of like those fake kitchens and bedrooms at IKEA) filled with drawings of women from the 1950’s, art videos where I starred as an “Esther Williams-esque” woman swimming in a pool of donuts, myself in a beauty pageant, myself as a ballerina dancing on a stage, as well as paintings of dolls, and ceramics of doll heads, surrounded by vintage ephemera, furniture, and wallpaper.
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Emily with her family
I met my husband 2 years after grad school. He was a baptized member of the church, but hadn’t attended since childhood. He pursued me with refreshing interest and persistence, so I married him. I was disappointed that it wasn’t a temple marriage, and felt very lost at the time. I wondered if I had made a mistake – which I realize most people wonder about anyway, but I knew the Church always taught about temple marriages. So I thought I had pretty much ruined my life. However, having to go out on my own and stop being a “sheep” has been so good for me. I married a wonderful person, became a step-mom instantly, and feel like God has been showing me my own path.
Segullah: Tell us about your background and how you became interested in art.
Emily: I’m the middle of 7 children, 2 boys, 5 girls. My mom is an artist, my dad is a gynecologist. I’ve got art coming in on both sides, as my dad’s only sister was an artist, and my mom is a painter now. Growing up, she wasn’t painting as much as she does now. (Find her on Instagram @ debfoxart. She paints temples.). She was always sewing, running a silk floral arrangement business, knitting, remodeling our home, or landscaping our yard. She is an incredibly creative and active person, always making something.
And then my dad is a highly skilled surgeon and very particular and detail oriented when it comes to surgery, woodworking, or playing the guitar. My sisters have all graduated from college in the Humanities: creative writing, documentary film, interior design, and nursing (ok that’s not a humanities topic, but she’s a musician on the side.:-) My brothers are into business, but in any case I come from a very musical and creative family.
I have ALWAYS loved art. My mom used to draw little black and white marker faces on circles cut out of cardstock and then she would glue them to a popsicle stick. I loved playing with them, and more than that I loved watching my mom draw the faces for me.
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All the beauty you will ever need by Emily Fox King
My mom and dad gave me free rein on projects and a lot of support. My mom always let me use her sewing machine and craft room for my projects (which now that I’m a parent myself, I can see how annoying that must have been). I didn’t take any art classes in high school, (I was too busy playing the bass guitar accompanying my school’s jazz choir) yet I was so sure that I would study art in college. There wasn’t any other major on the planet as far as I was concerned.
I always thought I was good at drawing. Then I went to college and realized that I’m a crummy technical drawer. I’ve always struggled with “realism.” I went to Ricks for the first two years of college and had some incredible drawers in my classes, they could outdraw me any day, but I was always good at imagining things, distorting, exaggerating. I had some incredible instructors, who helped me with those technical skills.
After two years, I transferred to Western Washington University in my home state. That school is in Bellingham, WA. That school and town contrasted greatly from the small, rural, LDS-populated town of Rexburg. There’s a big hippy vibe in Bellingham; Church members were few in number; the politics were very liberal, and you could smell the scent of freshly burning marijuana everywhere. I loved it! I had some great instructors and thrived in the creative and nurturing atmosphere. I graduated from WWU with a BA in “Painting.”
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35 by Emily Fox King
On a whim, at Christmas break, I decided to apply to grad school at BYU. I had been rejected from attending BYU right out of high school but now with a portfolio, an okay GPA, and recent diploma, I applied for an MFA there. I was surprised to find out that I had been accepted. I was relieved also, because it meant putting off “the real world” for a couple more years. I was spared having to find employment for a little while longer. Let me clarify that I always worked through college and had a part-time job while going to school. I just had never had an art career job.
I should also mention, that I served a Spanish speaking mission to the California San Fernando Mission, in the mix of my schooling years at WWU. It was great and really difficult. An eye-opening and growing experience for sure! I still love speaking Spanish and have traveled throughout Mexico, Bolivia, Chile, and Peru.
Segullah: And you have an “art career job” now?
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Smaller works by Emily Fox King
Emily: I’ve taught adjunct for Weber State for 7 years, and I taught one summer out on the Ute Reservation in a program for native students taking college courses through Utah State University (It was awesome and I learned a lot!). I teach mostly introductory classes so many of my students are not majoring in art.
I’ve heard over and over through the years students talk about how taking my class awakened something in them, how they enjoyed being creative, how nourishing it was for their soul (in not so many words). I love that. I don’t really care about the product or what my students make, I’m just glad they are making stuff. I try not to be a snob about Art and what my students make. (We can talk about grad school snobbery another day! ha!) I try to celebrate creativity in whatever its forms. I think we all need it.
Lately, I’ve noticed the subject of creativity creeping up in General Conference and Church website articles. It’s part of being a whole human, a spiritual being. All the time I was having my babies, getting my family here, working different jobs to help get my husband through school, I was quilting, sewing, making crafts, and cooking. My art didn’t have any direction, nor did I allocate any time for “arting,” but I definitely kept making and being creative. I often feel like an “art missionary” in my classroom. I’m trying to convert people to allow themselves more creativity.
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Watching is Helping by Emily Fox King
Segullah: Now that you’re a mom, how do you manage to balance parenthood and your creative work?
Emily: I think it’s hard for everyone. Most artists I know who have kids, stay up late and night and work. I find that reassuring, because I work late too. The next day I’m a grouch and then I go teach my classes, cook dinner, partially clean it up, put kids in bed, and then work into the night, eating candy bars and listening to “Hamilton” to stay energized and awake. It feels kind of desperate and crazy.
I don’t do that all the time, just in spurts, especially when I have a deadline coming up. It’s REALLY HARD. I can’t say that enough. It’s difficult to make room for an art practice in my life right now.
I never have enough money for art supplies, time for creating, new ideas, etc. blah blah blah, plus I’m fat, plus does anybody even care? why am I doing this? who do I think I am? and on and on goes the self-talk. I also feel bad that I can only juggle a few activities in my life right now. I may be successfully working on art these past couple of years, but I haven’t formally exercised in months. In my pre-kid days I used to run half marathons, do triathlons and swim on a Master’s Swim team. There are so many obstacles to making art, and so many other demands on my time. If it wasn’t so hard, I don’t think I would do it. If it was easy the work might be lame.
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A Sexless Marriage by Emily Fox King
Segullah: Your work lately is primarily vivacious, abstracted floral painting. How did you move from installation art and visual critique of traditional norms of femininity into the rambunctious floral paintings?
Emily: I was living out in Vernal, Utah while my husband worked as a Petroleum Geologist. We lived in a one bedroom apartment, I was pregnant with my daughter, and my son was 2, and my stepson was 7. My dad wanted a new piece of art for his waiting room, so I painted him a large 4 x 5 ft. floral and delivered it to him. It was at his house in Idaho, waiting to go to the office when his neighbor came by. She saw it and loved it, so I sold it to her. The next day, I worked all day in my parent’s garage and painted my Dad another one.
They were fun to make and I didn’t have to concentrate too hard. After that I went back to Vernal and completed 9 more large florals. I painted these while heavily pregnant and all in the tiny kitchen of the apartment. Many of those pieces are still being sold as reproductions.
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art by Emily Fox King
The floral paintings have come out of this new stage in my life. I love/hate being married, having small children, being an artist. I see a lot of beauty in my life, and SO MUCH conflict that was never there before. This reminds me of a book I read called, “All Joy and No Fun.” It was about research on what happens to people after they become parents. There is so much joy and beauty, complexity, and richness in my life that was never there before, yet, I find taking care of small children, getting along with my husband, and handling the back-and-forth of my step-son (we have joint custody, so he yo-yo’s around 2 families all the time) incredibly tedious, frustrating, and simply put, NO FUN.
People ask me if I have a favorite flower. I think this is an interesting question because it assumes that I’m thinking about flowers when I paint and that I’m trying to capture a likeness or essence about flowers. Honestly, I really don’t care that much for individual flowers nor do I love “floral work.”
I hope my flower paintings convey beauty and chaos, with the richly layered with paint, fiercely and aggressively applied. Sometimes the colors don’t go together up close, but backing up, the painting tends to harmonize. A comment I hear often from people is, “Wow! Your paintings are so happy!” I want to reply, “No they’re not, can’t you see the RAGE?”
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What I’m Trying to Say by Emily Fox King
But that’s my point. I think life, motherhood, womanhood, is a mixed bag of beauty, chaos, uncertainty, anger, and resignation, all in one. In the end it’s freaking gorgeousness! That’s what these florals are about.
Segullah: That background makes them even more compelling! Rage and beauty! Sounds like life to me!
I liked this quote from Shawn Rossiter’s article about your recent gallery exhibit in Salt Lake City:
King does not seem particularly eager to spell out what she is doing with these paintings. ‘Can’t you just look at the painting?’ she asks of the rhetorical critic who would like her to explain her work. ‘That’s why I’m a painter, so I don’t have to “say” it…’ she comments, recalling her university days, when the need to talk about or write about one’s work was paramount. ‘Maybe I’m still immature,’ she muses with characteristic honesty. ‘If I had to say it, I might not want to stand by it.’
Segullah: Can you tell us a bit about the process of making your floral paintings?
Emily: I love to work big! To save time, I work on pre-stretched canvases and only make them as large as can fit in my car (48 x 60 in.). I start with house paint or acrylic craft paint and put bright colors down. After that I use oils. Sometimes I have my kids help me paint the acrylic layers down. My boys aren’t that interested in art, so I bribe them by paying a dollar for them to paint on the canvases first and get some lines and shapes down for me to work off of.
Segullah: I love it! The practicality is fabulous. And I love that you’re using little apprentices!
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Emily Fox King’s studio
Emily: I don’t pre-plan or spend any time sketching because it’s tedious. and my time for painting is so precious these days that I just want to jump into the good stuff. That’s another reason that I’m really enjoying florals right now. I don’t have to concentrate on shading, getting a likeness, wondering if the flowers look right. I just go for it. They’re flowers and they forgive me.
I rotate my canvas around a lot as well, working on the painting upside down, or on its side. Often, right at the very end, I will switch the orientation of the canvas because I like the movement or energy that is created by turning the picture upside down, etc.
Right now, I really love color and texture, thick oil paint, and visible brush strokes. Painting “flowers” has always been more about paint and color than “flowers.” I do look at pictures of flowers to begin my paintings, but I make up a lot of stuff in the paintings. I don’t know if some of those color combinations even exist in nature as I manufacture them to work in my paintings. I love that flowers represent femininity, and so I DO enjoy that aspect of them for subject matter.
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Deal With It by Emily Fox King
Also, if we are going for honesty here, I like how marketable flowers are. I used to paint images of dolls, and vintage portraits of people. They were always a little bit creepy and celebratory at the same time. I loved making those images, but nobody ever bought them, and so it was difficult to keep producing art and having it pile up in my apartment. I LOVE that people want to buy my paintings now that I’ve put flowers in them, I like to think that they still have all the darkness and awkwardness of the earlier doll paintings and portraits, but that glorious “opposition in all things” dark energy is couched in flowers. I hear this a lot, “Oh, your work is so cheerful!” And that’s ok, but I know that there’s more than JUST cheer going on.”
Segullah: Thank you so much, Emily. I appreciate the enthusiasm and candor in your words and your truth-telling in your artwork which is sumptuous and multi-layered in so many ways! Thanks for sharing your “freaking gorgeousness” with us at Segullah!
The post A Force of Nature: an interview with artist Emily Fox King appeared first on Segullah.
Artist’s Bio for Emily Fox King
Emily Fox King
Emily Fox King grew up in Pasco, Washington. Her first major artwork occurred in kindergarten when she drew a bear wearing a ballet costume with Crayola markers. That was a defining moment for her, when at five year old, she realized she was an artist. Emily earned a degree in painting from Western Washington University in Bellingham, Washington. She later attended Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, and received a graduate degree in printmaking/drawing. She has exhibited throughout the United States, as well as numerous group shows and three solo exhibitions in Utah. Much of her work explores notions of femininity, including domestic spaces and feminized objects. Currently she is working with floral imagery. While keeping a rigorous studio practice, Emily also teaches drawing and painting at Weber State University in Ogden, Utah where she resides with her family.
Her work is available for purchase online at Anthropologie.com, Artfullywalls.com, Newvisionart.com, Artsy.net, and Artfulhome.com.
The post Artist’s Bio for Emily Fox King appeared first on Segullah.
Broken Offering by Sherilyn Olsen
Deal With It by Emily Fox King
Broken Offering
“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken spirit and a contrite heart…” Psalms 51:17
“And the God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you…” Romans 16:20
broken
still beating
behind its bonecage
bruised
like the serpent’s head
cowering instead—
an injured muscle
I failed to protect
bruised
unlike yours
from the unsyncopated
thunking of 107 billion
people in time—
beneath vibrancy
blue flesh
contrite
spirit kneeling
hands form a bowl
begging,
open for
grace
like medicine
down throat
coats—
binding cracks, healing slices
forming membrane
over rawness
saving this
broken
offering for you,
Only One
safe to trust while
it still beats
behind its bonecage
The post Broken Offering by Sherilyn Olsen appeared first on Segullah.
Finding My Grandfather by Sylvia Newman
Finding My Grandfather
by Sylvia Newman
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sons of Wm. E. Newman, Harry (15), Frank (14), Rob (12) and Rolla (6) 1914
My paternal grandfather died at the age of 44, decades before I was born. My maternal grandfather died when I was two, and I have no memories of him except the stories I’ve been told. My dad’s mom married again, and I knew my Grandad Ray until he passed away when I was four years old. I remember being shocked to learn my age when he died, because I have such vivid memories of him. He smoked a pipe and had the most beautiful array of crystal liquor decanters, something that, according to my father, perplexed me because, even at four, I had internalized the LDS prohibition of alcohol and tobacco. But I loved Granddad Ray dearly, and he called me “Jelly Bean,” which I loved. When I went to Kindergarten, everyone introduced themselves including their middle names. I don’t have a middle name, so I told everyone that my middle name was Jelly Bean. When Granddad Ray died, my parents took me to his viewing, and I have a clear memory of his pale and waxen face in the coffin.
I have never had a living grandfather, grandpa, or granddad. I’m not sure how old I was when I learned that my dad’s dad was an alcoholic, an alcoholic of such seriousness that he died of cirrhosis of the liver at the young age of 44. Because my parents and siblings are pretty much straight arrows, so to speak, this held some fascination for me. Some people thought my family was “the perfect family” and one friend even told my sister that we were “the richest family on the block” because we had a basketball standard and, gasp, two cars! (This was the early ‘70s). Perhaps being able to trot out that my grandfather was an alcoholic gave me some street cred, or it showed that my family wasn’t so perfect—the “perfect family” is so much less interesting than a family with an alcoholic grandfather.
My dad never offered up any information about his dad, so I had to ask about him. Even when pressed, my dad was reluctant to say anything because he was taught that you just don’t talk about negative stuff. But I learned over many conversations that my grandfather was a mean and surly drunk, and was abusive to my grandmother. She even took my dad and his siblings to live with her parents in Long Beach one year, clearly contemplating divorce. No one alive is sure what prompted her to go back, although I’m sure the prospect of being a single mom in the 1930s was even more daunting than it is now. I asked Dad what he did on the weekends. In his responses, I noticed that he never mentioned his dad. When I asked where his dad was, my dad said, “At the speak-easies.” Speak-easies always held a bit of Hollywood glamour—until I imagined my grandmother home with four children while her husband was at one drinking.
My uncle’s recorded memories include his wish that his dad would do things with him like he saw his friends’ dads do. Interestingly, Grandma and Grandpa always took my dad, the oldest, and his three younger siblings to church even though they didn’t go themselves. Grandma and Grandpa were party-ers, and Dad remembers many quiet Sunday mornings when his parents slept late, and he and his brother, Parley, would sample the wine and liquor remaining in the glasses left around the house.
My aunt told me once that she and the other two siblings especially loved my dad because he took the brunt of my grandfather’s anger and abuse. I asked my dad once, “Do you have any good memories of your dad?” He said, “Well, there was this one time. Parley and I had found some cigarettes and were smoking in the backyard. A neighbor saw us and called the house. Dad came out and, perhaps, because he smoked himself, he very kindly asked us never to smoke again. And we never did.”
Just recently, I learned the most horrifying encounter my dad had with his dad. Grandpa had come home drunk and was bullying Grandma. Grandma said, “Frank, take your dad in the back room and beat him up.” When they got in the back room, my grandfather turned supplicant and pleaded with my dad, “Frank, you’re such a good kid. You’ve always been such a good boy.” When the door opened, he became the swaggering bully again. Dad never hit him.
Through the wonders of online genealogical programs, I recently learned that my grandfather served an LDS mission, but came home early. He was a WWI vet. And then, just this past summer, a cousin posted memories she had recorded from my dad’s sister Analu, who passed away in 2001. This is what Analu said:
[Our] Aunt Almeda told me of an incident in Dad’s [my grandfather’s] life which helped me to better understand and lose some of my hurt and bitterness in regard to him. When Dad was about nine years old he was allowed to drive the horse and buggy to the railroad station to pick up his grandfather Wilson who worked in the office. As Dad was going along something “spooked” the horse, which bucked and began to run. It threw Dad off his seat and he caught his foot in the buggy. Dad was pulled along and his head kept hitting the hard street. Finally some men ran and caught the reins and stopped the horse. They knew who Dad was and carried him home unconscious. He lay in a coma for three days. Grandmother went into his room, knelt down and said to Heavenly Father, “Please, please make him well or take him so that he won’t have so stay like this.” Grandmother Newman got up from her knees, walked to the door, and heard her boy say, “Mama, Mama.” Dr. Rich told grandmother that she must take special care of him, because if he had another blow on the head it could kill him. From then on, she was so careful that she tended to smother and spoil that son which caused his feelings and thinking to be undisciplined, and he easily hurt himself and others.
The lesson my father and his siblings took from this story was “don’t spoil your kids when they’re sick.” When my siblings or I stayed home from school sick, we were not allowed to watch TV and received no special privileges or treatment. While we were not neglected, we were ignored as much as is possible when we were sick. When we told our parents we were sick, my dad would jokingly say, “Well, you know what that means. When you’re sick, you get a spanking!” Of course, he never spanked us, but learning the source of my parents’ behavior toward us when we were sick was very interesting. What a unique response to my grandfather’s story.
A modern reader might take something else from my grandfather’s story: it seems pretty clear that he had a traumatic brain injury (TBI). His anger, violence, intemperance, volatility—all are potential symptoms of TBI, or as stated in one explanation, “Since our brain defines who we are, the consequences of a brain injury can affect all aspects of our lives, including our personality” (Lenrow).
My grandparents were married in the Salt Lake City temple “for time and all eternity.” My grandmother told me more than once that she did not want to be sealed to her husband, though she never told me anything about the events I’ve explored above. I now take great hope in the idea that his brain has been made whole—or will be, and that when I get to meet him, he will not be the same man my father feared as a child. I imagine no one else is happier or more relieved to know about TBI—and the resurrection’s promises—than my grandfather.
Lenrow, David. “What is Traumatic Brain Injury?” TraumaticBrainInjury.com. Traumatic Brain Injury.com LLC. Philadelphia, PA. 2006.
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Newman family circa 1930
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