The League of Bearded Catholics

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

 
The vendor hall at ChesterCon 2011! That's my table at the left. I inadvertently dumped the contents of my camera's memory chip, at one point, and lost some good stuff, but was able to hastily grab a few shots before bugging out.

Shocking, I know, that this report should be so tardy and incomplete, but my trip to the annual convention of the American Chesterton Society (ChesterCon) was, predictably, a blast and a privilege from the start.

First, I got to travel from the Northwest Arkansas Ozarks to St. Louis with a couple of members of our local Chesterton society, Tom and his daughter Michelle. Tom is the one who, incredibly, pulled together the local Society. We have a group that ranges from about 8 upwards to 12 or 15 on a packed night. From what I've heard, that would be an accomplishment even in a much more populous area. Tom and his wife have raised a wonderful Catholic family who are delightful to be around. Daughter Michelle is a real distributist, with a large garden and a beehive. She also brews her own beer. They kept me alert and awake while driving with some great conversation, and provided valuable navigation services.

I had asked a while ago about setting up a table at the conference, just thinking I might sell a few prints of some recent Chesterton artwork and help defray the cost of the trip. It was all very informal, and Dale Ahlquist made it simple and easy, which is good. Complexity makes me perspire and develop tics.

So, I arrived to find a very nice table, in the very nice hotel (I had under-dressed, it turns out) very near to the Versailles Ballroom where the conference was mostly held. Just two tables down was fellow artist Daniel Matsui, who - as you can see - had dressed much better.

 
The well-dressed and incredibly skilled Daniel Mistui

The conference was amazing, and too rich to recount very well in this brief post. Do I have a picture of me with Sean Dailey? Dale Ahlquist? Nope. But I did get this shot of Chris Check (with his son) who gave a great presentation with tons of helpful background on Chesterton's poem, Lepanto, topped off with a stirring dramatic recitation.

 
Chris Check (& son?)

There was, of course, great camraderie between talks, at meals and at the informal outdoor gatherings (the "afterglows") where home-brewed beer, homemade wine and a variety of cheesy comestibles were shared freely... and there was much rejoicing ("Yaaayyy..."). The conversations were a real highlight. At one point, Danial Mistui and I talked for more than a half-hour, and it was like getting another fascinating seminar speaker thrown in, gratis. What a kick to visit with him about his background and his approach to his philosophy and his art.

Leaguer Del was resplendent in his kilt as he talked with Dave, both accomplices from the Christian Pipe Smokers forum.

 
Del & Dave... both fellow CPS-ers.

It turned out to be a trip blessed many times over; as I said, I had mahhh-velous company on the drive, I sold enough prints to pay all my expenses, and even landed a very gratifying job offer, which it appears ever-more likely I will accept.

The cherry on top was getting the offer of a book-jacket deal from Ignatius Press for my Chesterton oil portrait before the paint was even dry. Here is how it looks;

 
Pretty bodacious, eh?

What a thrill to have my art on the cover of a collection of Chesterton essays! Thanks, Ignatius (especially John Herreid).

Next year, in Reno!

Well... He's Just This Guy, You Know?

The new Gilbert's here! The new Gilbert's here!

 

The latest issue of Gilbert magazine arrived on out threshhold a few days ago, and the event had our entire household practically fosticating with excitement. This is the long awaited Art issue, which features a number of reproductions of my paintings - and those of some other really accomplished artists - in glossy, full-color splendor... and there was rejoicing in Squirrelandia ("ya-a-a-a-y...").

The editorial staff, having finally succumbed to my patient and subtle mind control techniques, also inexplicably decided to interview me for the article, along with Jef Murray. They even make mention of The League of Bearded Catholics! Yes, everything is proceeding according to my nefarious and labyrinthine plan...

Anyhow, I always find the experience of reading my own words in print to be something like hearing one's voice on tape for the first time. Or maybe like the way Hermione Granger must have felt when she asked, "Is that really what my hair looks like from the back?".

In order to head off at the pass the inevitable indignant letters of complaint, I sat down and wrote one straight form my worst fear scenario. I don;t know if they'll print it, but I think it would be funny.

Dear Gilbert Magazine,

 

I received the July/August issue of Gilbert - the art issue - with great anticipation, and was pleased to find an array of what was, on the whole, some very worthwhile and beautiful artwork reproduced in glorious color.

 

But I was given to wonder what led you to devote so many precious column inches to this fellow Timothy Jones. Nothing against him... he has a fair start on being an artist, and might yet learn to paint well, but his unfocused ramblings on the philosophy and meaning of art reveal him to be quite out of his element. While the reproductions of his artwork are not altogether a waste of ink, his value as an amateur philosopher or even a very alert student of art history is open to some very legitimate doubt. In addition, one wonders; Who, after all, is he? What, of note, has he really achieved that we should care very much  what he thinks?

 

I was very gratified to find the article in which he was featured more or less rescued by the calmly rational Jef Murray and rounded out with some delightful artwork from several other accomplished artists - Anthony VanArsdale (the deserving cover artist) and Jason Tako come to mind as being especially outstanding. You even have right there on staff a very talented artist, Ted Schluenderfritz, who's thoughts and work might better warrant the time and attention of your readers.

 

I'll leave you with the gentle admonition that surely you can aim a bit higher next time.

 

Very sincerely yours,

 

Timothy Jones,

BFA (Blew Finances Aimlessly),

MFA (Mannered Frittering Accomplished),

BC (Bearded Catholic)

 

I Have Issues

 
Cover of the new issue of Gilbert Magazine, by Anthony VanArsdale).

In what can only be seen as a regrettable and hopefully temporary lapse in editorial judgment, Sean Daily and his (ordinarily brilliant) staff at Gilbert Magazine decided to pad their latest issue on The Arts with some of my own rudderless musings, accompanied by a few reproductions of my paintings. The damage to their reputation is somewhat ameliorated by making the article in which I am featured a kind of tandem interview with an actual illustrator, the inestimable Jef Murray.

Make sure to order a bunch of copies. It really is a fine magazine.

I look forward to receiving my issue in the mail, partly because this will enable me to see whether they were able to pull of some kind of editorial miracle, but mostly so that I might be reminded of what it was I actually said. Something about art and the meaning of art. Something about modern art is in there somewhere, I'm almost sure.

Stop Using Art as a Weapon!

On a related note, those of you who have read C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy may remember that at one point in the story, some examples of modern art are used against the main character as a kind of spiritual anesthetic or moral poison, as part of a general brainwashing program.

You may be interested to note, then, that it has recently been revealed that some of what is now the most well known modern art of the twentieth century may owe a great deal of that notariety to having been actively promoted and used as propaganda during the Cold War years by the C.I.A.! Using shadow "foundations", they funneled money to artists, collectors and museums, and funded traveling exhibits in the U.S. and overseas (they had to cancel the one in the U.S. after just a few weeks because, well, everyone hated it). They also controlled a number of influential publications which they used to praise the new art as an indicator of the creative freedom enjoyed in the U.S. (as contrasted with the Soviet Union).

You can't make this stuff up! I always suspected it was some kind of plot... of course the article from London's The Independent points out that we are not allowed to say that sort of thing, that abstract expressionism would have been just as popular, anyway... "probably".

The thing is, I remember how the official art of the Soviet Union was denigrated as being mere "propaganda", while ours was a high and pure art. It's true that the heroic realism of the U.S.S.R. was stiff and not very good in a lot of cases, and it's also true that it was transparent propaganda. Every Soviet citizen knew it, too. But Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko were also propaganda, only of a somewhat more subtle kind... and we did not know it.

The Soviets would have been much better off letting their brilliant impressionist painters represent them around the world, that's for sure.

Hail, Hail, Squirrelandia!

...Land of the Brave and Free-e-e-e-e-e!

 
Squirrel sejant erect, courtesy of the Hesburgh Libraries at The University fo Notre Dame

Considering that we have been a sovereign nation for some time now, it is a national embarrassment that we, as yet, have no flag. The idea had been delegated to a native artist of renown, but she has apparently been busily occupied with schoolwork and some ongoing Manga projects, and the banner of our homeland has languished in neglect.

In an effort to move things along and perhaps inspire some fresh thought, I have been conducting intense research into the noble tradition of heraldry, with a mind to establish some basic design for the flag. Clearly, a squirrel must figure prominently, but how best to present it?

I should have guessed that the idea of a heraldric squirrel was nothing new. A number of examples can be found on this newfangled interwebs, and already the concept begins to take shape.

In fairness to the population, I think they should have some input as to the precise character of the sciurus carolinensis represented forever on our glorious flag, and so several styles will be presented for consideration... but the example at the top of this post finds favor with the current regent. I like that it's showing its claws...it looks like it might be rabid. After all, we Squirrelandians may be a small, cuddly sort of people, but don't underestimate our ferocity when cornered... or before we've had our coffee of a morning.

Every family ought to have a coat of arms, and every home ought to be a sovereign homeland. What kind of flag would come nearest to truly representing your family? Well, get to work, man!

Painting Myself Out of a Corner

You say grace before meals.  All right.  But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink. - G.K. Chesterton, from Maisie Ward's Gilbert Keith Chesterton

I'm beginning to discover more deeply the truth, not so much that one can pray while painting (or driving, or cooking, etc...), but that one can paint while praying.

I'm painting a lot, right now. This is something like Finals Week for me, so thanks for your patience. Or, alternately, thanks for your kind impatience.

Mug Shot

 
Mug of Beer - Oil on panel -24" x 24" - ©copyright 2010, Timothy Jones

I don't talk a whole lot about my art here at TLBC, but I thought this latest piece warranted sharing in a post.

I am working like crazy on an art show opening later this week, and this is one of the paintings that will be in the exhibit.

Mars, Everest and the Call of the Sea

This started as a combox response, so pardon me if it is a little off-the-cuff.

Responding to this post on a possible manned Mars landing, esteemed reader Shmikey comments;

I guess that I see things a little differently. I watched a documentary a few years back about a climb up Everest that ended with the loss of a couple of climbers, one who had a family at home, and I decided that the pursuit of some thing is not necessarily a good thing. I think that these pursuits can get to the point of looking like the Tower of Babel, and we are trying to prove that we don't need God, as long as we can rely on technology to fill our needs. I will change my opinion when the mission takes on the attitude of Christopher Columbus, and we intend to spread the Gospel through these endeavors.

I can see your point, Shmikey, but in my opinion the original trip to Mars would parallel Sir Edmund Hillary's original ascent of Mt. Everest much more than it would the current tourist trade that has been built up around the mountain.

The slopes of Everest are now covered with the litter (food packets, abandoned gear, oxygen bottles) left behind by numerous climbing parties, many of whom are near novices lured there by commercial guide services who imply that climbing Everest is no longer the very dangerous and maybe deadly an undertaking it is.

To me, the closest parallel to that would be Richard Branson's nascent effort to create a space tourism business in low Earth orbit, catering to those who have more money than they know how to spend... a carnival ride for bored billionaires. The first efforts at flight - say Orville and Wilbur Wright - had a different character. There was something driving them that I think God put there... this human hunger to find out about the created world, to travel to far away places and attempt impossible things. This impulse can, of course, be perverted in any number of ways.

I think there was spiritual value in the initial Moon shots, if only in the fact that they took us self-absorbed moderns out of ourselves and for a moment awakened Wonder in a cynical world.

It may be because I'm an artist that I balk a little at the idea that a thing must be demonstrably necessary to be worthwhile. The whole brilliant thing about art - almost the definition of art - is that it isn't necessary, and is yet worthwhile. To the extent that it is necessary, it is less like art. Art also (hopefully) awakens Wonder and a sense of mystery, which maybe leaves the door open a crack for people to encounter God.

This reflects the ongoing discussion about just what Christian artists should be doing with their talents, whether every worthy work of art must have an explicitly Christian/Gospel narrative element, or not. Can looking at a painting of a bowl of fruit be a spiritual experience that brings a person closer to the mind of God? I believe so.